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As I said, here's the fanfic I announced. I hope you'll give it a try.
Thanks to Rayx2108 and comteqfr for being the beta readers and quality supervisors of this chapter.
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The bustle of the square overwhelmed him more than he expected. Wooden carts creaking against the cobblestones, the shouts of merchants offering the same thing in the same voice, footsteps stumbling against each other in disarray. Roge slumped onto a stone bench as if it were the only thing left for him to do. He had run so far that his throat still burned; the memory of those hands reaching for his bag kept him rigid, as if he were still running away.
He looked down at his worn boots. The dust from the road had dried in layers, cracked with sweat. There he was: sitting in the heart of the city he'd heard about all his life, unable to know his next step.
His stomach growled loudly. He didn't have enough coins to waste on breakfast, but hunger coiled in his belly like an animal.
A pair of girls in matching uniforms crossed in front of him, laughing, with an air of camaraderie he recognized as impossible to imitate. Familias. People with their backs covered. Roge, on the other hand, had been walking alone for weeks, and now the city welcomed him with nowhere to go.
He reached into his purse and felt the few coins he had left. He'd guarded them along the way as if they were pure gold, even though they were barely enough for two nights in a cheap inn or a new knife if he managed to bargain. He didn't even have a decent weapon. And without a weapon, talking about the dungeon was a joke.
His body begged him to stay seated until nightfall. Perhaps no one would notice. Perhaps the constant movement of the square could swallow him up. And yet, the stillness drove him more desperate than hunger.
He remembered his mother's voice—not advice, not an epic farewell, just that way of telling him not to get into trouble. "Silence is better." And he had always obeyed her. That's why he stood there, wordlessly, watching others move, eat, laugh, and decide.
The day wore on, and the square didn't empty. If anything, it became noisier, more stifling. Roge forced himself to stand up. His legs were stiff from the fatigue of the journey, but he took a few steps anyway. No one was looking at him. No one was wondering who he was. That invisibility protected him as much as it suffocated him.
He decided to walk aimlessly, skirting the square's central fountain. The water splashed with a murmur that was lost in the hustle and bustle. He saw his distorted reflection: hair tangled from the journey, dark circles under his eyes, dry lips. No one worth a second glance.
Roge leaned over the fountain, still lost in the confusion of the city, when a flash of color burst into his peripheral vision. A bright red head, like a freshly stoked fire. He leaped back, slamming his hip into the stone rim.
—Well, well! — the female voice rang out clearly, with a tone that seemed accustomed to being heard amidst any commotion. "What do we have here?"
The girl leaned her face toward him, her green eyes shining with playful malice. Her smile was firmly planted, almost fixed, as if she'd been born with it.
—You're not planning anything bad, are you?
Roge froze. His heart leaped, and he felt an icy tingling in his hands. He didn't understand why they were accusing him, or what gesture of his had raised suspicions.
—I... I didn't do anything — he answered, too quickly, too loudly. His gaze was fixed on the cobblestones.
The redhead watched him for a few seconds and then burst into a hearty, genuine laugh, the kind that didn't ask permission from the environment. Several people around her turned their heads, and she seemed to enjoy the attention.
—Oh, my gods! —she laughed theatrically. —Don't be so panicked, it was just a joke. —
Roge blinked, his pulse still racing. A joke? The heat on his face wasn't from the sun, but from the embarrassment of having taken the bait so easily.
She looked at him with interest. Not with mockery, at least not the cruel kind. Rather, with the curiosity of someone who had found an unexpected toy in the middle of her routine.
—You're… —Roge hesitated, as if saying the word out loud confirmed his naiveté— very convincing.
—Thank you! —she replied without a hint of irony, as if it were a compliment she truly deserved—. I'm working hard at that.
The silence that remained was uncomfortable only for him. Roge didn't know what to do with his hands or his eyes.
