This chapter is brought to you by Scars leave beautiful trace by Car, the garden.

Edited by: bafflinghaze

---

Tybalt found himself standing in the back of a banquet hall in the Odum Manor with Royce and Finny two days after hearing news of Naza regaining consciousness.

The three of them bowed their heads, pretending to pray as Saintess Auria finished playing the final notes to a traditional requiem on the lyre.

This particular requiem was mainly played for those belonging to the nobility who died unfortunate deaths. A way to say "We are all gathered here today because somebody couldn't bother to stay alive." A beautiful song, really.

No one in the room said a word when they saw Saintess Auria.

Those in the know knew her identity, and those not in the know preferred not to be in the know, minding their own businesses like the smart cookies that they were.

Although, there were a couple of times when someone couldn't hide their reaction to seeing her.

Tybalt had watched Earl Peregrine give a double take at the sight of the Saintess when the man first stepped into the banquet hall. His wife, Countess Peregrine, tutted at him for his less-than-subtle reaction and dragged him away.

Nazareth's demise remained a secret among the inner circle of the Imperial Faction.

The Duke and Duchess had planned to release the news in next week's papers if worst came to worst, but for now, only those that the Odum Family knew intimately were notified of what happened.

This led to the few prominent families of the Imperial Faction being invited to the wake—a form of pre-rehearsal for the official funeral if, again, worst came to worst.

Alongside the Peregrines, the guest list included the Arcadias, the Deerborns, the Rickmans, the Meyers, the Dagons, the Benedicks, the Edinburghs, and the Chamberlains.

Finny and Royce had come in place of their families as representatives of the Dagons and Benedicks.

A few other families, the Edinburghs and the Rickmans, also sent one of their members to represent them.

Iliana "Ana" Edinburgh and Marinick "Mary" Rickman have spent most of their time consoling Naza's sister, who was expressionless since the start of the wake.

As for Tybalt, he had no idea why he was here. In a room full of Imperial Faction families, he, a Phelan—a family from the Aristocratic Faction—stuck out like a sore thumb.

But then again, he was also known as Nazareth's confidant, so perhaps that was the reason he was given an invitation.

Saintess Auria placed her hands above Nazareth's head, her palms faintly glowing with what was clearly holy power, and uttered a final blessing.

"Elunari, solara, dimenath."

"Elunari, solara, dimenath."

The attending guests murmured back, as was tradition, their tones a mixture of confusion, suspicion, boredom, and annoyance.

Tybalt felt his eyes water slightly.

It was all the incense in the room.

Makes one's eyes watery with tears.

Wiping his eyes, his attention turned to the casket on the platform.

Naza's body was lying inside—still, pale, and lifeless.

From what he heard, there had been no time to prepare a personalized casket for the wake. The one that Naza was in was taken out of storage and was, thankfully, unused. The servants of the House refurbished it overnight, and now it looked custom-made.

It was an awfully nice casket, Tybalt thought. The wood had come from an ancient tree that had gone extinct about two hundred years ago.

He imagined its interiors were no doubt lined with plush velvet for the sake of comfort. Why the dead would need comfort, Tybalt wasn't sure, but that was the likeliest route taken when preparing this casket, considering it was Naza.

Saintess Auria took a few steps back from the casket and raised her arms slightly.

It was an invitation to come forth.

Tybalt took that as his cue and followed Royce and Finny to line up with the rest of the crowd.

One by one, everyone got the chance to view the body of the deceased.

When it was Tyablt's turn, he only hesitated for a scant few seconds before approaching.

The first thing he noticed was the amount of dandelions surrounding Naza.

It was an interesting choice of flowers.

He laid upon them with his hair unbound, looking ethereal and otherworldly while dressed in silk and brocade.

Naza's features have always been striking. He was a perfect mix of Duke Odum and the late Lady Alouysia, balancing the delicate aspects of his mother's appearance with the statuesque qualities of his father's.

But of course, while aesthetically speaking, Naza was attractive, it could not make up for his previous behavior.

Even now, no one dared to openly show interest in liking him.

Tybalt stared at the sleeping face.

It was as if Naza was asleep, though the paleness of his face and lips hinted at death.

He took a deep breath and reached into his own pocket, digging out an old piece of jewelry.

