Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A dream? Was it all a dream?

Okay, focus Felt, focus.

As she ran across the rooftops, the thief pretended she wasn't sweating bullets. Nervousness planted seeds in her head with every five steps she took. She kept repeating to herself how valuable the job was, how it could carry her to new heights if only she didn't let herself get careless with anything.

Rob a noble strolling through one of the commercial districts. Not for money. Just a pendant with a red jewel in the center.

Did the job seem suspicious? Yes. No doubt about it. The strange woman who gave her this job came from Gusteko, and she had an enigmatic aura all her own. A deviation from the norm as massive as a mountain.

Who in their right mind would ask this of a starving thief from the slums? There was clearly something more to it. The cloying sound of the employer's voice hadn't left her ears. Literally a snake.

"A woman with silver hair~"

There was no denying it. All of this scared her a little. The anxiety made her heart pound against her ribs as she ran, replaying various versions of the plan in her racing mind.

"Grrm!" She growled through clenched teeth.

In truth, everything had already gone wrong right from the start. And because of her inaction and hesitation, maybe the pendant she was after wouldn't end up in her hands. Felt! Wake up!

Honestly, even with low expectations at the beginning, Felt was euphoric. This would definitely bring in a hell of a lot of money. Enough to get the old man's butt out of that old, dusty tavern. It was only a matter of time until the thing was in her hands, because she wasn't going to give up that easily.

Of course, if it involved life or death, it was a waste for sure. Felt wouldn't go so far as to throw her life away for a possible miracle. So if this heist involved incidents with authorities or even knights, the retreat would be instantaneous. She wasn't crazy.

However, that wasn't what was making her frown right now.

Just as she was about to rob her target, a thief in front of her cut in and got there first, stealing the silver-haired woman's wallet.

Her mind at that moment had boiled down to: "What?! No!" and "Ah! Go fuck yourself!"

Frustration and anger. The only reason she didn't scream right then and there was because there was still a chance to recover it, and drawing attention was the last thing she wanted.

Maybe the insignia she was looking for was inside, in the wallet. So she had to go after the damn thief who had given her trouble and more work.

And now, finding herself chasing the iconic legend who was about to ruin possibly her last job as a thief, she growled in frustration, pursuing the man who ran and ran until he entered an alley.

Great, a dead end. Maybe by using her divine protection, she could snatch it from him somehow.

Following him while picking up speed—she stopped abruptly, nearly falling and smashing her face on the pavement below.

"It seems you've followed a wicked path, I see." With a snarl, an old man with his sword drawn made the thief's blood run cold as the sharp metal nearly took his head off. Indeed, just as the thief was about to enter the alley to escape, the broad-shouldered old man had stopped him with a blade held perfectly to his neck.

Extending a hand in front of the thief's face, the old man, dressed in a formal, elegant, and courteous black attire, gestured with a small smile for him to hand over what he had stolen. Clearly having no intention of smiling in the first place.

Felt remained frozen, watching the scene before her with slightly widened eyes, her limbs numb.

"Give me what you stole. Do that, and you can go."

The thief didn't wait, didn't hesitate. He just quickly handed the purse to the old man, running out of the alley at full speed as soon as the old man's sharp blade left his neck.

Felt could have run with him, following what her mind was screaming at her to do. But it wasn't like that; her instincts said otherwise. If there was one thing that made Felt stiffen, it was that old man's aura.

It seemed, in itself, bloodthirsty. Felt knew the type. Guests, slightly distinguished nobles, who under their leather sleeves, had permanent marks on their skin.

In Felt's years of survival, in this immense, hypocritical city that placed no value on those who wanted to live, the work of thievery had sharpened certain senses. Experience made her recognize and distinguish the real deal from the fakes.

And that man was certainly one of the types she hated bumping into the most. He was trouble for sure.

"Madame. It seems you are in the same line of work, are you not?" Being much more accommodating with the young girl, with a franker and more compassionate tone of voice, he looked at her. His footsteps barely echoed in the surroundings.

