...
{3rd Pov}
The meeting was arranged inside Crusch's mansion, chosen not for prestige or grandeur, but simply because it was the most practical and convenient location within the Capital.
Its position ensured that all participants could gather without drawing unnecessary attention, and the mansion itself provided the security and discretion required for a gathering of such importance.
Once the participants stepped inside the designated room, a team of magicians stationed outside would immediately cast a series of enchantments.
These spells were meant to seal away any sound or noise from escaping the chamber, guaranteeing that nothing said within those walls would ever reach an unintended ear.
The Royal Candidates had already reached a consensus beforehand: at most, each of them was permitted to bring no more than two retainers.
This rule was established both to maintain balance between them and to keep the meeting manageable, avoiding the chaos of too many voices in the room.
With that restriction in place, the candidates began arriving one after another.
The first to enter was Felt, the sharp-tongued street girl turned candidate.
True to her style, she strode into the room with her usual cocky grin, flanked by two very distinct figures.
On her left side was the ever-loyal Rom, the towering old man whose bulk seemed to fill half the doorway on its own.
On her right was Reinhardt, the red-haired Sword Saint, radiating an aura of calm composure that stood in sharp contrast to Felt's brash energy.
Together, the three of them made a curious trio: a girl who once lived in the slums, her giant of a caretaker, and the strongest warrior alive.
Next came Emilia, the half-elf whose beauty was enough to turn heads even without the air of mystery surrounding her, though more than often due to her similar appearance to the witch.
She too was accompanied by her chosen retainers.
Standing at her side with his usual flamboyant swagger was Roswaal, whose exaggerated mannerisms and painted face made him stand out in any crowd, regardless of whether one wanted him to or not.
Trailing alongside them was none other than Theresia van Astrea, the beloved "Gilf waifu"—or at least that was how many saw her, given her reputation and timeless grace.
Theresia seemed perfectly at ease in the room, smiling warmly as she engaged in conversation with Reinhardt.
Their exchange was affectionate, familial, and at one point she reached out and gently patted the young Sword Saint on the head.
Reinhardt, though formidable in battle and widely respected across the land, blushed like a child under her hand, caught between happiness and mild embarrassment at the gesture.
Felt, observing the interaction from the side, grinned mischievously.
She already made a mental note to tease Reinhardt about it later, savoring the opportunity to poke fun at the usually composed warrior.
Finally, the last of the candidates arrived: Priscilla Barielle, the ever-arrogant and haughty noblewoman.
She made her entrance in a manner that left no room for doubt about her self-image as the center of the world.
Without hesitation, she seated herself as if she owned the place, lifting her chin high and exuding an aura of superiority that demanded attention.
Accompanying her were two retainers of her choosing.
First was Al—Aldebaran—the masked knight whose casual demeanor was as strange as it was unshakable.
Second was Heinkel, who seemed drastically out of place compared to the others.
Heinkel had stationed himself in the farthest corner of the room the moment they entered, deliberately keeping distance between himself and everyone else, most especially his mother.
He positioned himself behind Aldebaran as though hoping the knight's presence would act as a shield.
His eyes kept flickering nervously toward Theresia, and every so often his hand twitched toward his backside, touching it with the reflexive fear of someone expecting punishment at any moment.
He was visibly desperate to make himself small, lowering his presence as much as humanly possible and avoiding eye contact altogether.
But of course, the thing he dreaded the most—the exact scenario he was trying so hard to avoid—was inevitably about to happen.
"Heinkel."
The name was spoken in a sweet and melodic tone, but to the man being addressed, it sounded more like the toll of a death bell.
Heinkel van Astrea froze instantly, his body locking up as if every muscle had betrayed him at once.
Before he could even consider pretending he hadn't heard, Aldebaran casually reached over, grabbed him by the shoulder, and rotated him around so that he was forced to face the source of that voice—his mother, Theresia van Astrea.
Theresia sat there with a smile that could have charmed any stranger, the kind of expression that would have been called graceful, kind, and dignified by anyone who didn't know better.
But Heinkel knew better.
He knew that smile all too well, and to him it was not beautiful in the slightest.
Behind that pleasant expression hid intentions that were anything but gentle.
"Reinhardt," Theresia began softly, still smiling as though she were talking about the weather, "did your father apologize to you properly?"
Her words made her grandson flinch, the young Sword Saint stiffening in his seat.
Reinhardt's gaze shifted hesitantly toward his father, Heinkel, then back again, carrying an expression that was equal parts reluctant and regretful.