—I'm Alise Lovell —the redhead finally introduced herself, placing a hand on her chest as if offering the name on a silver platter. Her upright, almost haughty posture contrasted with the warmth of her smile—. Nice to meet you, easily scared boy.
Roge hesitated for a moment before answering, but his habit of being polite won.
—Roge. Just… Roge.
Alise nodded approvingly, as if she had expected exactly that name and found it satisfactory.
—Well, Roge? —she said, leaning slightly toward him, as if sharing a secret that everyone could actually hear—. What are you doing here, sitting there like you're lost in the middle of your own life?
The question disarmed him. He hadn't rehearsed any answers for that sort of thing. He hesitated to blurt out the truth: that he'd arrived without a plan, that he was barely surviving on a few coins, that the city was swallowing him whole. Instead, he muttered:
—Watching.
Alise raised an eyebrow.
—Hm, how mysterious. Although your panicked face from a minute ago doesn't quite fit the role, does it?
Roge looked down, unable to argue.
—Hey, don't worry —she tapped him lightly on the shoulder, casually, without asking permission—. Like I said, I was just joking. I enjoy testing people's reactions.
He nodded slowly, still uncomfortable, still feeling like he had done something wrong.
A brief silence stretched, but it wasn't empty: she watched him with almost studied patience, as if waiting for him to say something that would justify the entire scene. When she received nothing, it was she who broke the stillness.
—I suppose you're wondering why I approached you? —she asked with a playful twinkle in her voice.
Roge looked up. He had thought exactly that.
—A little —he admitted.
—Well —Alise straightened, putting one hand on her hip and raising the other as if pointing out a divine revelation—, because my perfect intuition told me you would be interesting.
Roge watched her, trying to understand if she was serious. He detected no irony. Only that absolute, overwhelming conviction, as if she believed her intuition was an unshakeable force of nature.
—Perfect intuition? —he repeated in a low voice.
—Exactly. It never fails me —she said with a certainty that would have sounded like pure narcissism to anyone else.
An awkward smile escaped Roge, just a tense stretch of his lips that disappeared in seconds. She didn't notice; she was too busy enjoying her own declaration.
In his mind, Roge made a note: narcissism. Not malicious, at least it didn't seem that way. More like a self-respect that took up so much space it made it hard to breathe.
—You know —she continued, as if the conversation were a stage and he was a spectator trapped in the front row—. When my instinct points me toward someone, it always turns out there's something special about them. I'm never wrong.
Roge wanted to ask her what she saw as special, but the question sounded too direct, almost desperate. He remained silent.
She tilted her head, like a cat sizing up its prey.
—Hmm, I don't know what's interesting about you yet, but I'll find out.
Roge's stomach growled again, treacherously. Alise's laughter immediately erupted.
—Hahaha! Wow, it seems your "interest" is in your stomach for now. Have you eaten yet?
Roge lowered his head, ashamed.
—No… not yet.
—Well, that's easily fixed. Come on.
And without further ado, she took him by the arm. Her grip was firm, as if she wouldn't accept any refusal. Roge hesitated, but the surprise stopped him in his tracks as she dragged him toward the bread stand he'd seen earlier.
—Two pieces! —Alise ordered, banging decisively on the table. She paid with coins she whipped out without a second thought, as if they were an inexhaustible resource.
The saleswoman handed him two still-warm loaves. Alise unceremoniously handed one to Roge.
—Here. I don't want any excuses.
Roge held the bread, feeling the warmth run through his fingers. He swallowed, the smell making him dizzy.
—I should… I should pay you.
—Ha! —Alise laughed, taking a huge bite of hers—. Nonsense. Consider it a tribute for catching my attention.
The bite of bread crunched against his teeth. Roge, still unsure, took a small bite of his own. The simple flavor, with its spongy texture and firm crust, tasted like a feast after days of traveling.
They ate amid the commotion of the plaza, but to Alise the noise seemed like an irrelevant background. She spoke with her mouth half full, laughing between sentences. Roge nodded occasionally, too preoccupied with devouring his food as discreetly as he could.
