The morning of the decisive day. The whole world was buzzing about the upcoming match between Nobell and Keller. But Angelo went not to the tournament hall, but to The Full Moon — the restaurant where, for the first time in years, mother and son had found their way back to each other.
As soon as he entered, something stirred in his chest. Everything looked the same as then: the soft golden light, the quiet murmur of voices, the faint music, like an echo from another time. And there, by the window — at the very table where it had all begun — his mother was waiting.
She raised her eyes, her smile warm, almost youthful.
"Angelo," she said softly. "I'm glad you came."
He sat opposite her, never breaking eye contact. At that moment the waiter placed before him a plate with a slice of chocolate cake — the very same dessert that had once become their symbol of reconciliation.
Angelo smirked faintly.
"Even the dessert is the same. It feels as if everything has come full circle."
She looked at him with a touch of sadness.
"I thought… it would be right. Let it remind us of that day."
He slowly took the fork, broke off a piece, and tasted it. The flavor was the same — sweet, rich, almost childlike. And with it came the flood of memories.
"Mother," he said evenly, "everything began here. That first time, I heard something from you I never thought I would hear: 'forgive me.'"
She nodded, her fingers tightening on the edge of the table.
"I know. And I didn't say it for appearances. I truly meant it. But you know…" She lowered her gaze. "I'm frightened when I recall the woman I used to be."
"That woman no longer exists," Angelo cut in.
She lifted her eyes.
"But I still need to ask you, my son. Have you forgiven me? Truly?"
He paused. His face remained cold, but his voice softened.
"I don't live in the past. Yes, there were wounds — but they belong to another story. Today we write a new one. And in this new story… you are different. Completely different. Sometimes I even wonder: is this really you?"
She flinched at his words.
"What do you mean?"
"Everything has changed too much," he replied. "In front of me sits a mother who understands, who supports me. But in my past there was another — strict, demanding, unyielding. It feels as if there are two of you: one who is gone, and another who was born here."
She looked at him for a long time. Pain and resolve flickered in her eyes.
"You're right. Back then I didn't want to understand you. I tried to shape you into my reflection. And I lost you. But when you left, I lost myself too. That day… that first meeting here…" Her voice trembled. "That was my rebirth."
Angelo leaned forward, his gaze a little gentler.
"Then let us say this: I had two mothers. The first one died. The second one sits before me now."
She couldn't hold back a trembling smile through her tears.
"Thank you… That means more than I can say."
For a while they sat in silence, savoring the simple breakfast. For the first time in many years, their conversation was free of tension.
At last, she spoke again:
"Today is your day. You go to fight for the crown. I know you will win. But, my son, I beg you: keep your heart pure, and your mind cold. That is your true strength."
Angelo rose, took her hand, and looked straight into her eyes.
"Today I will not step onto the board as your son. I will step onto it as the Emperor. But know this — your words will remain with me."
He inclined his head in respect, and her face lit with pride.
Leaving the restaurant, Angelo looked back once more. And again, the thought pierced him: Was this truly the same woman? The one who once tried to bend me to her will?
It was as though he were saying farewell to one past — and entering another.
A new world awaited him. And in that world, his destiny was to fight.