Finally, after a pause, Reinhardt answered in his usual honest way. "Father did apologize… though, I don't think it was in the proper way."
The moment those words left his mouth, Heinkel's face lost what little color it had left. His skin went pale as parchment, and his lips parted in soundless horror.
Meanwhile, Theresia's smile widened, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly, giving her the look of a predator who had just confirmed the weakness of her prey.
"Oh? Is that so?" she replied sweetly, her tone sugar-coated but with an edge sharp enough to cut through stone.
"And did he also not make any real efforts to reconcile with you?"
Heinkel's breathing grew shallow, and his complexion turned even paler, as though he were halfway to fainting.
Reinhardt, true to his nature, didn't falter.
He shook his head. "No, he did not."
"There, you see?" Theresia cooed, gently patting Reinhardt's head as though rewarding a child for telling the truth.
"Rein is a good boy. Rein never lies."
Her voice carried pride and affection for her grandson, but immediately after, her expression shifted again, this time directing the full weight of her attention toward Heinkel.
"And now," she continued, her smile never wavering, "as for you."
Her eyes locked onto Heinkel like a hawk spotting prey, and the man instinctively took a step back, his body trembling with every movement.
His mouth opened but no words came out, his fear choking him silent.
"Tell me," Theresia asked in a voice as sweet as honey dripping from a spoon, "will you come here of your own accord? Or… will you force me to make you?"
The tone of her words might have been lovely, melodic even, but the implication beneath them was enough to send chills down the spines of almost everyone present.
Felt's smug grin faltered for once, her body stiffening as she trembled despite herself.
Rom, the massive giant of a man, shifted uneasily, his instincts warning him not to interfere with a woman like Theresia.
Even Aldebaran, who was rarely fazed by much of anything, visibly shivered, his hand gripping his sword hilt a little tighter as though subconsciously preparing for danger.
Only two individuals seemed utterly unaffected.
Roswaal, the ever-perverted clown of a man, looked on with disturbing delight.
His painted face twisted into an expression that could only be described as anticipation, as though he was watching a performance he had waited all year to see.
To him, the prospect of violence, humiliation, or punishment didn't seem frightening in the slightest—if anything, he would probably have volunteered to switch places with Heinkel if given the chance.
As expected of an body changing clown, who wouldn't even hesitate to bang a man while being a woman.
Then there was Priscilla, who reclined comfortably in her seat, a grin spreading across her face.
Her sharp eyes gleamed with amusement as she watched mother and son face off, clearly entertained by the spectacle.
And then, there was Emilia.
Unlike the others, she did not glare, tremble, or grin.
Instead, Theresia turned her attention briefly toward the half-elf.
"Lady Emilia," she said softly, though the underlying command was clear, "would you be so kind as to close your eyes and cover your ears for a bit?"
Emilia hesitated only a moment, then nodded obediently.
She turned her head aside, shut her eyes, and lifted her hands to cover her ears.
Her expression was one of discomfort, yet she did as she was told, cutting herself off from whatever was about to unfold.
Theresia's gaze lingered on Heinkel, and in that moment it was clear there was no escape for him.
The poor man's face twisted through what could only be described as three full stages of grief in rapid succession—denial, bargaining, and despair—before his legs reluctantly began to move on their own.
Each step toward her felt heavier than the last, as though invisible chains were dragging him forward against his will.
Finally, after what felt like the longest walk of shame in his life, he stood before her.
And then it happened.
"Arghhhhhhh!" Heinkel howled in pain as Theresia, without hesitation, brought her hand down hard against his backside.
Smack!Smack!Smack!
The sound of her palm striking was sharp, each impact ringing through the magically sealed chamber like the crack of a whip.
The blows came fast, brutal, and merciless.
It was only by some small miracle—or perhaps her own sense of mercy—that Theresia hadn't bothered to strip away his trousers first.
If she had, the last remaining shred of Heinkel's dignity would have been obliterated completely in front of everyone.
His screams echoed throughout the room, bouncing off the walls like the cries of a condemned man.
The sight was both pitiful and oddly surreal.
There, in the middle of what was supposed to be a royal meeting, the once-proud Heinkel van Astrea found himself lying across Theresia's knees, flailing helplessly as his mother disciplined him as though he were a child who had been caught stealing sweets.
Outside the circle of humiliation, another figure happened to enter.
Wilhelm, the Sword Demon, stepped through the door at that precise moment, holding a small bundle of flowers in his hands—an offering meant for his beloved wife.
But as soon as his eyes fell upon the scene before him, his entire body froze mid-step.
