The projection blurred, showing an unfamiliar room to the observers. Sunlight streamed through wide windows, flooding the space with a shimmering brilliance.

  Two portraits hung on the wall. One depicted a very handsome man, dark-haired and dignified, kind and loving face, belonging to someone who was taken away cruelly before his time.

  The other belonged to a man turned monster, his current face bearing only half the likeness of the portrait. The painting had a large X slashed across it, yet it still hung on the wall as some kind of grim reminder. Even this faded image of the deranged madman was enough to make Alice feel the same dread and animosity he had radiated that night. She nearly vomited just from looking at it but forced herself to hold back—for this was the first time she had met her.

  The old frau sat in a dark wooden chair, arms folded in indifference. The lean lines of age marked her face, and eyes touched by time remained unyielding. Hair was neatly kept, a dress impeccable without a single fold, small golden trinkets adorning neck and ears. Ash-white strands framed a gaze sharp enough to cut deep into the bone.

  Alice studied her carefully. Despite the years, there was no frailty in her frame. Her shoulders remained square, her spine straight, her hands steady. She had the bearing of a soldier who had left the front lines. A veteran whose presence was still formidable even if her strength had waned.

  Beside Alice, her mother sat.

  “So, what do you want?” The old woman’s voice cut through the silence like a blade suddenly unsheathed.

  “...”

  “Out with it.”

  “Edwin is dead.” Sylvaria’s voice came out shaky.

  Alice looked at the old lady’s expression. She expected her to break down, to weep the moment she heard it. But no—the face stayed the same. Her eyes fixed on Sylvaria with an intensity strong enough to silence even the bravest soldier.

  “Heh. You wasted your time coming here.”

  “What?”

  “A Reich officer already came and told me. They said Edwin was murdered by the Cult. I still have some connections in the military, after all.”

  “…”

  “If that’s all, then please, get out—”

  “Please wait a moment, Frau Hilda.”

  Hilda’s stare hardened, like a judge gazing at a condemned criminal.

  “I know we are not on the best of terms,” Sylvaria said, her voice trembling. “But I am in dire need of work. I know you still have connections in the military. Can you please help—”

  “Heh. You want to cheat your way into the military? Shameless. Go by yourself—they’re always recruiting. You could be a servant… or better yet, a barracks ‘entertainer’. Maybe then someone like Harmus would take you in.”

  Alice saw the slight twitch in her mother’s arm, her hand opening and closing. Her veins bulging like there was a storm inside her and yet she kept her face calm.

  “But Frau Hilda, you know that an entry-level job in the military pays so little. I won’t be able to cover the mortgage and still provide for Alice’s livelihood.”

  “Then it was your own fault not mine.”

  “Please Frau Hilda.”

  She didn’t answer. She just sat there, staring at mother and daughter—kin by Edwin, though she never saw them that way. There was no pity for the new widow, not even a trace of sympathy in those cold gray eyes.

  “Heh, I knew you when you were still a child. Your parents were drunkards and troublemakers, and yet, out of kindness, I allowed my children to play with you.”

  “…”

  “When you became a teenager, you ignored my advice to enter the magic academy, despite your talent. I even offered to pay the tuition myself. And that’s when I knew—you were the same as your parents. You had potential, but you squandered it chasing ‘art.’”

  “Then you disappeared to God knows where,” Hilda continued, “wasting your youth partying and lying with anyone who would touch you. And when you’d had your fill, you came crawling back—selling yourself not as a whore, oh no, but as a ‘dancer.’ And fate, in its cruelty, let that fool Harmus fall for you again.”

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  “…”

  “I let him marry you, thinking that maybe, if he got what he so desperately wanted, he would put an end to his petty jealousy and finally get his act together. But no—you could never be satisfied, could you? You just had to seduce my dear Golden Eagle Edwin too with your loose virtue.”

  Blood began to trickle from her mother’s lips. Alice wanted to defend her, but she didn’t dare make the situation worse. She told herself she had already caused enough trouble—after all, she was the one who had gotten her father killed.

  “You took Edwin away from me! He never spoke to me again after he married you.” Hilda continued, “And still, that wasn’t enough. You just had to spread your legs again to scratch that itch—and in your shamelessness, you bore Edwin another man-.”

  “ENOUGH!” Sylvaria’s voice finally cut through. It was coarse and rough, like a crack of thunder splitting the storm of slander and insult.

  Alice didn’t know what to do. She only clutched her mother’s sleeve, while Sylvaria’s gaze sank to the floor, as if searching for a shred of dignity beneath Hilda’s relentless scorn.

  “Alice is Edwin’s daughter,” she roared. “We did the test three times to prove it to you, and still you refuse to acknowledge her. That is why Edwin never spoke to you again!”