When he finished, he clumsily wiped the crumbs off his clothes.
—Thank you… —he said at last, unable to find a better way to express it.
—Nothing to thank me for —she replied, as if gratitude were unnecessary—. What I do hope is that you don't disappear without telling me anything. I'm certain —she emphasized the word, as if it were an honorific— that you're going to give me a good story.
Roge didn't know how to respond to that. His awkward smile returned, involuntary, and this time he felt it was a useless reflex.
Alise didn't notice. She was too caught up in herself, convinced she'd found something "interesting."
Alise licked her fingers to remove the last crumbs, as if completely comfortable getting dirty in front of a stranger. Then she looked straight at him, with that sparkling intensity that seemed to pierce through the bustle of the square.
—Tell me, Roge… are you an adventurer?
The question caught him off guard. He coughed a little, adjusting his posture on the improvised bench where they had sat with the bread.
—Not yet —he admitted, his voice faint—. I do not belong to any Familia.
Alise's green eyes widened, shining with an almost theatrical enthusiasm.
—Ohhh! So you're one of those diamonds in the rough waiting to be discovered. What a find!
Roge shrugged, uncomfortable with the bombastic title.
She leaned forward, her red hair falling like fire over her shoulders.
—Well, I do belong to one. To the great Astrea Familia —her tone changed, suddenly solemn, but filled with pride—. We are much more than a simple group of adventurers. We are the beating heart of justice in this city.
Roge blinked.
—Justice?
—Exactly —Alise lifted her chin, her hand balled into a fist, which she raised as if swearing something—. Astrea-sama guides us on the path of righteousness. It's not just about defeating monsters in the dungeon or protecting the streets from common thieves. We are guardians! Saviors! Those who uphold the moral foundations of Orario!
Roge processed it in his own way, summing it up with a single word:
—So… like the police?
Alise looked at him with a mixture of offense and bewilderment, as if she had heard blasphemy.
—No! —she exclaimed, almost indignant—. Much more than that. The comparison falls short, tiny, ridiculous. We don't just maintain order, we inspire. We are the voice of right, the shield against darkness, the hope when everything falls apart.
Her voice rose in volume with each sentence. Some people around her turned to look at her, but she didn't lower her voice. On the contrary, she seemed to enjoy the free attention.
—We, the Astrea Familia, do not tolerate corruption, abuse, or injustice. Where others turn a blind eye, we look straight ahead. Where others tremble, we stand firm. We are—
Roge stopped listening.
The speech flowed like a raging river, filled with grand, solemn words that flowed past him.
He nodded a couple of times, feigning attention. His mind was already wandering elsewhere: to the coins he still had, to how to find a cheap inn, to whether the dungeon was as terrible as they said.
—…and that's why, Roge, it's not enough to be strong! You have to be fair, upright, bright as a star in the darkness! —Alise's voice continued to beat like a war drum.
Roge looked up for a moment, just so he wouldn't seem rude.
—Sure —he said automatically.
She smiled, convinced that she had inspired him.
—I knew you would understand.
He returned to his usual silence, with that awkward smile that was barely a gesture. Inside, he thought the redhead had so much self-respect she could light up the entire square without a torch.
Air rushed into his lungs as Alise leaped to her feet. Roge barely managed to blink before he felt a firm hand close around his wrist.
—Let's go! —she said with that certainty that didn't ask for permission.
—Hey…?
—I have a good feeling about you —Alise's smile seemed unwavering—. I'm going to introduce you to my goddess.
Roge froze.
—What!?
The jerk lifted him from his seat. He barely had time to regain his balance before Alise began pushing her way through the crowd, dragging him along behind her like a rope attached to a wagon.
—W-wait… wait a minute —Roge stammered, stumbling against a shoulder as he was roughly yanked back—. Your… your goddess?
—Of course. Astrea-sama. The goddess of justice —Alise replied, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Roge's heart began to hammer in his chest. What was going on? Why, all of a sudden, was he being taken to meet a deity? He'd barely arrived; he had nothing; he didn't even know where he'd sleep that night.