Felt swallowed hard.

"Quite clever... I must learn more," he said to himself as he looked down—at her. He sheathed his sword again with a placidity and delicacy that contrasted with his age.

"I ask of you, ma'am... please, return this to its owner."

"Y-You think that's the right choice? I could just take it for myself."

"You went to the trouble of chasing this delinquent all the way here. Besides, you wouldn't do that. Would you?"

"————"

Felt was about to be impulsive and, once again, stubborn. But at the end of the old man's words, that gaze, which dripped with weight, silenced her before she could even open her mouth.

It was just like those tales Old Man Rom used to tell her. For sure, having drawn the old man's attention, Felt could only guess that the man was a war veteran. His eyes were even sharper than the imperial guards of the kingdom.

With that, she nodded quickly, zipping her lips as she felt her heart being seized by those morbid irises alone.

The old man then patted Felt's head with his rough hand upon seeing her nod, departing for the street shortly after with a practiced subtlety in his steps.

"Aah! Old Wil! Where did you nya-go? Feli-chan was worried, you know?"

"My apologies. Some unforeseen circumstances arose."

As Felt returned to the main street with the old man, at a great distance of course, someone arrived and made the geezer immediately apologize. Taking advantage of this moment, Felt was already running far away at full speed, wanting to leave quickly and pick up the pace. She didn't look back once, being in a hurry and, probably, scared.

"Alright... should be fine. I'm far enough away, I think."

Felt finally murmured after lurking in a random alley, glancing around the street to see if anything would go wrong or if she was being followed.

Tsk. I knew there was something wrong. This weight was a major peculiarity.

Lifting the wallet in my hands and inspecting its interior, I clicked my tongue lightly. It was the fourth time I'd done this. And guess what?

What a generous allowance.

Nodding and sighing, I couldn't laugh at my own joke. The situation was critical. The purse was light, super light. As if it carried only wind instead of coins.

When the old man placed it in my hands, it was obvious something was wrong. There were only a few copper coins and nothing more. Enough to buy about three small sweets for a child.

Does she really have this insignia? Everything is pointing to the contrary.

The woman had a sophisticated appearance, that was certain. She was proper. Could she have dropped it somewhere?

I'm really getting hesitant with the information that scary woman gave me. Although, since I'm apparently chasing a country bumpkin, it can't be wrong.

This city where I grew up is, apparently, the largest city in this nation. Called the "capital." And honestly, even if I didn't know what the other cities were like, I'd still consider this one too big.

A dump, in short. And even living here in this ancient city, my roof was on the lowest rungs of the slums—an idiot's place where shadows gather. The world in the capital certainly lacks glamour.

That's how I would best describe the capital. The aristocratic district is where the houses of the rich line up, and a place where I could find some change by sneaking around; a plebeian district below is a world apart; and the commercial district is full of greedy shops that would do anything to earn a single copper coin. Finally, below everyone, are people like us, from the slums, who desperately try to steal from those above.

The weak become food; that's the iron rule of this world. This is even truer in the slums, where you can only rely on your own strength to survive. In my case, I used my nimble hands to steal from others' pockets.

At first, it was insignificant jobs, like stealing a coin purse from someone I found on the street. One day, I broadened my horizons and started working by stealing on request.

Before I knew it, I was becoming a master thief. I wasn't just doing it for the money; I was working towards a greater goal. Step by step, I was getting closer to it, I was sure of it.

"A target for many."

I declared as I started to run, heading for the street where I had lost sight of the woman I was chasing, in order to find her.

The target seemed completely new to the area; you could tell just by looking. She looked around, restless, as she walked carefully along the edge of the street. Since I was also rotten and raised in the capital, I could identify at a glance who didn't know the capital and was, therefore, easy prey.

My intuition, born from many years of experience, told me she was obviously a country bumpkin. She gave the impression of not being careful with her surroundings, but rather worried about being swallowed by the crowd. It almost gave me anxiety just watching such a naive woman.

