Reborn As Papa Silva

Chapter 110 - Silver Engagement (6)

Use others as they use you. Deceive them as they deceive you. Drain them dry, just as they would you.

Betray them first—before they get the chance.

Independence isn't isolation. It's knowing where the line is.

And never letting your guard down. — Number 1 Bullshitter

—

Shortly after the family photo was taken, the ball finally drew to a close. Guests lined up, bidding farewell to Nozel, Dorothy, Acier, and a few others one by one.

Augustus left first—as expected, since it would have been a slight to the throne for guests to depart before him—followed by Damnatio, Conrad, and Lovilia, then Anslem and Benedictus.

Only after those big shots had taken their leave did the lesser guests feel comfortable enough to trickle out in an orderly fashion.

The Vermillions, however, showed no signs of leaving anytime soon. Given their ties to the Silvas—both by blood and by evident closeness—no one waited on them to make their exit.

The hall was growing emptier by the moment.

Sebastian, meanwhile, had retreated to the balcony. He leaned against the railings, letting the crisp night air cool his nerves. The children's mothers had finally taken the mischievous brats off his hands.

Amber had all but pried Leo off his head. Mimosa had slipped from his arms without a word, allowing Aurelia to scoop her away. As for Noelle...

Well, she had finally let go of him.

Now she was sleeping peacefully in her mother's arms, clinging to Acier just as she had clung to him moments ago. Acier, for her part, continued bidding guests farewell, swaying slightly to keep Noelle comfortable.

Sebastian stretched his arms out against the railing, suppressing a yawn of exhaustion—only to freeze mid-motion as his mana sense flared.

Like a puppet yanked upright, he straightened. His bones creaked like unoiled gears as he turned, stiff and mechanical.

His ocean-blue eyes locked onto bright purple irises.

An unexpected intruder.

Sebastian's voice came out in a whisper. "...Julius. What're you doing here...?"

Julius Novachrono, clad in his Grey Deer robes, smiled brightly. "Well, I was invited. Why can't I be here?"

Sebastian forced a strained smile. "That you were, but..."

Julius' invitation had been little more than a polite formality, meant to avoid raising eyebrows. He was stationed in Kiten, tasked with tracking Diamond's movements—Goldstein's movements.

He shouldn't be here.

As if reading his thoughts, Julius ran a hand through his hair, looking sheepish.

"...Well, actually, I came back to pick up William. You know he doesn't like staying at his house longer than necessary. Sleeping there for even one night is... unpleasant for him. And traveling back to Kiten alone in the dead of night? Dangerous—even for a prodigy like him."

His smile turned more strained. "I didn't expect to pop over here and find him nowhere in sight... Do you have any idea where he ran off to?"

Sebastian blinked, processing that, then gave a slow nod. "I received a report that he left very early—said he was feeling under the weather. I'd have thought he'd let you know, especially if you two had an agreement."

His eyes narrowed slightly.

Julius sighed dramatically. "Ah... that William. He has a bad habit of running off without a word every now and then."

That's rich coming from you. Sebastian mocked inwardly.

Julius either didn't notice or chose to ignore it. Instead, he shrugged and extended his right hand for a shake. "Well, I won't take up more of your time. It was good seeing you, Sebastian. And congratulations, by the way—on the additions to your family."

Sebastian didn't take his hand. He didn't want to.

Because under the moonlight, reflected just enough for him to see, Julius' left eye was swirling.

Like a vortex.

Like an eerie, endless void.

Perhaps Julius was done with him... but it seemed someone else wanted to speak.

—

In the hall, Acier gently rocked Noelle in her arms, wearing a polite smile as she bid farewell to guest after guest. Nozel and Dorothy stood by her side, exchanging pleasantries with those departing.

Then—abruptly—Acier stiffened.

Her head snapped to the left, toward the balcony.

Her pupils dilated in shock.

There, standing alone. Defenseless.

Her husband.

And before him, that man.

The parasite they despised most.

Julius stood before Sebastian, arm outstretched, offering a handshake.

Sebastian remained as rigid as stone, staring coldly down at the hand.

Others, sensing something was amiss, followed Acier's line of sight. Many were confused, surprised to see Julius here at all. But a select few—the Faust couple, the Agrippas, Dorothy, Nozel, Mereoleona—felt something different.