Wilhelm blinked once, then twice, as if trying to confirm he wasn't hallucinating.
His lips twitched uncontrollably at the sight of Heinkel sprawled over Theresia's lap, backside being struck with unrelenting precision.
A thousand thoughts crossed his mind in that instant, but one question rose above all the rest:
From where, in the name of all the gods, did his gentle, graceful wife ever learn something like this?
(From the corner of the narrative, one could almost hear Subaru's obnoxious voice: "No need to thank me, Wilhelm, I know I'm amazing, hehe.")
Eventually, the punishment concluded.
Heinkel was released, sliding off Theresia's knees with all the grace of a broken doll.
He staggered back to Priscilla's side, both hands clutching his rear as though trying to hold his battered dignity together.
His face was pale, his body trembling, and his eyes glistened with unshed tears he barely managed to keep from spilling.
Sitting down was clearly out of the question, yet he forced himself to endure it, his pride demanding at least that much.
Priscilla, of course, was not disgusted or sympathetic.
Quite the opposite.
Her eyes glittered with curiosity and a kind of cruel amusement.
"Indeed," she declared with a smirk, her voice dripping with haughty satisfaction, "such a method of discipline has awakened mine divine self's wisdom."
Her words were enough to make both Aldebaran and Heinkel stiffen simultaneously.
A cold chill ran down their spines as they shared the same dreadful thought.
Damn it!
It was all too easy to imagine what came next.
If Priscilla had truly taken inspiration from what she had just witnessed, then this "new method" was sure to become her preferred form of punishment.
The horrifying realization sank into their bones: from this day forward, whenever they made a mistake or displeased her in any way, they were likely to find themselves on the receiving end of exactly what Heinkel had just suffered.
Both men shuddered in unison. For them, the meeting had suddenly become far more terrifying than any battlefield.
Wilhelm lingered at the doorway for a brief moment, his hand tightening slightly around the bouquet of flowers he carried.
His hesitation was plain to see.
Even before he stepped into the chamber, the weight of his presence was immediately felt by everyone inside.
Heads turned toward him in unison, and silence briefly settled over the room.
Theresia's eyes flicked toward her husband for only a second before she deliberately looked away, crossing her arms over her chest in a clear sign of disapproval.
Her expression said everything: she was still angry with him, and not without reason.
Wilhelm let out a small sigh under his breath, already knowing he had no right to complain.
He was well aware that the fault rested on his shoulders.
For a moment, his eyes moved toward Reinhardt.
The young Sword Saint was already watching him.
Their gazes met, and Reinhardt quickly shifted his eyes toward his grandmother, as though silently saying that Wilhelm's next actions had better not cause her more grief.
Wilhelm understood that unspoken message all too well.
Wordlessly, Wilhelm placed the bouquet of flowers on the nearby table, the small gesture almost drowned in the tension of the room.
Without wasting another moment, he stepped forward, moved directly in front of Reinhardt, and dropped to his knees in a deep bow.
His sudden action caused more than a few gasps of surprise among those gathered.
"Reinhardt," Wilhelm began, his voice steady though heavy with guilt, "I apologize for everything that I have done to you. Whether it was the cruel words I spoke, the insults I hurled, or the times I accused you of crimes you never committed… all of it was shameful. As your grandfather, I have brought disgrace upon myself, and I am deeply ashamed of my actions."
His blunt confession caused even Theresia to falter.
Her eyes widened slightly, her calm demeanor cracking for just a moment.
She gave her husband a brief glance, noting the sincerity on his face, before quickly turning her gaze away again, unwilling to let her softened expression linger.
Reinhardt, too, seemed caught off guard.
"Honoured Grandfather—" he began automatically, but Wilhelm raised his hand quickly and cut him off mid-sentence.
"No," Wilhelm said firmly.
"Do not call me 'honoured' or 'respected' grandfather. I am undeserving of such titles, not from you. Not after everything I have done. Please… just call me Grandfather. Or even Old Man, if that makes it easier. I do not deserve more than that."
The words hung in the air, and for a moment, the sincerity of the scene seemed to weigh on everyone.
But then, like a bitter stain on a white cloth, another voice broke through.
"How amusing," Heinkel sneered, one hand still pressed firmly against his aching backside.
His voice was laced with resentment as he glared at Wilhelm.
"After abandoning your family for years, you think a single apology will magically fix everything? Do you truly believe one bow will erase all of it?"
Once, Wilhelm might have faltered under those words.
Once, he might have lowered his eyes and let silence eat away at him.
But not this time.