—No, no, no… wait, I don't… —he tried to get away, but Alise's grip was surprisingly strong.
She turned her head with a spark of amusement in her eyes.
—What's wrong? Don't you want to meet her?
—It's not that! It's just... it's just... —her voice cracked with pure panic—. I didn't even prepare myself!
Alise burst out laughing.
—Get ready? What did you think, that you had to bring flowers or give a speech? Relax. Astrea-sama is wonderful, you'll love her.
Roge felt like each step was faster than the last, like the stones on the ground were slipping from under his feet. He was a stranger being dragged by a stranger toward a goddess. Everything he had planned (which was nothing, really) was crumbling before Alise's unstoppable energy.
He tried to brake again, planting his heels on the cobblestones.
—I can't, really, I can't!
Alise didn't even stop. She looked at him sideways, amused, as if his resistance were a child's tantrum.
—Of course you can. My intuition is never wrong.
Roge's stomach sank. Every word she spoke of sunk him deeper into a sense of unreality. He hadn't even been in Orario for a day, and he was already being introduced to a goddess as if he were part of a secret plan.
Sweat trickled down his forehead. He looked around, as if hoping someone would save him from this madness, but the people in the square paid no attention. On the contrary: some watched them pass by and smiled when they recognized the redhead.
—What the hell is happening to me? —he thought, his heart racing.
And yet, he couldn't let go. Alise's hand was both heat and steel, pulling at him with a determination that left no room for denial.
They arrived at the Astrea familia headquarters, and Alise strode forward with the same confidence as a general entering his own barracks, ignoring the tension etched on the boy's face. She knocked on the front door three energetic, almost playful knocks, as if she were knocking not at a solemn headquarters but at the home of a close friend.
The sound of a bolt answered from within. The door opened, and a young woman with jet-black hair pulled back in a high ponytail, razor-sharp eyes, and an expression that could cut at a glance, appeared in the threshold.
—Alise? —her tone was dry, laced with barely contained annoyance—. Are you disappearing whenever you want again?
Roge felt the immediate change in the air. That voice didn't need to raise its volume to command attention.
—You have responsibilities, or have you forgotten you're the captain? —the girl continued, without giving her any respite, with an edge to every word—. You can't just be skipping around the city like a little girl.
Alise, unfazed, tilted her head slightly and stuck out her tongue in a blatantly childish gesture.
—Tee-hee.
The simplicity of the sound, accompanied by the mischievous smile, sought to soften the rebuke, wrapping it in a layer of feigned innocence. But the other woman didn't seem bought in the least.
The black-haired woman's sharp eyes then shifted to Roge. He was still half-dragged, his wrist held in Alise's firm grasp, trying to maintain his composure and not look more lost than he was.
—And this one? —the girl asked, her voice laced with venomous irony—. Who's the little idiot you brought in now?
Roge swallowed. The directness of the question hit him in the stomach.
Alise, on the other hand, responded without a hint of tension, as if it were a trivial introduction:
—Ah, this is Roge. He was in the plaza, and my perfect intuition told me he had something special about him. So I thought I'd check with Lady Astrea, see if she'd let us add him to the familia.
The air stopped. Roge's eyes widened in disbelief, his heart leaping.
—What!? —he blurted out, unable to contain himself.
He didn't know what he expected from Alise, but it definitely wasn't that. She'd dragged him there, yes, but... talking about joining the familia? That was on another level.
—W-wait, I don't even... —he tried to stammer, but his voice was drowned out by the gazes of both women.
—Come on, it's not that big of a deal. I just wanted to ask. I'm not saying you have to accept it yet, am I? —she said, chuckling softly, as if she could neutralize any objection with humor.
The other girl, the one with the sharp gaze, opened her eyes in a gesture calculated between surprise and warning.
—Are you kidding? —she asked, her tone not requiring volume to feel like a razor blade against skin.
