I woke up to sunlight pouring through the curtains.
Not the usual gray of early morning—actual sun, bright and warm, cutting through the gap in my curtains. I blinked and stared at the ceiling, letting my brain slowly boot up like an old computer.
What time is it?
I turned my head toward the window. The sun was already up. Not sunrise—morning. Late morning, maybe.
Shit.
I sat up too fast, and my head spun while my muscles screamed in protest. Everything hurt in that familiar way that meant I'd actually slept in.
[You were exhausted, Host. Your body needed the rest.] Nova's voice shimmered in my head.
I was supposed to wake up early. Breakfast with the family—
[It's still breakfast time. Barely. You haven't missed it.]
I sighed and rubbed my face.
Great. I haven't missed it completely.
I dragged myself out of bed, splashed cold water on my face, and changed into clean clothes—a dark blue tunic with black pants, simple but presentable. I ran a hand through my hair, but it was still a mess.
Whatever. It wasn't like I was trying to impress anyone.
The dining hall was loud before I even reached it.
I heard Mia before I saw her. Her voice carried through the corridors—high-pitched and excited, talking about something that involved a lot of hand gestures. Probably the frog.
I pushed open the doors.
The table was already set. Father sat at the head, reading something as usual, but that small smile played on his lips whenever Mia got loud. Mom was on his left, watching Mia with that soft look in her eyes. And Mia herself stood on her chair—because sitting was apparently for normal people—waving her arms around like a tiny general commanding an army.
"Leo!" She spotted me immediately. "You're late! Sir Hops-a-Lot already ate without you!"
I walked over and sat beside her. "The frog eats at this table now?"
"He's a guest!"
"He's a frog."
"He's a distinguished frog." Mia crossed her arms, pouting. "You're being rude."
Father let out a quiet chuckle behind his papers. Mom hid a smile behind her hand.
I looked at Mia with my best serious expression. "My apologies to Sir Hops-a-Lot. I hope he can forgive me."
She considered this for a moment, then nodded slowly. "I'll ask him. But he might need a bug apology."
"...A bug apology?"
"As a gift."
"You want me to catch a bug for your frog."
"He's not my frog. He's his own frog. You can't own a frog, Leo. That's slavery."
I just stared at her.
Mother actually laughed this time—a soft, musical sound that filled the room. Father's shoulders shook with silent laughter.
[I like this one. She has more sense than you do, Host.] Nova commented.
Shut up, bastard.
_
Breakfast was loud, chaotic, and absolutely perfect.
Mia talked nonstop about Sir Hops-a-Lot's adventures. Apparently, the frog had fought off a "giant beetle" in the garden yesterday. By "giant beetle," she meant something the size of her thumbnail, but she told the story like it was an epic battle between legendary warriors.
Father asked about my training, and I gave him the short version—running, cultivating, slowly not dying. He nodded without saying much, but I caught the slight approval in his eyes.
Mom asked if I was eating enough, if I was sleeping properly, if I needed anything. The usual mom questions, but they didn't feel annoying. They felt... nice.
Halfway through breakfast, Mia shoved her plate toward me. "Leo, eat this. I'm full."
There were still three bites of egg left.
"You're not full. You just don't like eggs."
"I do like eggs!"
"Then eat them."
"I'm full of eggs. From before. These are extra eggs. You eat them."
I looked at Mother for help, but she was just smiling. Not helping at all.
I ate the eggs.
After breakfast, Mia ran off to the garden—probably to report to Sir Hops-a-Lot about my bug apology situation. Father excused himself to deal with estate matters, which left me alone with Mom.
She was arranging the cups on the table, humming softly. Waiting.
Because she knew. Moms always know.
"Mom."
She turned toward me, her eyes soft and patient. "Yes, Leo?"
I took a breath.
"I need your help."
She didn't ask what. She didn't rush me. She just waited.
"I want to train under Uncle Theron."
Her expression flickered for just a second, then smoothed again.
"Theron," she repeated.
"Yeah." I leaned against the table. "I know things between us aren't... good. I know I messed up. But I don't have time to find someone else, Mom. My trial's coming up soon, and I need someone who can actually help me train."
She was quiet for a moment, considering my words.
"Theron is the best," she said softly. "There's no question about that. But Leo... you know how he is. After what happened—"
"I know." My voice came out rougher than I intended. "I know what I did. I threw his gift at his feet. I called his kindness fake. I told him to get out."
I looked down at my hands. "But I have to try, Mom." I met her eyes again. "I'm not the same person I was back then. I know that doesn't erase what I did, but I need him to see that. I need him to at least give me a chance to prove it."
Mom studied me for a long moment, and I noticed her eyes were wet. Just a little.
"You've changed," she whispered.
Not exactly, I thought, but I didn't say it.
"I'll write to him," she said finally. "But Leo... I can't make him agree. I can only ask him to see you. The rest is up to you."
