I looked down at Cassio, who peered up at me with a curious, almost calculating expression.
She couldn't have been more than two years old, perhaps a little younger, yet her gaze carried a sharpness that felt far older.
"What is it, little one?" I asked.
Cassio did not answer. Instead, she raised her small hand with deliberate slowness, as if testing how I would respond.
Behind her, Mirabel chuckled knowingly. "You might want to brace yourself."
Before I could react, Miraculum launched himself from the bed with startling speed, his tiny foot striking against my shin.
The pain shot up my leg at once, enough that if not for my training, the bone might have cracked.
I steadied myself with a wince. "If Nicholas were here, I'm fairly certain his own son could beat him."
Mirabel smirked faintly, the corners of her lips twitching as though she were trying to hold back laughter.
"Sansir," she said softly, "have you told Kivana that I'll be opening the castle again?"
Veronica, who had been quietly stacking crates in the corner, froze and spun around. "Wait, really? I'll finally have help cleaning this place?"
Mirabel nodded, her tone measured. "Yes. But I will need to find extremely loyal maids, two or three at most."
Veronica shrugged, though her relief was plain. "Any help is help. I don't care how many."
Miraculum came at me again, his little fist swinging like a hammer. I caught it midair, his strength enough to tighten the muscles in my arm.
With one smooth motion, I lifted him and set him back onto the bed.
He bounced once on the mattress, scowling at me with all the intensity of a soldier denied his victory.
Cassio frowned at the sight, her sharp eyes narrowing as if ready to intervene, though she never moved. Her presence alone felt like a warning.
"They're twins," I said almost absently. "But I'm convinced Cassio's the more dangerous one."
Mirabel chuckled. "Cassio is spirited. Miraculum is the protective one."
"Protective?" I raised an eyebrow at the boy, who was already tightening his little fists again.
"He's been trying to break my legs since I walked in."
Mirabel's smile widened. "Exactly."
Shaking my head, I leaned back against the wall. "Are you certain about reopening the castle? I heard Uhana may be heading for a suicide mission."
Mirabel's gaze lowered slightly, thought shadowing her features. "I see. Well… I know one thing. Nicholas will return shortly."
At the mention of their father's name, both children turned toward her in perfect unison, their attention sharp and unwavering.
Their intelligence was unnerving, their presence heavy with something that felt far beyond their age.
If they ever worked together with purpose, I'd wager they could change the tide of a war before their tenth birthday.
"You know," I said quietly, "I still think he might really be dead."
Mirabel's hair darkened as though stirred by her emotions, shadows threading through each strand. "He's not."
I kept my voice calm, careful not to provoke her further.
"He hasn't sent letters. You can't feel his presence. And you told me yourself, when you left him, cracks were spreading along his neck."
Her hands tightened around the covers, yet she didn't flinch as the twins clambered over her, tugging at her sleeves with childish persistence.
"It's not possible, Sansir," she said firmly. "I know for a fact he's alive… or at the very least, still in this world."
Her hair lightened again, the shadows fading strand by strand. "Besides, it's about time those bastards realized their mistakes."
I raised a brow. "So you would go fight while you have these two… these two at home?"
Her gaze sharpened. "Say it."
I looked away. "Say what?"
From the corner, Veronica snickered, folding her arms and leaning against the wall. "Say it."
I tried to feign ignorance. "Say what?"
The silence stretched long enough that the twins stopped pulling at their mother's sleeves and simply watched me, as though waiting for the inevitable.
I sighed in defeat. "…These two cuties."
Mirabel's smile softened, satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. "There it is. And to answer your question, yes. But only because Nicholas will be back."
I didn't respond, though the thought lingered like a shadow. I hope he comes back soon.
Her late-night mood swings have been unbearable lately. Worse, she has started sleepwalking.
It isn't much of a problem when she's unconscious through it, or if the twins are nearby to distract her.
But when they wander off to play and she is left alone… calming her is a nightmare.
She turns cruel when half-asleep. She once insulted my hair, though she was the one who cut it.
And Veronica is no help either. She collapses the moment the moon rises, and even a war outside the window wouldn't wake her.
"If you have such faith, then allow me to share in it," I said at last. "But when the moment comes, are you truly willing to wager their lives?"
When it comes to the value of life, no scale can measure it, no weight can define it.
Only those who have tasted the silence of loss understand what is at stake.
A ruler with a gentle heart cannot hope to endure, not in a world where survival demands cruelty as often as compassion.
That is the law of power, as merciless as time itself.
Her answer, then, was irrelevant. Whether she said yes or no, I already understood.
And yet, she did not hesitate. "Every life is a wager. The difference lies only in the stakes."
She polished her gaze. "My children are not a burden to gamble with, they are the reason I cannot afford to lose."
She smiled faintly. "That is why I say death does not exist. It is only liberation, freedom from this fragile cage of life."
I laughed, unable to help myself. "You know what, I love that answer."
"Good," she replied evenly. "Now prepare to open the castle. And I want you to monitor Uhana. I don't want her to die."
I tilted my head, confused. "Monitor?"
Her eyes flicked between me and Veronica. "You're training her, aren't you? Then both of you should go with Uhana to the island."
My mouth fell open just as Veronica dropped the last crate she had been carrying, its contents spilling across the floor in a messy scatter of clothes.
"Wait, what?" she said, utterly bewildered. "I don't think I'm ready for a battlefield."
Mirabel chuckled lightly, covering her mouth. "It doesn't matter. You won't be fighting, only observing."
She then turned to me, her smile thinning. "You, on the other hand…"
I sighed, leaning back against the wall, the weight of her words pressing on me like a silent chain.
"I miss when I was just a simple knight at the secluded training temple."
My gaze dropped to my hands. I clenched them tightly, studying the faint scars that lined my knuckles.
"But wishing for simplicity won't change what I've become. I don't just want to get my hands dirty… I need to."
I let out a slow breath. I am riddled with flaws. I've always been a fool, dragging my ambitions lower than my own feet.
I hide from truth beneath masks of restraint and false hope, pretending weakness is humility. But even I feel pain.
Even I feel misery. And when I see the chaos those bastards have wrought, I cannot claim purity by staying still.
The children stirred at the sound of my voice, their small eyes, too sharp for their age, fixing on me as if weighing the meaning of every word.
If I have power, if I have strength, if I have conviction… then I cannot let it rot away in silence.
To hold power and do nothing is the same as surrendering to evil.
If the world demands blood, then let it be my hands that spill it, not in cruelty, but in defiance.
Mirabel tilted her head, her eyes reflecting both curiosity and expectation. "So," she pressed gently, "what do you think, Sansir?"
I straightened, my voice carrying more certainty than I felt.
"I have conviction. I have strength. And I have a will that refuses to break. That is enough for me to continue."
Her smile softened, more genuine now, touched with a fleeting pride.
"Then it is decided. Tomorrow, you two set off to the island. And by the terrible end of me…"
She looked toward the twins, who clung to her sleeves, "…Nicholas will return."