The scene opened quietly.
Xavier sat alone on a hanging bench in the Ivanovich garden.
The evening sun bled orange and gold across the sky, its fading light dusting the world in warmth that did not quite reach him. The chains of the bench creaked softly whenever the wind passed, though he did not move.
He sat curled inward, one knee drawn to his chest.
Eyes lowered.
Lost somewhere far beneath the surface of his own thoughts.
His nose was red. His eyes dull — drained, as though he had cried until there was nothing left.
"I like your new hair, Xavier."
The voice startled him.
"How did it become blonde all of a sudden?"
Aleksander.
Xavier didn't answer.
Instead, he stood abruptly and stepped forward, wrapping his arms tightly around his older brother.
Aleksander staggered slightly at the sudden force — then smiled.
He returned the embrace without hesitation.
"Xavier…" he murmured gently. "I heard you and Grandpa."
Xavier said nothing.
That silence was answer enough.
Aleksander exhaled slowly.
"I saw you rush out of his bureau. I called after you, but you didn't hear me." He paused. "I won't force you to tell me what happened if you're not ready."
He lifted Xavier's chin carefully so their eyes met — those familiar cosmic blue irises shimmering faintly in the dying light.
"But whatever he said… it wasn't out of malice."
His tone remained calm.
"You know how much he cares for you. He has always gone beyond what was necessary. Not because you asked — but because he loves you."
He brushed a thumb lightly against Xavier's cheek.
"I'm not here to dismiss what you're feeling. I just don't want you drowning in it. Too much sorrow rots the soul."
The wind stirred between them.
For a moment, Xavier looked away.
"Big brother…" he muttered quietly. "Aren't you angry at me for running away?"
"I am," Aleksander answered without hesitation.
Xavier stiffened.
"But not in the way you think."
Aleksander's gaze softened.
"I'm more angry at myself."
Xavier blinked.
"For not noticing how much you were suffering. For being so focused on my own path that I didn't see yours cracking beneath you."
He chuckled faintly, though there was no humor in it.
"I can be arrogant. Prideful. I know that. Sometimes I mistake silence for strength."
His voice lowered.
"But you… Violet… Grandpa… all of you matter more to me than any title I'll ever hold."
"If I could take your pain and carry it myself, I would."
Xavier shook his head quickly, tears threatening again.
"But you did nothing wrong! Why blame yourself for my mistakes?"
Aleksander's reply came steady.
"That's exactly it. I did nothing."
The words settled heavily.
Xavier fell quiet.
Aleksander turned his gaze upward, toward the darkening sky.
"The only reason I seek strength," he said, "is so I can protect the dreams of those around me. That has always been my purpose."
A faint smile crossed his lips.
"If my so-called 'latent potential' — the one people whisper could rival the gods themselves — can't even protect my own brother… then what is it worth?"
"Strength without meaning is empty."
He let the thought linger.
"Like a ship at sea with no destination."
"Drifting."
The garden grew quieter as evening deepened.
"I don't train you and Violet because I want you to match me," Aleksander continued. "I train you so you surpass who you were yesterday."
He glanced back at Xavier.
"People call me a perfect genius. A pinnacle. Someone without equal."
He shook his head slightly.
"But your talent… Violet's talent… the way you both adapt, evolve, grow — that is far more beautiful to me."
His eyes warmed.
"Watching you both become stronger in your own ways… that's what gives my strength meaning."
He paused.
"And now, our family has gained yet another extraordinary spark."
Xavier blinked, confused by the reference.
Aleksander only smiled.
Xavier felt something steady itself inside his chest.
He had always admired his brother.
Not just for his strength.
But for the way he carried it.
For the way he never used it to overshadow — only to uplift.
In that moment, beneath the fading gold of the sky, Xavier realized something.
A true king is not defined by power.
But by the hearts he chooses to protect.
Aleksander suddenly crouched and, before Xavier could react, hoisted him up onto his shoulders with surprising ease.
"But today," he said, a new firmness in his voice, "I refuse to stand idle and do nothing."
He adjusted his grip on Xavier's legs.
"There's someone you're longing to see right now. And I know exactly where they are."
Xavier's breath caught.
Aleksander glanced forward, eyes steady.
"So I'll take you to them."
The last rays of the sun stretched long across the garden as they began to walk.
Xavier stared at the distant horizon, where the sun dipped into quiet slumber.
