Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Cale could only scoff as he continued to leave the kingdom by ship. His father, after all these years, had decided to exile him. So now, he was heading to the southern continent, his late mother had a property there. He will live there.

Away from this place.

While sure it was understandable that it was his words that triggered that punk to beat him up. But to think that his own father would exile him while still injured. So without waiting for anything, he left in the middle of the night on his horse. He had already reached the Mogoru Empire just a few days ago.

“Yes, just these,” He told the vendor as he picked up several necessities for his trip. Just because he was a fucking trash doesn’t mean he didn’t know how to save up his money. For the past ten years, he had been saving up most of his allowance, just in case. All of it; totaling to 55 billion. It was enough for him to last for so long without any worries.

For some unknown reason, he looked back at the path he took. He scolded himself, they wouldn’t care about him. The people from the territory would probably rejoice at his exile. His family wouldn’t have to worry about someone as trashy as him.

He let out a breath.

The next few days he was traveling through the Jungle, the people there were nice. He was getting bad vibes from that shaman though. But still, he traveled through that before getting into another ship to go to the Southern Continent.

(“Your Majesty?” Litana turned her attention to her attendants, the red headed young man just left. But during the time they were accompanying him, he was nothing but a pleasant young man.

Lonely, but kind.

“I just wished that young man the best,”)

The place his mother owned on this continent was in the countryside. The countryside was a world away from the kingdom he had grown up in. The buildings here were sparse and weathered by the passage of time, but there was something tranquil about the simplicity. The air felt different here—fresher, less stifling. No looming towers, no constant whispers of power and politics. Just rolling hills, dense forests, and a small cottage tucked into the valley, where his mother had once lived, and where now he would try to make a life for himself. 

Cale reached the edge of the property as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the fields. It wasn’t much, just a large modest home, but it was all he had left of her. His mother had been gone for years, but she had left him this—her final gesture of love, or perhaps an escape for him from a life that had always seemed ready to turn its back on him.

The house was quiet, save for the occasional rustling of the wind through the trees. Cale stood for a moment at the gate, the weight of the past heavy on his shoulders. He could have turned around. He could have gone back to the kingdom, begged for forgiveness from his father, but something inside him resisted. No. He wasn’t going back. Not this time.

The door creaked open as he stepped onto the porch, his eyes scanning the surroundings. There was a garden off to one side, overgrown and wild. His mother had always loved tending to it, and for a brief moment, Cale’s heart ached. It had been years since he had allowed himself to remember her in this way. He had built walls around those memories, keeping them buried beneath layers of bitterness and anger. But now, standing here in her old home, those walls began to crack.

He didn’t know what came next. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with himself now. The life he had known was gone, and the future felt like a long road with no clear path.

With a sigh, Cale walked inside, setting down his few belongings by the door. The cottage smelled faintly of dust, but beneath it, there was a lingering scent of lavender, her favorite. He could almost hear her humming as she worked in the kitchen, a memory that felt too distant yet too close all at once.

As he sat down by the hearth, the fire flickering to life, he allowed himself to relax for the first time in what felt like forever. 

But even as the flames warmed the room, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was coming. The world, he knew, wasn’t done with him yet.

The crackling fire cast flickering shadows on the walls, the warmth of the flames a stark contrast to the chill that had settled deep in Cale’s bones. His thoughts swirled with uncertainty, but amidst it all, a strange sense of determination began to form. This cottage—his mother’s home—wasn’t just a sanctuary from the life he had left behind; it could be the beginning of something new.

A tavern. An inn. He wasn’t sure yet what exactly it would become, but the idea felt right. The space was big enough to house guests, and the thought of serving simple food, of sharing the kind of hospitality his mother had once extended to others, gave him a purpose—something to hold on to.

He rose from the hearth, walking over to the kitchen where remnants of old pans and utensils lay forgotten. Dust covered the counter, but there was a charm to the way everything had been left behind, as if the place had been waiting for him to return. His mother had always been a meticulous cook, and though Cale had never particularly enjoyed the kitchen, he had learned enough from watching her to get by. The idea of cooking wasn’t entirely foreign to him, and in this quiet place, he might even come to appreciate it.

The next morning, Cale woke early, the sun just beginning to streak across the sky. He decided to take a walk through the land surrounding the house, surveying the area. The property stretched wide, with untamed forests on one side and fields of wildflowers on the other. A small creek ran through the middle of it, its gurgling water providing a peaceful soundtrack to the world around him.

It was the perfect spot to start over.

As he walked, he imagined how he could transform this quiet patch of land into something bustling with life. He could set up a small garden in the back, plant herbs for cooking, and perhaps even grow some vegetables. The house could be divided into simple rooms for guests, travelers who sought refuge from the chaos of the world, just as he had. He would cook hearty meals, offer a warm bed, and provide a place where people could find comfort—something he himself had been searching for all these years.

Yes, a peaceful life may just help him to start over.

Chapter Text

Cale stood at the foot of the grand staircase, surveying the house with a critical eye. The wooden beams above him creaked as if the house itself were groaning under the weight of its potential. The four floors loomed over him, each one representing a new challenge, a step into the future he hadn’t quite figured out yet.

It had taken him a few days to get everything in order. He had cleaned out the lower three floors, clearing away dust and cobwebs, airing out the rooms that had been shut away for far too long. It was a laborious task, but there was a sense of pride in it—a feeling that he was reclaiming something, building a life from the ground up.

The ground floor would be the common room. A spacious area with a long hearth, comfortable seating, and a counter where he could serve food and drinks. The second floor would hold the guest rooms, simple but clean, each with a view of the surrounding land. The third floor would be for longer stays, with larger rooms and amenities for travelers who needed more time to rest before continuing on their journeys.

The fourth floor, the highest, was where he had decided to settle himself. He needed a space separate from the bustle of the inn, a place where he could rest his mind and work in peace. It was a quiet floor, with windows that gave him a sweeping view of the valley below. He could see the forest in the distance, the creek running through the land, and the distant mountains that framed the horizon. It was peaceful, and it was the only space in the house that felt like his .

But now, as he stood in the entrance of the common room, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was still missing. He had the basics in place: a fireplace for warmth, a few tables and chairs, a modest bar for serving drinks, and the beginnings of a small kitchen. He had even begun experimenting with some basic recipes, the same ones he had watched his mother prepare when he was younger. He’d never had the patience for it before, but now it felt like a lifeline—something to focus on, something to shape this new life around.

He reached down, brushing his fingers over the edge of a table, the wood smooth under his touch. His eyes flickered over to the door, which still hung crooked from the hinges, and the windows that needed fresh panes. There was so much to do, so much to fix, but there was a certain peace in the monotony of it all. In some ways, it was the only thing he could control. He had also posted outside and the nearby towns about hiring for the place.

The bell above the door rang, and Cale snapped back to reality, his gaze shifting to the entrance. A figure stepped inside, cloaked in the shadows of the evening. They took their hoods down. It was a girl about the same age as him with long, wavy light blonde hair tied back into a high ponytail, with soft bangs falling into her blue eyes. She was holding the flier he had posted.

“Uhm..” She fidgeted, “I saw this flier… Am I at the right place?”

Cale turned, his hand still resting on the table, and regarded the young woman standing in the doorway. There was something in her posture that suggested uncertainty, through her eyes—clear and bright blue—seemed determined. She was holding the flier in both hands, crumpled slightly at the edges as though she had been toying with it for some time before coming here.

"Yeah, you’re in the right place," Cale answered, his voice calm, but his mind already racing. He had posted the fliers a few days ago, hoping to attract some help for the inn, but he hadn't expected anyone this soon. Especially not someone like her. 

The girl hesitated for a moment, glancing around the room as if trying to assess the place in an instant. The common room was still in the process of being furnished, with mismatched chairs and the faint smell of fresh wood and dust still lingering in the air. It was far from perfect, but Cale was beginning to like the rough charm of it all. His own sense of satisfaction was growing—just as much from the work he’d done as from the thought of something else to occupy his mind.

"You’ve got some work ahead of you, huh?" she said, glancing at the uneven floorboards and the unfinished bar. She didn’t sound critical, just observant, as if trying to gauge what exactly she was stepping into.

Cale nodded slowly, his fingers brushing his jaw. "Yeah. But that’s the plan. I figure a place like this could be useful to travelers. Somewhere quiet to rest, maybe grab a meal." He eyed her curiously, wondering if she had come all the way out here simply for the job, or if there was something more to her presence.

The girl set the flier down on the counter, her gaze flickering to the fire that crackled softly in the hearth. "Well, I could use a job," she said, her tone earnest. "And, uh, I’ve been traveling for a while now. I’m good with people, I can help in the kitchen, and I’m a fast learner." She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, still nervous, but something in her demeanor suggested she wasn’t someone easily deterred.

Cale studied her for a moment. She looked young—probably no older than himself—and her worn clothes and boots suggested she had seen more of the road than she had of any comfortable home. There was something in the way she held herself, though, that made him feel like she was hiding more than she let on. The subtle glance she cast toward the kitchen, the way her hands instinctively fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve—it all hinted at a life that hadn’t been easy.

He had to admit, despite the doubts that gnawed at him, there was something about her that felt like a good fit for the place. She was willing to work, and right now, that was more than Cale could say about most people. 

“Alright,” Cale said, breaking the silence. “I’m going to need some help with the kitchen, and some cleaning up in the rooms. You’d be staying here, of course, and I’ll pay you as soon as the first guests show up. Sounds good?”

She nodded quickly. “Yeah, that works for me.”

Cale raised an eyebrow, still unsure. “What’s your name?”

“Sia,” she replied, with a small smile that was a little too tight to be completely relaxed. "I’m from... a little village farther up north."

"Nice to meet you, Sia." He extended his hand, and she took it with a firm grip that surprised him. “I’m Cale, obviously. This place isn’t much yet, but I’m hoping it’ll turn into something worth staying at.”

Sia glanced around again, the warmth of the fire catching her features. “I’m sure it will. With some work.”

Cale nodded, feeling a flicker of something in his chest. The job was starting to take shape now—he wasn’t doing it alone anymore. There was something oddly comforting about that.

He gestured toward the back of the inn, where the kitchen was set up, albeit in its early stages. “I could use some help organizing the pantry. I’ve got some basic supplies already, but it needs a bit of cleaning up before we can cook anything for guests.”

Sia smiled more genuinely this time. “I can do that.”

As she headed toward the back, Cale turned his attention back to the common room, a small sense of relief settling into him. He hadn’t expected someone to show up so quickly, but Sia seemed like someone who could handle herself. She wasn’t like the people he’d left behind in the kingdom—people who had always seen him as nothing but a disappointment. She had a quiet resilience about her.

He hadn’t expected to find this kind of companionship in such a remote place, but perhaps that was the start of something new for both of them.

Cale pulled up a chair by the counter and sat down, resting his elbows on the wood, his gaze drifting out the window. The wind was picking up outside, the trees swaying in the growing darkness, and for the first time in a long while, Cale felt like he could breathe.

But there was still that nagging feeling at the back of his mind. The one that told him that something—someone—was waiting. Not far off. Something bigger than just running an inn. 

He wasn’t sure what, but it was there. The quiet before the storm.

A door creaked open behind him, and Cale glanced over his shoulder to see Sia returning from the kitchen, a satisfied look on her face. She was wiping her hands on her apron, her eyes meeting his with a hint of curiosity.

"Is it always this quiet around here?" she asked, her voice slightly playful. "I mean, I’d think this place would be a lot busier, given the surroundings."

Cale looked out the window once more, feeling the weight of her question, the wind rustling the trees in answer.

“Quiet,” he said softly, “for now.”

Chapter Text

And quiet for now it is.

A few weeks later, this place became a hit amongst the travelers and merchants. Sia had made the lovely atmosphere happen even more. She had been a great help, even with the two of them, they managed to handle the inn just fine.

Since she was also a traveler, she stayed on the same floor as him. Sia was honestly a breath of fresh air.

“Here you go, boss!” She grinned at him as she handed him a lukewarm water. It was still early in the morning, so the ground floor isn’t open yet, their guests are still asleep. It had become a habit of hers to give him lukewarm water in the morning, stating that it was good for the body.

Cale groaned and took the glass from her, his fingers brushing over the smooth surface of the cup. "You know," he said, staring at the water like it was some sort of sacrificial offering, "I’ve never actually understood how water can be ‘good’ when it’s lukewarm. It’s not quite refreshing, but not exactly warm either."

Sia shot him a playful look, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well, it’s good for you, so deal with it, boss," she teased, planting herself on the counter opposite him with a grin that was entirely too bright for the early morning hour. She was like a whirlwind—energetic and always moving, always talking, always smiling. It was hard not to feel a little lighter in her presence.

Cale sighed and took a small sip, then set the glass down with a half-hearted clink. "You really enjoy this, don’t you? Torturing me with your morning rituals?"

Sia shrugged, unfazed. "It's not torture. Besides, you looked like you needed it that night. I figured it was the least I could do to help you recover."

That night. 

Cale’s thoughts momentarily drifted back to the drunken stupor he had found himself in only a few weeks ago—sitting on the stairs, blurry-eyed, after a long night of too much ale(far above from what he could handle normally), and far too many thoughts he’d rather forget. It was Sia who had found him then, a bit of a mess, stumbling his way toward his room, barely able to hold himself up. She’d insisted on helping him, even though he was already past the point of caring. 

She had laughed it off, though, never once making him feel like a fool for it. She just kept calling him "boss" with that teasing smile, as if he were anything but a mess of a man trying to put together a life he’d left behind.

The inn had flourished since then, and he couldn’t help but admit that Sia had played a significant role in that. Her energy and natural charm had turned the place into a hub of activity, where travelers came not only for a warm meal and a bed but for the sense of welcome that seemed to hang in the air. Guests often left with smiles on their faces, speaking highly of the food, the company, and the peaceful surroundings.

And it wasn’t just the inn that had changed. The mornings were no longer filled with Cale’s lingering dread. Instead, there was a rhythm to his days, a routine that, despite its simplicity, was something he had come to appreciate. He’d wake early, help Sia with the preparations for the day, then settle into the quiet of the morning before the guests started trickling down to the common room. He spent his evenings in the kitchen, cooking whatever was in season, often improvising dishes, trying new recipes he had seen his mother make. Cooking had become an oddly therapeutic practice—something that connected him to her in a way nothing else had.

“You know,” Sia said, leaning on the counter and studying him with a more serious expression, “you’ve got a good thing going here, Cale. I mean, look at this place. You’ve built it from the ground up, and it’s really starting to take off.”

Cale met her gaze and raised an eyebrow. "You’re not going to try and get me to start doing motivational speeches, are you?"

Sia grinned. "Nah, not my style. But you should give yourself some credit. You didn’t just stumble into this—you’re doing well. Really well."

He was silent for a moment, feeling the weight of her words. His instinct was to shrug it off, to deflect, but... there was truth to what she said. Despite everything that had led him here—the exile, the bitterness, the broken ties with his family—he had managed to create something that was his. Something he could be proud of.

He glanced at the door as it creaked open, signaling that the first guest of the day was coming downstairs. The low hum of activity started to fill the air, and soon the common room would be bustling with chatter, the clinking of plates, and the steady flow of food and drink. But for now, it was just the two of them, in the early morning quiet, sharing a moment before the world outside came knocking.

“You think it’ll last?” Cale asked, his voice softer than usual. He was staring at the counter now, running a finger over the worn wood, but his thoughts were elsewhere.

Sia paused, and for once, the playful spark in her eyes dimmed just a little. "I think you’re building something solid here, Cale. I think it’s already lasting."

He looked up at her, and for a moment, he saw something in her eyes—a reflection of the hope he had buried long ago. It wasn’t a look of pity, or even sympathy. It was more like... understanding. As if she could see the struggle beneath his surface, the way he still wrestled with the ghosts of his past.

“I hope so,” Cale muttered, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I don’t want to think about what happens if it doesn’t."