He turned his gaze toward Heinkel, his expression steady, unshaken.
"My son," Wilhelm said slowly, his tone neither defensive nor angry, but heavy with honesty, "I know. I know that I failed you as a father. I neglected you, I disappointed you, and I left scars on you that I cannot erase. I did not fulfill the duty that was expected of me. But now… I will not turn away again. This time, I will fulfill it."
Heinkel's eyes narrowed, his lip curling as he spat back, "So easy for you to say! If Mother hadn't returned, would you have stood here spouting the same words? Would you have bowed your head in shame then?" His words were sharp, driven by anger and old wounds.
Wilhelm paused for only a second, then gave an answer that no one in the room expected. "I don't know."
The simplicity of his reply shocked everyone present.
A few gasps echoed around the chamber, and Reinhardt's brows lifted slightly, clearly caught off guard.
Many had expected Wilhelm to argue, to insist that he would have done the same regardless.
Instead, his blunt honesty left the room stunned into silence.
"I don't know if I would have said these words then," Wilhelm continued, his voice low but firm.
"But what I do know is this: I cannot continue as I was. I cannot keep making excuses for myself. I need to change, for the sake of this family, and for myself as well."
Then, his gaze hardened, his tone shifting to one that carried the strictness of a soldier and a father.
"And so do you, Heinkel. You also must change."
With that, Wilhelm stood and began walking directly toward his son, his steps measured and deliberate.
"B-Bastard! What are you coming here for?!" Heinkel stammered, stumbling a step backward as he stared at Wilhelm's strict, unrelenting expression.
His entire body trembled at the sight, his imagination running wild with possibilities.
'Damn it…! Don't tell me… is he actually going to smack my buttocks as well?!'
The thought alone sent a shiver up his spine, and his hands instinctively pressed harder against his already sore rear.
"I am warning you!" Heinkel blurted out, raising his voice, though the quiver in his tone betrayed his fear.
"I only allowed Mother to punish me! But I won't—absolutely won't—let you do the same!"
But Wilhelm's footsteps didn't falter. He didn't slow down, didn't hesitate, and didn't even blink.
The measured sound of his boots against the floor echoed across the chamber, each step feeling heavier and heavier to Heinkel, as though a predator was closing in.
Heinkel's expression twisted further into panic.
He knew—oh, he knew—that with his backside already throbbing and swollen, there was no way he could run. Even if he tried, escape was impossible.
Not against this man. Not against the Sword Demon, who had earned that name on countless battlefields.
Against him, there was nowhere to hide.
When Wilhelm was no more than a meter away, Heinkel finally cracked.
His pride collapsed under his fear, and he cried out desperately, his voice echoing through the room.
"Mommy! Save me!!"
The childish plea caused everyone present to freeze for a moment, stunned into silence.
Even Theresia, who had been deliberately looking away with a conflicted expression, immediately turned her head at her son's voice.
Her eyes widened, her body tensing as she quickly shifted her attention toward Wilhelm, watching to see what exactly he intended to do.
No matter how disappointed she was in Heinkel, no matter how much of a failure he had proven himself to be, he was still her son.
And that bond was not something she could easily cast aside. Beneath her disappointment and frustration, she loved him deeply—more than anyone else in the room might have realized.
Memories surged within her mind.
Years ago, when Heinkel had been chosen to participate in the subjugation of the White Whale, he had come to her in private.
With trembling hands and an anxious voice, he had confessed his fear, admitting that he didn't want to go.
He believed his strength was inadequate, that he would only bring shame or death upon himself if he joined that battle.
Out of love for her son, Theresia had made her decision.
Without hesitation, she stepped forward in his place. Without hesitation, she took on the burden meant for him.
And so, when the time came, she had thrown herself into the battle against the White Whale with her own two hands.
Theresia despised battle.
She hated war.
She loathed the act of raising her sword, and she had never once taken joy in her Divine Protection of the Sword Saint, no matter how others revered it.
Every swing of her blade was agony to her spirit. Every life lost was a scar upon her heart.
And yet, for Heinkel's sake—for the sake of her trembling, frightened son—she had willingly picked up her sword once again.
After years of refusing to fight, she steeled herself and returned to the battlefield.
She endured that pain, all of it, simply to shield her son from bloodshed.
That was how much Theresia loved Heinkel.
That was the depth of her devotion, even if the world called her foolish for it.
Of course, if anyone pressed her on the matter, she would never openly admit it—not when Reinhardt existed.
Because deep down, as much as she adored her son, her grandson was undeniably more precious to her heart.