A storm churned in their hearts.

Acier willed her legs to move. To run. But she froze as Sebastian—as if sensing her gaze—glanced past Julius' shoulder.

Their eyes met.

And he smiled.

Soft. Reassuring. Gentle.

Then—he took Julius' hand.

Acier nearly screamed. She flickered forward, panic surging through her veins.

"Wait, Sebby—!"

—

Yami felt a bit lighter in the chest after his talk with the prickly princess.

He hadn't expected her to come up to him and say goodbye, her little brother held gently at her side. But it made him proud—happy, even—to know that his words hadn't been wasted.

Especially since she was the first person he'd truly opened up to since coming to Clover. The first person he'd shared one of his greatest secrets with.

Sure, he'd spoken to Julius, Morgen, and Nacht about his homeland on occasion, but even with his three closest friends, he had never brought up his family. Not his father. Not his mother. Not his sister.

He didn't know why he had done so with Charlotte. Maybe because, on some level, he could sympathize with her. Either way, it was nice to see it hadn't been pointless.

And because of that—because of the way his chest felt just a little lighter—Yami was able to good-naturedly tolerate the extended wait.

When Nacht and Morgen had told him they'd be staying the entire time, they had meant it.

With their families' close relationship with the Silvas, neither the Fausts nor the Agrippas would be leaving until nearly everyone had gone. Only the Vermillions would remain after them.

And as the Fausts' plus one, Yami was stuck with them.

He leaned against their table, waiting for the moment of freedom—only to pause.

Something was off.

"...What's up, Morgen?"

Nacht raised a brow, glancing at his twin. Then, together, they followed Morgen's line of sight—toward the balcony.

And that's when they saw it.

Their captain.

Julius Novachrono.

The man who was supposed to be stationed at the border.

Standing with Sebastian.

Engaged in conversation.

Yami furrowed his brows, watching as Julius extended his hand for a shake—

—only to freeze.

Because that's when he felt it.

A rupture.

A violent rupture of emotions through the countless Ki in the room, crashing into him from all angles.

Fear. Hate. Disgust. Loathing.

From Lanky. From Pinky. From their mother.

Rare caution. Sharp vigilance.

From the she-beast.

Tension. Apprehension.

From his buddies' folks. From that creepy gothic couple.

It overwhelmed the initial surprise of many at his captain's sudden appearance. Drowned it.

And every last drop of it was directed at Julius.

Yami couldn't understand.

Why were people directing hate at his captain?

Why were they fearing his guardian?

Why were they cautious of his friend?

Vigilant of his mentor?

It didn't make sense.

Before this—before tonight—Nozel, Captain Acier, even the she-beast had all seemed to have a good relationship with Julius. A good impression of him.

Heck Nozel sure seemed to respect his captain just two weeks ago, at the conferment ceremony.

So what the hell had changed?!

His captain was a nice guy. A great guy. One of the best damn people he'd ever known. So how could—how could so many people look at him like that?

It shook Yami's head. Constricted his heart.

A pit formed in his stomach, deep and dark, as the sheer malevolence in the room nearly made him vomit.

"Agh..."

He groaned, clutching his head, wobbling, nearly collapsing—if not for his grip on the table's edge.

"Yami?!"

Nacht and Morgen shot up from their seats, hands immediately steadying him by the shoulders and back, faces tight with concern.

"What's wrong?" Morgen whispered.

Nacht, ever the blunt one, snorted. "Dammit, I told you to lay off the alcohol."

The words were sharp, but his tone—his expression—was just as disturbed as his twin's.

Yami didn't answer.

He was too focused.

Too focused on the two brightest Ki in the room—flaring like magic bombs about to detonate.

Sebastian.

Acier.

He watched as the Silva patriarch looked down at his captain's hand. Saw the mix of fear, hate, annoyance, disgust brewing inside him.

Then—watched it shift.

Watched it sink into reluctance. Resignation.

Watched as Sebastian lifted his gaze, past Julius, locking onto his panicked wife—

And smiled.

Soft. Reassuring. Gentle.

A smile that only made Acier's panic multiply tenfold.

Then—he took his captain's hand.