Sia smiled back, a little more softly this time. “Well, let’s not think about that. Let’s just keep this place going, one day at a time, and see where it takes us.”

Cale nodded, the quiet weight of the moment settling between them. It wasn’t much, but it was something. 

"Alright," he said, his voice firming with resolve. "One day at a time."

Cale sat back against the counter, wiping down a plate with a rag, his mind wandering as he reflected on the exchange. The memory of the woman’s words echoed in his head. "Sweetest couple," she had said with such certainty, as if she had witnessed some secret that neither he nor Sia had even realized they were hiding.

When did things shift? When had he started to rely on Sia so much? He thought back to the early days—those first awkward moments when she had first come into his life. He’d been reluctant, distant, unsure of her intentions. She had been just another traveler, another face passing through. Yet, somehow, over time, she had become more than that.

Now, it was as if they had slipped into some unspoken rhythm. They worked together seamlessly, each knowing what the other needed without a word. She would handle the guests, keeping their spirits high with her endless chatter and warmth, while he took care of the kitchen, cooking meals that always seemed to please, and keeping the rooms clean. They shared quiet moments in between—when the guests had retired for the night and the inn was bathed in a soft, golden glow.

Their shared silences were no longer uncomfortable; instead, they were a welcome reprieve from the chaos of the day. They had become... partners, in a way, though neither had ever said it aloud. Cale found himself slipping into the habit of her presence, seeking out her company more than he had ever expected. Her laughter had started to feel like a fixture in his life, the soft way she scolded him when he pushed himself too hard, the way she always knew just when he needed a break. She could read him, sometimes better than he could read himself. 

He could no longer allow himself to ignore the signs – there was affection, at least more than appreciation between them. He was, however, afraid of it. The last time he had allowed anyone to get near him, so near his heart, they just ended up breaking it. He has been erecting barriers for many years, making sure people stay out of his life but for some reason or the other, Sia managed to enter his life. Basically slithering through the tiniest cracks of that barrier.

"Just a couple?" Cale muttered to himself, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the counter, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips. He couldn’t be blamed for his reaction, could he? His mind raced, trying to piece together the moments where they had crossed the line from strangers to something else—something that felt a little too close, a little too real. 

"What's on your mind, boss?" Sia's voice broke through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. She had entered the room quietly, as she often did, and now leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a curious glint in her eyes.

Cale glanced up at her, his chest tightening slightly as he met her gaze. He should say something, he knew that. Something casual. Something to brush off the weight of the thoughts swirling in his head. But instead, he found himself looking at her with a strange vulnerability.

"Nothing," he said, shaking his head. "Just... something that came up. One of the guests mentioned something about us being a couple." He chuckled dryly, trying to make light of it, but there was an edge to his voice that even he couldn’t ignore.

Sia blinked, the familiar teasing smile playing at her lips. "Oh? Well, we are a good team," she said casually, though there was a soft, almost unsure tone in her voice that caught him off guard.

The silence between them grew heavy. 

"I guess we are," he murmured, finally meeting her eyes again. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but somehow, he hadn’t expected the tenderness in her gaze. She wasn’t laughing now, wasn’t teasing him. It was a quiet moment—one that felt... significant. 

Her smile softened, and she stepped closer to the counter, her hands resting gently on the edge. "You know," she began, her voice low, "I think they’re right. We do make a good pair."

Cale stiffened at her words, the air in the room thick with unspoken meaning. "We’re just—" He stopped himself, unsure of how to finish that thought. Just what? Friends? Business partners? More than that? God, why are emotions so complicated?

Sia seemed to sense his hesitation and tilted her head, her eyes never leaving his. "I didn’t mean anything by it," she said gently, her tone easing the tension in his chest. "But... it’s okay if it feels like more sometimes. We’ve been through a lot together, Cale."

He blinked, feeling his breath catch in his throat. Been through a lot together . It was true, in a way. She had seen him at his lowest, helped him rebuild this inn when he had thought all was lost, because he was busy drowning in sorrow. She had stood by his side, never asking for anything in return. That kind of bond didn’t form overnight.

But that wasn’t why it felt complicated. It was because, despite everything that had happened, despite how much he had come to depend on her, Cale still wasn’t sure if he could let himself feel anything more. Every time he thought about it, the walls he had so carefully built around his heart seemed to crack, and he wasn’t sure if he could handle what would come rushing in if they collapsed completely.

For a long moment, they stood in silence, the weight of her words hanging between them.

Finally, Cale broke the silence, his voice quieter than usual. "Maybe... maybe we’ll just take it one day at a time. No labels. Just... keep doing what we’re doing."

Sia’s lips curved into a small, understanding smile, and she nodded. "One day at a time, huh? I can live with that."

Cale’s chest eased, the tension from before fading just a little. Maybe that was enough—for now. There was no need for grand declarations or expectations, just this. Whatever it was between them, he wasn’t ready to define it just yet. And maybe, just maybe, that was okay.

"Good," he said, the edges of his mouth twitching upward. "Because I don’t plan on changing anything about this place anytime soon."

Sia laughed, her earlier teasing nature returning. "Good, because I don’t plan on going anywhere either."

His reddish-gray eyes were softening as he just listened to her laughter. Yes, this is enough for now. Just him and her, in this inn. In this routine.

Chapter Text

As soon as they decided not to put any necessary labels into their… relationship for now. Things had been lighter, especially for Cale.

It was officially a year since he had arrived to this place, a year and a week since he had been exiled. It was the best feeling. This freedom. He doesn’t have to act like trash anymore, he was beginning to relearn everything during those times.

And during those times, he sometimes wondered about his family. Had they been looking for him? After all, he did leave in the middle of the night without informing anybody of his plans. And all he left was a note saying; “I’m out.” Why? Probably as a last act of being trash?

Subconsciously, he wraps his arms around Sia’s waist from behind and lays his head on top of hers. He had wondered about her identity. Sure he never says his, so he could respect that she didn’t say hers either.

The soft scent of herbs and wood smoke filled the air as Cale held Sia close. The warmth of her body against his, the way she seemed to lean into his embrace just slightly, settled something deep inside him. It was a fleeting, rare moment of peace—something he hadn’t allowed himself in so long.

As the days drifted by, the thought of his family, of the kingdom, had slowly become a distant ache. There were times when he’d catch himself, staring into the distance, imagining what it might have been like if he had stayed. What if he had gone back to mend things with his father, to somehow salvage whatever was left of his family’s name? But those thoughts were hollow now, empty echoes of a past that no longer mattered.

There was nothing left for him there.

Instead, he had this—this small piece of land, this cottage, this unexpected life he had built with Sia. It wasn’t much, but it was his. And it was real.

This was his life now.

The inn had a quiet, cozy ambiance now that the last guest had retired for the night. The flickering warmth of the hearth cast soft shadows across the room, and the scent of freshly baked bread still lingered in the air, a reminder of the day's hustle. 

Cale turned his attention back to Sia, noting the way her shoulders were slightly tense, as if she were holding something back. There was a fleeting hesitation in her eyes—something unfamiliar. It was strange, because he had grown so used to her easy demeanor, the way she always seemed to know how to handle things with a light heart.

“Sure,” Cale said again, the casual tone of his voice masking the curiosity that was slowly building in his chest. He watched her nod, before she turned toward the back hall. He couldn’t help but wonder what was on her mind. 

He spent the next few minutes tidying up the common room, finishing up the last of the cleaning. It was a peaceful task—one that required little thought but offered him the quiet to think, to let his mind wander. 

Was she upset about something? Had he done something to make her uncomfortable? They had grown closer over the months, but sometimes he couldn’t shake the feeling that Sia carried a weight of her own, something she kept hidden beneath her smile. She was always so kind, so easy to be around, but her eyes—those eyes that held more than most people would care to admit—sometimes revealed more than she intended.

Cale shook off the thoughts, focusing on getting the last bit of work done. He didn’t want to overthink it. Sia was his friend, his closest companion here, and whatever it was, they would talk about it when the time came.

When he finished and made his way to the small office at the back of the inn, the door was already slightly ajar. The room smelled faintly of ink and parchment, with a single candle flickering on the desk. The shadows in the corners of the room gave it a quiet, intimate feeling, and Cale couldn’t help but notice how different it felt when it was just the two of them, away from the bustle of the inn. 

He stepped inside and waited by the door, watching as Sia sat down at the small chair in front of the desk. Her posture was stiff, and her hands were clasped together in her lap, a subtle tension in her movements. She was staring at the desk for a long moment, as if trying to collect her thoughts.

Cale leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed casually. “You’ve got me curious now,” he said, his voice light, though there was a hint of concern in it. “What’s on your mind?”

Sia exhaled softly, a small, almost nervous laugh escaping her lips. She finally met his gaze, and this time, there was no masking the vulnerability there. "I… I don’t know how to say this, but…" She paused, biting her lower lip, a nervous habit that Cale had never seen before. "I think it’s time I tell you about my past before we talk about whatever is between us."

Cale’s brow furrowed slightly. He had never seen her like this—so unsure, so hesitant. She was always the strong one, the one who knew exactly what to do, who always made the day feel lighter. To see her like this, so uncertain, caught him off guard.

"You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to," he said softly, though his heart twisted with the need to understand what was bothering her.

She shook her head quickly, a smile pulling at the corners of her lips despite the tension. "No, it’s just... I’ve been hiding something, and it’s not fair to either of us anymore." She took a deep breath, steadying herself. "Cale, my name is not Sia… My real name is Athanasia de Alger Obelia."

Cale’s heart skipped a beat at the name. The weight of it hung in the air, filling the room with a sudden stillness that felt almost too thick to breathe through. Athanasia de Alger Obelia. The name was unfamiliar, yet the way she said it—so matter-of-factly, as if it held no personal significance—shattered the careful illusion she had woven around herself.

For a moment, the words didn’t make sense. His mind scrambled, trying to place them in a context that could explain this sudden revelation. But no matter how hard he tried, nothing clicked.

She watched him, her eyes wide, searching his face for a reaction, as if she were expecting him to recoil or react in shock. But Cale didn’t move. He didn’t know what to say or how to react. His breath caught in his throat, the pulse in his temples rising. His chest tightened.

"Wait," he finally managed to say, the word thick on his tongue. He straightened up from the doorframe, taking a step closer, but his feet felt heavy. "Who are you really, then?"

Athanasia—Sia—gave a shaky sigh, her hand falling from her lap to her side. Her posture sagged, the bravado she’d always carried slipping away like water through cracks in a dam. "I guess... I guess this is the part where I tell you about who I really am." She stood up from the desk, moving toward the window, her back to him as she stared out into the darkening night. 

Cale’s mind raced, trying to piece together what she could mean. Was she someone important? A noble? A fugitive? 

But why keep it hidden for so long?

"You don’t have to explain if it’s too much," Cale said, his voice softer now, though a strange knot had formed in his stomach. "You’ve been yourself here. That’s who I know you as, and that’s what matters."

She shook her head slowly, her voice low and steady but heavy with something he couldn’t quite place. "No, I can’t keep hiding it. It’s not fair to you, not anymore." She turned back to face him, her expression unreadable, as if she had already resigned herself to whatever reaction he might have. "I’m from the Obelian Empire."

Cale blinked, trying to keep the shock from showing on his face. The Obelian Empire—he had heard of it. It was one of the most powerful, influential realms, a vast and sprawling empire known for its long, rich history and ruthless politics. The name “Obelia” carried weight. Prestige. But what did that have to do with her?

"I was supposed to be the first and only daughter," she continued, her voice distant, as if she were talking about someone else entirely. "But the moment I was born… My own father, His Majesty, Claude de Alger Obelia, never acknowledged my existence. I was nothing but a bug in his eyes. By the time I was fourteen, there was this girl, she was introduced as my father’s actual first born." She gave a bitter laugh, her hands trembling slightly as they gripped the windowsill. "She was so easily accepted by father, but not me. I was never allowed to call him Father, only her. When I was seventeen, it seems that he had enough of my existence and exiled me."

Cale felt the weight of her words sink into him, each one heavier than the last. He stood there, stunned, his heart pounding in his chest. He hadn’t known. He had no idea that the woman who had become his closest companion, the one who helped him build this life, had been carrying such a burden.

"Wait," he said, still trying to grasp the enormity of it all. "So your jackass of a dad just accepted this unknown girl but refused to acknowledge you, even once?"

Sia—Athanasia—nodded slowly, her gaze still fixed on the window, as if she were seeing the distant future that she had long since abandoned. "Yes, at least he didn’t kill me like I thought he would."

Cale stood still, processing her confession. He had always known there was more to her than met the eye, but this? This was something he couldn’t have imagined. Hell, even his own father wasn’t that bad, sure Deruth Henituse was a fucking coward, but at least he fully acknowledged him as his child.

"You didn’t have to tell me," he said, his voice rougher than he intended. "But... Thank you for trusting me with this. It probably wasn’t easy for you,"

Athanasia's shoulders seemed to relax at his words, as though a weight she’d carried alone had finally lightened, if only by a fraction. She didn’t turn to face him, but Cale could see her reflection in the window, her expression softening.

“I suppose… I never wanted to be a burden,” she murmured, her voice low and almost wistful. “When I left, I told myself I’d never look back, that I’d find a life outside of that cage.” She glanced over her shoulder, meeting his gaze with a hesitant smile. “And somehow, I found this place. Found you.”

Cale crossed the room and came to stand beside her, looking out into the night, feeling a strange kind of solidarity settle between them. There was a quiet in the moment, a shared understanding. They both knew what it felt like to be cast aside, to start from scratch, to build something from nothing but sheer grit and a stubborn refusal to let the past define them.

He took a breath, then let his hand rest on hers on the windowsill. “Athanasia or Sia… Whatever name you choose, that’s who you are. You didn’t owe me this story,” he said, his voice steady, “but I’m glad you told me. You’re… more than anyone could ever sum up with a name, or a past. That empire, your family—they didn’t deserve you.”

She looked down at their hands, her eyes glistening, but she didn’t pull away. “You’re probably the only person who’s ever told me that.”

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Then they’re idiots.” His tone softened, a smirk playing at his lips. “Look at this place, Athanasia. This inn, the people we meet, this life we’ve made—this is yours as much as it’s mine. They didn’t take that from you, and they never will.”

A faint, genuine smile broke across her face, a hint of the playful Sia he’d come to know and care for. “You really do have a way with words when you want to, Cale.”

“Only when necessary,” he shot back, grinning as the weight in the room seemed to lift.

They stood there in the quiet for a moment, both lost in thought, as the night settled around them. Cale felt the warmth of her hand in his, the steady presence beside him. Whatever the future held—whether their pasts came back to haunt them or not—he knew that this, here, now, was real.

“So, what happens next?” he asked softly, not breaking the silence but simply letting the question drift between them.

Athanasia looked at him, her blue eyes alight with something fierce and determined. “I think… I think we just keep building. Day by day.” She tilted her head, giving him a playful nudge. “And maybe have a little fun along the way.”

Cale chuckled, feeling a rare sense of peace settle over him. “Fun sounds good to me.” 

He pulled her close to him, “Guess it’s my turn,”

He laughed, “It wasn’t as tragic as you but. I came from the Roan Kingdom. Specifically the Henituse Territory, and I was the eldest child,”

“That’s far from here,” She narrowed her eyes.

“A week's worth of travel, really,” He shrugged. Cale sighed, “But anyways, I was exiled too. For being a trash most likely. I was beaten up, unconscious for four days by this guy from a village near our territory. I… Insulted the villagers, I have some resentment towards the place itself, but I supposed that punk coming there to say the entire village was murdered brought back unwanted memories,”

He took a deep breath, “So the guy beat me up so bad. When I woke up, I was told by my own father that I have to leave. So I did,”

Athanasia’s expression softened, her gaze full of a strange, quiet understanding. "You sound like you’ve been through your own share of struggles." She brushed her fingers lightly over his hand, as though acknowledging the weight of his words, his past. "But maybe... maybe we’re just two exiles who found each other for a reason." Her voice was barely above a whisper, the words lingering between them.