"I'm lucky they were thrown off."

The woman who looked like a snake, the one who had hired me to go after this object, had also hired other thieves to go after this defenseless woman.

They were like me, thieves. It's natural, too, for bandits to swarm in the blink of an eye towards someone who isn't used to the capital. It's a painful lesson she very nearly learned.

"Come on, faster," I repeated as I made my legs work twice as hard, moving quickly through the crowd with practiced fluidity. I was more or less near the place where I had left her, if I was lucky…

Old Man Rom had told me some crazy stories. How there were mirrors that could reflect images of people and their voices, how there were flying clowns and even walls that people could walk through. That woman could probably use some kind of magic like that.

Because I had been careful in following her before, I wasn't caught in that supposed barrier that blinded one's vision. I'm talking about what she used to make all the nearby thugs, who were following her with immense carelessness, get lost in the crowd.

Your vision would blur, and it felt like your world was about to turn upside down just by getting too close to her. That's how the defenseless woman managed to walk around so carelessly without the risk of being robbed.

And, unfortunately for her, and fortunately for me, I didn't fall for it.

Finally, having found something to guide me, I came across a completely agitated street. It was a terrible noise, with many people dropping their belongings as they fled. I looked around, confused, until I saw a silver-haired figure.

I was a little relieved to find the woman, who had a reluctant expression on her face and slumped shoulders.

To avoid being noticed by anyone, I feigned indifference and tossed her purse onto the pile of things scattered around her.

After she had started a commotion in front of the shopkeeper's store to pay for something, she noticed the purse, looked at the shopkeeper, and went to retrieve it from where it had been left.

I continued to follow the woman, sneaking through the crowd and past the posts that danced on the pavement. As I looked for an opportunity to rob her, I understood something very clearly.

"...This woman is a very nice person."

I found out the cause of the commotion by overhearing a conversation behind me. Apparently, the reason for the earlier uproar was because a beast-human cat child next to her had tried to dine and dash.

This woman has nothing to do with it, was my initial thought.

Apparently, she tried to cover the child's meal fee but realized her purse was gone. Undeterred, she seemed to have earned the money by putting on some kind of show. Well, it ended up being a mess I can't quite understand.

She then walked with the cat-human child for a while, parting ways with the child and wandering alone shortly after.

Even though she had spent everything in her purse, it doesn't seem like she's going to stop walking anytime soon.

Honestly, I was getting tired of following her for so long. But, as I watched, I was able to determine where the insignia was, or at least I had an obvious guess about its location. As she walks, she constantly checks the side of her clothes near her waist.

There's something there, and it's definitely not her purse. She's hiding something.

"————"

Come on, it's time to rob her, I decided. Leaving the street I was on to avoid being in the woman's line of sight. Using the walls of the buildings, I jumped onto a roof and watched her movements. It seems she didn't notice. I can jump down there, grab the insignia from her pocket, and escape through the alleys. I was confident about it.

But I have to admit. I feel a little sorry for her, having to steal her insignia.

Those who request a theft are scoundrels; but those who are robbed are also evil in some way—those were my beliefs. However, I didn't know how that woman could fit into that.

"No use thinking about something I can't understand... I just need to do what I normally do."

Those were words that even I saw as a way to convince myself. They were useless excuses.

And after saying them, from the roof, I took a deep breath and jumped towards her.

It was fast. When I landed, the wind swayed her silver hair. I barely saw her expression, but I couldn't tell if it was surprise or just nothing. I stretched out my hands and went for it.

...In my hand was a dragon-shaped insignia, its jewel shining a vivid red.

“Emilia-chan, I’ve told you to stop taking care of this old lady. I know it must be boring.”

Naoko’s voice, tinged with a playful warmth, floated from the living room to the kitchen. A soft smile touched Emilia’s lips as she continued her task. Boring? It was the opposite. There was an almost meditative peace in these small rituals.