The last thing Yami saw was Captain Acier—her daughter cradled in her arms—flickering forward, voice ringing out.

"Wait, Sebby—!"

—

The moment Sebastian took Julius' hand, he was back—

Back in that deep, murky, pitch-black, astral-like mindscape of his.

But this time—

He wasn't chained. He wasn't bound like a prisoner.

And—he wasn't alone.

Right in front of him, wearing that same charming, eerie smile, stood the man he hated most.

Identical to Julius in every way—except for the black hair in place of blonde, the redder shade of purple in his eyes, and the black sun-mark resting on his right lobe.

Lucius Zogratis.

Lucius chuckled softly. "I'm surprised you had the courage to take my hand, Sebastian."

Sebastian ignored him outright, craning his head as he scanned his surroundings before closing his eyes in concentration.

Can I...?

The moment he focused—

It happened.

Lucius' eyes widened.

The black ocean of malevolence they stood on—gone.

In its place—a boundless, clear sea. Pure, reflective, stretching endlessly beneath a cloudless, blue sky.

Sebastian opened his eyes, nodding in satisfaction.

Lucius let out a soft chuckle, tilting his head. "It seems being exposed to your soul so often—practically living here for two decades—has allowed you to grasp preliminary control of your inner self. Well done."

Sebastian gave him a dry look. Then sneered.

"Aren't you tired of acting so profound, you fraud?"

Lucius paused, blinking.

Sebastian crossed his arms and snorted. "What was it again? Oh, right—See you in 33 years, my new friend. Those were your words. And yet—here we are. Barely halfway through that interval, and you're already sniffing around."

Lucius' expression darkened, his smile twisting with hate.

"I didn't expect that damn Scribe to be so desperate." His voice carried an edge now, sharp, gritted. "It's only natural for me to make a miscalculation."

Sebastian all but threw him the finger. "You don't seem much better." His smirk turned razor-sharp. "Running to me with a stick up your ass. What's wrong? Did Samyaza throw a wrench in your oh-so-great plot? You need some help?"

Lucius' teeth nearly grinded together.

Sebastian laughed.

That was all the affirmation he needed.

He had taken Lucius' hand for a reason. If the bastard had simply wanted to bind him again—wanted to control his soul—he wouldn't have asked. Wouldn't have shown himself. He could've just tapped Sebastian on the head and been done with it.

But he hadn't.

No—Lucius wanted something.

And rather than let the parasite get anxious and desperate—rather than risk him resorting to extreme measures—Sebastian had decided to humor him.

Begrudgingly.

But that didn't mean he'd show him any courtesy.

Snap.

With a flick of his fingers, a grand chair—no, a throne—materialized beneath him, raising him up above Lucius.

Settling in, Sebastian crossed his legs, draped an arm over the armrest, and lazily pointed down—looking at Lucius like a subject. A servant.

Or a slave.

"Well?" His voice came slow, deliberate, filled with nothing but disdain.

"Out with it, Parasite. What do you seek from me?"

Lucius Zogratis' face blackened.

For the self-proclaimed Messiah—the savior of humanity—who saw himself as the pinnacle of his race, to be treated with such blatant disrespect was nothing short of humiliating.

"Don't act as if you're above me, Sebastian!" His voice twisted into a grimace.

Sebastian didn't even blink. Didn't offer him the slightest shred of respect.

"I'm much better than a failure like you." His smirk was cruel, sharp, mocking. "What was it you said to me? Oh right—let me experience and understand the fragility of the human soul."

A short laugh.

"That sure worked out great for you, huh?"

Sure—many had turned their backs on him when he'd gone 'evil.'

But the ones who mattered most?

Acier. Nathaniel.

They had never pushed him away. They had always believed in him.

And even his children—Nozel, Nebra, Solid—despite everything he'd done to them, they had taken him back. Chosen to move forward.

His soul had only grown stronger.

Lucius was very, very good at proving himself wrong.

Sebastian's words hit—right where they needed to.

If Lucius had been some common villain, some no-name lunatic, he might have exploded—lunged for his throat, blinded by rage.

But Lucius wasn't an impulsive charlatan.

No—he had patience. Tolerance.

He knew how to wait. How to bide his time in the shadows, lurking until the perfect opportunity arose.