Cale let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Never thought much of it like that. Just figured I was a misfit, someone who didn’t belong. I was supposed to take over the Henituse name one day, but I never felt... right for it. I thought that my stepbrother deserved that position even more, so I ruined my own image just so the extended family would accept him as the heir.” He sighed, looking away for a moment, as though the memories themselves still stung. “Being here, away from all that—I’m finally able to be myself, y’know?”

Athanasia nodded slowly, her gaze steady on him. “It’s strange, isn’t it? How we both thought we could escape the shadows of our pasts by coming here.” She smiled a little, though there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. “Maybe that’s why it feels... easier, with you around. Like there’s someone who knows what it’s like to have to hide pieces of yourself just to survive.”

For a long, quiet moment, they stood together, letting their unspoken bond weave through the room. Cale felt a warmth in his chest he hadn’t expected, a feeling he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long time. It was the sensation of being understood, of having someone who didn’t need him to be anything more than he was.

Finally, he gave her a sidelong glance, a small smile tugging at his lips. “So, two exiles run an inn, the exiled trash owns it, while the exiled princess is the hostess. Sounds like the start of a bad joke.”

Athanasia chuckled, the sound soft and genuine. “Only it’s not. It’s... the start of something else.”

Cale nodded, his expression softening as he looked at her, feeling the weight of everything they’d shared in just a few short moments. “Yeah. Something better.”

The two of them were looking at each other’s eyes for a while, without any thought, they leaned in, and finally kissed one another.

Chapter Text

Their life as a couple, while nothing special, was worthwhile. They have each other and their inn, that was enough.

“I found them by the alley,” He looked at his lover with a blank look. In her arms were two kittens, one red, one gray, and a baby dragon. A fucking baby dragon.

“Sia, what the—”

She pouted, “They had nowhere to go! Can they stay?”

He narrowed his eyes at her, “You had been feeding them for a while, have you?”

She looked away from him, “Maybe..?”

That’s a yes.

He sighed, “Fine, but they better help, and the hatchling better stay hidden when there are other people so they don’t overwhelm him,”

Athanasia’s face lit up, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she cradled the kittens and dragon hatchling closer. “Thank you, thank you!” She nuzzled the red kitten, who mewed in response, a soft purr escaping as he nestled into her embrace. The gray kitten was more cautious, peering up at Cale with big, wary eyes, while the hatchling clung to Athanasia’s shoulder, its small claws curling around the fabric of her shirt.

Cale rubbed his temples, half-exasperated, half-amused. “We may have enough space for ourselves in this place, and now you want to turn it into an animal sanctuary?”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Athanasia teased, nudging him lightly with her elbow. “They won’t take up much room. Besides, think of the kittens as... pest control. And the dragon…” She trailed off, looking down at the tiny creature with an adoring smile. “Well, he’ll be our little guardian.”

Cale shook his head, letting a reluctant smile break through. “Fine, but don’t come crying to me when that little ‘guardian’ burns a hole in the ceiling with his magic.” He reached over and gently scratched the red kitten’s ears, watching as it closed its eyes and purred louder. The gray one, however, continued to study him, as if judging whether he was friend or foe.

Athanasia laughed, a bright, ringing sound that filled the room with warmth. “Oh, he’s still too young for that. Right now, he’s just... well, adorable.” She reached up to pet the dragon’s tiny head, and it let out a soft squeak, nudging her hand affectionately.

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the warmth spreading through his chest as he watched her. She looked so happy, so content, surrounded by these helpless little creatures. It was moments like this that reminded him why he loved her—her boundless compassion, her tendency to bring warmth into even the simplest things. 

Over the next few weeks, the inn slowly adjusted to its new residents. The red kitten, named Hong, took to exploring every nook and cranny, often curling up by the hearth in the evenings. The gray kitten, Ohn, was more aloof, keeping close to Athanasia whenever strangers entered, but brave enough to perch on the counter beside Cale as he served drinks.

The baby dragon, who Athanasia insisted on calling “Raven” was both a delight and a disaster. He had a habit of suddenly using his shoulder as some sort of resting place, trailing after him with tiny, determined footsteps as if Cale were some kind of surrogate parent. Raven’s curiosity was endless, leading to the occasional overturned dish or singed fabric. Cale had half a mind to grumble about it, but whenever he saw the little creature snuggled up in Athanasia’s lap, he found he didn’t mind nearly as much as he thought he would.

One night, as they sat together by the hearth, The kittens curled between them and Raven(they really need to give him a better name) resting with his head on Athanasia’s knee, Cale couldn’t help but marvel at the peacefulness that had settled over their life. He glanced at Athanasia, who was gently petting the sleeping dragon, her expression soft in the firelight.

“You know,” he said quietly, “I never thought I’d end up here. Running an inn, living with a woman who picks up every stray she finds, and... raising a damn dragon.”

Athanasia chuckled, resting her head on his shoulder. “Life is strange like that, isn’t it? We both ran away from everything we thought we wanted, only to find something better.” She looked up at him, her eyes warm and full of a gentle affection that never ceased to amaze him. “Thank you for this. For… letting me be myself here.”

Cale wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. “Always,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “We’re in this together—strays, dragons, and all.”

As they sat there, the fire crackling softly, Cale couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, they’d found their own little piece of happiness.

They had found a name for the baby dragon. Raon Miru. And those little shitheads could talk and his lover never bothered to tell him. He looked at them with a deadpan look as they laughed at his shocked face from earlier.

She was grinning from ear to ear, thoroughly entertained by his reaction. “Oh, come on, you can’t tell me you didn’t notice!” she teased, giving Raon Miru an affectionate scratch under the chin as the little dragon purred, his black scales glinting in the firelight. 

Cale crossed his arms, still looking at her with narrowed eyes. “How exactly was I supposed to notice that the cat and dragon were talking, Sia? They did a damn good job hiding it when I was around.” He glanced down at Hong, the red kitten, who looked up with an all-too-smug expression, tail swishing as if daring him to question its cleverness.

Athanasia tried to suppress her laughter but failed miserably, her shoulders shaking as she held Raon close. “Well, they didn’t want to overwhelm you,” she said, trying to sound apologetic but failing to hide her amusement. “They… wanted you to ease into it.”

“Ease into it?” Cale looked between her and the trio who had been secretly talking behind his back. “They’ve been here for weeks! You mean to tell me I’ve been having one-sided conversations with all of you?”

“Not exactly,” Raon Miru chimed in with a surprisingly gentle, intelligent voice, a touch of laughter in his tone. “We just wanted to get to know you first! And you’re funny when you talk to yourself.”

Cale’s jaw dropped slightly as he stared at the dragon, and then at the two kittens, who blinked back innocently as if they hadn’t just been caught in weeks of mischief. He could almost feel Athanasia’s grin beside him as she watched his disbelief.

“Great,” he muttered, rubbing his temples. “I’m being roasted by a dragon and two cats now. And apparently, they’re just as smart as you.”

Athanasia gave him a playful nudge. “Well, look at it this way—you’ve got a talking dragon for a friend now, and if you ever need advice on anything, they’ll all be here to help.”

Cale looked at the little gang, still skeptical but unable to hold back a reluctant smile. The dragon gave a wide, toothy grin, his tiny wings fluttering as he preened under Athanasia’s hand. Hong and Ohn purred contentedly by her side, their clever eyes watching him as if he were the most amusing show in the world.

He sighed, shaking his head. “I guess this place will never be boring, then.”

Athanasia leaned against him, still laughing softly. “Not with us around, it won’t be.”

Cale settled back, feeling an odd mix of exasperation and contentment. Talking dragons, clever cats, and a woman who never failed to surprise him—his life might be a circus now, but it was theirs.

The inn had grown unexpectedly lively with their newfound family of misfits. Ohn and Hong, in their human forms, blended seamlessly into the daily bustle, helping with chores and charming guests with their bright smiles. The two Fog Cat Tribe children were a quiet yet playful presence, always working together with a natural rhythm. To Cale and Athanasia, they’d quickly become more than just extra hands—they were like family.

Raon Miru, ever the proud and curious hatchling, roamed the inn with an air of noble authority. While he maintained his dragon form in the safety of the back rooms, he would occasionally transform into a human child when there were too many guests around, though the sight of his wide, wandering eyes and energetic laugh often gave him away.

Cale leaned against the counter, watching Ohn and Hong as they cheerfully wiped tables, their quiet laughter carrying through the room. He had grown protective of the kids, knowing they’d come from a rough past in the Eastern Continent, and it stirred something in him he hadn’t known was there—a fierce loyalty and a need to keep them safe. Venion Stan’s cruel reputation had reached even his ears, and knowing that the despicable man had once held Raon captive made his blood boil. 

"You're a good bunch, all of you," Cale said, mostly to himself, though Raon, who was snacking beside him, perked up.

“Of course we are!” Raon declared proudly, crumbs on his face from the scone he’d been devouring. “Together, we’re invincible. The Great and Mighty Raon Miru will protect them all!”

Cale chuckled, ruffling the dragon’s hair. “Yeah, well, maybe I’ll help a bit too.”

Raon nodded enthusiastically, looking around at the bustling inn with a sense of pride. "Yes, that’s why you and Shiny Human are our humans! Together, we’ll make sure this inn stays safe and peaceful, forever!”

Ohn and Hong gave a small cheer from across the room, flashing him warm smiles. They might have been on the run from their own troubles, but here, in this inn with people who genuinely cared, they’d found a place where they could finally belong.

As Cale looked around the room, he felt something settle within him—a sense of fulfillment, an anchor he hadn’t known he’d been searching for. They weren’t just an odd group of exiled and runaway people anymore; they were a family. And by heavens, Cale loves them a lot.

Chapter Text

Cough.

Cale leaned against the wall, clutching his chest as another wave of pain rolled through him, sharp and unrelenting. He drew a ragged breath, swallowing back the taste of iron that clung to his tongue. He’d been telling himself for weeks now that it was nothing—a passing illness, something that would fade with time. But time had only made it worse.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, glancing at the smear of crimson staining his skin. His body felt heavier every day, like he was carrying a weight he couldn’t shrug off. But the idea of worrying his family… no, he couldn’t bring himself to do that. They’d already endured enough in their lives. They deserved the peace and warmth they had built together. This was his burden, one he would shoulder alone.

As he straightened, he fixed his appearance before leaving the bathroom; he had also made sure that there would be no traces of blood on him, nor its scent knowing the sharp senses of the children. He just couldn’t afford to be so weak in front of his family.

“Morning Cale,” Sia greeted them as he arrived at the lobby. He smiled softly and gave her a kiss on the cheek as a greeting.

"Morning," he replied, his voice steady but softer than usual. He hoped she wouldn’t notice the slight tremor in his hands as he placed them on her shoulders, giving her a gentle squeeze before stepping back.

Sia looked at him, her gaze lingering a bit longer than usual. "Are you feeling alright? You look… a little pale today."

Cale felt his heart skip a beat but forced a reassuring smile. "Didn’t get much sleep last night. Nothing to worry about." He brushed off her concern with a casual shrug, hoping she wouldn’t press further.

Before she could ask more, Raon bounded into the room, followed by Ohn and Hong, both of whom had shifted into their human forms for the day. The twins darted toward him with boundless energy, their bright smiles lighting up the room. "Cale! Look!" they chimed in unison, holding up a small bouquet of wildflowers they’d picked from the edge of town.

He took the flowers with a genuine smile, touched by the innocence of their gesture. "These are perfect," he said, ruffling their hair, careful not to let his hand linger too long lest they notice the subtle weakness in his grip.

Raon, always more observant than the others, tilted his head, his gaze sharp and inquisitive. "You don’t look so mighty today, Cale," he said, a hint of worry creeping into his usually confident tone.

"I’ll be fine, Raon," Cale replied gently, his heart warming at the young dragon’s concern. "Just need a strong cup of tea."

Raon’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded, as if deciding to let the matter rest for now. Cale could see, though, that the dragon wasn’t entirely convinced. He just hopes that the little one will forget about it.

As they settled into the morning routine, with Sia serving breakfast to the guests and the children helping set up the dining area, Cale busied himself with mundane tasks, finding comfort in the familiar rhythm of their life at the inn. Yet, every movement reminded him of the toll his body was taking, each task a reminder of his own fragility.

He caught Sia’s eye across the room, her warm smile easing some of the weight he carried. Her presence had become his anchor, the one thing keeping him grounded in this strange, quiet battle against his own failing body. He knew he’d have to tell her the truth someday. But not yet. For now, he would hold on, endure in silence, and keep his family’s peace intact.

As he glanced around the inn—the life they had built together, the laughter of the children, the smell of breakfast in the air—he reminded himself, with a resolve that ran deeper than his pain: They don’t need to know.

Several weeks since then. The attacks were getting worse, but he was stubborn. He wouldn’t let an ounce of weakness get out of his body, he had survived acting trash for ten years, he could afford to hide this unknown illness as well.

The village was quiet, the streets dappled with the soft afternoon light. Cale walked beside Sia, savoring the peacefulness of the day. She was laughing at something he’d said, her hand warm in his as they strolled through the familiar market lanes. Her presence was grounding, as steady as the sun overhead, and Cale held onto that stability with every step.

But a dull ache had started to settle beneath his ribs, and with each stride, it grew sharper. He took a steadying breath, forcing himself to focus on her, on the easy rhythm of their day together. She’d made it her mission to take him out on more outings, as if she sensed something was amiss. He couldn’t deny her that—and besides, he found he didn’t want to. 

“Cale?” She nudged him gently, her fingers tightening in his. “You seemed a little far away just then. What were you thinking about?”

“Oh, just… how long it’s been since we had a day like this,” he said, forcing a smile to mask the flash of pain that shot through him. “Feels like ages.”

Sia’s expression softened as she smiled back at him. “Well, we should do this more often. The inn can run itself once in a while.”

He chuckled, nodding in agreement. “You’re probably right.” But as they passed a stall filled with colorful trinkets, the pain flared again, sudden and hot. He faltered, gripping her hand a bit too tightly, and his other hand went instinctively to his side. 

Sia noticed the change immediately, her brow furrowing with concern. “Cale? Are you sure you’re alright?” Her voice was gentle, but her eyes held a deep worry he couldn’t ignore.

He forced himself to straighten, drawing in a shaky breath. “I’m fine, Sia. Really. Just…” He trailed off, unable to find the words to dismiss her worry without outright lying. It was as if the pain had stolen them.

Before he could pull himself together, Sia gently placed her hand on his chest, her expression shifting from concern to determination. “Cale… you can’t keep brushing this off. Whatever’s going on with you, it isn’t going away, is it?”

Her words hung between them, piercing the wall he’d tried so hard to build. He would continue to deny and deny this, to not interrupt the peace they build for themselves.

“I would be fine,” He told her, like the liar he is. And gave her a peck on the lips, to remove her trail of thoughts from his pain, “Say… Should we get married?”

She looked at him in shock, “So sudden?”

He grinned at her, the aching in his chest was slowly disappearing, “It’s sudden, but I feel like it’s the right time, you know?”

Sia blinked, her surprise melting into a gentle smile. “Well,” she said, recovering from her initial shock, “I suppose if you’re going to propose out of the blue, I might as well say yes.”

He laughed, a sound more genuine than he’d expected, and for a moment, the pain faded entirely. It felt almost surreal—the kind of moment he’d read about, something so pure and perfect it seemed like it couldn’t belong to someone like him. And yet, here she was, standing by his side, her hand warm and steady in his, saying yes.

“I didn’t think you’d go for it so quickly,” he teased, though he meant every word.

She raised a brow. “I wouldn’t call our relationship ‘quickly,’ but if you insist,” she shot back, playfully nudging him.

For a while, they strolled through the marketplace, their steps lighter as they talked about their future. Sia spoke of what their life could look like once they married—maybe expanding the inn, growing a small garden, even taking time off to travel or having more children. Cale found himself nodding along, letting her voice fill the silence he was too afraid to break with any hint of his own struggle.