Ahem.
Anyway,
The very instant Theresia caught sight of Wilhelm closing in on Heinkel, wearing an expression that to her looked as though he was about to strike him, her composure shattered.
With a sharp voice filled with authority, she shouted, "Don't you dare touch him!"
The entire room froze in shock.
Every single person turned toward Theresia at once, their eyes widening as they processed what had just happened.
Before anyone could blink, she had moved with such frightening speed that it seemed as though she had simply teleported.
In the next instant, she was already standing between Wilhelm and Heinkel, her posture protective as she shielded her son with her own body.
For a long heartbeat, silence dominated the chamber. Not only was everyone speechless, but many of them were clearly struggling not to laugh at the absurdity of the scene.
Heinkel, on the other hand, was overwhelmed.
Staring at his mother's back as she defended him, he felt such an intense wave of sweetness in his chest that he thought he might faint from the sheer emotion of it all.
'She is still the same… even after returning from death,' he thought, eyes watering slightly.
'Mother hasn't changed at all.'
Meanwhile, the others in the room exchanged glances, some looking genuinely surprised, while others could barely hold back smirks of amusement.
After all, the scene before them was dripping with irony.
Only moments earlier, Theresia had been the one mercilessly spanking Heinkel's backside until it was swollen bright red, yet now she was planting herself firmly in front of him, ready to protect him from Wilhelm as though he were an innocent lamb.
"Wilhelm!" Theresia snapped, her glare sharp enough to cut steel. "I will not allow you to beat my son!"
"Hoooow amussssing," Roswaal drawled with exaggerated delight, his painted lips curling into a grin.
"You just finished beating him yourself, and nooow you are protecting him? What a contradiction~."
Theresia flicked her eyes toward him and sent a glare his way, one sharp enough that most men would have withered under it.
"If he misbehaves, then yes, I will punish him," she declared, her tone filled with iron-clad conviction.
"But that is my right as his mother. No one else—absolutely no one—has the right to lay a hand on my baby boy!"
Heinkel's face went red for more than one reason.
He felt both an embarrassing warmth and a bittersweet joy swelling inside of him when she used the words baby boy.
On one hand, it made his heart squeeze with happiness, a reminder of the days when Theresia used to spoil him without restraint.
On the other hand, reality hit hard.
'Damn it!' he thought bitterly. 'I'm nearly forty! Why is she still calling me that?!'
Still, no matter how humiliating it sounded, he couldn't deny how much it moved him.
It brought back long-forgotten memories of his childhood, when her gentle hands had always been there to comfort him.
It was undeniable—even if he himself would never shout it aloud—Heinkel was, and always had been, a mommy's boy.
Theresia then turned her attention back to Wilhelm, her husband, who had been left momentarily surprised by her sudden interference.
His initial shock faded, however, and a stern expression soon took its place as he straightened his posture.
"Theresia," Wilhelm said in a low but firm voice, "please step aside… I must do this."
Her eyes narrowed further, blazing with anger.
"Do what?!" she demanded furiously.
"Beat your own son into the ground?!" Her tone was filled with such rage that it practically rattled the room.
Those watching from the sidelines were struck dumb.
Felt, Rom, and even Reinhardt silently exchanged glances as if to say, 'Does she even realize how contradictory she sounds right now?'
Several of them were thinking the same thing: Woman, at least recognize where you're coming from!
Meanwhile, Priscilla was thoroughly enjoying herself.
She leaned back into her seat, a huge grin plastered across her face, her eyes alight with sheer amusement.
For her, this was better than any stage play.
Drama, hypocrisy, tension—it had everything she loved to watch unfold.
Wilhelm's eyes widened in genuine shock, as if he had just been wrongly accused of the most heinous of crimes.
He gasped, sounding as though he had been stabbed straight through the heart. "When did I ever say that I intended to beat him?!"
"Huh?" Theresia blinked in confusion, clearly bewildered by his words.
"I want him to apologize to Reinhardt!" Wilhelm suddenly declared, his finger pointing sharply at Heinkel.
"This brat still hasn't apologized to his own son, has he?!"
Theresia blinked, her mouth slightly open as she processed his words.
It took a few long seconds before the meaning finally sank in, and when it did, a flush of embarrassment crept onto her cheeks.
She had completely misunderstood Wilhelm's intentions.
'Gosh…!' she thought, flustered. 'So it wasn't what I imagined at all…'
She quickly stepped aside, clearing the way, but her eyes darted away, unable to meet Wilhelm's gaze.
The faint blush on her face betrayed her embarrassment to everyone in the room.
