Reborn As Papa Silva

Chapter 78: Their Story (28): The Unlove

Neither Sebastian nor Acier is perfect. In fact, they are deeply flawed. Their love for one another is toxic and possessive. Sometimes, they do things so frustratingly stupid that it makes you want to scream—or, in my case, makes me frustrated to write. This is one of those times.

This is a messed-up Chapter that might ruin your impression of either character.

Not quite R18 worthy, but still pretty fucked-up.

However, some themes in this Chapter may be uncomfortable to read. Proceed at your own discretion. You've been warned.

—

May 3, 1603

Sebastian sat at Acier's bedside, her back propped against the headboard, her hand resting in her lap, his hand on top of hers. His gaze lingered on her, undisguised concern etched across his face.

Acier forced a smile. "Like I said, Sebby, I'm fine. Mere words won't get to me." She flexed her left arm in a show of strength. "I'm Acier Silva. I can handle it."

But her bravado did nothing to ease him. Sebastian's expression remained unchanged, though he fought to keep his emotions in check.

Fake smiles always unsettled him. Acier's, in particular, stirred something worse—a nausea that made his stomach churn. He wanted to wretch at the sight of her feigned strength.

To him her smile was the most beautiful thing in the world, so when she faked it, he felt something holy and pure was being desecrated and corrupted.

They just had this talk yesterday for her not to fake it with him, he wanted to repeat it, but felt like those weren't the words she needed to hear right now.

So, he said nothing. Instead, he tightened his hold on her hand. Even as he felt the slight tremor in her fingers and the unsteadiness in her arm, he stayed silent.

—

May 4, 1603

Acier's smile was brighter today, a little more genuine. It wasn't perfect, but it was progress. That much was clear, all because Sebastian was trying to demonstrate his love for her with his actions not his words. He wanted to prove himself as her partner.

When she started her day with light stretches, Sebastian joined her.

He stayed by her side for walks, acted as her exercise partner for weightlifting, mimicked her strange version of yoga, and even joined in for light aerobics.

When she took a dip in her private bathing house, he followed, lathering her figuring, and helping her rinse, despite his palpable embarrassment.

As she swam a few laps in the small pool, he joined.

He matched her in every way, even adjusting his diet to mirror her new one—free of desserts, candies, and pastries.

She told him to leave for Kikka, reminding him of the patients waiting for his care. But he refused.

That only made her smile widen.

He stayed with her through it all. When she vomited in their garderobe and privy, he held her steady. When her duties as heiress demanded attention, he helped her sift through the paperwork. Together, they filed mission reports for her magic knight responsibilities.

Today was better than yesterday. And yesterday was better than the day before.

Though the circumstances that had forced them into this strange cohabitation were far from ideal, Acier found herself growing fond of this new normal.

She found herself looking forward to seeing where it would lead.

—

May 5, 1603

Inside the Silva family's grand ballroom, a small band orchestrated a gentle melody. Count Vardy stood before the grand staircase, rhythmically tapping his cane against the floor in sync with the ¾ time signature.

Before him, Sebastian and Acier stood side by side, their hands intertwined—his right hand holding her left—as they rehearsed the pavane.

Their toes angled outward in a triangular stance. Together, they stepped forward with their right feet, bringing their left feet in line, then paused briefly. They repeated the sequence, two measured steps at a time, pausing after each pair.

The pattern shifted as they moved more fluidly—two sets of one-two steps with pauses, followed by four uninterrupted steps. They mirrored the same pattern in reverse, walking backward in sync. Afterward, they turned and repeated the steps in the opposite direction.

During every pause, they bent their knees at a precise 90-degree angle before continuing.

Just as they prepared to start again, Count Vardy raised his hand. The music halted immediately.

Sebastian and Acier froze mid-step, their hands still linked, and turned to face him. Sebastian wore a look of mild confusion, while Acier's expression was far more complicated—a mix of guilt and shame.

The Count stepped forward, his sharp gaze focused on Acier. He calmly pointed his cane toward her and arched an eyebrow.

"Sometimes, you're lagging and out of sync with Sebastian," he remarked. "Is something wrong?"

Sebastian turned to her, his eyes tinged with worry. Acier grimaced, lightly pressing a hand to her stomach.

"I'm still getting used to this... bloating and fuzzy feeling," she admitted, her voice quieter than usual. "It comes and goes at the most unexpected times. Apologies, teacher." She bowed her head politely.

Count Vardy nodded with indifference. "No worries. You're only flawed to me—no one else will notice a thing."

If he had paid closer attention, perhaps he would have noticed the flicker of frustration and shame that deepened on Acier's face. But instead, he continued.

"We still have a few days until your engagement ceremony. No need to rush. We'll end the session here for today. Make sure you get plenty of rest—"

"No need."

Acier's voice cut through his instructions, startling both the Count and Sebastian. Her smile was forced, her tone uncharacteristically sharp. "It's just a little discomfort. If I don't confront it and let it control me every time it shows up, it might ruin my performance."

Count Vardy paused, giving her a placating nod. "I understand, Acier. But take it from someone who's been through this before—my wife had the same issues when she was pregnant. She had to stop all strenuous activity for a month. You've only been pregnant for a week; there's no need to push yourself so hard."

"Respectfully, teacher," Acier replied, her voice firm, "Lady Vardy wasn't expected to perform a dance in front of the entire aristocracy while pregnant. I can't afford to waste time."

The Count frowned slightly, caught between his better judgment and her unwillingness to step down.

Acier hated seeing that look of conflict on his face, but she held her ground, meeting his gaze with unwavering determination.

I need to be perfect for Sebby! she thought fiercely. Perfect, so no one can find any faults with him—or look at him like that again.

Count Vardy, unaware of her internal resolve, opened his mouth to insist further, but Sebastian spoke first.

"Teacher is right, Acier. Just take a break."

Acier stiffened, slowly turning her head to meet his ocean-blue eyes.

Sebastian placed both hands gently on her shoulders, his gaze serious yet kind. "Your health is more important than anything. If the best dancer in the kingdom says we're good enough, then we are. And even if he didn't—who cares? This is just a formality. The deed is already done. It's just a dance—"

"I said I'm fine!"