The idea of having a family with Sia—a true family, one they’d build together—filled him with a warmth that seemed to fight back the pain, if only for a moment. He could picture it: a small child with Sia’s bright eyes and boundless spirit, the sound of laughter echoing through the halls of their inn. The children they’d taken in, Raon, Ohn, and Hong, were already like family to them, but the thought of a child of their own was different. It was something he hadn’t realized he wanted so deeply until now.

"Do you think… we’d be good parents?" he asked softly, glancing down at her.

Sia stopped, turning to look at him, her eyes tender and certain. "Cale, we already are. The way you care for Raon and the kittens, the way you protect and give them what they want without a second thought… you’re already an amazing father."

A swell of emotion rose in his chest, one that caught him off guard. He swallowed, feeling the sharp sting of tears at the back of his eyes. He hadn’t let himself consider that he could be good enough to be a father, to truly be there for someone, when he was so used to standing on the outside of love and family. But here he was, with Sia by his side, making him believe he could have a life he’d only dreamed about.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Sia squeezed his hand. "Just promise me… that you’ll take care of yourself. You have a family now, Cale. You don’t have to carry everything alone anymore."

Her words were like a balm, soothing some of the ache in his heart. He could feel the truth in them, even if his instincts told him to push her away from his pain. But the love in her gaze kept him rooted, making him want to try, to let someone else in.

"I’ll try," he said finally, his voice steady, though he felt the weight of his illness still there, lurking beneath the surface. "I’ll try to… let you in."

Sia smiled, her fingers tracing over his knuckles as they walked together down the path that would lead them home.

As it turns out, they were popular amongst the townsfolk more than they thought? The people somehow managed to find out they were planning to get married, so the older women were quick to visit their inn and talk with them about it.

“How would you want this wedding to go?” A kind old woman asked.

Sia chuckled, “A very simple one would do. Cale and I are not that keen on making it big, just an intimate ceremony is enough,”

“Well, you have a nice backyard, why not making it a backyard wedding,” An old priestess from the chapel chimed in, “I will officiate this wedding,”

“You didn’t have to,” Cale softly said.

The old priestess chuckled and took both of their hands, “This old priestess may have no idea what you two went through. But I could tell that you two are kind children, scared but kind. This union would just bring you two even closer,”

Cale felt a warmth creep into his chest, and for once, it wasn’t the sharp, gnawing ache that he’d grown used to. The priestess’s words held a sincerity that cut through his usual defenses. He glanced at Sia, who smiled up at him, her eyes bright and a little misty. He knew she could see the subtle shift in his expression, that momentary crack in the walls he’d built up. 

"Thank you," he said softly, his voice catching in his throat as he looked from the priestess to the kind, wrinkled faces surrounding them. "It means a lot."

"And we’ll help decorate, of course," another woman added with a grin, her eyes alight with excitement. "We can bring flowers from our gardens, string up lights—it’ll be lovely!"

Cale opened his mouth to protest, but Sia squeezed his hand, giving him a small, reassuring smile that told him to let go, to just allow this generosity for once. The townsfolk were eager, their warmth a gentle reminder that they had found a place here, and that perhaps—despite everything—he deserved this, too.

As they planned, the inn’s dining room became a hive of chatter and ideas, each neighbor contributing a small piece of themselves to the vision of the wedding. The old priestess offered advice on traditions, while another woman promised to bake fresh bread and pastries for the guests. Someone else, an old man who had once been a fisherman, insisted on catching fresh trout for the celebration feast.

Hours later, when the townsfolk had finally left, Cale and Sia were alone in the quiet of the inn. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow through the windows, and he felt a peace he hadn’t known in years settle over him.

Sia leaned her head on his shoulder, sighing contentedly. "It’s going to be perfect, Cale."

He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. "I never imagined… anything like this," he admitted, the weight of his words lingering between them.

"You deserve it," she whispered. 

He kissed the crown of her head, “We both do,”

Might as well enjoy these moments while he could still hold on.

Chapter Text

The doctor’s office had been quiet, tucked away on the edge of the village, a place Cale could visit without drawing attention. The doctor was an old man, sharp-eyed and compassionate, who had quickly seen through Cale’s attempt to downplay his symptoms.

“Cale, your body is under immense strain,” the doctor had said, his voice grave as he handed Cale a small vial of dark liquid and a stack of dried herbs. “This isn’t a cure, but it should ease the symptoms. And you need to rest,” he added firmly, as if knowing Cale would ignore that part.

Rest. Cale had almost laughed. There was no time for rest, not with the inn, not with the wedding just weeks away, and certainly not with the family depending on him. Rest was a luxury he couldn’t afford. But he took the medicine anyway, feeling the bitterness settle on his tongue as he swallowed, the taste lingering like the weight of the truth he was hiding.

That had been two weeks ago, since then he had been taking those medications in secret. He had begged the doctor to not tell anyone about his condition. He just couldn’t. He just couldn’t let anything worry about him right now.

“A room for two please,” A man with purple hair said, as he was giving the man with blue hair, green eyes with glasses a side eye. Said companion was by the bar drinking to his heart content.

“Luckily for you we have a room for two,” He politely said, as he handed him the room key,“It is on the second floor, 7b. May I know the name of who I will put it under?”

“Glenn Poeff,” The man answered as he handed 6 gold coins, “We will be staying for a week,”

“Noted,” He put them in the log book. Glenn dragged his drunken companion, and that made him chuckle. It was like him back then, but minus the companion.

The days drifted by, each one bringing them closer to the wedding, and each one testing Cale’s resolve a little more. The medicine dulled his pain, but not enough. Every time he picked up a stack of firewood or lifted a heavy box, a searing ache would flare through his chest. He learned to breathe through it, to mask the flashes of pain with forced smiles and hollow reassurances. Sia’s joy was so pure, her laughter so light, and he couldn't bring himself to dampen it.

Five days later, the townsfolk had been designing their backyard with excitement evident in their faces. It was only three days before their wedding, and they couldn't wait.

“Woah, what’s the occasion, my friend?” Somehow, Bud Illis kept calling him his friend.

“Ah,” Cale acknowledged his presence, “Well, Sia and I are getting married tomorrow,”

Glenn looked at him in shock, as Bud choked on the ale he was drinking. “Congratulations! May we have the honor of attending, as friends, of course,” Glenn said.

Cale laughed, “Groomsmen. You two should attend as Groomsmen,”

“Is that fine?”

Cale shrugged, “I never really had that much friends, you guys are close to my age, so why not,”

Bud and Glenn exchanged a glance, then both broke into grins. Bud clapped a hand on Cale’s shoulder, his eyes bright with excitement. “You won’t regret it. We’ll make sure this wedding goes down in history as the best the village has ever seen!”

Cale chuckled, the sound light but a little strained. “Don’t make it too extravagant. Sia and I aren’t keen on drawing too much attention.”

“Oh, no promises there,” Bud laughed, taking another swig of his ale.

Despite his best efforts to mask his discomfort, Bud’s keen eyes picked up the tension in Cale’s posture. “You alright, friend?” he asked quietly, as Glenn wandered off to the bar.

Cale forced a smile, brushing it off. “Just wedding nerves, I guess.” 

“Ah, nerves before the big day, huh?” Bud nodded sympathetically, though there was a glint of suspicion in his eyes. He was too observant for Cale’s comfort, but luckily, Bud seemed willing to let the matter rest, at least for now.

The next morning, as the villagers gathered early to continue the preparations in the backyard, Cale took a moment to himself in the quiet of his room. He could hear the distant laughter of children, the clinking of glasses downstairs, and Sia’s melodic voice as she chatted with a guest in the lobby. It was all so perfect, so close to the life he’d dreamed of. And yet, here he was, clutching his chest as a fresh wave of pain swept over him.

For a moment, the weight of it all—the joy and the agony, the laughter and the silence—crashed over him like a storm. He closed his eyes, breathing through it, forcing the pain back into that hidden part of him, and willed himself to stand straighter. He had one job to do tomorrow: to stand beside Sia and promise her the future they both deserved.

As the day wore on, his new groomsmen eagerly dived into their roles. Bud and Glenn brought in flowers, arranged tables, and even wrangled some of the children to help with decorations. Raon, ever watchful, followed Cale around with an intensity that both warmed and worried him. No one had ever assumed that this black haired child was a dragon, he was so used to his human form around them, not even Glenn who was a mage noticed a young dragon amongst the crowd. He’d catch the young dragon glancing up at him, frowning slightly before resuming his duties.

“You know,” Raon said softly as they worked side by side, “if you’re not feeling well tomorrow, I can stand in as the groom.”

Cale laughed, genuinely touched. “Thank you, Raon. But I’ll be there. Don’t you worry about that.”

The young dragon nodded, though his eyes were still shadowed with worry. 

Finally, as the sun set and the villagers headed home, Sia came to find Cale, slipping her hand into his. She smiled up at him, her gaze filled with a happiness that shone brighter than the stars beginning to dot the sky.

“Tomorrow’s the day,” she whispered, her voice filled with a mix of excitement and contentment. “Can you believe it?”

Cale tightened his grip on her hand, feeling the ache in his chest lessen just a bit in the warmth of her presence. “I can,” he murmured. “That's all I’ve wanted.”

He held her gaze, and for a brief, fleeting moment, he let himself forget the pain, the strain, and the truth he kept hidden. Tomorrow, he would stand beside her and make a promise that would be his anchor, his purpose, his fight. Tomorrow, he would give her all he had left.

He was in awe of how beautiful their backyard had become. The expansive yard waited for them as if it was a green carpet with fresh green grass and flowers in the making. Stacks of white chairs were laid from the aisle to the temporary altar with a lot of flowers and fairy lights to give it a warm look. Small and sturdy at the far end of the aisle was a wooden arch draped in lace with roses completing the aesthetics of the event by releasing a calming scent that soothed everyone. Soft strains of a string quartet floated around the air, because the music creation contained a lovely note that is reminiscent of an eternal union of two people. Above, or more accurately overhead, there was a massive shift in the heavens with faint pastel tones filling the air, as if Nature herself had deigned to grace this simple ceremony with her presence.

“Did you like it, dear?” The grandma from before smiled at him.

Blinking away the tears, he smiled gratefully, “Yes, I love it. Thank you so much,”

The old woman reached over and patted his hand gently, her eyes twinkling. "Oh, it’s not just me, child," she said, gesturing to the villagers gathered around, some tidying up last details on the tables, others tending to arrangements or testing the fairy lights strung from tree to tree. "We all pitched in. This village has watched you both grow into something beautiful, something worth celebrating."

Cale swallowed, his throat tightening with emotion as he took in the scene. He knew the villagers had been preparing, but he hadn’t expected this—a true labor of love, crafted with such care and kindness that it almost felt like magic. It was as though each flower, each chair, each twinkling light had been placed with purpose, an unspoken vow from each of them that he and Sia’s happiness mattered.

When given the signal, they all immediately went to their places as they waited for the bride. Cale was nervous right next to his groomsmen. There was a sound of bells. There as she walked was her. His Sia, his Athanasia. His wife.

With every step that she made the softness of her heels clicking resonated softly in the age old church. Her long wavy, light blonde hair fell down her back, shining as a golden ribbon. The strands were swept up to a chic high ponytail that underlined the long line of the neck; they left the soft fringe frame her mesmerizing blue eyes. This alone framed her beautiful face and her beaming smile accentuating the tender loving look into the eyes of her man who is still in the far distance can be adequately described.

Such a simple but very beautiful wedding dress that told sweet stories, the romance, and a woman’s innocence every time she twirled. Dressed in a slip dress of some material she looked feminine, pushing its softness to her waist and enhancing curves. The décolletage of the gown was done in lace work and the gown was fairy-like as she walked towards her future. As she walked, the girl with the white dress passed us by, the angel walking towards the man she’d always wanted to have by her side as she started the next chapter of her life with him.

Bud elbowed him a bit, “Don’t drool now, my friend,”

“Not my fault my wife looks like an angel,” He hissed quietly.

Bud chuckled softly, his grin mischievous. “Ain’t nobody faultin’ you for that. She does look like one, though. But don’t forget, she’s also human, and that means you’re gonna have to keep up.”

Cale shot him a glance, half-laughing, half-exasperated. "I know, I know. But you don’t have to remind me right now." His words were light, but a deep sense of pride swelled in his chest as he watched Sia draw nearer. The way she moved, the grace in her step like even being exiled for two years she still had the grace of an imperial princess in her—it was as if the whole world had slowed just to watch her. Every eye was on her, but none of them mattered to Cale. She was his. She always had been.

His heart pounded as she drew closer, the anticipation almost too much to bear. Bud's playful jab seemed distant now, drowned out by the pounding of blood in his ears. Every step she took seemed to echo in his chest, and with each step, the pain that had been constant in his body seemed to fade just a little more. Sia was here, and for the first time in a long while, he felt like he could breathe.

The ceremony went by in a blur. There was no space for doubt or worry. There was only Sia, standing before him, her eyes filled with trust and hope. The vows they exchanged were simple, but to Cale, they held the weight of everything he couldn’t put into words. He promised her the world, even if he wasn’t sure how long he could keep it spinning for her. 

But that didn’t matter. Not today.

As they exchanged rings, the pain in Cale’s chest flared again, sharp and insistent, but he barely flinched. He had promised to stand beside her, and stand he would. The crowd cheered as they sealed their vows with a kiss, and Cale, for a moment, forgot everything except the feeling of her lips on his.

When they pulled away, Sia’s face was alight with joy. She smiled at him, eyes sparkling with the kind of love that made him feel like the luckiest man alive. “I knew you’d make it,” she whispered, the words so soft that only he could hear them. "I knew you’d be here with me."

His throat tightened, and all he could do was nod, too overwhelmed to speak. 

Later, as the night stretched on and the last of the revelers danced under the fairy lights, Cale found himself sitting quietly at a table, the warmth of the firelight flickering on his face. Sia had slipped away for a moment, and the village was buzzing with conversations, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. 

A shadow fell over him, and he looked up to find Glenn standing there, his arms crossed, a serious look on his face.

“You’re not fooling anyone, Cale,” Glenn said quietly, his voice edged with concern. “The doctor’s medicine isn’t going to fix whatever’s going on. What’s happening to you?”

Cale met his gaze, the weight of the secret pressing on him once more. He opened his mouth, but the words stuck in his throat. How could he tell Glenn? How could he tell anyone that the thing he feared the most wasn’t the wedding, or the future, or the responsibility of marriage—but the reality that he might not be there to share it?

“I’m fine,” Cale said at last, forcing the words out with a smile that felt more like a mask than the truth.

Glenn didn’t buy it. His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he gave a heavy sigh and clapped Cale on the shoulder. “Don’t keep it to yourself too long, my friend. Not everyone here has forgotten what it’s like to be young and foolish.”

Cale’s lips quivered in a smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

As Glenn walked away, Cale felt a pang of guilt, but it was brief. He was here now. He was with Sia. He couldn’t let anything—especially his own body—ruin this moment. Not when everything he had ever wanted was standing right in front of him.

His gaze found her again, laughing with Raon, the two of them sharing a quiet moment away from the crowd. And for the first time, Cale allowed himself to believe in the possibility of a future, a future filled with laughter and love, even if it might be shorter than he had hoped.

Tomorrow, he had promised. Tomorrow, he will be by her side.

And tonight, for the first time in a long time, he could almost forget the pain. Almost.

Chapter Text

Cale’s laughter mixed with Sia’s as they strolled down the sandy shores of a small lake a few villages over, far enough from home that no one knew them. The sunlight danced on the water, and Sia’s smile was as wide as he’d ever seen. They skipped stones, shared whispered secrets, and dreamt aloud about the life they would build together. Every so often, Sia would catch him looking at her, and she’d laugh and blush, as if she couldn’t quite believe they were here, together at last.