So instead of lashing out, he merely readjusted his smile, folding his hands behind his back, expression smooth, unshaken.

"It's clear you already know why I'm here," he said evenly. "So I won't waste our time. Freezing time entirely in the outside world would attract too much attention right now—so I'm merely slowing it. Increasing the flow here severalfold."

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. Then—

Snap.

At the flick of his fingers, a screen flared to life within his mindscape.

Just like the white screens that had forced him to watch the atrocities committed in his name—by the parasite who had once controlled his body—another one appeared.

But this time—

It was his to command.

Sebastian's eyes flickered to the ballroom.

From the balcony, he could see it all—guests moving at a glacial pace, so slow compared to the mindscape's accelerated time that they might as well have been frozen.

All except—

Acier.

She was moving.

At what incomprehensible speed, he didn't know—but she was coming.

Racing toward him. Toward them.

Sebastian narrowed his eyes.

Even with the time shift, she'd be on them in—

Five minutes.

Sebastian nodded. "Yeah, I'm guessing you're here about Samyaza. He's not just your problem—he's mine too. A common enemy, you could say."

Lucius beamed. "Then it's only natural we—"

"But why should I help you?"

Sebastian cut him off with a mocking smile.

Lucius paused. "...Hmm?"

Sebastian clicked his tongue. "Don't play dumb. Samyaza isn't an immediate threat to me—he's a much bigger problem for you right now. I'm not exactly eager to make an enemy of some fallen celestial, so why should I stick my neck out for you?"

Lucius mirrored the gesture. "You shouldn't pretend either. Sure, Samyaza may not be your direct adversary at the moment—but given time? He will be. A huge threat."

His voice was calm, deliberate.

"Why face him alone in the future, when you could deal with him now—efficiently, with minimal loss and risk?"

Sebastian's grin turned razor-sharp. "Because I hate you far more than I fear him."

Lucius smiled. "You're not foolish enough to let personal grudges cloud your judgment. Not when it could put you—and your loved ones—at risk."

Sebastian's grin widened. "Oh, but this is the smart move. I'll let my two enemies tear into each other. Then, when you've both bled each other dry, I'll step in and finish the job."

Lucius kept his serene expression. "Aren't you afraid I'll join forces with him instead? Leave you with no way out?"

Sebastian didn't flinch. Didn't budge. "You wouldn't be here if that was an option."

Lucius' smile thinned. "Then take the deal—or I'll find a way to force you into the conflict. If I don't get what I want, I'll make sure you and him fall with me."

Sebastian threw him the finger. "Must've been real popular as a kid. What a stellar personality."

Lucius exhaled, controlling his irritation. "That's rich coming from you. Acier aside, no one wanted anything to do with an isolated, cold-hearted bastard like you."

Sebastian sneered. "At least I knew what I was. Unlike a certain fraud who commits atrocities in the name of good, dressing it up as some grand sacrifice."

His tone dropped.

"Who the hell are you to sacrifice others? If you're so honorable, then sacrifice yourself

Lucius didn't so much as blink. "I'm not a hypocrite. Humanity needs a leader. Someone to guide them as we ascend to a future without limits."

Sebastian snorted, shaking his head. "You sound just like That One. Like that damn Scribe. No, you're worse."

His eyes gleamed with cold amusement.

"At least they let humanity keep their free will. And they have the power to back it up."

His smirk sharpened.

"But you? The more I think about it, the less impressive you seem. You're not a savior. You're not a messiah. You're just another power-hungry fraud, dressing up your tyranny as something noble. And if you at least had the balls to admit it, I might actually tolerate you."

Lucius' smile darkened. "You sound an awful lot like him."

Sebastian's eyes gleamed. "Do I? Then maybe I should join hands with him. Get rid of you first—then we'll settle our score."

Lucius clicked his tongue. "Idiotic. At least I have some common ground with you—the prosperity of this kingdom, eradicating the Underworld's influence. He, on the other hand? He wants the exact opposite. He's more than determined to make Dante's and Zenon's wishes reality."

Sebastian's expression cooled. "...If he's not lying."

Lucius tilted his head, considering. Then, slowly, he nodded.

"If he's not lying."

Tap. Tap. Tap.

For a moment, there was silence between them, no sound save for the echo of Sebastian rapping his knuckles against the armrest.