Acier's sharp voice echoed through the ballroom, louder and more forceful than she intended.

The startled expressions around her—the Count's, the band's, and most of all, Sebastian's—made her stomach twist with self-loathing.

Her pupils widened in horror as she turned back to Sebastian, her voice trembling. "S-Sebby, I... I didn't mean to— I'm sorry—"

"It's alright."

Sebastian cut her off softly, his genuine, unbothered smile breaking through her spiraling thoughts.

That smile only made her guilt deepen.

He took her hand again, his touch light but steady, and turned to the Count. "Sorry, teacher. Could we finish the session, please?"

Count Vardy blinked, then nodded. "Of course."

He returned to his position, signaling the band to resume the melody.

As the music played once more, Sebastian and Acier fell back into the rhythm of their rehearsal. Acier stole a few glances at him, biting her lip as she took in his calm, focused demeanor.

Sebby's too good for me, she thought, her heart aching with self-deprecating thoughts that both could do very well without.

—

May 6, 1603

Acier lay stomach-down on their bed, her top discarded, as Sebastian knelt over her, his hands working deftly across her back and shoulders. His touch was firm yet gentle, each motion easing the tension from her muscles.

Her face buried in a pillow, Acier's cheeks flushed as a soft, stammered moan escaped her lips.

"S-Sebby, y-you don't have to do this..."

Sebastian smiled as his fingers pressed into her acupoints, his magic reinforcing the massage.

"You seem tense. This should help you unwind and relax."

Before she could protest further, he added in a teasing tone, "Besides, you seem to be enjoying it."

Acier's neck turned an even deeper shade of red. "I-I didn't say I'm not... It's just..."

"Just what?" he asked gently, not pausing his motions.

"It's just... you don't have to do all this for me. We have servants for these kinds of things!"

Sebastian's smile widened. "True, but I want to. I want to be the one to spoil you, to look after you—for the woman I love."

Acier's blush deepened as she bit her lip, a familiar pang of frustration twisting in her chest. He's too good for me, she thought bitterly.

—

May 7, 1603

Three pieces of news swept across the kingdom, drawing the attention of the aristocracy away from House Silva, and more specifically, from Acier and Sebastian.

First, at Lux's 21st birthday celebration, Augustus formally granted him the title of Lord Kira.

Second, Lux announced a surprise engagement to a noblewoman—Elara, heiress of House Legisti.

And lastly, a rumor circulated that Elara, now Lady Kira, was already pregnant with Lux's child.

Lux neither confirmed nor denied the gossip, which only fueled the scandal. Yet, unlike Acier and Sebastian, neither Lux nor Elara faced criticism for their pre-wedlock situation.

—

May 8, 1603

Sebastian prepared to leave for Kikka to tend to his patients one last time before their engagement ceremony.

"I'm leaving, Acier. Do you need anything?" he asked softly, kneeling beside her as she sat on the edge of their bed. n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

She gave him a warm smile and shook her head. "Just you coming back to me safe and sound, Sebby."

His face lit up with a beaming smile. He leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips before heading out.

Throughout the day, Acier found herself gazing toward Kikka, longing for his return. Whether she stood by her window, on the terrace, the balcony, or in the private garden, her thoughts stayed with him.

Though she felt a small pang of disappointment at not being allowed to accompany him, she accepted it, her soft smile unwavering as she idly played with the rings on her left hand.

None of the snide remarks or whispers she overheard or earned next door from Castle Kita, from House Kira's servants and retainers reached her heart. Her bright smile remained firmly in place.

As sunset neared, Acier waited at Castle Clover's gates, her anticipation growing with every passing moment. But her smile faltered when a passing Kira descendant threw a snide remark her way, clearly intended for her ears.

"Waiting for your doggy?"

Before she could react, the Kira noble strolled away, leaving her frozen in place.

Moments later, Sebastian came into view, jogging toward her with a wave and his rare cheerful smile reserved only for her.

"Waiting for me—" His words stopped short as his eyes fell on her troubled expression. His gaze shifted to the retreating Kira noble, who glanced back over his shoulder with a smug look before disappearing into the castle.

"Did that guy say something to you?" Sebastian asked, a growl edging into his tone.

Acier shook her head quickly. "No, no, not at all!"

Sebastian frowned, unconvinced. "You don't have to lie..."

"I'm not lying." She shook her head again, her voice firmer. "He didn't insult me..." Not me, she added inwardly with a hiss.

Sebastian hesitated, his brows furrowed, before shrugging. "Alright, if you say so."

Just as Acier let out a quiet sigh of relief, she yelped as Sebastian suddenly swept her off her feet, cradling her in his arms.

"S-Sebby?!" Acier flushed furiously, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck.

Sebastian looked down at her, his broad smile making her heart race. "Pregnant women shouldn't push themselves too much," he said lightly, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Her blush deepened as he carried her toward Castle Silva.

As they moved, Acier leaned her head against his chest, hiding her face from view. Her rosy cheeks faded into a dark frown, her thoughts growing heavier by the moment—an expression Sebastian never noticed.

—

May 9, 1603

Sebastian wore a silver suit adorned with intricate floral and eagle patterns, while Acier donned a matching dress, her elegance understated but undeniable.

As they descended the grand staircase to the ballroom, arms linked, their expressions mirrored one another's grimace.

Sebastian's fury simmered as he caught the countless dirty looks directed at Acier. No words were spoken, yet he could practically hear the venomous thoughts buzzing in their minds:

Whore. Slut. Harlot. Trollop. Witch. Strumpet. Jade. Hussy. Wench.

Acier had grown accustomed to such slander and no longer let it burrow too deeply. But as her gaze swept over the crowd, her chest tightened when she noticed some of the disdainful glances shift to Sebastian. The pit in her stomach deepened, twisting in silent anger.

—

Acier bit her lip harder as the judging stares aimed at Sebastian increased, particularly after whispers spread that he had not provided a dowry.