On the surface, everything seemed perfect. But beneath the joy, Cale felt the ever-present ache just below his ribs. The medicine took the edge off, though it didn’t truly silence the pain. He had to steel himself whenever she wasn’t looking, clenching his jaw and forcing down the discomfort until it became just another shadow lurking in the back of his mind. Sia had noticed the pills once, glancing at them as he slipped them into his mouth with practiced ease. He’d chuckled it off, brushing her concern aside with a half-joke about needing vitamins, given his past. Sia had smiled softly, understanding his self-deprecating humor, and left it at that.

When they returned to the village, Bud and Glenn were waiting with open arms and smug grins. They’d made sure the inn was in perfect shape, handled the small hiccups that arose, and even brought extra coins in, thanks to Glenn’s knack for attracting travelers and their generous purses. The two men had become something like brothers to Cale, and it didn’t take long for them to notice that his face looked more worn, his steps slower. But they said nothing—Bud cracking jokes and Glenn meeting Cale’s eyes with a silent promise of support, a reminder that he wasn’t alone in whatever this was.

Weeks went by, and married life settled in around Cale and Sia like a warm cloak. They shared quiet evenings by the fire, laughter over shared meals, and the gentle, wordless bond that built between them as they found a rhythm together. Sia was everything he could have dreamed of and more. Her presence felt like a balm, something that eased the weight he carried, even if she didn’t know it was there.

But with each passing day, Cale’s strength waned bit by bit. The pain clawed deeper, creeping into moments he could no longer hide, searing through him with the unrelenting force of something he couldn’t control. He found himself slipping away more often, under the guise of running errands, only to stumble into the doctor’s office, his breathing shallow and his face pale. The doctor would look at him with sorrowful eyes and pass him more of the herbal medicine that only managed to dull the agony.

One evening, as Cale sat alone by the fire, a low voice broke the silence.

“You’re not doing so well, are you?”

He turned to find Bud standing in the doorway, his face shadowed but his eyes fixed firmly on Cale. 

Cale forced a smile, but it cracked around the edges. “Nothing to worry about, Bud. Just a little—”

“Cale.” Bud’s voice was unusually steady, unusually serious. “You’re my friend. And friends don’t let each other suffer alone.”

The mask slipped. Cale let out a shaky breath, his shoulders slumping as he ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t want to worry anyone, especially Sia and the children.”

Bud’s expression softened, and he walked over, pulling a chair close. “She’s your wife, Cale. She loves you. And you’re gonna have to let her be there for you, whether you think you’re protecting her or not.”

Cale swallowed, the weight of Bud’s words pressing down on him. He knew it was true. But how could he shatter the happiness they’d fought so hard to build? How could he admit that the future he’d promised her was slipping away, that he might not be there to see it unfold?

Bud gave him a reassuring clap on the shoulder. “You don’t have to face this alone, you know.”

“I still couldn’t,” He said. Bud sighed, as he placed two small bottles by the table, “Glenn and I are leaving tomorrow. This is a stronger version of your current medications. So please take care of yourself, Cale.”

With a shaking and pained smile, “Thanks, Bud.”

“Any time, my friend.”

Days passed quietly, and the inn felt strangely hollow without Bud and Glenn’s easy banter and watchful eyes. Cale had grown accustomed to their steady presence, the unspoken support they provided simply by being around. Now, in their absence, he felt more exposed, like a piece of armor had been stripped away. Glenn left a small box where they could leave letters to be sent to them and vice versa, but still.

Sia noticed too, though she didn’t press him with questions. She kept busy around the inn, her laughter ringing out in the empty halls, her voice light as she spoke with guests or shared stories by the fire. She would glance at him sometimes, her eyes soft with worry, but she never pried, respecting the unspoken line he’d drawn.

One evening, Cale returned from a walk in the village, the crisp air doing little to ease the gnawing ache that had begun to settle into his bones. As he entered the inn, he found Sia standing by the front desk, waiting for him. Her face was pale, her fingers trembling slightly.

“Cale…” Her voice wavered, and he immediately crossed the room to her side.

“What’s wrong?” He asked his wife.

She fiddled and played with her fingers, “I met with a doctor today.”

“What happened? Are you sick?” How hypocritical of him to be outspoken about her health when he was hiding his.

“I’m pregnant. Two weeks pregnant,”

For a moment, Cale was speechless, his heart pounding as he took in her words. He reached for her hands, steadying her as much as himself. A swell of emotions washed over him—joy, surprise, and a sharp pang of fear.

"Sia… that's wonderful," he whispered, his voice thick, though he forced a smile.

She looked up at him, eyes shining with a mix of happiness and trepidation. “Are you… are you happy, Cale?”

“Of course,” he said, pulling her into a gentle embrace. “I couldn’t be happier.”

He felt her relax in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder as they stood in silence for a moment, letting the weight of this new beginning settle between them. A family. He had dreamed of this, of having a child with Sia, of building a life full of love and laughter. And yet, as he held her, a shadow flickered through his mind, a gnawing fear he couldn’t shake.

He pulled back, cupping her face. “You’re going to be an amazing mother, Sia. Our child is lucky to have you.”

Sia smiled, radiant, though she searched his face, as if sensing something he wasn’t saying. “And they’ll have the best father too. We’re in this together, right?”

He swallowed, nodding as he smoothed a hand over her hair. “Together,” he echoed, even as doubt crept in, his smile wavering. How could he promise a future he wasn’t sure he could keep?

As the days passed, Cale found himself battling a mixture of emotions he hadn’t anticipated. He watched Sia as she began to talk about their future with new light in her eyes, her excitement blossoming with each passing day. She spoke of the life they’d give their child, the stories they’d share, the values they’d teach. And with every plan, every dream she shared, his chest tightened, the reality of his condition pressing harder against him.

The pain was growing harder to ignore. It crept into the quiet hours of the night, gnawed at his focus during the day, but he refused to show it. How could he burden her now, with so much joy ahead of them?

But one evening, as he lay beside Sia, watching her sleep, he felt a sharp pang that wouldn’t be subdued. He slipped out of bed, wincing, and stumbled to the main room of the inn, clutching his side as he lowered himself into a chair by the fire. His breath came in short, painful gasps, and he clenched his fists, willing the pain to pass.

Just then, he heard soft footsteps behind him. Sia’s voice broke the silence, her tone laced with worry. “Cale?”

He tried to sit up, to smile, but she saw through him. She knelt beside him, her hand resting on his. “How long have you been hurting like this?” she asked, her voice quiet but firm.

“I—” he began, but the words died in his throat as he saw the look in her eyes.

“Don’t lie to me, Cale,” she whispered. “Not now.”

He looked away, his shoulders sagging. “I didn’t want to ruin this for you… for us,” he said, his voice breaking. “You have a child to think of now, and I didn’t want to add this—we already have this to worry about.”

Sia took his hand, her touch steady and warm. “Cale, I love you. And I need you to let me be here for you. I want our child to know the strength it took for you to love us through everything. But you can’t do it alone.”

Her words sank into him, the honesty and tenderness cutting through his resolve. He took a shuddering breath, nodding as he allowed himself to lean into her embrace, letting her carry some of the weight he’d been shouldering alone.

“I’m scared, Sia,” he admitted, his voice barely a whisper.

She tightened her arms around him, her voice soft but unwavering. “So am I. But we’ll face this together. You’re my family, Cale. And you don’t have to hide anymore.”

For the first time in months, he felt a flicker of hope. In her eyes, he saw a future he could believe in—a future where he didn’t have to bear the pain alone.

As her pregnancy progressed, his health was slowly getting worse. With Sia’s encouragement; he told the children about his illness. Raon, Ohn, and Hong were all in tears by the time he was done telling it. Of course they would be, all these months, the human they had come to look at as their father was slowly dying right before their eyes. The black dragon, Raon Miru, knew that human lives are short, but to think their father’s life was shorter, that hurts. A lot. The Fog Cat Tribe children, Ohn and Hong, wouldn’t stop clinging to him for days.

They have their youngest sibling on the way, but their father was on his way to say his eternal goodbyes, how cruel is that?

The days blurred together, a bittersweet mix of joy and sorrow as Sia’s belly grew rounder and Cale’s strength waned. Cale spent as much time as he could with his family, savoring every precious moment with them as if it were his last. He told stories to the children in the evenings by the fire, his voice soft and a bit shaky, while they curled up around him, their small hands gripping his, reluctant to let go.

Raon, with his dark scales gleaming, often sat a little apart from the others, watching Cale with a guarded expression that betrayed the pain he was feeling. The young dragon had once believed himself to be indestructible, but now he was learning the harsh reality of loss. One evening, as the others drifted to sleep, Raon stayed behind, his bright eyes reflecting the flickering flames.

“Father,” he murmured, his voice low but carrying the weight of his sorrow. “I thought I was strong enough… but it hurts. It hurts so much.” 

Cale reached out, his hand shaking as he placed it on Raon’s head. “Raon, you are strong. You’re stronger than anyone I know,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “And it’s because you feel this pain… because you love. It’s not a weakness, my brave Raon. It’s what makes you whole.”

Raon blinked, his eyes wide and glassy, and for the first time since he’d been old enough to understand, he allowed himself to weep, his small frame trembling as he pressed close to Cale. The two sat in silence, father and son, as the fire crackled softly around them, the weight of their love and grief shared in the quiet space.

The days turned colder, and soon winter’s chill seeped through the village, blanketing the world outside in white. Cale’s body grew frailer, his steps slower, and even his voice seemed weaker as he spoke, but his spirit held firm. Each day he spent with his family was a gift, one he was determined to cherish to the very end.

And one frigid, moonlit night, Sia went into labor. She clutched Cale’s hand through the pain, her grip strong even as her face paled. Cale, though weak, held her hand as tightly as he could, his heart swelling with a mixture of fear and love. He knew he might not have much time left, but he would see their child born. He would hold on, if only to witness this final miracle.

Hours later, their daughter was born, a tiny, wailing bundle with a shock of deep red hair that she inherited from Cale and jeweled-blue eyes that she inherited from Sia(which she would show every now and then) that seemed to sparkle even in the dim light. Cale held her in his arms, his heart full of joy so fierce it brought tears to his eyes. The room felt warmer somehow, filled with the quiet strength of Sia beside him and the children gathered close, all staring in awe at the new life before them.

“Welcome, little one,” he whispered, his voice trembling. He brushed a gentle kiss to her brow, feeling her soft skin against his lips, committing it to memory. The warmth of her tiny body in his arms felt like a promise, one he’d keep in his heart forever.

In the days that followed, Glenn and Bud were quick to send him new medications. Even in the form of potions as he requested, he wanted to last longer. He wanted to see his daughter, Esme Henituse, to at least grow up a bit. To have cherished memories with his daughter before he goes.

So he was determined with all the potions and medication he had been taking. He was worried for his two friends though, there was a war in the Western Continent and the Eastern Continent. When he had heard of this news, he desperately wished his family survived the war. Because someday, he wished to have his children be welcomed into the Henituse Family along with his wife, whom he will regrettably leave as a widow.

He doesn’t bother with Sia’s family, they could pound sand. Though, he wished they could find a way to contact her nanny without alerting the Obelian Emperor.

Looking at his family fawning over the three weeks old Esme, he could only smile. Yes, he would hold on for a few more years for them.

Chapter Text

Deruth Henituse sat alone in his study, staring at the flickering flames in the hearth as he swirled a glass of untouched wine in his hand. He had lost count of how many nights he’d spent like this, retracing memories of Cale—if he even have a proper one since the last time they have a proper interaction was during his late wife’s funeral—wondering where his son could be, if he was safe, or if he’d ever forgive him. Each memory cut like a knife, but he clung to them all the same; they were all he had left of Cale, aside from a deep and hollow ache.

Seven years was an eternity to be left with only questions. They’d searched every corner of the Roan Kingdom, even sent envoys to neighboring lands, but Cale had vanished as if he’d never existed at all. Deruth had sent for mages, mercenaries, even assassins, but nothing had come of it. Every attempt felt like he was grasping at shadows, hope slipping through his fingers like sand. The kingdom being at war and it slowly affected the entire continent as well as the Eastern Continent had slowed their search, but even in the chaos, Deruth’s heart never stopped yearning for a sign.

As the years had passed, whispers began to grow, the household’s loyal staff trading quiet, uncertain glances. Would the so-called trash ever return? Rumors floated around the estate and into the streets—some said he’d gone mad, some said he’d died in a foreign land. A few even whispered that he’d abandoned his family out of resentment. But Deruth, in the quietest part of himself, feared most that his son was out there alone, suffering.

One evening, just as the last bit of twilight sank beneath the horizon, a knock sounded at his door. Deruth looked up, his tired gaze settling on Ron, Cale’s old butler and the same person who left when his son was unconscious from being beaten up, this old man came back upon finally learning of Cale’s disappearance after the war. The old butler’s face, though impassive as ever, held an edge of something he rarely showed.

“Count-nim,” Ron began, his tone steady. “There’s someone here to see you.”

Deruth’s heart leapt. In seven years, no stranger or messenger had brought news of his son. “Is it…?”

But Ron’s gaze tempered his hope. “No, my lord. Not the young master. But Choi Han and the others had come bearing news.”

Deruth’s shoulders slumped, the brief glimmer of hope extinguished as quickly as it had sparked. Still, he forced himself to stand, setting down his untouched wine. News from Choi Han, while the main reason why his son was hurt in the first place but still went to help in his search, could only mean they’d finally found something—maybe even a trace.

“Show him in,” Deruth said, steadying his voice, though his heart was racing. He had waited years for any news, anything that could fill the void Cale had left behind.

Ron nodded and disappeared through the door. Moments later, the quiet shuffling of footsteps echoed in the dimly lit study. Choi Han stepped forward, his face lined with exhaustion, but his gaze unwavering. Behind him, Rosalyn and Lock followed, and Deruth noticed a hint of excitement in their expressions that immediately set him on edge. 

“Count-nim,” Choi Han said, bowing deeply before raising his gaze to meet Deruth’s. “I apologize for coming unannounced, but… we needed to see you in person.”

Deruth’s grip tightened on the edge of his desk. “There’s nothing to apologize for. I… I take it there’s news of Cale?”

Choi Han glanced at Rosalyn, who stepped forward. She opened her mouth to speak.

“We found some information,” she finally said, as if she was waiting to say this to him. “From both Queen Litana of the Jungle and The Mercenary King Bud Illis.”

“Information?” Deruth’s heart thudded painfully. “What did they say?”

“Queen Litana said that she and her people met Young Master Cale seven years ago,” The Wolf King, Lock, said, “They accompanied him to their pier. It was mentioned to them that Young Master Cale was heading for the Southern Continent.”

Deruth’s heart was beating so loud in his chest, that he thought that the Wolf King heard it, “What about the Mercenary King?”

“Well,” Choi Han took a deep breath, “He met Cale Henituse six years ago in the Southern Continent, he said that he was running an inn with a woman and three children. They’re close, they have contact till to this day,”

The trio felt that the Mercenary King omitted some things, but they didn't mind. They just want to bring news to this man, Count Deruth Henituse, who helped Choi Han despite the damage he caused towards the man’s precious son. Because Count Henituse didn’t even hesitate in helping the common people with his wealth.

A strange warmth bloomed in Deruth’s chest—a bittersweet mixture of relief and sorrow. After all these years of nothing, of empty trails and quiet despair, the smallest trace of Cale, his Cale, had finally surfaced.

Deruth took a steadying breath, trying to absorb the news, trying to imagine his son far away in a different land. An innkeeper? With a family? The thought was both comforting and unsettling. He had never imagined his son, so full of fire and sharp wit, living a quiet life. And yet… maybe that was all Cale had ever wanted—a place where he could be just another person, free from the weight of nobility and the legacy of their family. But what haunted Deruth most was why Cale had not returned.

“What more did they say?” he asked, voice rough.

“They didn’t know much else, but Bud mentioned something peculiar,” Choi Han replied. “Cale seemed… content. That it was up to the Count if he wanted to see his friend, Bud says.”