The instant Heinkel lost his protective barrier, Wilhelm seized the opportunity.
He grabbed his son firmly by the arm, ignoring Heinkel's startled squawk, and dragged him directly in front of Reinhardt.
There was no room for resistance.
"Heinkel," Wilhelm said sternly, his tone leaving no room for debate, "apologize."
Heinkel froze, staring at his son with hesitation plastered all over his face.
His lips pressed into a thin line as though he were struggling with the very concept of lowering himself.
"Grandfather, you don't need to do this," Reinhardt said softly, noticing his father's expression and the discomfort written across it.
But Wilhelm shook his head, his grip on Heinkel's arm tightening.
"No, Reinhardt. This is not optional. This is something I should have forced him to do a long time ago. As a father, it's my duty to teach my son responsibility and some semblance of manners."
His strict tone brooked no argument, and Heinkel instinctively flinched.
After a moment of hesitation, Heinkel's eyes darted to Theresia.
She gave him no excuse, only a silent stare that told him plainly he had no way out.
Finally, with a groan, he rubbed the back of his head awkwardly and muttered, "Okay, okay! I get it already! I'll say it, alright? I understand now!"
His shoulders slumped, and his voice grew heavier as he forced himself to continue.
"I'm… I'm a fucking piece of shit. A disgrace of a father… and worse, a pathetic excuse of a son."
The words made the room go dead silent.
Everyone's attention immediately snapped toward him, shock evident on their faces. Even Roswaal's smirk faltered for a moment.
Heinkel's voice cracked as he went on. "I'm a coward. When the battle against the White Whale came, it was me—me!—who begged Mother to fight in my place. Because of me, because of a worthless loser like me, she… she had to die. I wished more than once that I wasn't her son. That someone else—anyone else—had been born in my place."
Before he could continue further, a sharp sound rang out.
Slap!
Heinkel's head whipped to the side, his cheek stinging, his eyes wide in shock. Slowly, he turned back and saw that it was Theresia.
She stood before him, glaring with intensity, but her hands were trembling.
Just as he began to lower his gaze in shame, Theresia suddenly reached forward, grabbed his cheek with one hand, and pulled him into a firm embrace.
Her arms wrapped around him tightly, crushing his resistance.
"You idiot!" she shouted, her voice trembling with emotion.
"Why on earth would you think I'd ever blame you?!" Her hold on him only grew tighter.
"I love you, Heinkel. And if I were given the choice again, a thousand times over, I would still pick up my sword to protect you. I would still fight. I would still sacrifice. Because you are my son!"
Heinkel's breath caught in his throat, his body trembling. His eyes widened, and for a long moment, he stood frozen before the dam finally broke.
Tears welled up and began pouring down his face, rolling freely down his cheeks as his body shook.
He could no longer contain them, no longer suppress the grief that had been festering inside him for years.
The rest of the room fell completely silent.
Roswaal, Felt, Rom, Aldebaran, even Priscilla with her usual grin—all of them held their tongues.
They understood without words that this was not a moment for outsiders to interrupt.
This was an Astrea family matter, raw and private, and no one had the right to interfere.
"I… I love you," Heinkel finally choked out.
The words tumbled from his lips with a desperation that carried years of buried sorrow, rage, and guilt.
They were words he hadn't spoken to anyone in decades, words that had been locked away under layers of self-loathing and anger.
"I love you too," Theresia whispered, hugging him even tighter. "I love you too, my baby boy."
The words pierced him to the core.
For the first time in years, he felt warmth instead of cold, comfort instead of despair.
But then the reality of his aching rear returned with a vengeance. His face flushed scarlet as he stifled a cry, his voice breaking in embarrassment.
"Mom… can you, uh, let go now? My buttocks are still hurting…" He winced, trying not to scream from the pressure of her embrace pressing against his bruised backside.
Theresia blinked in realization, her own face reddening slightly.
"Ah, yes… forgive me."
She quickly loosened her hold, allowing him to breathe.
Afterward, once the emotional storm had passed, Heinkel properly turned to Reinhardt. With far more sincerity this time, he bowed his head and asked for forgiveness.
Reinhardt accepted, and the two of them—father and son—at last began to reconcile, taking the first step toward mending the shattered bond that had haunted them for so long.
Seeing the genuine, unrestrained smile spread across Reinhardt's face, Felt and the others present couldn't help but feel a wave of warmth in their chests.
Even those who normally had little patience for sentimental moments found themselves quietly pleased.
Not long after, the attention naturally shifted to Wilhelm and Theresia.