Her movements were fluid, practiced. First, the clean, hollow sound of the electric kettle being placed on its base. She filled it with filtered water from the fridge, the cold, silent liquid rising to the indicated mark. With a soft click, a small red light on the base lit up, and a nearly imperceptible hum began, the silent promise of warmth.

While the water heated, Emilia opened one of the upper cabinets. Her fingers, accustomed to touching the energy of spirits, now navigated with the same delicacy through colorful cardboard boxes. She chose one, with an image of chamomile flowers and the inscription "Nightly Relaxation."

She picked up two white ceramic cups from the drying rack, feeling their familiar, smooth weight in her hands. She placed a small sachet in each, the thin paper and delicate string seeming fragile, yet holding a universe of aroma.

The kettle's hum grew, turning into a restless bubbling, a sound that once seemed strange and mechanical to her, but was now just the prelude to comfort. Before the noise became shrill, she turned it off. The silence that followed was filled with the subtle scent of dried herbs.

With a steady hand, she tilted the kettle. A stream of steaming, crystalline water fell over the first sachet, and the color instantly began to bleed into the water, a pale gold that swirled and deepened. The steam rose, carrying with it the sweet, floral scent of chamomile, a perfume that reminded her of sunny fields and a calm she had learned to cherish. She repeated the process with the second cup, the cloud of vapor warming her face for a moment.

She placed both cups on a small wooden tray, the heat of the ceramic already spreading across the surface. As she walked back to the living room, her steps were silent on the wooden floor. Naoko was sitting on the sofa, a forgotten book in her lap, looking at Emilia with an affection that still, at times, squeezed her heart.

Emilia knelt gracefully beside the coffee table, placing the tray on it.

“That’s impossible, Naoko-san,” she said, her voice soft but firm, as she pushed one of the cups closer to the woman. “Both things. Getting bored and stopping serving you.”

Naoko laughed, a genuine and affectionate sound that filled the room. She picked up her cup, the steam dancing between them.

“Serving? How bold~ heheh.”

“Heheh~”

As both ladies picked up their cups, the sweet aroma, as strong as it was gentle, invaded their nostrils. The repressed, angelic giggles gradually surfaced as they took in the fragrance of the chamomile plant.

Then Naoko, letting out a long sigh as she allowed herself to relax, took her first sip. The same slightly sweet and floral flavor ran over her tongue, making her feel as if tons of weight were being lifted from her shoulders. For a moment, she wondered if the young Emilia had brought her a magical tea instead of a basic one.

Emilia followed suit, her lips already curved upwards as she watched Miss Naoko melt into the sofa. The flavor, to her, was still slightly bitter, yet bittersweet. It lingered with a light sweetness, with the texture of a fruit, which she guessed was apple.

“Emilia-chan, dear, how?” Taking an extra sip of the divine liquid that graced her fingers, Naoko raised an eyebrow as she asked. “This is magnificent!”

Lowering her cup and placing it on the small table in front of her, Emilia revealed, “Really? I’m glad it tastes so good, Naoko-san.”

What followed was a small sigh from the older woman, who shook her head slightly with a faint smile. If she were to count on her fingers how many times this young woman had surprised her, it would be impossible! After all, she only had 10 fingers! And even counting her toes wouldn’t change a thing.

That child, who had clearly improved so much since she first stayed here, was working magic with her ring fingers. If she had received this kind of treatment since birth, it was clear that, even in her 60s, she would still be an athlete.

Lowering her cup after the third sip, Naoko groaned as she leaned her back against the sofa. Her eyes closed for a second to draw air into her lungs again.

“Dear. I’m getting old, you know. I’m sorry for putting this kind of work on your shoulders.”

“...I’ve already told you it’s no problem.”

The years had passed so quickly. And thinking about it now, the old lady let out a hoarse laugh. If there really was a deity up in the sky, Naoko might just scream complaints at God for making happy moments last so little. Was she a sinner? Sad, but there was no going back now.

