---
Relief softened their faces. Elen scoffed. "Hah! I wasn't even worried. I knew you could fix it. I just didn't want to be stuck alone with this idiot girl."
Leya's sharp look nearly burned a hole through her.
I chuckled. "Are you sure it's not her tolerating you?"
Both flushed. Cute. For a moment, the air grew warm again.
But one question still pressed heavy. "Who did this?"
At once their eyes dropped, their hands betraying them. Leya scratching her skin raw, Elen's wrist bruised from squeezing too hard—different coping, same pain. I sighed. I took the ointment Butler had brought and gently healed their wounds. "Don't do this. You're hurting yourselves."
They said nothing.
"You need training. Bad habits vanish only with time. No hurry—we'll fix it slowly." I waved my hand dramatically. "Puff. Gone."
They smiled despite themselves. But their eyes carried a weight I couldn't ignore.
"Who was it?" I pressed, softer.
Elen muttered, "Just… an idiot boy."
Mary stepped in to explain, but I raised a hand. "Let them tell me."
Silence stretched. I leaned back. "If you peel an apple for a blind man, whistle while you do it. Otherwise, he'll think you're eating it. Even kindness, if hidden, can look like cruelty. In this world, silence makes villains. Speak. That's how you survive. That's how you win."
Their eyes flickered, understanding.
Finally, Leya whispered, "We protected a boy. He stole… it was wrong, but he was just hungry. Sam and Sylvia punished him. They called it justice. They didn't listen. They mocked him. The crowd followed them. We stopped it."
"And?"
"They said things," Elen muttered. Her jaw clenched. "Words. Cruel. To Lucien. He fought. He lost. Then he…"
I saw their faces tighten, voices fading. Trauma. Pain. My hands curled to fists.
"What were their names?" I asked, quiet but firm.
They hesitated. Leya glanced at Elen. Elen swallowed. "…Sam. And Sylvia."
I froze. My blood went cold.
Damn.
---
Night had fallen.
The name Sam. Sylvia. still echoed in my head. My face must have darkened, because the children froze, eyes wide, and even Mary and the servants stiffened. None of them said anything—they simply bowed out, leaving us alone, as if privacy could soften what weighed on me.
Damn. I didn't even think about this. They must be here already. The story hasn't officially begun, and yet…
The children stared at me, uncertain.
"Elias… is something wrong?" Elen asked.
Her voice was small, hesitant. Leya's eyes mirrored the same fear: Did we do something wrong?
I forced a smile, masking the fire rising in my chest.
"No. Everything's fine… or maybe it's not. But that's fine too."
They blinked, confused.
I laughed softly, crouching down and pulling them close. "Come on, enough of this. Shower first?"
They nodded, still watching me with wary eyes. I handed them fresh clothes and ushered them into the baths. Within minutes they were back, hair damp, eyes half-shut with exhaustion.
I frowned. "Already? Did you bathe or just sprinkle water on your faces?"
"We were tired," Elen muttered. Leya echoed, "Too tired."
I shook my head but said nothing. I dried their hair with towels, used the little magic device to warm them, then tucked them gently into bed. They kept looking at me even as I pulled the blanket up.
"I know," I whispered. "There are things you don't understand yet. You'll know in time. For now, we rest." I kissed their foreheads.
"Well… you need it more than us," Elen murmured, trying to sound cheeky.
Leya nodded firmly. "Yes. You really should sleep, Elias."
I chuckled at their stubborn little faces. "Adorable brats," I thought. They deserved peace, but fate had been cruel. All I could do was change what lay ahead—I couldn't rewrite what was already carved.
"It's gonna be all right," I told them softly.
They looked at me one last time before their eyes fluttered shut. "Goodnight, Elias."
"Goodnight, kids." I kissed Lucien's forehead too—he was still asleep, breathing steady now.
Just as I turned off the light, Elen whispered drowsily, "You should smile more. You look cute when you do."
I froze, caught off guard. But before I could answer, both had buried their faces in the pillows, embarrassed at their own words. I couldn't help laughing quietly. Children, indeed.
I turned off the lamp. "Thank you," I whispered, though they were already asleep.
---
The hall was quiet. My thoughts weren't. Sam. Sylvia. Already villains. What should I do? Of course, I'll stand with my kids. They aren't wrong. Maybe they chose a wrong method—but in their eyes, it was right. And that's enough. The world can call them anything it wants. I'll still protect them.
I was at my room door when Butler appeared, carrying a tray.
"Young master," he said softly. "Soup."
"Ah… thank you." I took it absently. "The children have… slumped."
"Then let them sleep. They ate enough at the market, didn't they?"
"Yes," I admitted. I had forgotten in the chaos.
"Too much will only weigh on their bodies. Let them rest. I'll give them warming medicine in the morning."
I nodded. "Good. Thank you, Butler."
"Goodnight, young master." He bowed and walked away. Behind him I caught glimpses of Mary and Hema, their expressions soft with worry, but they said nothing.
Inside, I sat alone with the bowl of soup. A small smile tugged at my lips. I really am blessed in this life, aren't I? No matter what destiny wants—I can bend it. I have the power now.
I showered, nearly fell asleep in the bath, slapped myself awake.
"Big mistake," I muttered, stumbling out.
I drained the soup, collapsed into bed. My mind tried to wander—to the King, to Nia, to the East where sweets were sold—but sleep pulled me down faster than I could resist.
Drool dripped from my mouth.
Hema slipped in quietly, gathered the empty bowl, pulled a blanket over me. She brushed my hair back, her expression softer than I'd ever seen it.
"Sleep well, little one. You worked hard."
She kissed my forehead like a mother to her child, then left as silently as she had entered.
---