—

As they stepped onto the ballroom floor to perform the pavane, their movements were flawless—graceful, poised, synchronized. Yet the forced smiles they wore began to crack under the amplifying and unbridled prickling, nasty glances directed at one other from the crowd.

When the dance ended, the applause they received was restrained and polite, a formality more than genuine admiration. Despite their perfection, the air was heavy and desolate with unvoiced disdain. They told themselves they didn't care.

The rest of the ceremony became a blurred haze for both of them, as they moved through the motions of tradition. They exchanged vows, declaring one another as partners and promising to conduct themselves with honor and loyalty. But even these noble words were met with mocking sneers and barely concealed jeers.

Neither of them had the heart for a speech. They chose instead to skip straight to the exchange of rings.

Sebastian and Acier held one another's gimmel rings: for him a dual-hooped gold band, for her an exquisite silver ring crowned with an ornate diamond. Though undeniably beautiful and expensive, the rings felt hollow in their hands.

Compared to the brass friendship rings they had once exchanged at 14, or the promise ring Sebastian had lovingly given Acier a month before they turned 15, these ceremonial bands felt like lifeless ornaments. Trash, even.

Their gazes lingered on each other's bare fingers, where the faint shadows of their cherished old rings seemed to remain, etched into their memories. The absence was a fresh wound.

Forcing a smile, Sebastian gently slid the diamond ring onto Acier's left hand, and she followed suit, slipping the gold band onto his.

They clasped hands, bowing and curtsying in unison. But as they stood before the crowd, each suppressed their own anguished thoughts.

Why aren't more of you sneering at me?! Sebastian screamed inwardly. Why is Acier bearing the brunt of your hate?! I'm the bastard. I'm the nobody. I'm the one taking advantage of her! Insult me!

Why are you looking at Sebby like that?! Acier raged silently. He's the victim here. This is my fault. I brought this on him. Leave him alone, you pieces of shit!

—

That night, Acier and Sebastian lay side by side in silence.

The joy they should have felt—the thrill of officially becoming betrothed—was dulled, almost extinguished.

They tried to reach out for one another but it was useless. No amount of gentle kisses, playful teasing, nor fingers threading through the other's hair affected their frowns. The gestures that once sent fireworks through their hearts now felt like flickering embers, snuffed out as soon as they appeared, offering little solace and relief.

They didn't dare to continue those acts of romance, afraid that meek flame would be put out for good under their desperation.

—

May 10, 1603

"Young Master, are you certain about this?" Alfred's hands trembled as he clutched the slip of paper Sebastian had handed him. His wide eyes searched for any hesitation in the young man's expression.

Sebastian nodded stiffly, his voice soft but firm. "Please, do it as soon as possible. And don't inform the Master or Madame."

Alfred stiffened further, biting his lip. "But, Young Master, this is... a bit extreme—"

"Pennyworth." Sebastian's voice cut through Alfred's protest with a chill that made the butler flinch. "Let's not pretend. I love Acier more than anything, and I know your loyalty to her outweighs anything you feel for me. Just get on with it. Please."

Alfred's fingers tightened around the paper. After a long moment, he nodded. "Understood... but this won't be able to be kept hidden from the Young Lady for very long."

"I'll handle the fallout," Sebastian said with a nonchalant grin. "Acier always listens to me in the end."

Alfred bit his lip harder, suppressing the thought that screamed in his mind: Young Master, I think you'll be wrong this time. He turned and walked away.

—

May 11, 1603

Acier wandered through the estate with wide eyes and a panicked expression, her chest tightening with every hushed whisper she overheard. The kingdom was ablaze—not with literal flames but with furious rumors.

Rumors that her betrothed, Sebastian, had forced himself upon her. That he had made her sire his child against her will. That he had manipulated her, deceived her, and shamelessly let her take the brunt of the blame.

The gossip painted a picture of a man who could no longer restrain his ambition to be inducted into Castle Silva. A man who, driven by greed, had conspired to rob Acier of her innocence and coerce her into bearing his seed.

Before this, there had already been whispers about Sebastian and Acier. People had suspected impropriety but assumed their intimacy was consensual given how bold they acted together at Lux's birthdays and other events. Now, that fragile assumption had shattered.

The aristocracy demanded Sebastian's execution. Calls for his hanging and banishment spread like wildfire. And the same people who had once sneered at Acier as a harlot suddenly leapt to her defense.

Men who had defamed her as a lowly prostitute now pledged to protect her honor from the "lowlife" Sebastian. They vowed to restore House Silva's reputation—if only they were allowed to step into her life.

Even the Silva servants, those who had been loyal to Acier, were not immune to the rumors. Some whispered hateful words about Sebastian, their sense of betrayal evident. Acier silenced them whenever she caught them speaking ill of him, but the dark looks in their eyes lingered.

Worse still were the pitying glances directed at her. They cut deeper than any insult.

—

Nathaniel Silva slammed his desk with a resounding crack, his finger jabbing the air as he pointed at Sebastian.

"Are you out of your damn mind?! What have you done?!"

Sebastian met his father-in-law's furious gaze, his expression carefully blank. Any guilt he felt was quickly suppressed. "It's better this way—"

"What's better?!" Nathaniel roared, his mana spiking in his rage. The pressure made it hard for Sebastian to breathe, and he coughed hoarsely. "You stupid boy. This will bring neither of you any joy. How could you do something so reckless behind my back?!"

Sebastian winced, opening his mouth to respond, but Nathaniel wasn't finished. His furious gaze snapped to Alfred.

"And you!" he bellowed, pointing an accusatory finger at the butler. "How could you go along with something so absurd without informing me?!"

Alfred bowed deeply, his posture stiff but unwavering. "I was merely following the Young Master's orders. I will accept any punishment you see fit, my lord."

Nathaniel's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I should fire you for this," he spat.

Alfred trembled, his teeth gritted. "If that is your will, my lord—"

"Just get out. Go to your room, Pennyworth!" Nathaniel waved a dismissive hand toward the door. "I'll decide what to do with you later."

Alfred bowed again, his movements precise despite his trembling hands. "Yes, my lord." With one last glance and respectful bow to Sebastian, he left the room, closing the door behind him quietly.