"Thank you, Big brother," he murmured softly. "And… I'm sorry. For all the trouble I've caused you. I want to grow stronger. I want to become a man like you… like Father… like Grandpa."
Aleksander let out a low chuckle.
"I'm glad to hear that determination," he said lightly. "Though I wonder… was it my speech that inspired you—"
He tilted his head slightly.
"—or was it the slap Violet gave you earlier?"
Xavier's face turned scarlet in an instant.
"D-Don't bring that up!"
He grabbed a fistful of Aleksander's long silver hair in embarrassment.
Aleksander winced. "Hey— easy! That hurts!"
But he was laughing.
He kept teasing him mercilessly, replaying the moment in exaggerated detail.
Xavier flailed uselessly from atop his shoulders, tears of mortification welling in his eyes.
"STOP IT!"
Their laughter echoed faintly through the garden.
And then—
Aleksander felt it.
A sharp, unfamiliar pulse deep within his chest.
No.
Deeper than that.
Within his ethereal core.
It wasn't violent.
But it was undeniable.
A sudden tightening.
A subtle fracture of balance.
His step faltered.
"W-Woah!" Xavier yelped, gripping his brother's shoulders tightly. "Big brother?! Are you okay?!"
Aleksander steadied himself quickly, drawing in a slow breath.
What was that?
His mind raced.
Is it finally beginning… after all these years?
After the relentless training… the strain… the limits he kept pushing?
No.
It shouldn't be happening yet.
Not this early.
Not even for someone of his caliber.
"Big brother…?"
Aleksander blinked and forced the tension from his expression.
He turned slightly, flashing his usual easy grin.
"Relax," he said cheerfully. "You're not that heavy."
And just like that, he returned to teasing Xavier about Violet's slap, as if nothing had happened.
Xavier, still red as a tomato, protested loudly while wiping at his eyes.
Aleksander burst into laughter once more.
Because if there was one thing he refused to allow—
It was for his little brother to fall back into that darkness again.
—————————————————
Time passed quietly.
Aleksander led Xavier beyond the capital's outer roads, toward a cemetery where the wind moved freely through tall trees. Leaves whispered against one another, carried by the evening air. It was not far from the city — but far enough that the world felt softer there.
They stopped at the entrance.
From a distance, Xavier saw a familiar silhouette standing beneath a massive tree.
Anastasia.
Aleksander gently lowered Xavier from his shoulders.
"Go," he said quietly. "She's been waiting to speak with you."
He rested a hand briefly on Xavier's back.
"This might be your chance to clear anything that could become regret later… especially with everything happening."
Xavier nodded.
He took a few steps forward, then glanced back.
Aleksander gave him an exaggerated thumbs‑up and a ridiculous grin.
Despite everything, Xavier smiled.
Then he turned and walked on.
Each step felt heavier than the last.
Anastasia stood before a grave near the roots of an old tree, placing fresh flowers carefully against the stone.
Xavier swallowed.
He inhaled deeply, steadying himself.
Before he could speak—
"You don't have to tense up so much, Young Master," Anastasia said calmly, her back still turned to him.
He froze.
For a moment, he wondered if she had always known he was there.
He continued forward until he stood beside her.
His gaze drifted downward to the inscription carved into the stone.
—
Here lies a broken man, who may finally rest from the scars he carried in life.
Haruki Fujimori
—
Xavier's expression softened.
"So… this is Haruki's grave?"
"Yes," Anastasia replied quietly.
The wind brushed through her hair.
"I was never able to recover his body. But I thought… this was the least I could do."
Her voice carried no defensiveness.
Only remorse.
"I am the reason his life spiraled the way it did," she continued. "What my brothers and I took from him… I cannot undo."
She lowered her eyes.
"If he never forgave me, I would understand. And if you see me differently after learning the truth… I would understand that as well."
Xavier clenched his fists, feeling his earlier resolve waver.
Before he could sink into it, Anastasia spoke again.
"Don't let it drag you down, Xavier."
She finally turned slightly toward him.
"Lord Alcmena told me how deeply his death affected you."
A faint, almost sad smile touched her lips.
"Even knowing he once tried to kill us… you still mourn him."
Her eyes softened.
"That is simply who you are."
"But do not let empathy become self‑punishment."
She stepped closer.
"You already carry too much."
"Haruki chose to save you in the end. That decision was his own."
She looked back at the grave.
"All I pray is that wherever he is… it is gentler than the life he endured here."
Silence followed.
They both closed their eyes briefly in quiet respect.