  “Heh. Edwin was the Golden Eagle, and despite everything, your mana was still equal to his back then. There is no way—no matter if Hell itself froze over—that a child with such weak mana could belong to Edwin. And not to mention, Faintborn’s blessing? There is no way that Edwin’s gene pool contained that defect!”

  Alice heard everything her grandmother said, yet the only thing that stayed with her was the reminder that she—her very existence—was still making life harder for her mother. The phantom voice began to torment her again, whispering like a wound that never closed. She tried her best not to cry because what good would crying do? Help her? If tears had any power, then her wailing when she saw her father’s body should have brought him back to life.

  So instead, she bit her lip as hard as she could and forced the voice down, swallowing the pain until even her breath trembled.

  “To hell with the tests, and to hell with both of you!” Hilda snapped.

  “He… he… he…” Alice couldn’t see her mother’s eyes as she laughed. They were veiled by the dark thoughts finally breaking through the dam of her mind, flooding her face.

  “What now?”

  “You’re still the same, Hilda,” Sylvaria said calmly. “Do you know what Harmus told me, back when we were married?”

  “Heh. I can guess, but please, surprise me.”

  “If you can guess, then that only proves what a wretched human being you are. You always pitted Harmus against Edwin, punishing him every time he failed to match his brother. Edwin was special, one of a kind, and Harmus was not. You could never make Edwin the standard.”

  “And do you remember leaving Harmus out in the storm?” Sylvaria pressed. “All because you said his spell was off by a margin. He strained his mana, but you never even glanced his way. He was only eight years old, trapped outside during one of the worst Fluxzeit we had ever seen. You did not even let Alaric fetch him, for God’s sake.”

  “That was discipline,” Hilda said coldly. “The boy was weak because his father coddled him. Alaric Erbenzram—pathetic man, just like Harmus.”

  “Oh, and Harmus always blamed you for Alaric’s suicide. He told me that if he ever got the chance, he would kill you himself.”

  “Hoh? I would have loved to see him try. He could barely muster decent magic, and he dared to say he would kill me? Honestly, if such motivation could have made him stronger, I would have gladly let him try.”

  Sylvaria’s eyes narrowed. “That’s it, isn’t it? You weren’t just punishing him. You were daring him. You wanted him to try and kill you, because only then could you claim victory even over your own child. You call it discipline, but it was vanity. You needed to prove you were untouchable—even to the ones who should have been safe in your hands.”

  She leaned forward, her voice low but cutting. “But tell me, Hilda… no mother truly lives without wanting her children’s love. Maybe you convinced yourself you could stomach Harmus hating you to the core, so long as Edwin, your favored son, loved you. But be honest—did it ever seem that way?”

  As Sylvaria said this, Alice looked at Hilda. Her face blurred with the haze of denial, which unfurled from deep within her soul. Her arms trembled with unbridled rage, as if she longed to deflect the accusation yet could not deny its weight.

  “He didn’t need to love me. The fact he was called the Golden Eagle was because of me! That was all the proof of love I ever needed from him!”

  “That is not enough to raise a child!” Sylvaria shouted. “If anything, what you did to him weakened him. He would have soared even higher without all the abuse you disguised as love. Your guidance, your discipline—they poisoned him. He would have been much stronger if you had never been there.”

  “You fuc—”

  “And to make it worse… you can only read minds that’s all. Yes, you were a Hauptmann, but all you ever did was sit behind a desk, doing interrogation. That’s why you can’t bring the same honor to House Erbenzram as Edwin did.”

  “Edwin was able to bring honor thanks to me—for teaching him properly.”

  “He never once said your name in gratitude. If anything, he hated you, because you always forced him to compete with Harmus. He loved his brother but could never show it, because if he did, you’d punish Harmus for some petty reason.”

  “Get the hell out of m—”

  “And honestly? Your treatment of Harmus is what killed Edwin.” Sylvaria cut her short.

  “What in the world are you talking about?”

  “It was Harmus who killed Edwin.”

  “WHAT?”

  The sound of Hilda’s scream split the air. Even Alice saw it—the sudden hollowness in her grandmother’s eyes, the way her cheeks seemed to sink under the weight of Sylvaria’s words. Sylvaria stopped her onslaught.

  “The officer told me it was the Cult!” Hilda screamed.

  “Yes, they told you the Cult killed him—but it was Harmus. He joined the Cult and even become a Pontiff.”

  “Harmus was dead—dead! Edwin said he used his Disintegration that’s why we couldn’t find his corpse or the Doctrine!”

  Sylvaria shed a tear, a fact that she really knews too well that even Edwin’s spell apparently failed to completely did its job. “No Hilda, Harmus was in my house yesterday.”

  As the words leave her mouth, Hilda continued to stare Sylvaria.

  “You lying miserable wretch!”