She didn't wait for a reply. She turned her head slightly toward Roge, scanning him from top to bottom with awkward slowness, as if trying to detect any visible flaw. He shifted in place, unable to hold that gaze.
—Alise... —the brunette continued, with a sigh that didn't hide her annoyance—. Our familia has been exclusively made up of women since its founding. All those who have sworn under Astrea-sama are women, and it's no coincidence.
Roge felt his blood run cold.
—Exclusively… women?
The black-haired woman nodded, with a brief gesture, almost a military nod.
—Exactly. And even though I don't care, because I don't mind wasting time on that nonsense... —her tone hardened, sending invisible blades of fire with each syllable—. The other girls might care. And believe me, you could get into trouble.
The pressure in the air was palpable. Roge felt his knees go soft, as if the full weight of the journey and the city had suddenly crushed him.
Alise, on the other hand, seemed to enjoy other people's discomfort.
—Oh, Kaguya, don't be so dramatic —she crooned, as if the other's scolding were an annoying mosquito—. I didn't say we were going to accept it. I just want to introduce him. And if Astrea-sama is okay with him, well... we'll see.
Kaguya—because it was already clear that was the girl's name—closed her eyes for a moment, rubbing the bridge of her nose with the exhausted patience of someone who had repeated this kind of argument too many times.
—It's always the same with you, Alise. You act first, think later.
—But you admit that I do think! —Alise retorted, sticking out her tongue again, with that childlike insolence that seemed designed to disarm any criticism.
Roge watched the scene like someone watching an inevitable collision from a distance. He stood there, caught in the middle, unable to understand how he had gone from eating bread in a square to being discussed as a possible member of a legendary familia.
—I... —he tried to intervene awkwardly, barely raising his voice—. I think... there must be a mistake. I'm not... ready for any of this.
They both looked at him at the same time, though with radically different expressions: Alise, as if his comment were a funny detail, an irrelevant nuance; Kaguya, as if his insecurity confirmed every suspicion she had about him.
Roge's throat went dry.
Alise took a step toward the door, still holding his arm, and smiled with a conviction that brooked no objection.
—Well, we'll know as soon as we talk to Astrea-sama. Isn't that great?
Roge could only stare at her, eyes wide open, unable to utter a word. Because the worst part was that, despite his nerves, the redhead didn't seem to be joking at all.
The interior of the Astrea familia headquarters had a solemn and serene air, very different from the bustle of the city. The hallways were lit by magic lamps embedded in the walls, and the silence was broken only by the sound of boots on the floor. Roge could barely appreciate the details: his attention was captured by the sensation of being pulled by Alise's hand, as if it were a rope on which his life depended.
The redhead advanced with a confident stride, ignoring Roge's passive resistance, until they turned into a wide corridor where two girls were talking. One had long, dark hair, and a tanned skin tone characteristic of Amazons; the other, a tall werewolf with gray hair. Both stopped in their tracks when they saw them enter.
The amazon kept a detached attitude, but the corner of her lips failed to hide a knowing smile. The werewolf, on the other hand, openly displayed her smirk as she murmured to her companion in a barely audible voice:
—Look at him, Iska … doesn't it seem like Alise finally got herself a boyfriend?
The newly named Iska nodded with hidden satisfaction.
—Maybe now she'll stop bothering us with his antics.
Roge, already feeling exposed enough, noticed the tension rising in Alise's skin in an instant. She turned her head without stopping, her eyes shining with mischief, and said clearly:
—Neze, Iska, you two know I can hear you, right?
They both froze. Iska's smile vanished in a second, and Neze pursed her lips, too slow to hide the blush on her cheeks. They both fell silent abruptly, with the clumsiness of someone caught with their hand in the bread.
Alise let out a triumphant laugh, enjoying the silence more than the initial comment.