It was a cheap amethyst pendant, likely to be deemed worthless by a majority of the people in the room, but it was important.

He tossed it into the casket, and no one stopped him.

At that moment, the sunlight shone from the large windows of the banquet hall, casting a golden glow over Naza's body.

Tybalt shook his head, amused.

It was a gorgeous day for a funeral.

Finny placed a hand on his shoulder and started to guide him away. "Come on, you're holding up the line."

As Tybalt stepped off the platform, it was Royce's turn to view the body.

He saw the red-haired boy say a few quick prayers to Naza before following after them.

Once the body viewing was over, their group of three was joined by Aurelion, who not so subtly glanced at the door before whispering, "Are they not here, yet?"

He wore all white, as was tradition by families of the deceased, but the outfit unexpectedly washed him out.

It was unfortunate that Naza's little brother was unable to pull off the white shirt look as flawlessly as Naza, himself.

Tsk, tsk.

Royce played with his cufflinks—they were solid gold with a constellation of diamonds that suspiciously matched the diamond choker around the Saintess' throat and the diamond-encrusted gold brooch on Duchess Odum's lapel.

"Are you sure the Moores will come? They're not even from the Imperial Faction."

"I'm not from the Imperial Faction," Tybalt pointed out.

"Yes, but you're you. Also, Neo was friends with that Elliot kid, so what's stopping the Countess from sending him, instead?"

Just as Royce said those words, the large double doors of the banquet hall flew open with a bang!

Standing at the entrance, lo and behold, was Countess Astella Moores nee Castas, who stormed into the room with eyes blazing and mouth twisted into a thunderous scowl.

Several Odum servants rushed after her, trying to stop her from getting close to the casket.

"My Lady, the body viewing is over—"

She pushed a servant out of her way like she was swatting a fly, and the man went down like a sack of potatoes.

Tybalt winced.

The poor man was definitely not a Capable Servant, seeing as he remained on the ground in shock.

"This is pathetic," the Countess declared, staring at the now-closed casket in disgust.

Saintess Auria was looking at her with an unreadable gaze from where she was standing next to the Duke and Duchess.

Near the back of the banquet hall, whilst hiding underneath a white mourning veil, Duchess Elysium appeared tense.

Tybalt suppressed the urge to chuckle.

Things were about to go down badly and he was in the front row seat to witness what could be the juiciest event of this social season.

---

Two days ago.

Neo carefully scooped up a spoonful of jello and stared at it.

The surface of the jello was perfectly smooth and yellowish, with no air bubbles.

How did they manage to—

"What is it?" he asked, staring at what was obviously Jello in confusion because this? This was modern world hospital food.

"It is a gelatinous food derived from the collagen of the bones and tissues of animals. This one is from that beast your mother recently hunted from the mountains. I've used honey and osmanthus syrup to sweeten it."

Duchess Laurel Elysium ("Call me Laurel, dear. I hear from Julius that you and he are the best of friends, correct?") explained.

Ah.

What the hell?

Neo was confused, but careful not to show it as he observed the Jello on his spoon like it was his first time seeing it.

Last he checked, the food, Jello, did not exist in this world. Nor was it traditional to feed it to patients who were in recovery.

"Go on, try it. It's very soothing for the stomach," Laurel insisted.

Neo ate the jello obediently, albeit with some confusion.

"Tasty, right?" Laurel asked with a smile.

Neo nodded.

"You should try your Aunt's. Bryn always said she made it better. Isn't that right, Auria?"

Laurel turned to said Aunt, who was seated across the room reading a book.

Saintess Auria, or rather, Aunt Auria, didn't bother to look up from her book as she responded, "Astella makes it best."

Laurel made a face but reluctantly agreed with a grimace.

Aunt Auria closed her and stood up.

"Though I doubt you will trust her to cook you anything from here on, isn't that right, nephew?"

Neo wasn't sure what to say in response. He looked at her in silence.

Aunt Auria showed a small smile and shook her head. "How are you feeling?"

Neo pursed his lips. "Sore. I have been asleep longer than I thought."

Laurel hummed. "The combination of Trileave Clover and Ricin Flower caused several setbacks to your healing. Do you still feel any pain from the surgery?"