Deruth could only think for a bit. Yes, they should go and see Cale. To finally calm his heart, to see his son after many years. He looked at Ron, “Go tell Violan and the children to get ready,” then looked at Choi Han, “Please ask the Mercenary King for the coordinates and thank him on my behalf,”

The two bowed, along with Rosalyn and Lock, “Yes, Count-nim.”

Ron breathed for a bit. After all these years, for the Henituse Family, they finally have a lead for the missing young master. But for Ron, it had only been a few months.

Upon learning that the young man he had raised for eighteen long years went missing, Ron felt like he was a son of a bitch. Deep down in him, he wondered if he was part of the reason why that puppy-like young master of his left. As an assassin, he had forgotten what it felt like to give affection to someone else aside from his treasured son. But eighteen years weren’t just measly numbers, there were affections that were bound to bloom.

That little boy who used to call him Grandpa and call his son Hyung. He wonders how he is.

“Father,” Ron turned and saw his son. “I heard they found a lead about the young master?”

“The Mercenary King and the Queen of the Jungle gave us information,” He informed Beacrox, “We are leaving with the entire Henituse Family as soon as the punk got the coordinates from the Mercenary King.”

Beacrox’s face was unreadable, as usual, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—a softness that only showed when the topic was Cale. It wasn’t often that Beacrox allowed his emotions to betray him, but in this moment, he seemed almost vulnerable, as if the news stirred something within that even he couldn’t keep contained. There used to be disgust towards Cale over the years because of his trashy act, but that boy used to be someone like a younger brother for Beacrox.

“I see,” Beacrox said quietly, the words barely a murmur. He straightened, glancing toward the flickering light spilling from Deruth’s study. “Then I’ll prepare. The young master…” He paused, struggling for the right words, something Beacrox rarely did. “I hope he is doing well.”

Ron nodded, and as he watched his son retreat down the dim corridor, he felt a pang of regret twist in his chest. He remembered the cold shoulders and indifference he’d given to Cale, every time he never noticed that his young charge was getting more distant to them. Perhaps he had put too much distance between them first, forgetting that Cale was still a boy who craved warmth especially when Cale’s own father, Count Henituse, was too busy playing happy family with his newly built family. They were all moving forward with their life ever since the late countess passing that they had left a little boy behind in that broken past.

But now… maybe, just maybe, he could make things right.

Ron turned back to Deruth’s study, where the Count was quietly giving instructions to the staff, preparing for the journey that would take them to the Southern Continent. It was a rare sight, seeing Deruth so alive, a spark of hope rekindled in his gaze, his voice full of a strength that had long been dimmed by years of longing. This was a father who was ready to reclaim his son, no matter the distance, no matter the past.

The staff moved with purpose, carrying out Deruth’s instructions with urgency, whispering excitedly amongst themselves. The Henituse family, long thought fractured by grief and silence, seemed to pulse with renewed purpose. And as Ron stepped aside, watching this once-broken family piece itself back together, he allowed himself to hope too.

Perhaps Cale had found a semblance of peace far away, perhaps he had even moved on from his family. But they would give him the choice to return. And maybe, when the time came, Cale would choose them, too.

The following dawn broke over Henituse Estate with a flurry of preparation. Violan, composed and graceful as ever, moved through the halls with a quiet intensity, checking every detail of their impending departure. They had decided that it was just them, they didn’t want to overwhelm Cale with their numbers. Lily and Basen, younger but no less determined, readied themselves with excitement tempered by the weight of the years they’d spent apart from their brother. For them, this was not just a journey to the Southern Continent; it was a journey to reclaim a bond they never had a chance to form with their elder brother.

At the front gate, Beacrox tightened his grip on the hilt of his knife, his stance tense but unwavering. Ron stood beside him, his gaze distant but resolute. This was more than a mission for their employer; this was a journey to reunite with the young man they had both come to consider family in their own way.

As the family gathered, Choi Han approached Ron, a respectful nod signaling he was ready. Ron gave him a curt nod in return. In a rare moment of vulnerability, Ron reached out, gripping Choi Han’s shoulder.

With that, the Henituse family with the Molan duo, Choi Han, Rosalyn, and Lock set out, Rosalyn readily let out her magic to perform the teleportation magic to find their missing son, brother, and young master. Behind them lay years of regret and silence; ahead, a chance to mend what had been lost, to bring Cale home at last.

Oh if only they knew that even that reunion with the misunderstood redhead, it would be their last.

Chapter Text

Their small group raised an eyebrow at the Mercenary King and his Mage that was waiting for them. Well it was really just Choi Han. Lily was distracted by the field they landed on. It was very peaceful, they could see why Cale had decided to permanently stay here. They could see the said inn that the Mercenary King mentioned in the distance.

“You’re here?” They turned to the source of the voice, it was the Mercenary King; Bud Illis.

“What are you doing here?” Choi Han asked the blue haired man.

Bud laughed, “I’m here to visit Cale and his family. This is where Glenn and I go whenever we wanted some down time,”

“What?” Deruth looked at them, “Whenever?”

“We were here just last month,” Glenn said. And it was true, they had been here more frequently than ever, especially when they didn't know how long Cale would live.

They were just taking all the time they could spend with Cale. That redhead who had become their little brother.

Violan couldn’t help that something was wrong, why would these two frequent this place more often(judging by the tone of their voice). She couldn’t voice it, not when these two are the only lead they have towards her son.

Bud fake coughed, and pointed over the distance, they looked where he was pointing, “That’s the inn Cale had built. It had been operational for the past seven years. The guess varies, it is always travelers or merchants,”

Deruth was in awe. Even from afar, he could tell that his son built that place with love. Basen was also in awe, the building looks well taken care of.

“The townsfolk love the family,” Glenn let out a small laugh, “Especially the children,”

“The children?” Lily asked.

Bud nodded, “Yes, actua—”

“Uncle Bud! Uncle Glenn!” They turned to the source of sound, it was a little girl running towards them. But what shocked them was the little girl had the deep red hair that they were all familiar with the brightest blue eyes they had seen.

Bud crouched down to catched the child, and spun her around, “Hey, Em! How’s my darling niece!”

“Good!” The child squealed in joy when Bud tickled her in his hold. The group was just watching them. That was when the child noticed them, “Who are they?”

“Ah,” Glenn coughed, “Esme, they’re your Papa’s family with some acquaintance,”

“Like Mama’s Papa and Lily?” She tilted her head to the side.

Glenn nodded at her as Bud put her down. The Mercenary King held her hand as he looked at them, “Everyone, meet Esme Henituse. Cale’s youngest daughter,”

A stunned silence fell over the group. The name hung in the air like a thunderclap, reverberating through each of them in a different way. Esme Henituse.

Deruth’s breath caught, his gaze fixed on the little girl before him. She had Cale’s red hair—a shade that seemed to glint like fire in the sun—and eyes so bright they rivaled the sky. It was unmistakable. She wasn’t just a coincidence; she was family.

Violan, ever composed, found her hand tightening on the folds of her dress. Her mind raced, questions forming faster than she could organize them. A daughter? How? When?

Basen and Lily were frozen, their eyes wide with shock. Lily’s gaze softened as she focused on the girl’s cheerful face, a mixture of wonder and disbelief etched on her features. 

“Daughter?” Deruth’s voice cracked as he spoke, his usual calm demeanor slipping away. He looked at Bud and Glenn, his tone a mixture of urgency and disbelief. “Cale has… a daughter?” 

Bud scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “Ah, yes. Esme’s the youngest daughter. There are five in total.” 

“ Five ?” Violan finally found her voice, though it was quieter than usual. “Cale has five children?” 

“Yes,” Glenn chimed in, his tone gentle, almost apologetic. “Esme here is the youngest daughter. Then there’s Ohn, Hong, and Raon, her adoptive older siblings. Then the actual youngest, currently two years old, Ciel.” 

Esme tugged on Bud’s hand, looking up at him with curiosity. “Are they here to visit Papa?” 

Bud smiled down at her, patting her head. “Yes, little one. They came all this way to see your Papa.” 

Esme’s face lit up with excitement, and she turned back to the group. “Papa will be so happy! He always says he misses his family.” 

Those words hit Deruth like a blow. For seven long years, he’d worried that Cale hated them, that he’d left to escape them entirely. To hear that his son had missed them was both a relief and a piercing pain.

“Where is he?” Deruth asked, his voice trembling. “Where’s Cale?” 

Bud hesitated, exchanging a glance with Glenn. The easygoing façade they had maintained until now faltered slightly. “He’s at the inn,” Bud said carefully. “But… there’s something you need to know before you see him.”

“Something wrong?” Violan asked, her sharp instincts immediately on alert. 

Glenn exhaled slowly. “Cale… isn’t the same as when you last saw him.” 

“What do you mean?” Deruth’s voice grew tighter, his heart sinking. 

“Papa’s sick,” Esme said matter-of-factly, her innocent voice cutting through the tension like a knife. “Mama and Uncle Glenn say he’s not getting better.” 

Deruth felt the ground shift beneath him. His legs wavered, and he had to steady himself against Basen, who quickly stepped forward to support him. “Sick?” he whispered. “Cale is sick?”

Bud nodded, his expression unusually somber. “He’s been sick for a few years now. He tried to hide it, but it’s… bad, it was getting worse four years ago. That’s why Glenn and I visit so often. We’ve been trying to help.” 

“He doesn’t want anyone to worry,” Glenn added. “Especially his family.” 

For a moment, no one spoke. The weight of the revelation bore down on them like a heavy storm cloud. Deruth clenched his fists, his mind a storm of emotions—guilt, anger, fear, and a desperate yearning to see his son.

“I need to see him,” Deruth said firmly, his voice steady despite the quiver in his heart. “Now.” 

Bud nodded. “Come on. We’ll take you to him.” 

With Esme leading the way, her small hand clutching Bud’s, the group began their walk toward the inn. As the building grew closer, so did the sense of anticipation and dread. For Deruth, Violan, and the others, every step was a reminder of the years lost and the urgency of the moment.

As they approached the door, they could see how well Cale had taken care of this place, it was filled with warmth and happiness. Bud and Glenn greeted the girl in front as they led up to the very top floor. Bud knocked lightly, and a voice called out from within. 

“Come in,” the voice said, calm and steady but tinged with a weariness that made Deruth’s chest tighten. 

Bud pushed the door open, and there he was. 

Cale Henituse sat in a wooden chair near the hearth, a blanket draped over his lap and a faint, tired smile on his face. His red hair was the same, though longer than they had last seen it. His frame was thinner, his skin paler, but his eyes—those sharp, unyielding eyes—still held the same fire they always had.

“Papa!” Esme called, running to him and climbing onto his lap with ease. Cale caught her, holding her close with a soft chuckle. 

“Esme,” he said, brushing a strand of her hair back. “Were you out bothering Uncle Bud again?” 

She giggled, shaking her head. “No! I brought your family!” 

Cale’s eyes lifted, meeting Deruth’s gaze for the first time in seven years. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. 

“...Father,” Cale said, his voice soft and uncertain. 

Deruth stepped forward, his vision blurring as tears welled in his eyes. “Cale… my son.” 

Cale stared at his father for a moment, his usually guarded expression faltering. A flicker of vulnerability passed through his eyes—an emotion rarely seen on the face of the infamous trash who avoids and shouts at everyone.

“Father,” Cale repeated, his voice steadier this time, though his hands unconsciously tightened around Esme, as if anchoring himself to the present. “You finally came.”

Deruth closed the distance between them in two strides, kneeling beside the chair. His hand hovered uncertainty over Cale’s, as if afraid that touching him would confirm the fragility he saw in his son. “Of course I came,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Cale, why… why didn’t you tell us? Or even write a letter.”

Cale’s lips quirked into a faint smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “What would I have said, Father? That your good-for-nothing son finally managed to settle down, only to end up sick and useless? That I didn’t want you to see me like this? And besides, I had doubted that my letter would reach you.”

“Cale!” Violan’s sharp voice cut through the room, startling everyone. She stepped forward, her posture stiff with restrained anger. “How could you think so little of us? Of your family? Do you have any idea—” She stopped, closing her eyes as if to collect herself. When she opened them again, they were shimmering with unshed tears. “Do you have any idea how much we’ve worried about you?”

Cale shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, but before he could answer, Esme spoke up, her small voice breaking the tension. “Papa says he didn’t want you to feel sad. He says he’s happy here, with us.” She looked up at Violan with wide, innocent eyes. “Isn’t that okay?”

Violan’s expression softened as she crouched to Esme’s level, brushing a strand of red hair from the girl’s face. “It is,” she said gently. “But it’s also okay to let the people who love you worry sometimes. That’s what family does.”

Cale sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t trying to shut you out,” he admitted. “I just… I wanted you to live your lives without feeling burdened by my existence.”

“Burdened?” Deruth said sharply, his tone uncharacteristically stern. “You’re my son, Cale. My firstborn. There’s no version of this life where you are a burden to me.”

For a moment, Cale didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the flickering flames in the hearth. Then, slowly, he turned back to his father and stepmother. “I’m sorry,” he said, the words quiet but sincere. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken emotions, but it was Esme who broke it once again, leaning against her father’s chest. “Papa’s always so strong,” she said proudly. “Even when he’s tired.”

Cale let out a soft laugh, ruffling her hair. “Is that so?” 

“It is,” Bud interjected, his voice filled with warmth as he leaned against the doorway. “Even when he’s practically falling apart, this guy doesn’t stop trying to protect everyone around him. It’s annoying, honestly.”

“Bud,” Cale said warningly, but his tone was devoid of any real heat. 

Deruth stood, his expression filled with determination. “You’re not alone in this anymore, Cale. We’ll do what it takes for you to see that we earned a place in your family, alright? We will do it at your own pace.”

“But—”

“But nothing,” Violan repeated, her voice firm as she stepped closer to her son. Her piercing gaze locked onto Cale’s, the resolve in her eyes unwavering. “You’ve carried enough on your shoulders for a lifetime, Cale Henituse. It’s time you allowed others to share that weight, whether you like it or not.”

Cale opened his mouth to argue but found himself silenced by the sheer authority in her tone. He had been all alone all these years since his mother died, it was just until he met Athanasia and the rest of the children that he finally felt the warmth of a family. Yet, in this moment, he felt like he finally was part of the Henituses(he always was just too blind and in grief to notice) under Violan’s unwavering stare. He sighed, leaning back in his chair, his hand absently brushing through Esme’s red hair.

“Fine,” he muttered, a reluctant smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’ll… try.”

“Good,” Violan replied, her expression softening slightly. “Because you’re stuck with us now.” Until your end.

The tension in the room eased, replaced by a warmth that hadn’t been there moments before. Deruth moved to Cale’s side, placing a steady hand on his shoulder. “We’ll make this right, son. We’ve missed so much already, but we’re here now. That’s what matters.”

Esme looked between her father and grandparents, her wide blue eyes bright with curiosity. “Does this mean you’ll stay here with us?” she asked innocently, tilting her head.

Cale chuckled softly, shaking his head. “That depends on what they want to do, little one.”

“Of course, we’ll stay for a while,” Deruth answered without hesitation, his tone firm. He glanced at Violan, who nodded in agreement. “We’ll stay as long as you’ll have us.”

Esme beamed at the answer, her joy infectious. Basen and Lily, who had been quietly absorbing the exchange, finally stepped forward. 

“You really built this place, Cale?” Basen asked, his voice filled with awe. “It’s incredible. It feels so… you.”

Cale blinked at the rare compliment from his step younger brother, then smirked. “I’ll take that as high praise coming from you.”

Lily stepped closer to Esme, crouching to her level. “You’re so cute, Esme,” she said warmly. “Do you help your papa around here?”

Esme nodded enthusiastically. “I help with the flowers! And Raon teaches me how to read. Hong and Ohn play games with me too!”

“Flowers?” Lily’s eyes sparkled with interest. “You’ll have to show me sometime.”

