"What?" I had to double-check if I'd really heard her correctly.
But apparently, repeating herself was already too much for Mama Val.
"I mean… you've kissed your girlfriend before, right? But it felt different with Fiona. M-maybe it was just a kind of maternal affection. Maybe that's what you felt with me, too."
Even she didn't sound convinced.
Still, she clung to the idea—insisting it was just some sort of hormonal confusion.
"Are you… sure?"
I tried to hide it, but she should be the one who knows this isn't right.
"W-we won't know unless we try… right?"
She still couldn't meet my eyes.
"So… let's just do it."
As strange as that sounded… maybe she had a point.
I remembered reading an article once, while doing research for a school project. It talked about a psychological tendency some men experience—a tendency to misinterpret admiration for a parental figure as something else entirely.
The Oedipus Complex.
I got to my feet and stepped forward. Mama Val watched my every move, as if each step carried a hundred implications.
When I placed my hand on her shoulder, she held her breath.
To be honest, she wasn't any less beautiful than anyone else. No—she might've been the most beautiful of all.
Her oval face, always framed by a soft, gentle smile, made her effortlessly charming. But it was how she dressed that won over mainstream fans.
Never too revealing. She leaned into subtler elegance—broad, confident shoulders, long legs, and a graceful neckline. None of it was overtly sexual, making it almost absurd to imagine her in that context—unless someone really dared.
"I can't do this if you're not facing me."
"O-of course." She turned slowly, meeting my eyes with her clear, hypnotic blue gaze.
Those eyes had always been my oasis. A place I could come home to. A place I felt safe.
And when they shut in anticipation of… whatever was coming, her brows furrowed, like she was truly expecting something.
That was when I couldn't stop myself—
—from thinking just how wrong this was
One second.
Two.
Three.
Mama Val opened her eyes, frowning when she realized I hadn't moved.
"Cain?" she whispered—her voice soft again, the one I missed.
I leaned in.
She stiffened, maybe thinking it was finally happening—
—but I didn't go for her lips.
Instead, I pressed a brief kiss to her forehead, then leaned into her shoulder, burying my face in the tousled strands of her blonde hair.
She froze for a moment, then spoke, hesitating.
"Cain—"
"I can't."
"Wha—"
I let go, turned away from her.
"I'm moving into the dorms."
"That—"
"Think of it as practice for living on my own. So…" I glanced back at her just once, then walked into my room. "You won't have to worry about my feelings—for Fiona, for you… or even Mama Enna."
And I left her sitting there, all alone.
#
"…and that's basically what's been on my mind. So, what do you think, Ms. Vernier? Ms. Vernier? Hello? Hey?"
Valerie blinked hard, snapping out of her thoughts, and met the gaze of the middle-aged woman across from her.
"Ah, sorry. I totally missed that. Could you repeat it?"
Lena Park sighed, shaking her head, though not unkindly.
"That's the third time you've spaced out, Ms. Vernier. Is something bothering you?"
Lena was known for her adaptability.
Decades in fashion hadn't dulled her edge, nor her willingness to embrace change.
So when an S-Rank Hunter—who also happened to be a model—pitched a unique collaboration, Lena didn't hesitate to take it seriously.
Valerie Cloverfox Vernier had undeniable commercial pull as a public figure. But it wasn't just that.
The real strength of this project was in the concept: a combat-optimized Hunter suit that didn't compromise on style.
Over the past few months, Valerie had impressed her. She was driven, fast-learning, and easy to work with. No major hiccups—everything was running ahead of schedule. Maybe even a month ahead.
But the last few days?
Valerie had been… off. Distant. Restless. And that light in her eyes had started to dim.
"Nothing's wrong," Valerie replied softly. But to Lena, it confirmed the opposite.
"That's exactly what my daughter used to say when she was struggling."
Lena took a slow sip of her coffee. She hadn't meant to pry. But—
"…So what did you say to her?"
"Hm?"
"To get her to open up."
Lena's gaze lingered on Valerie.
There had always been rumors. Whispers that Valerie had a secret family. And honestly… it wasn't hard to believe.
She looked youthful, yes—but probably no more than ten years younger than Lena herself.
Suddenly, things started to add up.
"I let her be."
"…What?"
"As parents, we're always seeing our children as little kids who need our protection. But we forget they grow up too."
Her mind flashed back to when her daughter started rebelling at fifteen. Lena had thought it was typical teenage nonsense—until she realized it was her daughter's way of expressing herself.
Her daughter had inherited her same untamed spirit.
Eventually, she turned twenty and moved to a different city. Now they only talked once in a while—and even then, the calls felt cold, distant.
"I think the best thing we can do is keep the space open… wait for them to come to us. Whether it's for help—or just to be heard."
Lena chuckled to herself.
Look at me. Like I'm some perfect mom.
But then, something warm wrapped around her hand.
Valerie was holding it, eyes soft and glowing.
"You're… incredible, Ms. Park."
Lena blinked, taken aback—but then smiled.
"So… does that mean you're happy with the final design?"
"Eh, not so fast. Let me see it first."
At least, even if her family ties were fraying—
—Lena still had something she loved. Something she could hold on to.