"The pain medicine is helping," Neo answered.

Trileave Clover and Ricin Flower.

He was surprised at being outmaneuvered when he heard of what happened. Thankfully, his initial preparations still held through.

Despite being put into a coma, he still managed to attain many valuable gains.

Neo made a note to check in with Royce and the others to see how they were progressing.

"It's like looking at a mirror."

The comment made Neo look up.

"... What?"

Both Laurel and Aunt Auria were staring at him. Whether in wonderment or confusion, he wasn't sure.

Aunt Auria leaned back in her seat and sighed. "Your mother. You look just like Alouysia."

Okay?

"I get that a lot," Neo said.

She snorted. "I imagine."

There was a faraway look in her eyes as she examined him.

Hesitantly, he asked, "... Did you know her?"

Saintess or not, Neo desperately prayed his long-lost Aunt was not in love with his mother.

Mummy knew all sorts of people, and sometimes, she held the affections of clients who just so happened to be related to each other.

Those usually ended horribly. For the clients.

(There was this one time when a pair of twins fell hopelessly in love with Mummy, didn't realize they liked the same person, and started a feud that tore their entire household apart.)

Aunt Auria gave a low chuckle as if she knew what he was thinking.

"Relax, nephew. I did not meet her whilst she was working."

"Oh."

Laurel smiled in amusement. "I'm not sure if you were aware, but your Aunt and I, along with Countess Moores, used to apprentice under a wandering healer during our youth. We met Alouysia during a trip to the Capitol."

Neo was not aware of this, but it was good to know. It explained a lot, actually, why the Duchess Elysium and the Holy Saintess had medical skills beyond that of the best healers in this world—

Hold up.

"A wandering healer?"

Aunt Auria nodded. "They call themself Bryn. They've retired after the last war, and have gone into hiding. Only Laurel is aware of their location."

"Bryn does not wish to be disturbed. They are enjoying their retirement very much," Laurel quipped.

Uh-huh.

Neo made another mental note to re-address this conversation once all of... this was settled and done with.

"So," he started, gaining their attention, "Are the two of you planning to stay neutral during this conflict?"

Both Aunt Auria and Laurel blinked in confusion.

Neo smiled awkwardly. "I don't know if anyone told you yet, but I'm pretty vengeful by nature. Some things need to be repaid tenfold."

They looked at each other, and then back at him.

Before either of them could respond, there was a knock at the door.

"Step-nephew, it is good to see your face."

Ortho entered the room and promptly sat down at his bedside.

"How are you feeling?"

"Vindictive."

"Very good." Ortho put a package on the bedside table. "Your valet sent me your request. Are you well enough to brew?"

Neo went to stand up, but he was quickly held down by Laurel.

"I and Auria will take care of that. What is it?" Laurel asked.

Ortho raised a brow.

"You have any experience with poisons?"

"Give me two hours," Aunt Auria said, meeting Ortho's gaze. "I wouldn't want to disappoint my nephew by showing inferior skills."

Ortho's eyes were strangely cold and chilly. "I heard you've been stuck inside a tower for nearly two decades. I wouldn't want my step-nephew to ingest something that was improperly prepared. Perhaps, I should stick around, after all."

Aunt Auria glared at him. "Are you looking down on me?"

Ortho stared back unflinchingly. "Do with it what you will."

The room felt very cold.

Laurel slowly went over to join Neo.

"Will you be okay?" asked the Duchess.

Neo turned back to his Jello and quietly went back to eating it.

"What's the worst that can happen?"

---

"Your Grace! Young Master Nazareth—"

Gareth and Vespera burst into the room and saw...

The figure on the bed was still.

Too still.

The day Nazareth was poisoned was by far the worst thing Gareth had ever had to live through.

As a young child, he lost his sister to the Wandering Healer. Then, as a teen, he lost her again to the Polska diplomatic exchange. A year after that, she was sent to the Holy City and Gareth needed to pretend she was dead.

He faced war the moment he was out of school and witnessed multitudes of deaths and sacrifices. Comrades fell left and right, and he couldn't do anything to stop it.

When he became a young adult, ascending to the role of Duke, he had to identify his parents' bodies after they were found dead during their travels.

