The air in the room grew heavier as Seraphine sat with her arms resting on her knees, staring into a vague point on the wall. Han watched her with careful silence, hesitant to intrude, but unwilling to ignore the storm of emotions clouding her face.
"I understand the pain from your past," Han finally said, his tone gentle. "But… I still don't understand how your father fits into all of this. Why does it seem like your hatred is directed more at him than at the bandits who destroyed your village?"
Seraphine didn't answer immediately. Her lips parted, then closed again. Her fingers clenched tightly into her palms. After a deep breath, she looked at Han with eyes that no longer burned with anger—but with hurt.
"Well," she began, her voice quieter than before, "after everything happened… after the village burned, after my mother died, I still had hope. I thought my father would come. I believed he'd be there for me." Her gaze dropped to the floor, as though the memory alone was too much to bear. "I sent him letters. One after another. For two years. Not a single reply."
Han didn't speak. The silence encouraged her to go on.
"And then… out of nowhere, he appeared. Maybe the guilt finally caught up with him, I don't know. But when he learned about my mother's death, he didn't comfort me. He didn't ask if I was okay. He just—lost it."
She paused, her voice trembling slightly now.
"He went on a rampage. He stormed through nearby forests, slaughtering any bandit he could find. Alone. It was like he was trying to drown his guilt in their blood. And when he wasn't killing, he was drinking. Day and night. And when I tried to stop him…"
Seraphine trailed off, her eyes clouding over.
"He hit me."
Han's eyes widened, but he said nothing.
"One night… one night when he was drunk beyond reason, he looked at me and said—" Her voice cracked. "He said, 'Why did it have to be her? Why couldn't it have been you who died instead?'"
The room fell into a thick, unbearable silence. Han felt like something inside him broke just listening to her. Seraphine's expression remained composed, but there was no hiding the pain etched deep in her voice.
"After that night," she said, "I left. I moved to town and trained to become a knight. And ever since then, I've never once returned. Not to see him, not even to visit the graveyard."
Han exhaled slowly, then spoke in a voice as calm as still water. "Now I understand. I'm sorry you had to go through that."
Seraphine gave a small nod, more to herself than to him.
"But," Han continued, "don't you think… even if not for him, at least for the villagers—those who survived—you should visit? They're not at fault in any of this."
Seraphine stayed quiet, then nodded reluctantly. "I know. That's the only reason I'm even considering it."
Han gave her a faint smile. "Then don't overthink it. Just do what your heart says. Sometimes it knows better than your head."
Seraphine let out a quiet breath and stood up slowly. "Alright," she said, brushing off her trousers and looking toward the door. "You win. Let's go… and give my village a visit."
Han's face lit up instantly. He twirled once in midair, unable to contain his excitement, and shouted, "Let's go!"
For the first time in a while, a small smile tugged at the edge of Seraphine's lips.