Whenever she found herself wondering about time, her eyes focused mainly on the past. The games, the time she spent walking with her son, the difficult moments she had purposefully chosen to ignore. They seemed like slightly vague memories now, yet still recent. As if Naoko could have made them different just seconds before.

Look at that, even the moment of her own childbirth seemed like yesterday. With a few more years of health ahead, Alzheimer's would come knocking. She could already see herself believing her son was born just hours ago.

This feeling that covered her chest was pleasant. But the sadness wouldn’t really go away when she saw how her time was running out. Every day it felt like the bed pulled her in more, that the fatigue doubled, that her legs were slowly ceasing to function.

Was she getting that old? No, please. Just ten more years, I beg you.

Even though she didn’t feel right being under Emilia’s care, unfortunately, Naoko remained so. Relying on the good character of that young woman to stay alive, with plenty of vigor to spare.

There were so many things she had to thank her for, that, again, she couldn’t count on her fingers. The first and most obvious thanks being her son’s happiness.

Oh, yes, he was so happy now. Bouncy, full of energy. Just like he was in his childhood.

The only difference was that, this time, his joy was healthy, true. Maybe she really should pray just once for receiving this miracle when she had empty hands? The young woman, Emilia, had undoubtedly fallen from the sky. Into her son’s hands.

Could something like that even happen? Even when the world had over 8 billion people out there? Even with it being as huge as it is?

A girl so innocent and full of life, waking up in our arms out of nowhere. It could only be the work of fate, because as for luck, she would strongly doubt it. You see, she had done what Naoko couldn’t since her son’s birth. A mother’s duty. Even if it was enviable, bitter even, how could she not be grateful?

Another world, huh? Unfortunately, the lady didn’t believe in coincidences. It could only have been someone who had thrown her here, for them to receive her. And that person, Naoko thanks with her entire being.

Thank you.

“It’s that thing. The grass is always greener on the other side.”

“What do you mean, ma’am?”

As she kept her eyes closed, a smile dancing on the corners of her wrinkled lips, Naoko recited what everyone says.

Certainly, many, when they taste their own food, find it simple. Uninteresting, even. Of course, the act of cooking itself was an achievement. It’s not that people would throw away their daily bread, but rather how the repetition, the sweat one sheds in their own work, makes their food seem gray.

It could mean many things: loneliness, sadness, neediness, lack of affection, and lack of knowledge. Never knowing anything new in the first place is the safest way to stay the same. Without changing tastes, without aiming for something newer, inadequacy having no importance at all.

It was the same as, if you remain ignorant of the world, naive, all you would want is to stay in the same place. Perhaps just wanting simple things instead of trying to reach for the moon like many do.

Emotions like jealousy, envy. How they proliferate when you find something in others that you don’t have in yourself.

The phrase itself has many meanings. And even going through it now, Naoko didn’t know how to explain it properly. It all boiled down to: Made by someone else is better.

“What was the best tea you’ve ever tasted?”

“Hojicha. It’s sooooo good.”

“Really? And why didn’t you make it?”

“Well… I can’t make it as good as yours. It’s not worth the economic expense.”

Bingo.

“My dear, a tea like that… you really are a bit picky when it comes to flavors.”

As she made Emilia blush in embarrassment with her teasing, Naoko took another sip of her tea. Numbing her muscles again just with the perceived aroma. This was what she was talking about. Chamomile tea, in Emilia’s hands, was the most divine thing. And Naoko would bet that she herself thought differently of her own tea. You could see the indifference on her face as she tasted it.

Maybe it was just age catching up to her, but soft flavors were the only things passing through her worn-out throat. To taste this every day, until her eternal rest, she wouldn’t get tired of it in any way.

“Changing the subject, Emilia-chan~. How are you?”

Looking to the side, the older woman captured the half-elf’s full form. She wore a light dress, white as her hair. With just a light purple cardigan to keep her warm from the cold. Yes, a literally perfect woman. If she saw a star like this for the first time in her life, Naoko knew her answer would be the same as her son’s.

An angel.