On paper, they disappeared and were never found again. It was always their wish to go quietly. Gareth told no one—not even Vespera, not even Auria—and buried them somewhere nice. He reported that they were simply gone.

Yet, nothing amounted to what he was seeing now as he felt Vespera's long cold fingers support him.

He barely felt her grip around his arm and shoulder.

Instead, he focused on Nazareth's open eyes, dead and unseeing. So cold and unfathomably empty, framed by long dark eyelashes which cast feathery shadows across his cheeks.

His skin was white. His lips were bloodless. His shortened black hair, which had grown longer since he had cut it, was scattered all over the pillow.

Was this some kind of joke the gods were playing on him?

"We don't know what happened! We found him like this..."

The voice of the healer who had called them over faded into background noise as everything seemed to crumble all around him.

"No, no, no," Gareth repeated, shaking his head. "This can't be happening again."

His usual calm was nowhere to be seen as he rushed over to Nazareth's side and took him into his arms.

"Where is Auria?! Someone get Laurel! My son, my son—"

The world gave out beneath him as he released a sound that couldn't possibly be considered human. He felt as though his mind, body, and soul were fused together and ripped apart all at once.

There was so much to do, so much to say.

What was he to do now that his boy was—

"Father, it is alright."

Gareth froze.

"N... Nazareth...?"

His son was wide awake, staring back at him calmly as if he had not stopped breathing and his body wasn't ice cold to the touch.

Gareth gawked at him, feeling numbness and exhaustion in his core.

Nazareth grimaced. "I know it looks bad."

Gareth let out a shaky breath. "You look like you're on death's door, Nazareth." He pushed his son's hair out of his face so he could better see him. "What is going on?"

"It is a potion that allows its drinker to fall into a temporary state of death," Nazareth answered. "It was my idea to use an illusion charm with it."

"An illusion?" Vespera sat down beside him and shrewdly examined Nazareth's current pale and deathly features. "It is... very realistic."

"Charm Master Quill from the Magic Tower sent me a few experimental talismans. I readjusted some of the calculations but it put me in a state of paralysis. Aunt Auria, Uncle Ortho, and Duchess Elysium went to brew a revised version of the potion while waiting for the effects of the talisman to wear off."

No one said a word after that explanation.

Nazareth licked his lips nervously. "I... forgot to inform the healers and servants of what I planned to do. I apologize if I scared anyone."

"... I see," Gareth numbly responded.

"I promise I'm not hurt. The potion stops the heart and lungs, but I assure you, it is only temporary. It has been tested several times in the Magic Tower and Charm Master Quill assured me that readjusting the potion will still be safe and effective. That reminds me, now that I'm awake, I think it's time to proceed with the next steps. I need to prepare a casket and send out news—"

"Enough!" Gareth shouted.

He had not meant to shout. The room went very still.

Nazareth immediately went quiet.

"Father?" he asked, confusion clear in his voice.

Gareth regretted shouting at him.

He regretted raising his voice and making Nazareth flinch.

But he couldn't help himself. He couldn't let this go on any longer. His son cared little for his own well-being, and it broke his heart to see it.

"I beg you," he said quietly, "What must I do to keep you safe?"

"What do you mean?"

Gareth let out a shaky breath. "You just woke up, Nazareth. We've been at your bedside for weeks, praying you would wake. None of us could take it if something happened to you, again."

He choked on the last few words as he gathered his son closer, tucking his head under his chin and holding him closer.

"... I see," Nazareth replied softly, repeating his words back at him.

Gareth closed his eyes.

But then—

"Forgive me, Father, but I must do this."

Gareth felt himself tense. "You will do no such—"

"I promise I will not risk myself. Really. Everything is back under control."

Truly?

Gareth scrutinized his face for any deceptions and found none. "You mean that?"

Nazareth's expression was serious. "Yes. I promise." Then, hesitantly, he peered at Gareth and said, "We have a plan in place for what's to come. Do you... want to know about it?"

Gareth and Vespera had always been hands-off when it came to their children's extracurricular activities.

Aurelion, as the heir, often handled minor investigations and oversaw management issues in the Odum territory.

Guinivere had her knightly training and social circle.