The two of them stood facing each other, decades of unresolved tension lingering between them. Wilhelm, without hesitation, lowered his head and bowed deeply.
His gesture carried sincerity, a man finally acknowledging all the pain and mistakes of the past.
But before he could say more, Theresia suddenly stepped forward and grabbed him by the shoulders.
Her expression turned serious, her eyes sharp as she asked in a firm, almost commanding tone,
"Say it, Wilhelm. Will you ever hurt your family again?"
The question rang in the air, heavy and absolute. Everyone present stiffened slightly, curious to hear his answer.
"Never," Wilhelm said without the slightest pause, his voice steady and resolute. Then, as if needing to make his vow stronger, he added, "Even if it costs me my life this time, I will never again hurt the people I call my family."
Theresia's stern gaze softened.
A faint smile spread across her lips, and without another word, she leaned forward and kissed him gently on the lips.
Wilhelm's eyes widened slightly at the sudden affection, and then a tear slipped down his cheek.
His trembling hands rose and wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer, as if to assure himself she was really there.
On the sidelines, Emilia shyly looked away, her hands half-covering her face, though she still peeked through her fingers like a curious child.
Felt grinned in satisfaction, happy for the couple, while old man Rom gave a small nod of approval.
'Time really is strange, huh?' Rom thought to himself, his eyes narrowing slightly in nostalgia.
'Back then, they would have been my enemies. We fought on different sides. And now, somehow, I stand here as their comrade.'
The giant silently felt grateful that neither Wilhelm nor Theresia had ever once brought up his identity as a leader of demi-humans during the bloody Demi-human War. That was a past best left untouched.
Just when the mood had reached a calm and heartfelt peak, the sound of clapping broke the silence.
Everyone turned to see Priscilla, who, seated as regally as ever, had an amused grin on her lips.
"Well then," she began, her tone dripping with arrogance, "as entertaining as this endless Astrea family drama has been, my divine self finds the act growing rather tedious. Tell me, old man, where is your Lady? Are we to sit here forever waiting?"
Alderban's shoulders slumped, and he brought a gauntleted hand to his helmeted face in exasperation.
It was, without a doubt, a perfect helmet palm moment.
"Princess," he muttered with a weary sigh, "must you really ruin such a heartfelt family reconciliation? Do you have to make everyone direct their aggression toward us?"
Priscilla's eyes narrowed, her smirk growing sharper.
She let out a haughty snort. "My divine self shall do as I please. Alderban, you should be grateful for the immense generosity I show you every day. And now you dare comment on my behavior? Tch. It seems you are taking advantage of my kindness… You are clearly in need of punishment."
Her grin widened, her fingers snapping together in a sharp clap as she hinted very clearly at the kind of punishment she intended to deliver.
Alderban visibly shuddered.
His entire body stiffened before he instantly dropped to his knees like a condemned man begging for mercy.
"Princess! I would rather have my head kicked off by your divine legs a thousand times over! Please, forgive me, Princess!"
Priscilla's grin grew even wider.
And without hesitation, she raised one flawless leg and swung it forward with deadly grace. The strike connected perfectly, sending Alderban's armored body flying.
His large frame spun through the air before crashing a few meters away with a loud clatter of metal against the floor.
No one in the room was surprised.
They had seen this kind of exchange before.
Heinkel, who was already shuddering after witnessing Priscilla boot poor Alderban across the floor, turned toward his mother with an exhausted expression.
His voice carried disbelief as he muttered, "Mom… who in the world taught you this ridiculous way of punishing anyway?"
Theresia, instead of being offended, simply smiled.
With a casual motion, she reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled out a rather thin-looking notebook.
She held it proudly in her hands as if it were a priceless treasure.
"When that man named Zero revived me," she explained cheerfully, "he gave me this notebook especially, saying it would help me with 'family discipline.'"
The words immediately drew the attention of nearly everyone in the room.
Heinkel, Reinhardt, and Wilhelm instinctively leaned closer to get a better look, curiosity etched on their faces.
Even the others—Emilia, Felt, Rom, Roswaal, and Priscilla—craned their necks slightly, intrigued despite themselves.
Reinhardt's eyes widened as he read the bold title printed on the cover aloud, his voice filled with disbelief. "How to Punish Disobedient Children for Dummies."
"Written by yours truly… Zero-sama?" Wilhelm muttered, blinking several times as if his brain couldn't process what his eyes were seeing.
Theresia's smile brightened as she eagerly flipped through the pages.