The wind moved through the trees again.
After a moment, Xavier gathered the courage to speak.
He opened his mouth—
But Anastasia gently pressed a finger to his lips.
She turned fully toward him.
"Young Master…"
Her voice softened.
"No. Xavier."
His cosmic blue eyes reflected the quiet storm behind hers.
"You've learned about my punishment, haven't you?"
He hesitated.
"Yes…"
His voice broke.
"You're leaving me."
The words spilled out.
"You promised you would never leave. That you'd walk beside me wherever I went."
Tears welled in his eyes.
"And now you're breaking that promise."
His hands trembled.
"It's not fair. It's my fault. It's always my fault."
Anastasia stepped closer.
She cupped his face gently, wiping the tears before they could fall further.
"No," she said softly.
"It is not your fault that misfortune has followed you since birth."
Her thumb brushed beneath his eye.
"Your choices may not have been perfect. But they were honest."
"You sought your origins. You sought truth."
Her expression held no resentment.
Only pride.
"And in all the years I have served you… that was the bravest decision you ever made."
"But…" Xavier murmured, his head lowered.
Anastasia gently stopped him again.
"No 'buts'," she said softly. "It's alright, Xavier. I would never disappear without telling you first. That was never my intention."
Her hand rested lightly against his shoulder.
"For now… stop blaming yourself. It hurts to see you carry everything alone."
The restraint he had been holding onto finally broke.
Xavier buried his face against her chest, fingers clutching the fabric of her dress like a child afraid of losing warmth.
"P‑please don't leave me…" he whispered, voice trembling. "I need you."
There was a pause.
Then, softer — almost instinctive.
"Please… mama."
Anastasia froze.
The word struck her deeper than any accusation ever could.
Mama.
Her breath caught in her throat.
Did he realize what he had just said?
Or had it slipped from somewhere far more honest than thought?
Graviil's voice echoed faintly in her memory — He sees you as the mother he never had.
The way Xavier listened to her without question. The way he allowed himself to be vulnerable only in her presence. The way he sought her first when afraid, when confused, when hurt.
It had always been there.
She had simply refused to name it.
But the truth no longer allowed her to hide.
To this boy… she was not merely a maid.
She was his mother.
The realization filled her chest with something fierce and overwhelming — a heat that burned and soothed all at once.
So this was what it felt like.
Not obligation.
Not duty.
But love that asked for nothing in return.
Anastasia wrapped her arms around him tightly, no hesitation left within her.
"I won't leave you," she whispered into his hair. "Not now. I still have time before that day comes."
Her hand cradled the back of his head.
"And even when distance separates us… I will never truly be gone."
She leaned back slightly so she could see his face.
"I may no longer serve as your maid. But… if you would allow it… I would like to be something more to you."
Her voice trembled — not from doubt, but from sincerity.
"You mean more to me than you understand, Xavier. I cannot imagine a world where you do not exist within it."
Her thumb brushed away the tears he had failed to hide.
"Because I love you."
The words were simple.
But absolute.
"I love you so much."
She pressed her forehead gently against his.
"My dear son."
And in that moment, something shifted.
Anastasia was no longer a servant bound by hierarchy.
She was a woman who chose to become a mother.
Not by blood.
But by love.
As they remained in each other's embrace, the golden hue woven into Xavier's hair began to fade softly — not vanishing, but transforming.
Like a quiet shedding.
His natural brown‑black returned, deep and familiar.
Yet the strands at the very front remained gold — brighter than before.
Not overwhelming.
But present.
A contrast.
A reminder.
Something inherited not by birth… but by bond.
High above, perched within the branches of the massive tree, Alcmena watched in silence.
He did not interrupt.
He did not descend.
He simply observed.
So this was the day, he thought, that they stepped beyond titles.
No longer Young Master and Maid.
But son and mother.
A strange thought crossed his mind.
If a human woman could choose to become a mother to a child not born of her…
Could a dragon ever wish to become a father to one not of his kind?
He almost scoffed at himself.
Impossible.
And yet…
If I had been born human, he wondered, would I have been granted that chance?
To stand beside him openly.
To give him my name.
To guide him not as a contractor… but as a father.
His gaze softened as it rested on Xavier.
A brave soul.
Flawed, yet selfless.
Wounded, yet still kind.
A child burdened by fate — and still choosing light.
Alcmena allowed himself one quiet question before pushing the thought away.
If I were his father…
What would I have named him?