And Nazareth... Nazareth had eyes in the criminal underworld, vast connections obtained from less-than-legal means, and an infinite supply of poisonous ingredients procured from all over the continent.

To be an Odum was to be extraordinary. He never expected his children to be more than they were capable of being; they were perfect the way they were.

Yet, all three of his children strived for brilliance, and Gareth was proud to be their father.

Being a parent in the Odum lineage meant he needed to take a step back. Never forward, always standing in front of that line, occasionally toeing it, but never crossing.

If his children were to one day ask—

"Do you... want to know about it?"

The invitation was extended at that moment, and Gareth accepted it in a heartbeat.

"How can I help?"

How can I help?

His children were so self-reliant and independent. Never once had he asked 'How can I help?'

To say those words was to impose himself onto them. How could they grow and learn if he was always there, interfering in everything and getting in their way?

How dare he intrude and impede them?

So he had watched from his side of the line, never once taking a step forward.

Until now.

The way Nazareth relaxed in his hold made Gareth press him closer.

His son.

This was his son, blood, and heart.

---

Tybalt blearily stared at the mirror, squinting at the person on the other side.

"... You're alive," he said, less enthusiastically than he thought he would.

It was—he checked his pocketwatch—two hours past midnight.

His communication mirror was glowing and woke him up at two hours past midnight.

Not that Tybalt wasn't happy that Naza was alive and well, but it was two hours past midnight.

Did he mention it was two hours past midnight?

"Couldn't you have contacted me in the morning?"

Nazareth blinked. "I will be dead by then, so no."

What?

"What are you—"

"So here's the plan."

Tybalt sighed. "Naza, I feel like this could have been a letter—"

"I'm sending you a package. It will arrive in the morning with an invitation to my wake. You will attend with the item in the package and throw it into my casket during the viewing of the body."

Okay, what the hell?

"Your wake?! No, wait—why are you dying tomorrow?!"

Naza stared at him expressionlessly. "Shout it louder. I don't think Baron Phelan heard you."

Tybalt rolled his eyes. "So what? You're going to pretend the assassination attempt killed you?"

"If everything follows my expectations, then the culprit will show themselves at the wake."

Tybalt opened his mouth, and then closed it again. He paused.

"You believe the culprit is among the prominent families?"

Naza nodded. "You want to take a guess?"

Tybalt smirked. "The answer was obvious. My informants have told me about a coup."

"If it was only that simple. They hadn't meant to kill me."

Tybalt leaned closer to the mirror. "... What do you mean?"

"The culprit knew I wouldn't die. It was meant to be a warning."

Tybalt squinted. "So if you just so happened to die..."

"Of course, we will have to see what happens during the wake."

Tybalt sat back and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"And I thought going to the desert and fighting off Sand Nomads was the worst of it."

"Knowing you, you stayed in the Capitol and sent Finneas and Royce to get the documents."

"Hey, someone needed to monitor everything that was going on."

"I know," Naza said softly with a smile. "Thank you for your help."

Tybalt pursed his lips.

How unfair.

"What's a few favors among friends?"

Neither of them said anything for an awkwardly long stretch of time.

"... I'm sorry you had to see that." There was guilt in Naza's voice as he stared at Tybalt from the other side of the mirror.

Tybalt swallowed. "I'm sorry I had to see it, too."

In truth, he couldn't forget the moment Naza drank that poison tea and started vomiting blood.

It was a horrible day, and then it became a horrible week, and then horrible weeks. Tybalt was plagued by nightmares of that terrible gathering.

Even if he knew everything was going to be fine, he still felt hopeless and utterly useless.

"Do you... want to talk about it?" Naza suddenly asked, his voice filled with concern. "When all of this is over?"

"I'd like that," Tybalt replied quietly. "I'd like that a lot."

---

'The Odum Family would be honored if you would join us at the Odum Manor to pay your respects and say farewell to Nazareth Everett Odum, who has recently passed...'

The invitations were sent out in the early morning, and by noon, there were responses.

Aurelion sat beside his brother on the sofa.

Nazareth stirred spice-orchid syrup into a cup of coffee and offered it to him.

"You can't have any," Aurelion said, eyeing the cup warily.

His brother smiled faintly. "I know. It's for you." He handed him the coffee and leaned back against the sofa before Aurelion could respond.