Nathaniel turned his attention back to Sebastian, his expression dark and foreboding.

Sebastian hesitated, then spoke. "Sir, I forced Alfred to go along with this—"

"Don't you dare defend him," Nathaniel snapped, running a frustrated hand through his hair. His anger was still palpable, though the edges were softening into exhaustion.

Pointing a finger at Sebastian, Nathaniel barked his next orders. "You are not to leave the Silva compound for a month. I'll handle the mess you've made. You're not to set foot in Kikka for at least another month after this blows over."

Sebastian opened his mouth as though to argue, but the cold look Nathaniel shot him silenced him.

"I'll send proper healers—ones with actual heads on their shoulders—to manage your stall and tend to your patients," Nathaniel continued, his tone sharp and unyielding.

Sebastian pressed his lips together, nodding stiffly.

Nathaniel gestured toward the door. "Now, go to your room. You're grounded for a week."

Bowing, Sebastian responded, "Yes, sir." He turned and left the study, closing the door behind him with careful precision.

As the silence settled, Nathaniel reclined in his chair, propping his legs up on the desk. He covered his face with his hands, letting out a tired sigh.

"Stupid boy... Stupid boy..." he muttered, his voice heavy with frustration and something deeper. "You can take hate from people who mean nothing to you, but can you bear it when it comes from the person you love most?"

—

Sebastian walked through the halls of the Silva estate with a carefully crafted indifference, though he couldn't ignore the mixed stares he was receiving from the servants.

Some gazed at him with renewed admiration, having pieced together what he'd actually done. Others shot him looks of disgust and betrayal, clearly taken in by the rumors he'd deliberately spread.

The conflicting reactions left him with equally conflicting feelings. On one hand, he felt the sting of loss—the same people who once looked at him with adoration now viewed him with hatred. On the other hand, he was relieved. If even they believe it, no one will think to doubt Acier.

He pushed down the flicker of a smile. Mission accomplished.

But the small flicker of triumph didn't last. As he opened the door to his bedroom, his chest tightened at the sight before him: Acier, perched on the edge of their bed, waiting for him with a dark, unreadable expression.

The door clicked shut softly behind him as he stepped forward. He lowered himself onto one knee in front of her.

"What have you done, Sebastian?" Her voice was flat, emotionless.

No "Sebby." The absence of the nickname stung more than he thought it would. Forcing a thin smile, he met her eyes. "I think you already know, or you wouldn't have asked."

Her hands balled into fists on her lap. "Why?"

Sebastian's forced grin softened into something more genuine. He reached out, resting a hand gently on her knee. "I'm used to being hated. You're not. I can't offer you much, but I can take this burden for you. I've never cared about my reputation anyway."

He shrugged slightly. "Let them direct all their anger and disdain at me. It'll last, what, a month? Then we'll be married, and they'll have to stop. I'll be the official young master. No one will dare cross me after that. So don't worry—"

Twack.

The sound of her slap echoed in the room, sharp and unforgiving. His head snapped to the side, his cheek stinging.

For a moment, he simply froze. Acier... hit me? He turned back slowly and disbelieving, clutching his burning cheek, only to be met with something far worse than anger: tears.

They streamed freely down her face, carrying hurt so raw it twisted his insides.

Why are you crying? he thought, panicked. I did this for you. Why are you crying?

He reached out hesitantly. "A-Acier—"

Twack.

She slapped his hands away, her voice rising in a rare scream. "I never asked you to do this, you idiot!"

He flinched, his breath catching. Her words cut deeper than the slap. He forced another smile, though it trembled at the edges. "But... didn't you say love is toxic and relentlessly giving? This is what I want to give you—"

Twack.

Her backhand caught him on the other cheek, snapping his head to the opposite side. His face throbbed as he clutched both sides, staring at her in horror.

Acier's expression was cold now, her arm raised, pointing behind him.

"Get out," she said, her voice quiet but firm.

He blinked, his ears ringing. "W-what?"

"I said get out."

"B-but... this is our room—"

"This is my room." Her words cut like a blade. "I don't want you here anymore. So leave."

Sebastian clenched his jaw. "And what if I don't?"

Her gaze hardened, a look of pure disgust crossing her features. "Then I'll throw you out myself."

That expression—he'd seen it countless times, directed at him by strangers, enemies, even acquaintances. But never by her.

It broke something in him.

His eyes dulled as he rose to his feet. Without another word, he turned and walked to the door, his shoulders slumped. The soft click of the latch echoed after he closed it behind him.

Acier flopped back onto the bed as soon as he left, dragging trembling hands over her tear-streaked face.

"How could he do something so stupid... Who does he think he is..."

Her voice cracked as she remembered his words from long ago—words spoken on the night he had climbed through her window to fix what was broken between them.

"From now on, I live for you and only you, because you are what's most important to me."

She curled into herself, her sobs muffled against her arms. "Idiot... wasn't it clear that the feeling was mutual? What part of this is supposed to make me happy?"

—

Outside her door, Sebastian leaned against the wall, his hand covering his face. His chest heaved as despair gripped him.

Straightening up quickly, he noticed Hilda and Jeeves standing nearby, their expressions heavy with concern.

Forcing a shaky smile, he nodded. "Can you prep me a room?"

The maid and butler exchanged grim looks before Jeeves stepped forward with a polite bow. "Of course, Young Master. Please follow me."

Sebastian murmured a quiet thanks as he trailed after the young butler.

Hilda remained behind, her worried gaze fixed on Acier's closed door.

May 15, 1603

Sebastian glanced at Acier's untouched plate, his unease growing as the silence at the table stretched on. Gently, he gestured toward it. "You need to eat more."

Acier didn't respond. She didn't even look at him. The silence, once awkward, now twisted into something suffocating.

Across the table, Amara and Aurelia exchanged worried glances, their concern evident. At the head of the table, Nathaniel remained stoic, his expression cold and unreadable.

Sebastian bit his lip and forced a faint smile. Reaching for her fork, he attempted, "Here, I'll help—"

Twack.

Her hand shot out, slapping his away. The sharp sound reverberated through the dining room, freezing him in place. The air, already tense, grew heavier.