A few steps further along, in the common room, another figure looked up. It was an elven girl with long, blonde hair, her expression serene and barely moving. Ryuu Lyon. Sitting next to a table with documents, she stopped when she saw the scene: Alise dragging Roge by the hand as if leading him towards the scaffold… or the altar.
Ryuu's green eyes widened in a mixture of surprise and confusion. The faint color in her cheeks quickly rose, like a blush she couldn't control.
—H-how lascivious... —she murmured softly, bringing her hand covering her eyes as if the sight was too daring to behold.
Roge didn't immediately understand what she'd said, but he did notice the way she covered her face, almost as if she were witnessing something forbidden. The bewilderment hit him even more: was it so serious that he was being dragged by the hand?
For Ryuu, in her prim and rigid world, that touch seemed to carry an intimate, almost unseemly weight. She looked away with the seriousness of someone harboring a shameful secret.
Alise, on the other hand, didn't seem to notice the small internal drama she had triggered. She walked with the same determination, proud of the trail of reactions she left in her wake.
Roge's heart was beating so hard he felt like even the walls of the hallway could hear it. Alise's grip on his hand hadn't relaxed for a moment, and although she wasn't pulling him as tightly, the feeling of being led remained. With each step, the other girls' voices faded, until all that remained was the solemn echo from inside the building and the tension in his own breathing.
The doors to the hall opened slowly. The light that entered through the large windows illuminated the figure waiting in the center. Seated in a simple armchair, without ostentation or unnecessary adornment, was Astrea.
Roge held his breath for a second.
The goddess's chestnut hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders, like a warm river. She was dressed in pure white, without any flashy details, and yet her presence alone filled the room with a power impossible to ignore. It wasn't the exaggerated, seductive beauty; there was something different about her, the steadfast image of a loving mother. For a moment, too brief to admit, Roge thought he could easily ask her to finish raising him, to protect him from everything unknown. But he quickly dismissed that thought, ashamed even to think it.
Astrea looked up and smiled, a calm, nonjudgmental smile that seemed to envelop anyone who received it.
—Alise —she said, her voice clear and even, like water running over stone—. What's wrong?
The captain took a few steps forward, still holding onto Roge, who felt exposed under that divine gaze.
—Astrea-sama, meet Roge —Alise said with all the confidence in the world—. I want him to join the familia.
Roge's eyes widened with a start. So direct? No gentler introduction, no advance warning. He felt his throat tighten, but Astrea merely inclined her head, unsurprised, as if the statement were as natural as any other.
—I see —the goddess replied calmly, nodding gently—. And why do you think he should join?
Alise puffed out her chest, and Roge could barely stop himself from rolling his eyes.
—Because he's brave, sincere and noble. He has a strong and fair heart, and a determination that few possess. I knew it as soon as I saw him. My intuition never fails.
Roge was stunned. He hadn't shown any of that. He hadn't even opened his mouth enough to convey anything resembling those qualities. He was just a stranger she'd dragged along, nothing more.
Astrea, however, remained unperturbed. Her calm smile remained, and after a few seconds, she let out a soft laugh, light as a sigh.
The sound made Roge feel a strange lurch in his chest. For him, it was beautiful. Not so much for the laughter itself, but for what it conveyed: serenity, tenderness, understanding.
—Alise —Astrea said gently, though with a clear undertone—. You don't have to lie to me to accept it.
Roge understood instantly. The gods could detect lies without fail, it was a known fact. There was no room for embellishment or exaggeration in front of her.
Alise, far from being bothered, simply shrugged and smiled as if she had tried to play a light joke and had been caught.
Astrea then turned her attention to Roge, looking directly at him.
—If you want to join, you have to say it yourself —she said, in that voice that didn't impose itself, but didn't leave any room for evasion either.
Roge felt his throat tighten. He coughed to clear it, trying to buy himself a few seconds.
—Um... actually... it was a surprise even for me. —He glanced at Alise, who was watching him with the most innocent expression possible, as if she hadn't done anything wrong at all. He swallowed and continued—. Miss Alise dragged me here out of nowhere.