"Young Master." Rainier came forward with a cup of hot chocolate.

Nazareth hummed and took it, smiling at Rainier. "You worked hard."

"It was no trouble, Young Master."

"Thank you."

The two of them stared at each other.

Aurelion took an awkward sip of his coffee.

Rainier wasn't wearing his blindfold again. The marks across his eyes were clearly shown—yet, his gaze now lacked resentment and cold indifference as they peered at his older brother.

"You have been missed," Rainier said.

Nazareth hummed and drank his hot chocolate. "I'm sure. Has Quill managed to activate the Cloud Mark?"

Rainier's smile turned frosty at the mention of the Charm Master. "He delivers good news. It was successful."

The look of relief that flashed across Nazareth's face was one that Aurelion had never seen before.

He turned his gaze to the window, and he sighed. "That's good."

Rainier bowed his head.

"Why haven't you removed it?" Nazareth suddenly asked.

The servant blinked. "Removed...?"

"You shouldn't have waited."

Rainier didn't respond.

Once again, the two of them stared at each other like they were the only two people in the room.

Aurelion took another awkward sip of his coffee.

"The one who put it on should be the one to remove it," Rainier finally said.

Nazareth gave him an incredulous look. "Are you... telling me to take responsibility?"

"Does the Young Master not wish to—"

"Brother, I am finished. Please make me another one."

Aurelion forcefully shoved his empty cup into Nazareth's hands, cutting in between the conversation between him and Rainier.

He never thought he would dislike Rainier, but with the whole time-traveling past-life thing being thrown into the mix, things were becoming very weird between his brother and his servant.

They needed to set some boundaries.

From what he understood, his brother knew little on the matters of the heart. He never mentioned any romantic relationships in his past life.

Was this the time to explore feelings unknown?

Aurelion wasn't sure what to think about his brother and the subject of... romance.

Even before the revelation of what could have happened in the future, he always imagined Nazareth as an unattached individual with no interest in love.

It wasn't like any of them were engaged.

Arranged marriages fell out of fashion during their grandparents' time due to the Major Kreig War.

Currently, societal expectations were no longer upheld as rigidly, and relations among those of the same sex were generally accepted due to the impact of wartime experiences.

When death was so prevalent, living life to the fullest became the norm.

These shifts led to the current generation of noble families merely encouraging their heirs to seek out a partner to assist in the duties of the household rather than forcing them to wed without input.

Betrothals were now considered a last resort, either to secure an heirship or to gain a resource.

Nazareth blinked, perhaps remembering Aurelion was still in the room, and robotically took his empty cup.

Aurelion was soon presented with another cup of spice-orchid coffee, carefully made by his brother's hands.

He glanced at the bony pale wrists and frowned.

Nazareth had lost a lot of weight when he fell into a coma. His cheeks were slightly sunken and there was very little color on his face.

"You have not told me of your plans," Aurelion reminded him, hoping that would detract his brother from making any more heavy eye contact with Rainier.

Nazareth finished his hot chocolate and set it aside.

"I will feign death to lure out the culprit. You will pretend to grieve at the wake tomorrow."

"And what happens after?" he asked.

Nazareth tilted his head. "After?"

Aurelion nodded. "We catch the culprit and then what?"

His brother didn't answer.

"You have a plan for what happens next, don't you?" Aurelion pressed.

Nazareth let out a small chuckle. He looked at Aurelion, fondness clear in his eyes.

"You might not like it."

Aurelion frowned, confused. "What do you mean?"

Nazareth's gaze returned to the window and he said, "If everything goes as expected, then we will be fine. If not, then we have to prepare."

"... For what?"

Vermillion eyes met sapphire, boring down heavily.

"I'm not sure. Things are starting to change."

"For good, I hope?"

"... Maybe."

Aurelion wanted him to clarify what he meant by that when the door suddenly opened without warning.

Uncle Ortho appeared on the other side with a small corked bottle.

"Step-nephew, your dearest uncle has overseen the brewing of the potion to completion. Are you ready?"

Aunt Auria appeared from behind him, looking at Uncle Ortho in contempt.

"Nephew," she said, "I needed no help with the potion and have adjusted it to your requirements. The effects shall last until you are in close proximity to the antidote. Has it been delivered to your friend?"