As the family settled into the moment, Bud and Glenn exchanged a glance, a silent understanding passing between them. Bud cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention.

“We’ll leave you all to catch up,” Bud said with a grin. “Glenn and I need to check on something in town anyway.”

Glenn nodded. “We’ll be back later. Take your time.”

As the two men slipped out of the room, Deruth pulled a chair closer to Cale, sitting down beside him. “You’ve done well here, Cale. This place, your family… It’s everything a father could hope for his son.”

Cale looked down at Esme, who was now contentedly leaning against him, her small hands playing with the edge of his blanket. His expression softened, and for a moment, the weariness in his features seemed to lift.

“It wasn’t easy,” Cale admitted quietly. “But it was worth it.”

Violan placed a hand on his other shoulder, her touch light but grounding. “How did you find this? It is so beautiful.”

“Ah.” Cale gave a gentle smile, “This… was mother’s property.”

Deruth nodded, “A fitting property for you. What belongs to Drew, is yours.”

“Hyung-nim,” Basen called for his attention, he then blushed at the attention of his older brother, “Can we meet your wife?”

Lily perked up, “That’s right! Can we meet Eonnie?”

“Later,” Cale said, “Her uh… Father is staying here as well. Well, he’s also working to mend things with her,”

“Oh no. Is there something wrong?” Cale shook his head at Violan’s question.

“It’s more of a “I’m sorry for denying your existence the moment you were born and throwing you out of the family and country for your cousin who was never my daughter” kind of thing.” Deruth and Violan looked blankly at him. That is much worse than their situation, their daughter-in-law had to endure that?

“If I had the strength, I would have punched that guy in the face. Father-in-law or not,” Cale grumbled. Then there was a bit of tranquility, but it was broken when Cale had finally taken notice of the other five people in the room.

“Ron…” Cale muttered, “Beacrox…”

Ron and Beacrox bowed to him, “Young Master.”

His eyes narrowed for a bit before softening, “Choi Han.”

Choi Han simply nodded in acknowledgement as well as Rosalyn and Lock.

Cale’s gaze lingered on the group, a quiet weight settling over the room as he took in the familiar faces. His hand instinctively tightened on Esme’s shoulder, as if anchoring himself to the present. The silence stretched for a moment before he sighed, leaning back in his chair.

“You all look… exactly the same,” Cale muttered, his lips quirking into a faint smile. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. You lot never change.”

Ron’s eyes gleamed with his characteristic sharpness, though his tone remained polite as ever. “And you, Young Master, seem to have taken quite a step forward in life. A family, an inn, and a peaceful existence? I must admit, it’s… unexpected.”

“Unexpected?” Cale raised an eyebrow, though there was no real bite to his words. “Coming from you, Ron, that almost sounds like a compliment.”

Ron chuckled, his hands clasped behind his back. “Take it as you will, Young Master.”

Beacrox, standing stoically beside his father, inclined his head toward Esme. “Young Miss,” he said, his voice as crisp as ever, “you seem to be keeping your father in line.”

Esme puffed up proudly, her blue eyes shining. “I try! Papa says I’m his little helper.”

Cale rolled his eyes, though his expression softened. “She’s certainly inherited mine and her mother’s stubbornness.”

“Does she?” Violan looked amused at her granddaughter.

“You should have seen her mother,” Cale said, with his eyes filled with adoration towards his wife, “She used to be so docile. But she let out her hidden self, and we'll, I just fell in love even more,”

Choi Han, Rosalyn, Lock, Ron, and Beacrox really didn't have to stay as the family talked to one another. But looking at the current Cale Henituse, they couldn't help but compare the one from seven years ago.

This one is hanging on by a thread, but still full of life.

Choi Han thinks that this guy is almost at Death’s embrace, but looking at his joyful daughter. He thinks that Cale Henituse just wants to have memories of her before letting go.

Rosalyn privately thinks that if given the chance, they would have gotten along with this man. Because he seems like… someone they could call home. He seems like home to the people closest to him at the moment.

Looking at the father and son duo next to them, she could tell that was the truth. The tenseness of their shoulders seems to ease upon being by his presence again.

( Because they know it would be the last. )

“Ah,” Cale looked at the grandfather clock, Esme already left his lap to play with her Aunt Lily, “It's time for lunch,”

As he attempted to stand up, when he swayed everyone were so quick with their reflexes to catch him. But Ron was somehow faster than the people near him.

The old man simply carried him without any word.

“You could put me down,”

“I am merely doing my duty as your butler, young master,” Ron smiled at him.

“You aren't my butler anymore,”

“I am most certainly sure that I had been back to this role, young master. Count-nim says so,”

“...”

Ron was smiling as he led them all down the stairs, Esme was in Basen’s arms babbling about her adorable little brother. At the end of the stairs was probably the most beautiful woman they had seen. Now that they think about it, Esme’s bright blue eyes were jeweled. She inherited it from her mother's side of the family. 

This woman, who they were most certainly, was Cale Henituse’s wife. She was wearing a pretty and plain gown in little contrast to her fair skin and with her hair loose and wavy down past her shoulders. Her dress was light fabric; her bangs dragging sheer green draped with an otherworldly aura and her jeweled blue eyes completing the deal. The dress was of a tender, silken tissue, which suits her slim figure and which, clipping the outline of her figure, fell in beautiful folds. Comfortably fitted though empire waistline the skirt was slightly flared gracefully touching her ankles with every sway. Her natural grace and beauty came through even in the graceful dress, and her hair and eyes looked gorgeous in the color, which was a pastel — but a perfect pastel. She was graceful with ease in each movement and although the dress moved with her, she made each movement easy.

“Woah…” Lily let out.

No wonder Cale loves her. She was pleasing to the eyes, like an angel that graced the world.

Cale tapped Ron on the shoulder to be let down. When he was let down, he carefully walked towards the beautiful woman, “Sia.”

The way he calls for her name was like she was the only woman that mattered in his eyes. Very much confirming that she was his wife.

“Cale.” She smiled, and hugged him. Cale was very quick to hug her back. She gave him a kiss on the cheek, and he did the same. Cale turned to them and introduced her, “This is my wife, Athanasia.”

Athanasia curtsied in a way they weren’t familiar with.

‘So she’s a foreigner.’ Violan noted.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” She greeted them. When Athanasia smiled at her, all they could thinks of was:

‘Ah, no wonder he fell in love with her.’ She has the aura of peace.

For Rosalyn, these two were a perfect pair. One gives off the sense of peace, the other gives off the feeling of coming home.

Lunch was an awkward affair.

The man, Claude, who was Cale’s father-in-law, was trying to make small conversation with his estranged daughter. But they could clearly tell that they both never really had conversation with one another.

‘Oh god, he’s an introvert that doesn’t know how to make conversation.’ Said the emo, Choi Han.

‘How bad of a parent can a person be to the point you don’t know how to make a conversation with your twenty-five year old daughter who got married without you?’ Rosalyn thinks that this man has the guts to do this.

Deruth was watching his son and daughter interact with a warm heart. They had been introduced to their youngest child, Ciel. The little boy, who was two years of age, was the replica of his mother with his father’s eyes. All the children were the apple of their parents' eyes. All of them were introduced to them, they were lovely. You could tell that Cale and Athanasia raised them with love and care.

(There was a pang deep inside his heart knowing that he never managed to do that to Cale. His son never managed to grow up under his love and care when his mother died.)

Looking at the family of seven, it was like a beautiful family.

(A family of seven that was soon to be six.)

Chapter Text

“How long have you been here?” Deruth asked his son's father-in-law.

Claude took a sip of his tea, “A year. I had been trying to make amends for a year,”

That was the truth. It had taken six years for him to know the truth, a year to find his daughter, and a year and on-going to make amends with his only child. Getting along with her children was a bit difficult, seeing as her eldest three hated his guts. The younger two were a bit easy, seeing that Esme was three, and Ciel was one at the time of his arrival here.

It wasn't because he was looking for an heir that was the reason he was looking for her. No, it was because he felt genuinely sorry for all the things he had done to his only child because of his own grief. The daughter that should have flourished under his love and care, flourished at the arms of another man of a foreign country.

But seeing the love between his daughter and that man.

He was happy and regretful.

Happy that his daughter knew what the feeling of happiness is like as well as the feeling of love. Regretful because she didn't learn that happiness until she left(no she didn't leave, he forcefully kicked her out of her land). Athanasia built a stable life without him, and he just knows that Diana is screaming and cursing at him beyond the grave. He dreaded the day he died and reunited with her on the other side.

“How is that going for you?” Violan bluntly asked as she also took a sip of her tea, but she received no answer. While she and Deruth were somewhat neglectful of Cale, but never of the scale as this man in front of them. Although…

“Which country did you and Athanasia come from by the way, if you don’t mind me asking?” Deruth asked. He had been wondering that for a few days now.

Claude paused for a bit, before setting down his cup, “Obelia. My full name is Claude de Alger Obelia.”

Violan and Deruth tense for a bit. They knew his reputation. But to think their in-law was this man?

Claude sighed, “Your son would be named as my daughter’s consort if she so wishes. I know for a fact that she would never get married again if…” Cale had passed on.

“But they wouldn’t like that.” Violan said.

“They wouldn’t like that.” Claude nodded, “Athanasia may be fit to the throne, but this is where her commitment lies. This family they had created for themselves.”

The three parents looked at the gardens, there were the two youngest children playing with their siblings along with Basen and Lily, with Cale and Athanasia watching them, the couple sitting on a picnic blanket underneath the tree.

They all look like a happy family.

“Are you going to play for us, Papa?” Esme excitedly asked, “Oh! Oh! That song! That song that you always sing for Mama!”

Raon, without any words, gave him a guitar. Cale could only sigh as he took the guitar from Raon’s hands. This song was something he had sung on a whim during their anniversary last year, Esme and Ciel took a liking to it.

‘Because it means you love Mama so so so much!’ Esme giggled when he had asked her why she likes it.

When we're out in a crowd, laughing loud

And nobody knows why

When we're lost at a club, getting drunk

And you give me that smile

Violan would forever be in awe of how much love her stepson has for his wife. Perhaps it was because of the fact that she had been the only person to show him genuine love for the first time in a decade, a love that Violan and Deruth never managed to show.

Going home in the dark

And your hand touches mine

When we're done making love and you look up

And give me those eyes

The way the couple looked into each other’s eyes was enough to make those who were watching squeal quietly. As it turns out, they were regulars who liked the couple very much.

'Cause all of the small things that you do

Are what remind me why I fell for you

Cale took her head and kissed her knuckle. Their children are smiling happily at their parents. Even with Cale’s waning life, the light in his eyes isn't fading.

And when we're apart and I'm missing you

I close my eyes and all I see is you

And the small things you do

Even in his dying breaths, he only wished to show his family, and most importantly his wife, how much he loves them.

When you call me at night

While you're out getting high with your friends

(High with your friends)

Every "hi", every "bye", every "I love you" you've ever said

(You've ever said)

Deruth wanted to cry as he watched this scene, but he couldn’t. He could tell by the way his son acted. It was almost his time, Cale was just making the best out of it.

‘Oh Drew… We have a wonderful son.’ He thought mournfully, ‘I am so sorry for not cherishing my time with him the way I did with you.’

Ron could only smile bitterly as he stood by the side with his son and the other three. It had been years since the last he had heard his young master sing.

'Cause all of the small things that you do

Are what remind me why I fell for you

And when we're apart and I'm missing you

I close my eyes and all I see is you

And the small things you do

‘I close my eyes and all I see is you.’ Well, that hit Claude hard. It had been like that ever since he got his memories of Diana back. Whenever he closed his eyes, all he could see was her smiling at him, then to their daughter neglected because he was a bastard and a coward.

He would help Athanasia and their children the best he could when the inevitable happened. If he couldn’t be by his daughter’s life from the beginning, he might as well be there for her when her world crumbled down. He had been here for a year, he knew how much those two view each other as their own worlds.

(And his daughter was going to lose that world, with her five stars just holding her together.)

When we're done making love

And you look up and give me those eyes

Athanasia never cried in front of Cale, really. She wanted to be strong for her husband, who had been so strong and resilient throughout his sickness just so he could live to see their children grow.

They tried everything, healing magic, potions. But nothing, it really was almost his time.

(Oh how she hates that. Cale was her world, her home. Why is the world so cruel to take her home away?)

'Cause all of the small things that you do

Are what remind me why I fell for you

And when we're apart and I'm missing you

I close my eyes and all I see is you

And the small things you do

Ohn, Hong, and Raon were not children anymore. They knew that their time with their father was limited. Moreso with Raon, his attribute was telling him just that, and it hurts. Their parents were the first humans that had ever cared and loved for them, and now they were losing one.

They had to be strong, for their mom, and their youngest siblings who would inevitably come looking for their dad when the time comes.

All the small things you do

It was slow, but the relationship between the Henituses was better than before. Hell, even Cale and Choi Han made up.

(It was because of Esme and Ciel, Choi Han decided(promised) to become their knight.)

They celebrated Ciel’s third birthday with a small celebration. The Henituse Family had seen the atmosphere Cale had built around himself, there were days they wished that they built that for him themselves.

The peaceful routine of their days shattered like glass as Cale’s condition deteriorated. The first sign was subtle—a quiet wince he tried to hide as he stood from his chair, his hand gripping the edge of the table a second too long. But it quickly escalated. By the end of the week, he could barely manage the short walks around the inn he had insisted on keeping as part of his daily routine. 

The family gathered more frequently in his room, their presence a silent but unyielding reminder that he was no longer alone in his struggles. Deruth and Violan, who had grown accustomed to keeping a watchful but distant role in their children’s lives, found themselves at his bedside more often than not. Violan especially took to organizing schedules for the household, ensuring that someone was always nearby if Cale needed anything.

Esme and Ciel, too young to fully understand the gravity of the situation, did their best in their own ways. Esme would sit by her father’s side, reading the stories Raon had taught her, her small voice filling the room with warmth. Ciel, toddling about with clumsy steps, would present his father with wildflowers from the garden, a habit he had picked up from Esme. 

Cale always accepted them with a faint smile, his hand ruffling Ciel’s hair even as his energy waned. “Thank you, my treasured sky,” he’d say softly, his voice steady even as the light in his eyes dimmed a little more each day.

But it wasn’t enough to mask the truth. 

The turning point came one cold morning when Bud burst into the living room near the Master Bedroom, his usual carefree demeanor replaced with urgency. Glenn followed close behind, his expression grim. 

“Something’s changed,” Bud said, his voice low as he addressed everyone. “He’s… worse. Much worse.”

“Worse how?” Violan demanded, her sharp tone masking the tremble in her hands. 

Bud hesitated, glancing toward the door that led to Cale’s room. “He hasn’t said it outright, but the signs are there. He’s in more pain, and he’s losing strength faster than before. Glenn and I… we’ve been looking for solutions, but—”

“There’s no time,” Glenn finished, his tone heavy. “Nor were there any answers.”

The words hit like a thunderclap, silencing the room. Deruth clenched his fists, his knuckles white as he processed the weight of what they were hearing. 

“Does that mean..?” Lily stammered. “There has to be something we can do. Anything.”

“Please..?” Even Basen was desperate at this point. But Bud and Glenn looked away from them. Claude looked at them with wide eyes, as he was holding his daughter who lost strength on her legs.

The silence that followed was suffocating. It was a silence filled with helplessness, grief, and the weight of unspoken fears. Esme, who had been sitting in the corner with her little brother, looked up at the tension in the room, her bright blue eyes shimmering with confusion. 

“Why is everyone so sad?” she asked softly, her small voice cutting through the heavy atmosphere like a knife. 

No one had the heart to answer her. Ciel, sensing the unease, clung to her hand, his tiny frame trembling. The older three were simply looking at the two men who they called their uncle in horror.

“We’ll figure it out,” Violan finally said, her tone sharp with determination as she gripped the back of a chair to steady herself. “We have to. For his family, for the children.” 