Then Sebastian scratched his chin. "There's something I wanted to know..."

Lucius raised a brow in light curiosity. "And what may that be?"

Sebastian narrowed his eyes.

In his fake life, on the Black Clover subreddit and other discussion threads, there was a theory that made its way around—not too popular or talked about, but one that always attracted Sebastian's interest.

He now wondered whether or not that was a coincidence.

Lucius gained Lucifero's power by devouring his devil's heart. He gained Astaroth's in a different way—by binding his soul to his body.

Completely different methods with different complications.

Lucifero's was just about slowly digesting and absorbing the King of Devils' might. But Astaroth's... that was a different matter altogether.

Moreover, the Lucius who devoured Lucifero's devil heart had already taken control of Astaroth's might. But the Lucius who bound Astaroth to his soul had been just a human back then, and because of that...

Sebastian pointed down at Lucius.

"Who am I really talking to? Lucius Zogratis or Astaroth?"

Lucius stiffened like a statue, while Sebastian's eyes glowed.

In his vision, Lucius was no longer standing in front of him, but rather a twisted and corrupted vessel, with two souls—one human, one demonic—wrestling for control of his body. While a third slept, unaware.

Sebastian nearly sneered.

Just like I thought.

So what if Lucius had soul magic? He wasn't absolute. Binding Astaroth to himself was no small feat.

Although Lucius seemed in control, Astaroth was still there, struggling, reaching for freedom. And that led to another theory, like a chain.

The reason Lucius sat in the background for most of the series wasn't simply because he had full faith in his foresight and was waiting for an opportune moment—but because he was forced to.

While Julius controlled their body, Lucius had been locked in a wrestling match with Astaroth's soul, trying to steal all his power.

Although he held the clear advantage, if Lucius took a more active role—where his attention was diverted multiple ways—Astaroth could use that as a chance to break free. Or perhaps even wound Lucius enough to usurp control of his body.

Lucius still needed time to completely devour Astaroth, and because of that...

Sebastian snorted. "What good are you? The current you is in no condition to fight Samyaza. No wonder you sought me out. Even if you could achieve victory, you'd lose far too much in the process. You're a liability."

He pointed at Lucius crudely. "It's more like you want me and the rest of us to deal with your Samyaza-sized problem while you kick back and do your own thing."

Lucius remained calm. "I will lift a few limitations on Julius' power and ensure his full cooperation with you and your plans. Moreover, until that impudent wretch is slain, you need not worry about me holding any ill will toward you or your loved ones. No harm shall come to them during that time."

Sebastian nearly spat in his face. "Your word is worth jack shit to me, Parasite."

Lucius' face contorted into a frustrated mess. "Then what do you want from me?"

Before Sebastian could respond, Lucius sneered. "And don't say my life."

Tsk. Sebastian clicked his tongue in displeasure, lifting his head to scan the cloudless, blank sky in his mindscape, his thoughts deepening.

Samyaza... He needed to deal with him. Preferably before this "old monster," as Sawyer so eloquently put it, reclaimed his true power—just like some Xianxia villain.

That being said, Sebastian didn't want to join hands with Lucius. Not just because he personally disliked the man, but because he had no trust or faith in his integrity.

At the end of the day, Lucius was his enemy. One with a conflicting agenda.

But then... who doesn't have impure intentions?

Sebastian's eyes narrowed wistfully.

Sawyer was one of them. It was obvious in his eyes—the hatred and disgust he held for the divine. He didn't even try to hide it.

But the current Sawyer wasn't the one from 800 years ago, the one with friends and family he feared implicating. Although he seemed to cherish humanity, this kingdom, this world... the current world, the one that lacked his loved ones, wasn't something Sawyer would hold as dear to his heart.

At least, in Sebastian's opinion.

For all he knew, Sawyer was more than willing to use him to deal the biggest blow to Heaven possible. Even if it came at the expense of Sebastian's life—his everything—Sawyer, though perhaps mildly apologetic, wouldn't care much.

After all, he's dead. Just a ghost wandering this world in different shapes and forms, clinging to his grudge like a cursed spirit, desperate for revenge.

Then there was that Scribe.