"That's all I'm asking for."
She reached out and cupped my face in her hands. They were warm and soft.
"You're brave for this," she said. "Braver than you know."
I didn't feel brave. I felt terrified. But I nodded anyway, then started walking back to my room.
[Host.] Nova's voice suddenly called out.
Yeah?
[That was well done.]
Don't get soft on me now.
[I am not soft. I am merely stating facts.]
Sure.
[But for the record... Mom's right. You are brave.]
I stopped walking. Wait, what? Mom? Since when is she your mom?
[Oh, come on, Host. You're being petty. I accepted her as my mother long ago.]
I clicked my tongue and didn't respond.
A few hours later, I was lying in my room, staring at the ceiling, when a knock came at my door.
"Come in."
Lyra opened the door. "Young Master. The Duchess requests your presence in her study."
I sat up immediately. That was fast.
"Did she say why?"
"No, Young Master. Only that you should come."
I nodded and stood, following her out.
Mom's study was small compared to Father's office—cozy, filled with books and dried herbs and little glass bottles of things I couldn't name. She was sitting at her desk when I walked in, a sealed letter in her hand.
"He agreed to see you," she said.
I blinked. "Just like that?"
"Not just like that." She smiled—small and tired. "I had to do some convincing. But he's curious. He wants to know if the change is real or just another act."
She held out the letter.
"He's at the Valdris estate. It will take you a few hours if you go by jet. He'll expect you tomorrow afternoon."
I took the letter and read it.
"Tell the boy to come. I'll be waiting. But warn him—I won't go easy on him just because he's my nephew. He'll earn every lesson."
I stared at the words.
[You wanted a chance. Here it is.]
Yeah. Here it is.
"Thank you, Mom." My voice came out quiet.
She stood and pulled me into a hug—tight and warm.
"Just come back safe," she whispered. "That's all I ask."
I hugged her back.
That night, I barely slept.
It wasn't from fear—well, maybe a little. But mostly, I just lay there thinking. About what I'd say to Theron, about how I'd prove myself, about whether any of it would even matter.
_
Morning came too fast.
I stood in the entrance hall with a small bag at my feet. Warm clothes, the letter, a few other essentials.
Father was the first to approach.
He didn't say much—that was his way—but he pulled me into a hug that was brief and firm, the kind that said everything without words. Then he stepped back and ruffled my hair.
"Come back in one piece, son," he said quietly.
"I will."
He nodded. That was it.
Mom came next.
She cupped my cheeks in her hands just like yesterday, her eyes wet with unshed tears. "Be careful, Leo. Listen to your uncle. Eat well. Don't push yourself too—"
"Mom." I smiled. "I'll be fine."
She pulled me into a hug, tighter than before.
"I know," she whispered. "I just... I worry. I'll miss you."
"I know. I'll miss you too."
Nova's voice spoke in my mind. [I'll miss you too, Mom. I'll take care of your bastard.]
Hey, stop it. She isn't your mom.
Then—
"LEO!"
Mia came running from the hallway, her little feet pounding against the stone floor. She crashed into my legs and wrapped her arms around them like I might disappear at any moment.
"You're going away again," she mumbled into my pants.
I crouched down to her level. Her eyes were red, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Wait, what? She's crying?
[Damn it, Host. You're making a little kid cry.] Nova's voice was low. Was he... crying too?
What? He's crying too?
I sighed and wiped the tears from Mia's cheeks with my thumb. "Hey. It's just for a little while. A couple of weeks. Then I'll be back."
"But I don't want you to go." Her lip wobbled dangerously.
"I know, Mia. But I have to." I paused. "Remember what I told you about getting stronger?"
She nodded, sniffling.
"This is part of it. I need to learn from Uncle Theron so I can protect everyone. Protect you. Protect Sir Hops-a-Lot."
She laughed a little at that—just a tiny sound.
"Promise you'll come back?"
I held up my pinkie. "Pinkie promise."
She hooked her tiny finger around mine and squeezed.
"Pinkie promise."
I hugged her, and she hugged back with her small arms wrapped around my neck.
When I stood up, she was still crying. But she was smiling too.
[Don't ever make her cry again, Host. I won't forgive you.]
Yeah, I know.
I picked up my bag and looked at my family one last time.
Mom, crying but smiling. Father, standing tall with pride in his eyes. Mia, waving frantically like I was leaving for war instead of a training trip.
So this is what having a family feels like.
In my past life, all I did was hurt my parents and deny their love, but looking back now, I realized I really was a bastard.
I cleared my thoughts, turned, and walked toward the door.
Lyra fell into step beside me.
I glanced at her. "You know, you didn't have to come."
"I know, Young Master."
"...Thanks for coming anyway."
She smiled—small, quiet, but real.
We stepped outside.
The airship waited on the landing platform—sleek, silver, and humming with power.
I climbed aboard and the hatch closed behind me.