The goddess raised her eyebrows slightly, amused by the sincerity of the comment. Roge, his heart racing, took a deep breath and forced himself to continue.
—But... if it's really possible... I would be proud to become part of the Astrea familia. —His voice trembled, but his intentions were firm—. So far, what I've heard about it, thanks to Alise, is that they're good people. And I... I think it would be good to walk alongside someone like that.
The silence that followed was brief, but heavy for Roge. The goddess looked at him for a moment that seemed eternal, before an even softer smile lit her face.
—Thank you, Roge —she said—. Your honesty is valuable.
He felt immediate relief, but what she added next puzzled him even more:
—And also… you've earned points.
—Huh? —he blurted out in a low voice.
Astrea laughed again, so lightly that it barely filled the air.
—You never once looked away from where you should have —she said, without pointing, but making her point clear—. It's a detail that doesn't go unnoticed.
Roge's face suddenly flamed. All the control he'd tried to maintain shattered in a second. Heat rose to his ears, and he had to look down at the ground to avoid further betrayal.
Inside, though, he celebrated. He'd resisted the temptation. He'd controlled his gaze. And, in retrospect, he was proud of it.
Astrea, with her warm smile, nodded once more.
—If it were up to me, Roge, you could join right away. —Her tone was filled with sweetness, but with the firmness that her role required—. However, this decision isn't solely mine.
Roge looked up, confused.
—Hey…?
—You would be the first male member of the Astrea familia —she explained calmly—. And that's a major change. I can't impose it alone. This familia is a bond of trust, and therefore, the decision must be made with all members.
Roge nodded slowly, processing the words. His nervousness didn't diminish, but he felt something inside him settle. He wasn't being rejected. It was just a matter of waiting for a fair trial.
Alise, on the other hand, seemed less interested in the weight of the matter and more in the possibility that her "perfect intuition" would be confirmed in front of everyone.
Astrea stood gracefully, her white dress moving as if she were floating. Her presence filled the room even more than she had sitting.
—Then —she said—, we'll have to talk it over with the others.
Roge took a deep breath, trying to calm the turmoil in his chest. He felt like every step he'd taken in Orario had led him to this moment, even though he'd never planned it.
The doors to the main hall opened, and Astrea's voice was enough to silence the scattered conversations in the hall as if someone had blown out a candle. The goddess walked forward with her usual serenity, and at her side walked Alise, still holding a Roge who didn't know if he was entering some kind of trial or a public execution.
The murmur soon returned, albeit in the form of stifled exclamations and curious glances.
—What's a boy doing here? —Lyra's voice, somewhere between surprised and skeptical, was heard first.
—Did someone invite him? —Maryuu added, her eyebrows furrowed, as if she expected an immediate explanation.
Celty, who was standing near the wall, almost hid behind her hair, muttering in a small voice:
—I-it's… strange…
Roge felt like he was being watched from every angle, like a rare object on display at a market. He wanted to sink into the ground.
Astrea didn't lose her composure for a moment. She walked forward until she was standing in front of everyone, her warm smile melting away the tension.
—My daughters —she said in that clear voice, impossible to ignore, but which didn't need to be raised to command attention—. Today I want to introduce you to someone. His name is Roge.
A heavy silence fell over the room, as if those few words had been enough for everyone to wait for what was to come.
Astrea turned slightly, reaching out to the boy, who tried to stand up even though the discomfort seeped into his bones.
—He recently arrived in Orario. And Alise thinks he'd be a good member to join our familia.
The explosion of voices was immediate.
—What!? —Maryuu was the first to raise her cry.
—Join... us? —Lyra couldn't hide her disbelief.
The murmur turned into a small storm of doubts and exclamations, mixed with whispers and frowns. Roge swallowed, wishing he could disappear.
Astrea raised a hand, without losing her composure. That gesture was enough for the noise to gradually fade away, leaving an expectant silence.