He'd made it very clear—Sebastian was just a pawn to protect His and Heaven's interests. If Sebastian disobeyed, tested Him further, or went against Him, He'd simply find another pawn—perhaps Loyce—and cast Sebastian aside like a disposable piece.

As long as Sebastian followed the script, he'd receive aid. But his personal desires? They didn't matter to that Scribe. At most, He'd throw him a few bones to keep His dog dependent and in check.

And finally, there was Lucius.

Lucius didn't need much of an explanation. Sebastian didn't know why he was so angry at the world and Heaven, nor did he care to ever understand the loser. But Lucius would work with him so long as it meant fending off others who sought to rule over humanity and this world.

All of them had their own personal agendas.

Sawyer wanted to teach Heaven a lesson. Lucius wanted to rebel against it. Both wanted to make humanity independent of the divine—to strengthen it—though through vastly different approaches. And the Scribe? He wanted to keep everyone in check, to ensure Heaven's eternal reign and dominion.

That was what Sebastian understood.

And that was fine.

Asking or trusting anyone to help him—without expecting them to look out for themselves first—was foolish at best.

However, Sebastian could not accept the fact that they weren't just using him, but his family, his loved ones against him. Albeit to different extents.

If they wanted to use him, they should use him alone. If they wanted to play with his fate, then they should play with only his fate.

Leave his family, his friends, out of it.

Thinking about them filled Sebastian with mixed feelings.

In a sense, they were all right. Humanity did need to grow stronger—to show Heaven, and everyone else, that they weren't just a race to be used or controlled at will.

But at the same time, there needed to be a higher power. An afterlife, a paradise, something at the end of the long, grueling journey of life that people could look forward to.

Their agendas overlapped in many areas. But at the core, they clashed. Which is why Sebastian wouldn't choose any side.

He would make his own.

He wasn't a saint. He couldn't fight for all of humanity.

So he'd stick to his roots.

As a duke of the Clover Kingdom. As the royal advisor of this nation. As a father and husband to those who called this place home.

Sebastian would choose Clover.

He would build a stronger Clover. A Clover that still respected and worshipped That One, but not a Clover dependent on Him and His angels. Not a Clover that could be overlooked or manipulated by His subordinates.

A Clover that must be taken seriously. A Clover that must be treated with dignity.

And because of that, Sebastian could and would swallow his grievances with Lucius. His trepidation and apprehension toward the others.

As long as their goals coincided, he would work with Lucius, Sawyer, and that Scribe.

But the moment any of them tried to act out, to lead him and his faction into a dark place—he would rebel first.

Perhaps this path would keep him chained—tethered to them all, forced to play their game. Perhaps, as a leader, he would still be beneath them in some way.

After all, humanity—as it currently stood—could only exist on the grand chessboard as pawns.

Sebastian included.

But pawns could still checkmate. Pawns could still win.

Let them think they were the only players. Let them think they were the ones calling the shots. Let them think they saw it all.

And then—

Let them all stiffen in shock when those pawns jumped off the board to become players.

Sebastian looked down at Lucius and nodded. "Very well. I'll work with you."

Lucius froze, narrowing his eyes. "Why?"

Sebastian clicked his tongue in derision. "Use your head, idiot. I can't deal with Samyaza without your magic anyway."

The only things that could destroy the heart of supreme-ranking devils were arcane magic, spirit magic, and anti-magic.

It was far too early for anti-magic to manifest—if it even did in this timeline.

They had no spirit hosts on their side, so no Saint Stage to purify devils.

As for arcane magic, right now there were only three users in the Clover Kingdom: Yami, William, and Julius.

Yami and William were far too young and weak to be of any use.

So that just left Julius.

Although Acier's magic had been influenced by the Otherworld thanks to Megicula—just like Licht's and Lemiel's had been by Zagred—it was still far too low-level to slay Samyaza.

Without Julius or Lucius' help, the best they could manage was capturing or sealing Samyaza.

And trying to seal someone that strong—someone on your level or above—was far riskier than simply killing them.

Who knew how many lives would be lost just to pull that off?

The sad truth was that, right now, the Clover Kingdom was almost completely reliant on Julius when it came to high-level threats from devils or the Otherworld.

Sebastian had theorized a way Conrad could take that role instead, but it was just that—a theory.

