Greatknight Nickelson of the Royal Guard.
Commander of the First Battalion—those who served directly beneath the King and the Church.
As a servant of the Church, he too had been branded—marked with the seal, bound by oath. And so he stood, powerless, as the bishop twisted the law to his liking... unchallenged, unopposed.
Not even Amoria could resist the bishop's ploys.
Until Van Hellix arrived. The very man Nickelson once tortured.
Now, in the quiet of his office, Nickelson watched his daughter bow before him.
"Father," she said gently, "there's something I want to ask."
"Speak," he replied, hands folded on the desk.
"Back when the dragon came… when it was about to strike the city… you—"
"You're going to ask why I wanted to flee, Cerille?" he interrupted, his voice cool.
She shook her head. "No. I know why. It's been years. You just wanted to keep me safe."
Her posture loosened.
"It's something else."
He leaned back slightly. "Go on."
She hesitated, gaze falling to the floor before lifting again—sharpened.
"You saw Van Hellix defeat that dragon. You witnessed his strength firsthand."
"And?"
"Then why provoke him? Why insult him? Why call him 'meaty'? Why act so... deliberately rude?"
Nickelson's breath hitched.
Cerille pressed on, calm but relentless.
"You have history. I know that. But were you trying to discredit him? To make him appear emotional in front of the others?"
A long silence settled.
He sighed, gaze drifting to the side before returning to hers.
"What's bringing this up now, Cerille? It's been a long time."
"I know." She inhaled deeply. "I just can't understand why you'd risk your life like that—especially when we were all on the same side."
Nickelson flinched, exhaling softly, his fingers tapping against the desk.
"Were it anyone else," she said, "I'd assume it was pettiness for the sake of it. But you were never petty without reason… not that I ever saw."
"...."
A few seconds passed. Nickelson sighed and looked away, clicking his tongue before sighing again.
Then, he drew a deep breath and met his daughter's earnest gaze.
"You know what we did to Hellix... before he and Magus Veil emerged from the city, right?" he asked.
Cerille nodded, her expression calm and unreadable. "I've learned. Yes."
"It..." Nickelson began, narrowing his gaze as he stared down at his palm.
"It didn't occur to me," he said slowly. "Not until you reached your teens—and I saw him again." He leaned back in his chair, eyes drifting toward the window.
"He was..." he exhaled, rubbing his eyes. "He was just a boy, even back then."
"And he was tortured. And I let it happen."
Cerille gasped softly, her lips parting as she caught the expression on his face—pure, unfiltered disgust.
"And when I saw him again... saving you. Saving all of us..." He straightened, locking eyes with her.
"I felt so ashamed. So sick with myself... I wanted him to end my life."
"...."
Silence settled between them. Cerille looked away, her gaze unfocused.
"There was a moment," Nickelson continued, his voice quieter now, "when he mentioned liking you."
He chuckled—but the sound was brittle, almost fragile.
"A part of me hoped he'd take your hand. Make you his. I knew he'd protect you… but that wasn't the real reason I wished for it."
He paused.
"He said he wouldn't act on his revenge. Wouldn't kill me. Because of you." He leaned back, exhaling.
"He was a man who could resist his strongest desires—like his revenge—even when he had every reason not to."
His gaze lowered.
"He was better than me. I saw that. And I deemed him worthy of you."
"You've really left an impression on him, I might say."
Cerille gasped again, a blush warming her cheeks.
"I... I see... He... was impressed with me?" she murmured, eyes falling to the floor.
"V–Van Hellix?"
Nickelson chuckled again, this time more amused by her fluster than by anything else.
"Indeed," he said.
"Mama!" a voice called from behind as the door creaked open, a little boy darting in and wrapping himself around Cerille's legs.
"Ahh, Lvalti!" she turned with a soft smile and scooped him up against her chest.
"Mommy, are you done with Grandpa?" the boy asked.
"Yeah, I'll be heading out in a moment," she said, gently patting his head.
"You rascal..." Nickelson growled, his expression unreadable.
Both of them turned to look at him.
"Aren't you gonna give your grandpappy a kissshhh~?" Nickelson cooed, exaggerating his face.
"Nooo~!" the boy squealed, pouting. "GRANDPA, YOU GET TOO KISSY!! AND YOU'RE MEAN TO PAPA! AND YOU ALWAYS TALK ABOUT HIM BEHIND HIS BACK! TALKING BEHIND BACK IS WRONG!"
"Psche," Nickelson scoffed. "That good-for-nothing who divorced your mother? He's a fool!"
"FATHER!" Cerille snapped, her tone sharp as she turned away with her son in her arms. The boy stuck his tongue out at Nickelson with a mischievous grin.
...And Nickelson's heart shattered.
"Wha...! No..." he whispered, collapsing into his seat like a defeated soldier.
"Father," Cerille said gently, "we've been over this… it was mutual."
"Hrm..." Nickelson grumbled.
"I have to go," she added, shifting Lvalti in her arms. "I need to drop him off with his father."
She turned and walked toward the exit.
"And—" she paused at the threshold.
She looked back, her voice calm but firm.
"I love you. So… don't do something like that again, alright? I still need you."
Nickelson looked up, caught off guard. Their eyes met, and his shoulders slowly eased.
"Like calling Papa a fool?" Lvalti asked innocently.
Cerille cooed, "Yes, exactly that. Manners are important, Lvalti~" she smiled as the two stepped out of the room.
Nickelson watched them go.
'Haah...' He sighed, rising from his seat and walking to the window.
Outside, the Royal Capital bustled in the sunlight. His daughter and grandson disappeared into the crowd—alive, laughing, real.
'Ten years, Hellix...' he exhaled again, his gaze distant.
'Ten years of me paying your rent... I hope you return someday.'
'...To annul that contract, finally,' he thought, folding his hands together, staring down.