Before he could recover, Acier finally turned to him, her gaze filled with disdain. The look alone was enough to make his chest tighten.

"If you want me to eat, then leave," she said sharply. "I'm not comfortable sharing a table with you."

Sebastian's eyes widened. "Acier—"

"You heard me." Her voice was ice, her words mocking and so unlike her. "Is that so hard to believe? And spare me the casual tone. This is a forced marriage, nothing more. Or did you forget, beast?"

Sebastian flinched as her next words landed with venom.

"The same beast who forced himself on me and got me pregnant against my will."

Her tone was cruel, biting, and unrelenting. The life drained from Sebastian's eyes as her words echoed in his mind.

Amara set her cutlery down with a clatter, her expression hardening. "Acier, how could you say such a thing—"

"Be quiet." Acier's sneer silenced her immediately. "You're the last person here who has the right to lecture anyone."

Amara's shoulders slumped, shame overtaking her.

Aurelia bit her lip, her voice trembling as she tried to interject. "S-Sister... B-Brother was just trying—"

"You too, Aurelia. Keep your mouth shut."

Aurelia's hands trembled as she looked down, bowing her head in defeat.

Nathaniel's patience snapped. His hand gripped the edge of the table, his cold voice seemed to possess a burning fury waiting to erupt. "Acier, I'm giving you ten seconds to—"

"Sir, there's no need."

All heads turned to Sebastian, who stood abruptly. His forced smile did nothing to hide the lifeless look in his eyes. Bowing stiffly, he murmured, "I'm already full. I'll be going to my room."

Without waiting for permission, he straightened and left the room quickly, the twin doors closing softly behind him.

I'm just an outsider here... a stranger. I shouldn't ruin her bond with her real family.

As soon as he was gone, Acier calmly began eating as if nothing had happened.

Nathaniel shot her a pointed look before rising from his seat and leaving without a word. Acier didn't so much as glance at him.

Amara and Aurelia remained silent, staring down at their plates, as Acier continued her meal in indifferent silence.

—

May 19, 1603

The calls for Sebastian's execution were finally fading, but the gap between him and Acier showed no signs of closing.

She refused to entertain any visits from him. If he forced himself into her presence, she would stop eating, exercising, or even caring for her health.

If she caught so much as a glimpse of him, rumors would spread that the Princess had returned to the reclusive withdrawal she'd fallen into three years ago.

Despite everything, Sebastian kept his distance. This time, he didn't chase her. He didn't dare to, despite his beloved light leaving him again.

He avoided the Silva family meals entirely, choosing to remain in his room when he knew she was out. He confined himself to his wing of the estate, ensuring their paths never crossed.

The chasm between them grew wider with each passing day.

No amount of pleading, apologizing, or begging on Sebastian's part seemed to move her.

To anyone who looked, it seemed as though Acier had made up her mind. She was done with him.

—

May 23, 1603

Nicklaus Silva turned his weary gaze to his bedside, where Sebastian sat, wearing an expression almost as despairing as his own. A bitter sneer curled the Old Duke's lips.

"This," he said mockingly, "was the great love you brought her. You and Nathaniel really proved me wrong."

Sebastian bit his lip, lowering his head. He didn't dare retort as Nicklaus began coughing violently, each convulsion forcing up more blood.

When the fit passed, Nicklaus wiped his mouth with a rag, his expression one of resigned exhaustion. He fixed Sebastian with a glare—not heated, but hollow, like a man simply waiting for his end.

"Speak, boy. Why are you here?"

Sebastian stood, bowing stiffly. "Please... tell me how to make it up to her."

Nicklaus snorted incredulously. "You're asking me—the man she hates most—for advice on how to soothe her? Have you lost your last marbles?"

Sebastian clenched his fists, but forced himself to stay composed. "You tormented her for fourteen years, yet somehow managed to keep her close. You've ruined her life in so many ways, and yet... she still loves you, deep down. You obsessed over her to the point of madness, and so you might very well be the one person who knows her best. Please, give me advice... Grandfather."

The form of address tasted like ash on his tongue. Even as he said it, he felt like he was betraying Aurora all over again. Calling the person who was greatly responsible for her stillbirth as such. But he swallowed the revulsion. Acier meant more to him than anything, even his unborn sister, who had never been given a chance to live.

Even if this is twisted, even if it's wrong... I'll make a deal with the devil himself if it means getting her back.

Nicklaus studied Sebastian with a strange calmness, then sighed heavily. "I don't know..." he murmured. "I don't know a damn thing about your Acier... or even my Acyer. I don't understand anyone."

He leaned back, his voice growing softer. "Before you came along, I was one of the brightest lights in her life. Even when I forced my whims on her, she would eventually relent. She couldn't afford to lose me."

Nicklaus paused, his gaze distant. "And then you came. You burned brighter in her eyes than anyone ever had. If I, Amara, Aurelia, and Nathaniel were flickering candle lights to her, then you were a star. You blinded her to everything else. There was you... and only you."

His lips curled into a faint, bitter smile. "And then you went and did something so incomprehensibly stupid that it even impressed me. I doubt I could've managed to screw up the way you did. Congratulations—someone out there is more obsessed with her than I am."

Nicklaus chuckled to himself, a dry, mirthless sound.

Sebastian didn't share his amusement, and Nicklaus didn't seem to care. The Old Duke's voice turned cold. "You stole that star from her. Now there's nothing but darkness. Even I, even the others—her candles, her family—we've vanished in her eyes. We're invisible."

His words slowed, heavy with fatigue. "The only one... who can give her back that light... that life... is you. And only you. I'm sorry, boy, but I can't help you here. Compared to you, whatever love she has for the rest of us might as well not exist."

"This is something only you can fix."

Sebastian gritted his teeth and gave a shallow bow. "Thanks." His tone was flat, the word hollow.

He rounded the bed and strode to the door. As his hand reached for the handle, he paused, speaking without turning back.

"How long do you have left?"

Nicklaus answered without hesitation, his tone indifferent. "I'll be dead well before that child is born... if they're born at all."