And even if it were possible, he doubted Conrad would go along with it.

So he wasn't lying to Lucius.

Lucius seemed to catch onto that, his lips curling into a smug smirk. He nodded. "Good. Now, if that's all, let's get out of here. It's far too crowded for my taste."

Overcrowded?

Sebastian furrowed his brows in bewilderment, scanning the boundless, ocean-like mindscape around them—empty, save for the two of them.

Lucius had just described this as congested?

Are the limits an illusion? Is this place really not boundless?

Sebastian scratched his chin, then shook his head, refocusing.

Now wasn't the time to waste in thought.

He had a woman to placate.

Taking one last look at his mindscape—the place he was confident he wouldn't be able to return to until he'd grasped the shape of his soul, the place that surely held the key for him to grow stronger—Sebastian snapped his fingers.

And like motes of light, he and Lucius vanished.

Not long after, something slowly surfaced from the clear sea in his consciousness.

A floating silhouette.

Or rather, a ghostly, silver-white astral body.

A tall man, deep in sleep—perhaps even a corpse.

He wore a Roman-like tunic. His features... bore a resemblance to Sebastian's. Two or three points of similarity.

And his ears—

They were sharpened.

Ever so slightly.

Floating on the ocean's surface, like a body laid to rest, the figure remained in a stasis-like slumber.

—

Back on the balcony, Sebastian and Julius let go of each other's hands.

That was all it had been in the outside world—a simple handshake, lasting no longer than a second—as they conversed for minutes within.

Sebastian noticed the swirl in Julius' left eye was gone. Lucius has retreated. Off to who knows where... perhaps his struggle with Astaroth.

Before Julius could say anything else, his mana sense flared. A figure appeared between him and Sebastian, forcing him to step back several paces.

"A-Acier?" Julius raised a brow in confusion.

But Acier Silva didn't even glance at him.

Her focus was entirely on Sebastian.

Sebastian's expression softened as he caught the fear, horror, and concern in her lavender eyes. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. Her pupils dilated in shock.

At the same time, he gently ruffled Noelle's hair, the infant still fast asleep in her mother's arms.

"Don't worry. I'm still me."

Sebastian whispered it just loud enough for Acier to hear.

Just for her.

Acier stiffened. Her eyes reddened, and she rested her head against his chest.

"S-Sebby..." She choked up, trembling slightly. "W-why do you have to scare me like that?"

Sebastian wrapped his arms around her, careful of Noelle between them.

"I'm sorry."

Another warm kiss atop her head.

Acier trembled harder, her grip tightening as she wept. "S-Sebby, I'm tired..."

Sebastian nodded wordlessly. Then, without hesitation, he scooped her up—bridal style—and carried her, along with their daughter, back inside the ballroom. Up the staircase. And out.

The sudden movement left many confused.

For most of them, Acier's trembling had lasted only an instant.

Sebastian's actions confused them even more.

Julius most of all.

But sensing something was wrong, no one spoke a word.

Ignatius narrowed his eyes, noting the relief on Nozel's and Dorothy's faces. Not to mention the recognition—or understanding—that appeared on his own daughters'.

He said nothing.

Julius scratched his head, but with a shrug, turned and walked back into the hall, straight toward his subordinates with a smile.

His smile faltered slightly.

Yami's posture was off.

Morgen and Nacht were helping him stand.

Julius frowned. "Yami, is something wrong?"

Yami snapped his head up, tensing—almost imperceptibly, save for the four of them—before forcing a grin.

"Y-yeah, I think I got a hangover coming. M-maybe I drank too much."

Julius didn't buy it. Neither did Morgen. Nor Nacht.

But Julius simply nodded with a soft smile. "I came here to pick up William, but he took an early leave. Would you three like to come back with me?"

The boys froze, exchanging questioning glances.

Originally, they were going to stay overnight at House Faust.

But if their captain was willing to personally escort them back...

Then—

Footsteps.

They turned to see Draven Faust standing upright, his wife Lilith impassive by his side.

The Faust head shook his head apologetically. "Apologies, Captain Julius, but it's been a long night for my sons, and they need rest. Moreover, their friend is in no state to be traveling right now. Please pardon them—I'll have them sent back to Kiten first thing in the morning."

Julius paused, then smiled.