—I understand your doubts —she said, her gaze scanning each of them tenderly, but also firmly—. Up until now, we've always been a group of women. And it's not surprising that some of you feel uncomfortable. But I trust you, and I trust that we can decide this the right way.
Alise, with a proud smile, took a step forward.
—I'd vote for him in a heartbeat! —she announced, as if it were already obvious and definitive.
Astrea gave him a soft look, before continuing:
—I propose we decide together. A vote. Let each of you say how you feel about Roge joining our familia.
The air thickened again. Roge felt his stomach clench. Were they really going to vote him off right then and there, in front of everyone? He glanced at Alise, but she just gave him a mischievous smile, as if this were all some exciting game.
Astrea waited a second before glancing at Kaguya, who was standing with her arms crossed.
—What do you say?
Kaguya exhaled slowly, with the same dry disdain she had shown him before.
—I don't care. —Her tone was sharp and unadorned—. Whether he stays or not, as long as he complies, I don't care.
Alise smiled triumphantly.
—That counts as a yes!
—That's not what I said. —Kaguya frowned, but no one seemed to care.
Astrea's eyes then shifted to Ryuu, who was standing slightly apart, her hands clasped in front of her. The elf opened her mouth to speak, but then she felt Alise's gaze bore into her like an arrow. An intense, almost pleading gaze.
Ryuu tensed, barely lowering her gaze.
—I... —she swallowed, her discomfort evident—. I have no objection.
Roge glanced at her, surprised by how abrupt and curt her response was, but he didn't have time to think about it any further before everyone's attention turned to Celty.
The girl shrugged, pressing her hands to her chest.
—I-if you don't invade my space... —she said, her voice trembling, not daring to look at anyone—. Then I wouldn't... mind.
Astrea gave her a reassuring smile, and Celty immediately lowered her head, as if she wanted to hide even further.
Next, came Iska's turn. She raised an eyebrow, looking at Roge with some curiosity, as if assessing whether he really had anything to offer.
—I don't dislike it —she said finally—. As long as he does his part and doesn't cause any trouble, I have no reason to be against it.
Neze, who was standing next to her, added bluntly:
—The only thing I care about is that it's not harmful to the familia. If it proves otherwise, it doesn't matter if it's a man or a woman.
Roge felt a slight relief. They weren't enthusiastic responses, but they weren't outright rejections either.
Lyra, however, didn't seem entirely convinced. She looked him up and down with a look that oscillated between suspicion and boredom.
—I don't mind too much —she finally said, shrugging—. But if he does something stupid, he can't expect me to cover for him.
Astrea nodded to each one, patiently registering the words carefully.
Finally, all eyes returned to Alise, although her vote was already a foregone conclusion.
The redhead raised her hand enthusiastically, almost bursting with energy.
—Of course I say yes! I've never been so sure of my intuition in my entire life!
The murmur resonated around the room again, although this time more subdued, like a resigned echo. Everyone had given their opinion, and although not everyone was entirely convinced, the atmosphere had changed.
Astrea clasped her hands in front of her, her expression serene.
—Good —he said—. We've listened to everyone. And with that, most of them agree to give it a chance.
Roge stood still, trying to process what he'd just heard. Did that mean…?
—Roge —Astrea's voice called to him again, and he straightened instinctively, like a child before his teacher—. There are no firm objections to your presence. Therefore, you have a place here, if you truly desire it.
The relief that washed over him was so great his legs almost gave way. Still, he managed to nod, a lump in his throat.
—Y-yes… I wish.
Alise squeezed her hand tightly, triumphant.
—I knew it!
Roge couldn't help but let out a nervous laugh, caught between the weight of so many stares and the unexpected warmth that came with hearing the word "familia" directed at him.
Although he still felt like he had somehow just thrown himself into an abyss he didn't even understand.
—
Hello, here with a new fanfic. Although Roge may seem somewhat meek and uncharismatic, I hope to develop him as time goes on and as... "incidents" occur. I hope you support this new project.