Observing more deeply, focusing on Emilia’s belly. You could see the slight curve that peeked out there. It was almost imperceptible, but the thin fabric gave away the exposed circumference.

“It’s weird. I feel like my strength is dwindling.” Leaning her back against the sofa cushions, Emilia let out a light sigh as she massaged her belly. “I know I’m at the beginning of this, but the difference is really noticeable.”

“Oh, my dear, you have no idea.”

Now you could see it better. Emilia was pregnant, her child already around 2 months along. For sure, there was no way Naoko would miss this moment. No, it was impossible for her to leave before then. The amount she would spoil this child… is not written.

She was going to have grandchildren, can you believe it?

Raising her slender, slightly trembling hand, Naoko could barely contain her emotion. Reaching for the belly of the woman beside her with her eyes already betrayed by tears. A new era, at last.

Her own imagination was making her eyes widen. Was she going crazy for hearing imaginary angelic laughter? Most certainly. She wasn’t a psychic to know what the child would be like, but she was breathless enough to scream and say: “I heard it!”

However, her sudden happiness had to be put aside for now. Reluctantly, but not in a bad way.

“——I’m sorry…”

Emilia, who was smiling faintly as Naoko massaged her belly, couldn’t hold back her conflicting feelings.

“I’m sorry it took so long…!”

She yelled, tears already streaming down her red cheeks, leaving trails where they passed. The older woman stiffened for a second before her voice softened.

“Dear…”

“I’m sorry it took so long, Naoko-san, I’m sorry…”

The half-elf, whose shoulders were hunched and voice was trembling, repeated and repeated everything that came to her mind, without hesitation. Whether it was guilt blinding her, or regret hurting her, there was no time to identify or abolish it, only to inject it out. Raw and intense.

“It took me so long to have a child, so long…”

“————”

Hugging the yelling woman, Naoko held her completely, not letting her turn away. Holding the woman who now seemed more like a defenseless child, who mumbled and cried for having, apparently, made a mistake while her mother was away. 

“Breathe. I’m not mad, Emilia-chan. Just breathe.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

It wouldn’t be slander to say that Naoko found herself almost on the same side of the coin as the crying girl. Her own eyes welling up. Her chest racing as she also embarked on the conflicting emotions.

As if she knew what was going on inside her son, Subaru’s, head, Emilia wasn’t exactly in a different corner in that house. If she could, she would also choose to be the mother figure who gave her the most love. Listening and learning from everything that child passed on to her.

Of course——coming from another world, Emilia had her counterpoints for not being exactly human, right?

“I’m not mad, Emilia-chan.”

“Hic, I’m sorry…”

“I just want…”

Holding her tighter, not with the intention to hurt—even if she could—Naoko just caressed her head, her lips kissing her forehead, soothing the spasms of the girl who needed attention.

“I just want you both to be happy, healthy——”

“——but!”

“That’s all I ask, okay?”

Giving her shoulders as support for the girl, Naoko let Emilia shed her cold tears on her clothes. Calming her with a light massage on her back, repeating “breathe, everything will be alright” in her ears. The old lady was sure she was doing the right thing, using the right words to make Emilia relax.

But in this case, the girl wouldn’t stop sobbing. It even seemed to get worse with every syllable that came from Naoko’s voice.

“You are a very good girl, Emilia-chan. A very good girl indeed, you know?”

If there was a way to count the number of good deeds Emilia had done, Naoko regretted not writing them down. Because the kindness that ruled that defenseless heart was almost limitless.

——And so, to improve the girl’s mood. Unfortunately, she would have to take possession of one of her best characteristics.

“Will you promise to do one thing for me?”

“Please, please! Anything—!”

Knowing Emilia, having spent more than 20 years alongside that good girl, Naoko knew how she had never gotten used to the customs of this land. And even if a memory came to mind now, there was no time to contest it.

Can you believe it? To this day, Emilia didn’t understand how this new world worked, or at least, how the Natsuki’s minds ticked. It seemed to hurt her chest to ask for things that——were completely basic, archaic in her way of thinking.