"Yes, that appears to be the better choice."

Before Yami, Morgen, or Nacht could respond, Julius patted Yami on the shoulder.

"If any of you come across William, tell him to contact me."

And then he disappeared in a flash of blue.

Yami bit his lip.

He felt it again.

That quiet caution. That subtle fear.

His friends' parents had it toward his mentor.

And he couldn't understand why.

Even now, he could feel it—his captain's words, his intentions.

They were genuine.

He didn't need Ki to tell him that.

So why?

Why were so many people acting like this toward Julius?

What had he done to deserve it?

Yami wanted to grab Draven. Nozel. Dorothy. Maybe even Mereoleona.

Shake them. Demand answers.

But Yami was tired.

Physically. Emotionally. Spiritually.

So he simply followed his friends—and their parents—out the door. Silently.

When they arrived at House Faust and he was shown to his room, he threw himself onto the bed.

Shut his eyes.

Tossed. Turned.

And finally drifted into sleep.

Hoping it would clear his mind.

—

House Kira

Damnatio Kira sat in a dimly lit room, still clad in his attire from the ball. Moonlight streamed through the window, casting pale streaks across his figure as he sat at someone's bedside.

A frail woman lay there.

Her skin was almost as pale as her hair was dark—just like his.

She barely looked alive.

Cold. So cold.

Damnatio held her hand, his grip firm yet careful, as if afraid she might break.

His lips parted.

A whisper, barely more than breath.

"Mother... I never once held hope. But it seems... it might be possible to wake you."

Silence.

Of course, there was no response.

Damnatio's fingers tightened around hers.

For the first time, he looked vulnerable.

For the first time, he seemed his age—not a cold, unfeeling aristocrat. Not a calculating, pragmatic judge.

Just a boy.

A son.

"Mother... I let Father die. No... I killed him."

His voice remained quiet, steady, but the confession lingered in the air like a heavy fog.

"Although I claimed it wasn't personal... it was." His gaze darkened. "Because of him, you're like this."

A breath.

"I purged this world of the source of your heartbreak. So when you wake... please don't be angry. Please don't be sad.

Just... let us talk."

His grip trembled.

"I can barely remember your voice. How you sound. How you were."

A shaky exhale.

"But I want to. I want to speak to you... know you. Not through secondhand stories from family or servants.

You."

His eyes burned, but no tears fell.

"Please... just a little longer, Mother."

His voice was barely a whisper now.

"I promise... the life waiting for you is worth it."

—

Elsewhere

In a quiet forest clearing, far from the capital, William Vangeance lay unconscious on the grass.

Perched on a small boulder above him, like a king on a throne, sat a man.

Black-haired. Hazel-eyed. Dressed in the crisp attire of a butler.

He smiled.

Too wide. Too sharp.

The same man who had caught William before. The one who had stopped his fall.

Slowly, his eyes flickered—hazel shifting to red.

His black hair shimmered, lengthening into cascading waves of brilliant gold.

And then, without turning, he spoke.

His voice was both ancient and young.

"Have you come to a decision?"

—

Heart Kingdom

Deep within the Heart Kingdom, Queen Isolde sat in the darkness of her throne room.

Undine loomed behind her, silent, watching.

Magic projections flickered before them—scenes from across the kingdom.

Families resting in their private quarters. A handful of late-night strollers. Guards on patrol beneath the moonlight.

The images shifted.

Lolopechka, her granddaughter, curled up with a small, beaver-like magic beast. Both snored softly, drool pooling on her pillow.

Isolde's grip tightened around her royal staff. Her lips were dry as she turned to Undine.

The spirit said nothing.

Only nodded.

Isolde's gaze hardened.

She inhaled. Exhaled.

And then, in a voice as firm as stone, she spoke.

"We agree to your terms."

For a moment, there was silence.

Then, soft laughter curled at the edges of her mind.

"Heh. Excellent."

A pause.

And then—

"Youth."

Light enveloped the queen.

[ End of Volume 1 - Finding One's Place ]

—

Author's Notes:

[1] End of Volume Author's note will be released tomorrow or the day after, with thoughts on this volume, some reflections, and discussion on the future of this series.

[2] As always, feel free to join the Discord: https://discord.gg/s3MME8X8ar