Sebastian's hand tightened on the doorframe. He said nothing more, stepping out and closing the door quietly behind him.

—

May 27, 1603

I'll be dead well before that child is born... if they're still born.

Those words haunted Sebastian as he crouched on his balcony, gripping the railings tightly. Despair weighed on his chest, suffocating him.

In his mind, he saw it again—the memory of nearly five years ago. The door to his parents' room creaked open, revealing his father's lifeless body hanging from the ceiling. Below him, his mother lay still on the bed, eyes colourless and some strange liquid seeped from her mouth, her rounded belly unmoving.

Sebastian blinked, and in his mother's place, he saw Acier.

His chest constricted as panic rose like a wave, threatening to drown him. His breath came shallow, cold sweat trickled down his temple, and yesterday's lunch churned uneasily in his stomach. He wanted to scream, to cry, to run to Acier and beg her forgiveness—but fear held him back. What if just seeing him was the final straw? What if he pushed her too far and stole her future... and their child's?

A broken whimper escaped his lips. Tears pricked his eyes, teetering on the edge, until a warm, firm hand rested gently on his head.

Sebastian froze, stiffening under the unexpected touch. Slowly, he looked up to see Nathaniel, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, standing beside him, his gaze gentle yet calm.

"It's fine to cry," Nathaniel said, his voice low and reassuring, as he ruffled Sebastian's hair.

Suddenly, the dam holding back Sebastian's emotions shattered. He collapsed to his knees, tears falling freely, and sobbed harder than he had since the day Jack and Jonas passed away. He clung to Nathaniel's leg, desperate and trembling.

"Please, Father..." Sebastian choked out between cries. "Please fix this... please do something... I'm sorry... help me... help her... help us... I'm sorry!"

Nathaniel didn't flinch or pull away, even as Sebastian buried his face in his leg, using his pants as a makeshift handkerchief. Instead, he continued to gently ruffle Sebastian's hair, his voice steady.

"Son..." Nathaniel began softly.

Sebastian looked up, a flicker of hope in his tear-streaked face. But that hope died as soon as he met Nathaniel's red-rimmed eyes.

"I've tried," Nathaniel said quietly. "Nothing I do works."

Sebastian's mouth quivered as Nathaniel continued. "This is something only you can fix. You need to talk to her—convince her to snap out of it."

"I-I've tried," Sebastian stammered, his voice barely audible.

Nathaniel helped him to his feet, patting his back firmly. "Try harder. Leave nothing unsaid. Get everything you're feeling off your chest. She needs to hear it."

"I can't..." Sebastian sobbed. "W-what if... what if it makes things worse? What if she... and our child... what if t-they..."

Nathaniel's voice dropped to a whisper. "True. It might push her to new extremes. It might end everything. But if you do nothing, nothing will get better. She'll keep slipping away. Pregnancy is as much a mental battle as it is a physical one. If you want your child to survive... if you want her to make it out alive... you can't let this continue."

"I-I can't do it," Sebastian whispered, shaking his head. "I-I can't be the reason—the one responsible for their deaths... I-I just can't. She's strong... she's j-just angry... she'll be fine—she'll be just fine—"

"If you really believe that," Nathaniel interrupted softly, "why are you still crying?"

Sebastian froze, his breath hitching. He opened his mouth, but no words came. The tears spilled over once more.

Nathaniel sighed, his hand dropping from Sebastian's shoulder. Without another word, he turned and walked away, his footsteps fading into silence as he left the room.

Alone again, Sebastian dragged himself to his bed. He collapsed onto the messy covers, burying his face in the tangled pillows and blankets.

In the quiet, he heard her voice from that fateful day—the day she declared her intent to go to war.

I'm doing all of this so you can stop crying. So you can smile again. Because that's what matters most to me.

His shoulders shook as he wept into the pillow. "Liar," he whispered.

—

May 31, 1603

Acier lay on her bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. Amber sat by her bedside, her face twisted into a heavy frown.

"What is it?" Acier asked, her voice laced with near boredom.

Amber pinched the bridge of her nose, disgust flickering in her eyes. Her expression struck a nerve, nearly breaking Acier's indifferent façade.

"You're so ugly right now, Acier, you know that?"

Acier nodded, her face blank.

Amber bit her lip and hissed, "You're hurting him, Acier. Do you even understand that? You're breaking him. Making him cry, making him weep. I heard from Aurelia and Florian—he looks like a walking corpse."

Acier's eyes stung, but she forced an ugly smile. "Good. I'll keep it up. Eventually, he'll get sick of me. He'll finally leave."

Amber's pupils dilated in shock as Acier continued, her tone taking on a manic edge. "I've always forced him to go along with my whims. I forced my friendship on him despite the danger of my grandfather. I rekindled that friendship knowing the risks from the aristocracy—and then demanded even more from him."

Her voice cracked, but she pressed on. "I dragged him into a war zone for my own satisfaction. Then I forced him into my bed, even when he hesitated."

Amber's face twisted in morbid shock, but Acier didn't care. She was too far gone. "He's always said he doesn't think he's worthy of me, but it's the other way around. I don't deserve him."

She laughed bitterly. "He went to that dance and faced down every threat for me, knowing the dangers. Even with my grandfather and those nobles looming over us, he fought to rekindle our friendship after nearly dying for it. And when he returned my feelings—despite my family being responsible for the fall of his—he still stayed.

"Where do you find someone like that? A man who walks into a war zone just for you? Who's willing to throw away years of hard-earned reputation in a heartbeat to protect yours? I don't know. But I do know I don't deserve him. Sebby deserves to be free—free of House Silva. He should go back to being the Sebastian he wanted to be before I forced my way into his life."

Amber stayed quiet, her lips parting only slightly as she whispered, "And what about your child? His child?"

Acier's hand moved instinctively to her stomach, her nails digging into her palm. "Even if it hurts," she murmured, "I'll give birth to this little one. And even if it tears me apart, I'll give the child to him. I'll make sure he has enough money to raise them in peace—far away from the aristocracy. I don't deserve to be his wife. I don't deserve to be this child's mother. But Sebby? He's earned that right. He's earned everything. If he wants this child, I'll give them to him. That's the least I can do."