And yet, there was no way Naoko could avoid it.

“Please. Never abandon my son.”

“Lia!”

Had he made a mistake?

As the beast of ice watched the thief's silhouette vanish into the horizon, the sea of people who stared at them, creating a barricade, became the perfect plan for a retreat. Sharp icicles were created and launched in different directions, painting the street in destruction.

Nothing severe, negatively so, in the spirit's eyes.

However, while his attention had been focused on the thief, with the intention of taking her down, severe pulses of mana exploded from his paws. And by a hair's breadth, a crowd was almost turned into a bloodbath, a moat of liquid metal.

Again, nothing serious. Something he intervened on at the last moment.

“Lia! What happened?”

Puck, his brows furrowed, called out to his adopted daughter. He was starved for information that could contextualize the outburst from moments before.

He hadn't sensed anything in that thief that would justify the avalanche of mana induced upon him. Yes, the fuel tank that had nearly made his power explode was his daughter's. And that was starting to scare him.

The feeling of "pity" was the cause and root of the problem. This city, centralized in the kingdom of Lugunica, possessed many disgusting minds. Every civilian who passed near his daughter had an air of disgust as visible as it was dense.

Their importance? None. Puck was completely ignorant of anyone who crossed Emilia's path. Malice might cover their minds, but fear screamed just as loud as anything else.

No one there of average physical build would even consider the idea of attacking his Lia. Except for one thing.

Thugs.

This place, the metropolis of Lugunica, was infested. If one were to summarize how many dirty minds could be here, the guess would be in percentages; forty percent would be seeing it with generosity. Ninety percent would be the real dose if not mitigated by euphemism.

What to expect? Anyone who didn't involve his daughter was a doormat. No, not even useful for that.

Thieves and more thieves.

It was easy to determine their emotions, their intentions, and their location. And there he was. Puck would wave wind in their directions while he slept. Weaving roots into their vision, blurring their minds.

The spirit didn't even need to open his eyes, having all his attention focused on Emilia from beginning to end.

So, what had been the problem?

The thief who had come just now had almost no evil in her mind. The golden-haired girl who had approached could even be among the ten percent of kind people that made up this kingdom of hypocrites.

As said before, "pity" was the key to his failure. By moving through the crowd, with mediocre professionalism, the thief had deceived his "emotion" sensor by almost completely stagnating any malice she was composed of. It wasn't hard to know she was approaching, but——

“...Puck?”

“Lia! I’m here! What happened?”

With Lia's delayed response, Puck descended to her face. Getting close enough to see even the smallest details of her iris.

“Puck——”

It wasn't just magic that had bombarded his chest. It was the emotions themselves.

Puck didn't need his sentimental affinity to capture anything that came from his daughter. The contract, the bond they shared, ties carved into the soul, made him feel all the transmutations that coursed through Emilia's Od.

The almost pulverizing mana she had released was just one of the anomalies, the second being——

“I’m here, Lia, right here.”

“Puck—! Puck!”

Grabbing him tightly, the ice princess drowned the spirit against her wet face. Her voice, muffled and almost primitive, deteriorated as she called his name. The raw, broken sound escaped her vocal cords in total supplication.

“Puck!!”

“Shhhh… Here, Lia, here.”

His small paws hugged the slender face of the crying girl. His heart nearly broke seeing so many tears tracing cold lines below.

Emilia fell to her knees as she repeated the same words. A dull thud sounded as her boots hit the dusty, hard ground. She ignored the pain, focusing entirely on her adoptive father as if he were all she had left.

“Shh…”

The crowd watched, a shared pity mixed with a late disinterest.

—— What came into Emilia's mind were incredibly powerful feelings, almost making Puck take a step back in retreat. They were: nostalgia, longing, fear, bewilderment, and… love.

All of them absurdly amplified to an improbable level. Especially the last one mentioned.

Emilia… what happened to Emilia, the spirit could only wait to receive the answer.