"There's even a personal note at the end just for you, Heinkel!" she said with the enthusiasm of a mother showing off her child's school project.
Heinkel leaned in reluctantly, dread pooling in his stomach.
When his eyes scanned the page, his jaw nearly dropped.
"No need to thank me, I know I am great and you are very grateful to me, Heinkel. If you want to thank me so badly, you can just chant 'Sasuga Zero-sama'?!" he read aloud, his voice cracking in disbelief.
His eyebrows twitched violently, and his mouth opened wide as he shouted, "What the hell is this nonsense?!"
Heinkel immediately lunged forward, reaching for the cursed notebook, but Theresia pulled it back with surprising speed.
She held it tightly against her chest, glaring at him protectively.
"Don't you dare try to tear it! This knowledge is precious!"
'Precious?! My ass!' Heinkel thought furiously, his inner voice screaming louder than his actual words.
'If this cursed notebook survives any longer, Divine Dragon only knows how many new punishments Mother will try on me! My backside won't survive another week!'
Just as he prepared to argue further, the heavy sound of armored boots echoed through the room. Clank… clank… clank… Everyone's attention shifted toward the door.
A moment later, the figure of Crusch Karsten entered, clad in her polished armor, her gaze sharp as always.
But instead of addressing anyone directly, Crusch's emerald eyes locked firmly onto the notebook in Theresia's hands.
She took a step forward and spoke in her usual calm yet commanding tone, "Lady Theresia, I would like to purchase that notebook. Would 100 Royal Gold Coins suffice?"
The declaration made the room collectively freeze.
For a moment, the silence was so heavy that even Roswaal's creepy giggles were absent.
Then, almost in unison, several jaws dropped.
Felt nearly slipped out of her chair. "100 Royal Gold Coins?! That's enough to buy a small mansion in the outskirts!" she blurted out, her voice full of shock.
Even the others, no strangers to wealth and politics, couldn't hide their surprise. The sheer value Crusch had casually placed on the strange item was staggering.
But before anyone could properly process it, another voice rang out, clear and confident. "100 Royal Gold Coins? How pitifully low, Duchess Karsten."
Everyone turned sharply toward the source and saw Anastasia Hoshin strolling into the room.
She wore her usual businesslike smile, holding a small plush Zero doll in her hands as if it were some kind of good luck charm.
Behind her stood Ricardo with his massive frame and Julius with his composed demeanor.
Anastasia's foxlike eyes narrowed slightly as she smirked.
"A mere hundred coins won't do. My Hoshin Company values such knowledge far more highly."
She lifted the doll and wagged it slightly before declaring, "I am willing to pay 1000 Royal Gold Coins for that notebook."
This time, the reaction was explosive.
"WHAT?!" The collective shout nearly rattled the room's magically sealed walls.
Even Roswaal momentarily lost his grin, blinking in genuine surprise.
Emilia covered her mouth with both hands, gasping softly.
Rom's eyes bulged.
Reinhardt and Wilhelm exchanged baffled glances.
Felt outright fell backward in her chair.
And poor Heinkel could only think one thing:
'Why the hell is the world bidding for my suffering?!'
To be continued...
(A/N: Many I really love, how innocent and cute Reinhardt is, i.e when he is not trying to murder others, and Felt's reaction on money matters is hilarious.
I hope you liked this chapter!)
EDIT: I have insomnia and didn't sleep all night, my head is hurting and I don't think I can write a new chap today.
You are lucky that yesterday I uploaded two Great Sage chaps, btw my Patreon memberships are about to get finished!
Finally once the 10 dollar membership gets locked, I am going to create so much scarcity that even if you are willing to pay 100 dollars, I won't let you get a membership anymore.
MUhahahahaha.
This is business.
*Ahem*
Anyway I have uploaded great sage chap, and will be doing same for Danmachi fic. Vm has low chap counts anyway, and I am not going to lower that anymore for Patreon. You only get 11 chaps for 10 dollar membership, which I plan to put 15 by the end of next week. So yeah no Vm chap today either.
Of course it will mean that Mommy Minerva Tier will suffer, as they won't get any update alongside Arthur Tier for any fics.
*Sigh*
Thank God I have given them a lot of advance chaps, they have like 40 which will be 39 for a few days. Fr, fr. This chap was probably written in October or November.
And btw I have given them sneak peeks of Subaru's spirits human forms, and damn.
Agni and Gaea are too hot, though I can see one of you pervs eyeing for Aqua...
On bright side, I brought my Mom jewellery... and damn it hurt my wallet.
I am poor now again.
LMAOOOO)