Amber's fists clenched as faint sparks of flame danced across her fingers. They flared for an instant before fizzling out. Her voice dropped to a whisper.

"He might not have that long."

Acier froze. A sharp jolt ran through her body as she stared at Amber, baffled. The dark look on the Vermilion matriarch's face sent a sinking feeling through her chest.

"Let me remind you of something we both know all too well," Amber said coldly. "That boy is suicidal."

Acier stiffened, her breath catching. Amber's voice grew careless, almost cruel. "How do you think he'd feel if not just the world turned its back on him—a world he already doesn't care about—but the person he loves most? You're his world, Acier. And you've shut him out."

Acier's lips quivered as tears welled in her eyes, but Amber didn't stop. "You've given him no explanation. In his eyes, you're probably suicidal too—and threatening to take his unborn child down with you. The two people he cares about most in this world. And in his mind? It's his fault."

Amber's voice dropped, venomous and sharp. "What do you think someone in his position would do, Acier?"

"W-what..." Acier's voice cracked as she gulped, her tears falling freely now.

Amber leaned in, her words seething with anger. "He'll get rid of the problem. Meaning himself."

Acier's pupils widened in horror as Amber continued relentlessly. "You stupid girl. You're everything to him. Do you think he'd accept losing you? Living without you? Do you think he'd take this child from you, knowing what they mean to you? Knowing your love for children and how much you've yearned for one? Knowing you'd only ever have a child with him?"

Amber leaned back, her voice quieter now but no less cutting. "No, he wouldn't. He'd vanish. Disappear off the map to give you the illusion he's moved on—and then he'd end everything, all to protect you from the fallout. That's what you mean to him."

Acier sat frozen, her body trembling as Amber rose to her feet. The Vermilion matriarch stared down at her with a dark, unreadable expression.

"You're not welcome at Castle Vermilion until you fix this mess."

Bang!

The door slammed shut behind her, the echo ringing through the room.

—

June 1, 1603

Acier welcomed Sebastian back into her room with a faint smile. He returned with joy, gratitude blooming in his heart at being close to her again. But that joy didn't last long.

It started small, subtle. Acier began treating him like air.

She didn't resist when he hugged her, kissed her, or pulled her into his lap. She allowed him to feed her, to bathe her, to care for her in every way—but she never reciprocated. She chewed her food in silence, her movements mechanical and lifeless. When he washed her, she was like a doll under his touch. When he kissed her, she didn't pull away, but she didn't kiss him back.

She didn't lean into his chest anymore when he held her. Her arms stayed limp at her sides, never wrapping around him.

When night fell and she lay on top of him, her hands no longer ran through his hair or traced idle circles on his chest. She stared blankly at the ceiling, her body present but her mind far away.

At the dining table, Acier spoke to Nathaniel, Amara, and Aurelia like nothing was wrong. Her laughter sounded normal, her words easy and light. But when Sebastian tried to join the conversation, to pitch in a comment or share a thought, she didn't respond. She didn't even look at him. It was as if he hadn't spoken at all.

Then, one day, Aurelia and Amara asked her about him directly. Acier tilted her head, her brows furrowing in genuine confusion.

"Sebastian?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Who's that?"

Sebastian froze.

It was the most hurtful thing she had ever said to or about him.

At that moment, he broke. Tears streamed down his face as he wept openly in front of her, his shoulders shaking with the force of his sobs.

But she didn't care.

She didn't look at him. She didn't comfort him. It was like he was invisible to her, like he didn't even register in her eyes. He was just another nameless, faceless figure in her life—a common servant, nothing more.

Sebastian thought he had already endured the worst pain imaginable: the sting of her anger, the bite of her hatred. But he had been wrong.

At least back then, she still saw me.

Even so, he forced a smile. He swallowed the lump in his throat, buried his pain deep, and told himself it didn't matter.

At least now Acier was letting him be part of her life again. At least now he could see that she was healthy, that the baby would be born healthy. That's all that mattered, he told himself.

He told himself it was just a phase, something that would pass in time. Come our wedding day, things will go back to normal, he thought. We'll laugh about this someday. Even if it doesn't, I can live with it.

As long as she was alive. As long as the baby would get a chance to live, a long and joyful life. That's all that mattered.

But Sebastian was only human. And humans have breaking points.

—

June 15, 1603

The Saint Luminous Basilica was packed. Every bench, every row, was filled with the highest echelons of society. They had all gathered for a momentous occasion: the marriage of the heiress of House Silva.

At the end of the grand hall, Sebastian stood in a luxurious silver suit, polished to a shine that rivaled the ceremonial decor. His neatly combed silver-white hair framed his face, which bore a forced smile. In front of him stood Cardinal Anslem Veritas, officiating the ceremony.

Sebastian glanced at the benches directly in his line of sight. Amber held Fuegoleon on her lap, while Aurelia and Amara offered him weak, empty smiles that didn't quite reach their eyes. He forced himself to return the gesture.

Beside them sat Nicklaus, frail and slumped over his walker, looking as though he might collapse at any moment. Behind him stood Alfred, preparing to assist the Old Duke if the undesirable happened.

Behind Sebastian, Florian and Ignatius stood in matching black suits, their gazes tracing his back with evident sympathy in their eyes.

The heavy church doors swung open with a resounding thud.

A manic cackle echoed through the sacred hall.

Amber groaned, burying her face in her hands, as Mereoleona bounded in as the flower girl.

But there were no flowers.

Instead, flames erupted from her fingertips as she gleefully spread fire throughout the ancient Basilica, tossing her basket aside and hitting a noblewoman squarely in the face. The crowd gasped in horror as sparks began to lick at the building's historic carvings.

Ignatius, face darkened with irritation, snuffed out the flames with a single wave of his hand. Without a word, he picked up the unruly Mereoleona, bowed apologetically to the Blank Cardinal and Pope Benedictus seated nearby, and exited the church with his squirming daughter in tow.

The regal atmosphere shattered. The crowd blinked in stunned silence until the Cardinal cleared his throat weakly, signaling for the musicians to resume playing.