"Your brewing is sub-par, Auria. I have never seen such a disaster."

"Just because you crush your Screaming Tansy doesn't make you a better brewer. Mincing the bulbs allows for the juices to incorporate better."

"And yet, it took you an extra fifteen minutes to finish brewing. If you crushed the tansy with a pestle and mortar, perhaps you would have saved time."

"I don't know how Artho and Malark could possibly stand you—"

It was quite clear to see that Aunt Auria and Uncle Ortho didn't get along.

Casimir, Aunt Auria's holy knight, soon walked into the room moments after Aunt Auria and joined them on the sofa.

"They went to school together," he explained. "Absolutely hated each other and would constantly fight, which was weird since she liked Malark perfectly well. She met Artho the other day and the two of them got along just fine. It's only Ortho she can't stand."

"I thought Aunt Auria was part of that diplomatic exchange to the Polska Nation?" Aurelion remembered the mission review he read through before he and Guinivere left for the Holy City.

It mentioned the failed exchange had led to the Lesser Kreig War.

Casimir shook his head. "She was at the Academy for a few years after her apprenticeship with the Wandering Healer. Her last year was reserved for the diplomatic exchange, but if you boys paid attention to history, you would know how poorly that went."

A sad look appeared on Casimir's face as he talked about the past.

Aurelion wondered what happened that year. It seemed like a lot of history to unpack.

There was one question he was super curious about, however, but Nazareth beat him to the punch.

"Are you Aunt Auria's lover?"

There was no shame as he asked this incredibly personal—and maybe controversial considering Casimir was a holy knight and Aunt Auria was the Saintess—question.

It caught Casimir off guard and the man went through a series of expressions, going from surprise to confusion, to bewilderment, and finally settling on "what is wrong with you," which, to be fair, Nazareth had that effect on people.

"... No."

"You took too long to answer. You have feelings for our Aunt," Nazareth said bluntly.

Casimir looked like he'd been sucker-punched.

Nazareth tilted his head. "You said your last name was Wojna?"

"... Yes."

"Are you related to the Lord of Wojna?"

Of the Polska Nation?!

Aurelion carefully concealed his shock and turned to Casimir.

The Holy Knight was unable to hide his surprise, judging by the way his lips parted and closed, trying to make words but unable to do so.

Nazareth smiled in amusement. "I see. I wish you luck in your pursuit."

What in the world...

Aurelion looked between his brother and Casimir.

He was in a coma, so how the hell—

No, Nazareth was Nazareth. Of course, he would have discovered all of this sooner or later.

His brother was like that, after all.

The three of them, plus Rainier, waited quietly for Aunt Auria and Uncle Ortho to finish tearing each other apart.

Once everything was said and done, Nazareth was handed the potion and the casket was brought into the room.

"I will not awaken until tomorrow. Is there anything else you need from me before I go under?"

He was looking at Aurelion when he said this.

Aurelion said no. He was prepared and would follow his brother's instructions.

A hand was placed on his head, and his eyes widened in surprise.

Nazareth smiled at him gently. "Thank you."

Aurelion turned red with embarrassment. "You don't need to—"

"But I do. And I'm sorry you had to see all of that."

Did he mean the poisoning?

He pursed his lips. "I'm not... I don't..." As hard as he tried, he couldn't find the right words to respond to him.

Nazareth gave him another pat on the head.

It was too late to say anything more.

Mother, Father, and Guinivere soon joined them in the room.

"You are ready?" Mother asked, her gaze settling on the potion in Nazareth's hand.

Nazareth climbed into the casket and uncorked the bottle.

No one said a word as they watched him drink the potion.

The effects were slow at first.

Nazareth handed the bottle off to Rainier and laid down on the casket.

He placed his hands on his stomach, closed his eyes, took a deep breath in, and then out, and then in, and out, until finally, he stopped breathing.

Father went over to the casket and carefully checked him over.

"He is dead."

---

Astella was livid.

Alouysia's son—dead?

Absolutely not.

"This is pathetic," she said venomously, glaring at the casket in disgust.

Her sister would be rolling in her grave right now if she knew her spawn died of something as weak as Trileaves and Ricin Flower.