But even as she spoke, the doubt in her own voice betrayed her. Her gaze flickered toward the door to Cale’s room, her heart heavy with dread. She had only recently begun to bridge the emotional gap between herself and the boy she never had the opportunity to raise but love as her own, and now the thought of losing him was unbearable. 

Bud sighed, running a hand through his blue hair. “We’ve tried, Lady Violan. You don’t think we haven’t been searching for a cure this whole time? Cale’s condition isn’t just physical.” 

“What does that mean?” Deruth demanded, his voice cracking under the strain of holding himself together. 

“It means,” Glenn said quietly, his gaze somber, “that something happened years ago, maybe even when he was young. His soul was badly damaged to the point that it is taking his life. This isn’t something ordinary medicine can fix.” 

A sharp intake of breath echoed through the room. Athanasia immediately left the room to be with her husband, she knew the implication of the words Glenn had just said.

She was going to lose her husband, and there was no stopping it from happening. Might as well savor and cherish her husband remaining time with them.

As Athanasia closed the door softly behind her, the sound of her steps receded, leaving the room steeped in an uneasy quiet. Deruth’s fists trembled at his sides, and Violan reached out, placing a steadying hand on his arm, though her own composure was cracking at the edges.

Esme’s small voice broke the silence again, trembling now. “Papa… is Papa going to be okay?”

This time, Violan knelt before her granddaughter, cupping her tear-streaked face gently. “Your papa is very strong, Esme. He’s been through so much and always found a way to keep going. We’ll do everything we can to help him, all right?”

Esme nodded, sniffling, though her eyes still shone with fear. Ciel, too young to comprehend the full weight of the situation, tugged at Esme’s sleeve. “Papa is strong. Papa promised he’d stay!” he insisted, his tiny fists balled in defiance of the tension around him.

Basen, standing rigid near the fireplace, finally broke his silence, his voice raw with emotion. “If we can’t fix this with medicine, then what about magic? Or alchemy? Or—anything!” His eyes burned with desperation as he looked at Bud and Glenn. “Don’t tell me there’s nothing.”

Bud shook his head solemnly. “If there was a magical solution, we’d have found it by now. But Glenn’s right—this is about his soul. And damage to a soul… it’s not something easily mended. Especially this broken one.”

“We… just have to spend time with him even more.”

And that statement from Glenn evoked a round of sobbing from the room.

When Athanasia arrived in front of their room, she took a deep breath. Trying to hold her tears, when she opened them. Her husband, Cale was laying weakly at their bed.

“Sia,” One word, one nickname. It was enough to send her crying.

Athanasia pressed a hand over her mouth, muffling the sob that escaped her as she closed the door behind her. The room was quiet, save for the faint rustling of the curtains in the breeze and the slow, labored sound of Cale’s breathing. His once vibrant, commanding presence was reduced to a fragile figure against the crisp white sheets, but his eyes, though tired, still held a familiar warmth.

She crossed the room slowly, her legs feeling like lead with every step. When she reached his bedside, she knelt, her trembling hand reaching for his. It was cold, far too cold, and the contrast against the warmth of her own skin sent fresh tears spilling down her cheeks.

“I’m here,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I’m right here.”

Cale’s lips curved into a faint smile, though the effort seemed to cost him. He squeezed her hand weakly, his thumb brushing against her knuckles. “You always are,” he murmured. His voice was faint, barely audible, but it carried the weight of his gratitude. “I’m sorry, Sia.”

“Don’t.” Her voice was sharp, but the pain in it was unmistakable. “Don’t apologize to me, Cale. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

He exhaled softly, his gaze drifting to the ceiling. “I should have… been better. Given you more time. The children…” His voice faltered, his words trailing off into a silence that was deafening.

Athanasia shook her head fiercely, her hands tightening around his. “You gave us everything , Cale. Don’t you dare think otherwise. The life we’ve built, the love you’ve given us—it’s more than I ever dreamed of. And I’m not going to let you leave this world thinking it wasn’t enough.”

A tear slipped down his cheek, and she wiped it away gently, her fingers lingering against his pale skin. “Sia…” His voice broke, and she leaned closer, resting her forehead against his. 

“I love you,” she whispered, her voice steady despite the tears streaming down her face. “And no matter what happens, you are not leaving us alone. We will carry you with us in everything we do, in every moment we have. But right now, Cale… you’re still here. And I’m not going to waste a second of the time we have left.”

He closed his eyes, the faintest of smiles returning to his lips. “I love you too,” he breathed, his voice so soft she had to strain to hear it. “Always.”

For a moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift, and in that quiet space between them, time seemed to stand still. Athanasia didn’t care about the future or the inevitability of what was to come. All that mattered was this moment, this fragile, fleeting moment, with the man she loved more than anything.

When the children’s laughter echoed faintly from the hallway, Cale’s eyes fluttered open again. “Esme and Ciel… are they okay?” he asked, his gaze searching hers.

“They’re worried,” Athanasia admitted, her voice soft. “But they’re strong, just like their father. They love you so much, Cale.”

Cale’s expression softened, and he managed a weak chuckle. “They’re going to be a pair of troubles when they grow up. Especially Esme. She’s got that look—like she’ll conquer the world if she wants to.”

Athanasia laughed through her tears, brushing his deep red hair back gently. “She gets it from you.”

He smiled faintly. “Good.”

The moment stretched on, and Athanasia stayed by his side, holding his hand and whispering reassurances. Outside the door, the family lingered, their presence a quiet, steadfast reminder that Cale would never truly be alone. Together, they braced for the uncertain days ahead, determined to make the most of the time they still had, no matter how fleeting it might be.

Cale was nearing his end, he knew this as much. Glenn told him this through his tears. But it was alright, he lasted this long. Hell, he even saw Esme grow up and give her a younger brother so she wouldn’t be lonely once Ohn, Hong, and Raon had their own lives.

Cale leaned back against the soft pillows, the weight of Glenn’s words settling over him like a blanket. His breaths were shallow, each one more of an effort than the last, but his lips curled into a faint smile. He had come farther than he ever thought possible. He had done what he could for his family, for his loved ones. That was enough.

He tilted his head slightly to the side, his gaze landing on the small table by his bed. It was covered with little trinkets: wildflowers Ciel had proudly brought him, a crude but heartfelt drawing from Esme, and a book Raon had read to him just the day before. Each item was a reminder of the life he had built, the family he cherished. 

“They’ll be fine,” he murmured to himself, his voice raspy but resolute. “They’re strong.”

Raon had grown into a formidable dragon, yet still clung to his family with unwavering loyalty. Ohn and Hong had carved out places for themselves, spreading their wings but always returning to the warmth of the family they had found. And Esme—Esme, with her bright eyes and stubborn determination—had inherited his knack for rallying people around her. She would lead, protect, and grow. She had her younger brother, and she had the Henituses. She would never walk alone.

A soft knock at the door broke his thoughts, and before he could answer, the door creaked open. Esme peeked inside, her blue eyes wide with hesitation. Behind her, Ciel toddled into view, clutching a plush toy dragon under one arm. 

“Papa,” Esme said softly, stepping into the room. “Can we come in?”

Cale’s smile widened just a fraction. “Of course, sweetheart. Come here.”

Esme crossed the room quickly, her small hand reaching out to take his. Ciel followed closely, climbing onto the edge of the bed with clumsy determination. “Papa, are you tired?” the little boy asked, tilting his head curiously.

“A little,” Cale admitted, his voice gentle. “But I feel better now that you’re here.”

Esme climbed up beside him, nestling close to his side. “Mama said we should let you rest,” she said, her voice tinged with concern. “But I wanted to see you. I… I made something.”

She pulled a folded piece of paper from behind her back and held it out to him. It was a drawing, messy and uneven, but filled with vibrant colors. In it, their family was all together—Esme, Ciel, Athanasia, and himself, with the addition of Raon, Ohn, and Hong. They were smiling, standing under a bright blue sky.

Cale’s breath hitched as he looked at it, his chest tightening with emotion. “It’s beautiful,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you, Esme.”

Ciel tugged at his sleeve, holding up the dragon plush. “And this is for you, Papa! So you can sleep good.”

Cale chuckled softly, ruffling Ciel’s hair. “Thank you, my treasured sky. I’ll treasure it.”

The three of them stayed like that for a while, Esme curled against his side and Ciel chattering about everything he had seen in the garden that day. The warmth of their presence filled the room, pushing back the shadows that had crept into his heart. For a moment, he allowed himself to forget the weight of his impending goodbye. 

When Athanasia appeared at the door, her eyes misty but her smile steady, she paused to take in the sight of them. “It’s getting late,” she said gently. “Come on, you two. Let’s let Papa rest.”

Esme and Ciel protested softly, but Athanasia’s tone brooked no argument. She guided them out of the room, pausing at the door to look back at Cale. Their eyes met, and in that quiet moment, no words were needed. They both understood.

When the door clicked shut, Cale exhaled slowly, his gaze drifting back to the drawing Esme had left on his lap. He traced the lines with a finger, his heart full despite the ache in his chest.

“I’ve done my part,” he murmured to the empty room, his voice steady despite the tears slipping down his cheeks. “They’ll be okay. They have each other. That’s all I could’ve ever wanted.”

“I worry for her,” The unnamed red haired knight, whom they found out was named Felix Robain, said. He was Claude’s personal knight, “The princess… She just stays in their room.”

“Leave her be,” Claude said, “She’s cherishing her husband’s last moments.” 

‘Something I never did.’ Claude thought bitterly.

The words hung in the air, thick with unspoken regret. Claude’s gaze turned toward the window, the distant horizon bathed in the soft hues of twilight. His fingers drummed absently against the table, the rhythm uneven, betraying his inner turmoil. 

Felix hesitated before speaking again, his voice cautious. “I understand, Your Grace. But the children—especially the youngest princess and prince—are worried about her. They look to her for strength.” He paused, glancing at Claude’s stern profile. “Perhaps she needs someone to remind her she’s not alone in this.”

Claude’s jaw tightened. He had admired Athanasia’s resilience, her ability to bear the weight of the family’s burdens without faltering. But he also knew the cost of such strength—how it hollowed a person out from within. He had seen it before, in himself, in others. Now he saw it in her.

“She’s stronger than you think,” Claude finally said, his voice low. “But I’ll speak with her.”

Felix inclined his head. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”

After Felix left, Claude lingered in the study, his mind replaying memories of Cale’s unwavering determination and Athanasia’s quiet devotion. Theirs was a bond that had weathered storms, endured losses, and carved out joy amidst the chaos of life. He envied them, even now, as the end loomed near.

Later that evening, Claude made his way to the room Cale and Athanasia shared. The door was slightly ajar, and he hesitated, unsure if he should intrude. From within, he could hear the soft murmur of voices—Athanasia’s soothing tone and Cale’s faint, weary replies.

Pushing the door open gently, he stepped inside. Athanasia sat at Cale’s bedside, her fingers brushing through his hair as she spoke in quiet, comforting tones. Her face was pale, her eyes shadowed with exhaustion, but her expression held an almost ethereal calm.

Claude cleared his throat softly, and Athanasia turned, startled. “Father,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “What is it?”

“I wanted to check on you,” he said, his tone awkward but sincere. His gaze flicked to Cale, who offered him a faint smile despite his frailty.

“You don’t have to,” Athanasia replied, her words kind but firm. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” Claude said bluntly, stepping closer. “And that’s okay. No one expects you to be.”

Her composure cracked, just for a moment. Her lips trembled, and her shoulders sagged under the weight she had been carrying. “I… I can’t fall apart now,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “Not when he’s still here. Not when the children need me.”

Claude reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder. It was an uncharacteristically gentle gesture from a man known for his stern demeanor. “You don’t have to be unshakable, Athanasia. Let someone else shoulder the burden, even if just for a moment.”

Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them away, nodding slowly. “Thank you, Father.”

Cale’s weak voice broke the moment. “Bastard of a Father-in-law… don’t make my wife cry,” he teased softly, his lips curving into a faint smirk.

Claude huffed, crossing his arms. “As if I’d dare. Her mother would have my head.”

The room filled with a bittersweet warmth as the three of them shared a fleeting moment of normalcy. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to give Cale a semblance of being normal despite his impending death.

Then it happened.

As Glenn had predicted; Cale’s final day.

The sun rose quietly that morning, its golden light spilling through the curtains of Cale’s room like a final blessing. It was as if the world itself understood the gravity of the day, holding its breath in reverence. The usual bustle of the inn was subdued, everyone moving with the solemn awareness that this would be the last day their beloved son, brother, husband, and father would be with them.

Cale woke early, his breaths shallow but steady. Athanasia was by his side, her fingers entwined with his, as they had been every moment since the news of his final day reached them. She had barely slept, her presence a constant source of comfort to him, though he could see the toll it had taken on her.  

“Morning,” he whispered, his voice no more than a raspy exhale. 

Athanasia’s lips quirked into a soft smile, though tears glistened in her eyes. “Good morning, my love.”

He shifted his gaze toward the window, the faint streaks of dawn painting the sky in hues of pink and orange. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”  

She nodded, her throat too tight to speak. 

The family gathered in his room as the day went on. Esme and Ciel sat by his side, their small hands clutching his own as if holding him tighter could keep him from slipping away, they had brought a golden rose, a flower that was from Bud and Glenn and was planted all over their garden. Esme had been strong for so long, but now she sobbed quietly, her tears soaking into the quilt covering him. As young as she was, she sensed that something was wrong.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart,” Cale murmured, his voice weak but steady. “You’re my brave little girl, my beloved little girl. You’ve always been brave.”

Ciel, too young to fully grasp what was happening, clung to his father’s arm. “Papa, will you come back after your nap?”

Cale’s chest ached—not from his illness, but from the question. He smiled faintly, cupping Ciel’s cheek with a trembling hand. “I’ll always be with you, my treasured sky. Always.”

One by one, the family spoke to him, each taking a moment to share their love, and their goodbyes. Deruth knelt beside the bed, his hand gripping Cale’s tightly, his usual stoic demeanor breaking under the weight of his grief.

“I should have been better,” Deruth said, his voice cracking. “I should have been there for you more.”

Cale managed a faint chuckle. “You did fine, Dad. You all did. Look around—I’m surrounded by love, especially on my final day. That’s all anyone could ask for.”

Violan, ever composed, pressed a kiss to his forehead, whispering words of love and pride that she had rarely spoken aloud before. 

"Mother... thank you." Violan cried at Cale's words.

Choi Han stood silently at the foot of the bed, his usual calm shattered by the glint of tears in his eyes. “I’ll protect them, Cale,” he vowed. “Esme, Ciel, the entire family. I swear it.”

“As I will, Young Master.” Ron swore, as it was obvious he was holding back his emotions.

Cale nodded, his lips curling into a small smile. “I know you will.”

"We love you, Orabeoni." Lily sobbed.

"We love you, hyung-nim." Basen cried as he was holding Cale's other hand.

Cale's eyes shimmered with unshed tears, "I love you guys too."

As the sun began to set, Cale’s breaths grew fainter. Athanasia climbed into the bed beside him, wrapping her arms around his frail frame, her tears soaking into his hair as she whispered to him—soft memories, quiet reassurances, and boundless love.

“I’ll see you again,” she murmured, her voice trembling but filled with conviction. “Maybe not in this life, but someday, Boss.”

Cale’s lips moved, forming silent words. “I’ll wait for you, Sia.”

They shared their final kiss of this lifetime.

When the final moment came, it was peaceful. His chest rose and fell one last time, his hand resting in Athanasia’s as a faint smile graced his lips. The room was silent, save for the soft sound of Esme’s sniffles and Ciel’s quiet, confused murmurs. 

Cale Henituse was gone, but he left behind a legacy of love that would live on in the hearts of his family. The sky outside burned with the colors of twilight, as if the heavens themselves mourned his passing.

And as Athanasia held his lifeless body close, she whispered one last promise. 

“I’ll keep them safe as promised, wait for me, okay?”