It was meant to be a warning.

A simple warning to show him not to meddle in things beyond his comprehension. He would have awoken with the help of Auria and Laurel, anyway.

But she hadn't meant to kill him.

It wasn't meant to be an attempt on his life.

Astella felt as if she had overestimated the child's capabilities, because this? This was a display of patheticness beyond her comprehension, and she has seen many sorts of pathetic things in her life.

She stormed over to the casket, but her path was blocked by servants.

She pushed them out of the way and reached the platform where the Duke and Duchess stood.

Both their gazes were like ice, but Astella didn't care.

Her attention turned briefly to Auria, and suddenly, she felt doubt.

The plan was to bring Auria back. She had been informed of her escape from the Holy City.

Nazareth should have awoken with the joint efforts of both Auria and Laurel and yet, news of his death was sent out instead.

How could Auria and Laurel not be able to remove the poison?!

"Astella," Auria said, voice even. "How are you?"

Astella glared at her. "How did he die?"

"He?"

She gritted her teeth in frustration. "How did Nazareth die?"

Auria looked at her for a moment, scrutinizing her face.

"I missed you."

"..."

Her former apprentice sister slowly stepped forward until they were standing face-to-face.

"This is not the reunion I had hoped for. I thought you loved Alouysia."

Astella's breath hitched. "You—"

"How could you do this to her son? Your own nephew..."

The tight feeling in her chest loosened along with her fury and she venomously glared at the casket.

"That boy killed my sister, and if not stopped, he will destroy everything!" she spat.

And then immediately regretted it.

Astella hadn't meant to say that out loud. Her voice echoed through the room.

Everything seemed to pause. The air was still, no one moved, and it was too beautiful of a day for a funeral.

The Duke and Duchess remained emotionless, but Auria's brows wrinkled.

Suddenly, there was a creaking noise.

Several gazes turned to the casket, and everyone watched in disbelief as a supposedly dead boy rose from the dead.

"... Alouysia."

The name appeared on Astella's lips before she could stop herself, uttered with a shaky breath.

This child wore her sister's face and was now staring at her like one would a stranger.

Because that was who they were.

Strangers.

She couldn't bear to look at him after Alouysia died, couldn't bear to even face him when he was the one who caused her sister's death. And when Elliot—!

Gods, Elliot.

Astella regretted everything.

If only she had gone back further, perhaps it wouldn't have come to this.

She could have bought Alouysia and convinced her not to have a child with Duke Odum.

She could have saved her before the curse of her bloodline took her.

If only, she could have, what if...

There were no more chances, and she still didn't know if this was the right thing to do.

Alouysia's son climbed out of the casket, and step by step, he drew closer.

Astella felt her muscles tense with caution.

"You and Mummy used to sing that song," the child said, voice low and quiet. "The one about the yellow flowers in the desert. That was you, wasn't it?"

"Odille's Song," Astella realized. "You remember."

"I remember."

It was a melody from long ago, one which she shared with her beloved sister. Gods, she had not sung that song in years. Not since...

Astella straightened her spine and met Alouysia's eyes, swallowing back the bile and grief.

There was no time for that. There was not enough time for any of that.

She knew she had lost, and her plans were now completely wasted.

Had he finally figured it out?

Astella lowered her head, giving him the faintest bow she could muster.

"... You win."

The victorious grin on Nazareth's face shouldn't have made her eyes well with tears, but it did.

"Come, let us speak," he said, before stepping off the platform.

For someone who was just dead a moment ago, he moved with surprising grace and confidence.

Astella followed him out, pretending not to notice Auria and Laurel trailing after them.

Before she left, she could hear the Duke's voice resonating through the hall.

"The wake is over. Everyone, thank you for coming today to pay your respects. As you can see, the gods have answered our prayers and miraculously revived our son..."

---

Step 53. When in doubt, pretend to die.

---

The author has something to say:

Thank you, Brie N' Crackers and KaiK for the loveliest fanarts. As always, they are gorgeous.

Do you guys remember the story Alouysia told Neo during his coma extravaganza? You should look up the meaning of her and Astella's name.

Just to clarify, Marinick is not Professor Rickman's daughter. She is his niece. He wouldn't be working at the Academy if he was Viscount Rickman.