The ceremony continued.

Acier entered the hall in a breathtaking white dress, a bouquet of flowers in her hands. Every eye was drawn to her, enchanted by her beauty as she walked down the aisle with Nathaniel at her side. She stopped before Sebastian and gazed up at him, her face blank, her eyes devoid of emotion.

The crowd marveled.

Sebastian didn't.

He stared ahead, seeing nothing but air, as if she weren't even there.

The ceremony dragged on. He repeated his vows in a robotic monotone, stiffly responding to the Cardinal's prompts. Acier did the same.

When the time came to exchange rings, Sebastian felt no joy, no relief. Sliding the wedding band onto her finger was as mechanical as breathing. She did the same to him, her movements just as lifeless.

When he lifted her veil and kissed her, there was no spark, no affection.

He felt nothing.

Sebastian's chest was hollow, his heart a broken shell of what it had once been. If it weren't for the life growing in her stomach, she might not have even registered in his mind.

I never thought there would come a day when I'd fall out of love with Acier Silva, he thought bitterly. No... that's not it. It's not like that.

I never thought there would come a day when I wouldn't mind that she doesn't love me.

His teeth clenched. This is utterly, utterly unacceptable.

Sebastian wasn't paying attention to the Cardinal, who had been addressing him for some time, nor to the puzzled stares from the crowd. Instead, he acted on impulse.

He swept Acier into his arms, carrying her bridal style.

She didn't react.

The murmurs in the crowd grew louder as he turned to face them, ignoring the Cardinal's protests.

"My wife is tired," he said, his voice indifferent and firm. "Thank you for coming, but I need to take her home."

The silence was deafening as he strode down the aisle with Acier in his arms, sparing a single venomous glance at a certain blonde Young Duke.

Lux gritted his teeth, his fists clenching at his sides.

Beside him, a pale-skinned, black-haired woman with a visible baby bump followed Lux's gaze, her lips trembling as she lowered her head. A hand rested protectively on her stomach, her expression fraught with pain.

Nathaniel and Nicklaus watched in silence as Sebastian carried Acier out of the Basilica.

The grand doors swung shut behind him.

As soon as Sebastian stepped outside, an object hurtled from the direction of House Silva. His grimoire floated in front of him, its pages flipping open.

Under his feet, an aquatic eagle of water formed, carrying him and Acier into the skies.

The guards stationed at the Silva estate didn't react as Sebastian soared toward Acier's terrace. The eagle dissolved beneath him as he landed gracefully on the balcony.

With a swift kick, he opened the door to her room and stepped inside.

Setting her gently down on the bed, Sebastian sat in front of her, his gaze searching her face for something—anything.

But Acier simply looked at him, calm and blank, as if nothing had happened.

Sebastian's grimoire flipped again, and a water rapier formed in his hand.

Acier showed no reaction.

Sebastian gripped the blade tightly, his movements unconcealed as he slowly turned the edge toward himself.

Her eyes flickered.

Without hesitation, Sebastian drove the blade upward, aiming for the left side of his chest.

Acier's pupils dilated. In an instant, she lunged forward, her hand encased in a silver gauntlet. She caught the tip of the blade just before it could pierce his heart, panting as cold sweat dripped down her face.

Sebastian's calm gaze met her horrified one.

She was certain—if she hadn't stopped him, he would have done it. This wasn't a bluff.

Her lips parted, but no words came out. They caught in her throat when her gaze shifted to his face.

Sebastian's weak, trembling smile broke her. Tears streamed down his cheeks, his voice cracking with fragile joy.

"You still love me..."

Acier's body shook as his words struck her like a bolt. Her mind reeled, flashes of the past replaying vividly.

She saw herself. She saw herself, face broken and battered, standing in front of Sebastian's stall, nearly 3 years ago. Back when she had hurt herself to prove to him that he cared. To force him to admit they were friends.

The nostalgia of the moment pressed down on her. There was so much to say, so much she could have screamed, pleaded, or explained.

But there were no words.

Only tears.

Acier crumpled into his chest, burying her face against him as sobs wracked her body.

"I—I'm sorry..." she stuttered between gasping breaths. "So—so sorry for being such a bitch. I—I love you, so, so much. I hate it—I hate it so much when you put yourself down for my sake. It's hypocritical, I know, but please—please don't do that again. I—I can't take it." Her voice cracked, trembling. "E-even if I'm p-pregnant and have to live for this child, I d-don't think I can bear it."

Sebastian pulled her closer, wrapping his arms tightly around her as fresh tears slid down his face.

"No promises," he murmured, his voice breaking as he wept into her neck.

For a moment, they stayed like that, clinging to each other as though the world outside ceased to exist.

Then, Sebastian lifted his head. He cupped her chin gently, his voice a whisper.

"Y—you owe me a do-over."

Acier understood immediately.

This time, when he leaned in, she met him halfway. Their lips collided, and the fireworks ignited.

Sebastian's mind was ablaze with emotions he thought he had lost. The tingling warmth of her kiss spread through him, filling the void that had consumed him for nearly two months.

He kissed her deeper, their tongues intertwining, their breaths mingling in a way that felt like salvation.

Reaching for her dress—her wedding dress—he tore it from her body. Acier didn't flinch. She didn't care. Instead, she reached for his suit and stripped it away with just as much urgency.

And then there was no distance between them.

Although they had done this twice before, this time it was different. They were husband and wife now.

They consummated their marriage.

As Sebastian entered her, he clenched his teeth, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.

I still love her. She still loves me.

His inner ramblings settled, clarity flooding through his mind.

Who cares if it's fucked up and toxic? This is who we are. No matter how much we may fight or tear into each other in the future, we'll always come back to one another.

His grip on her tightened, his lips brushing against her ear as a resolute thought burned in his mind.

Our ending will be a happy one.

Author's Notes:

[1] I've never begged for reviews or anything before, but this Kurdi guy really is making me depressed, if anyone's reading can they go to Web Novel and help the rating return to 4 stars?

[2] Feel free to join the discord: https://discord.gg/s3MME8X8ar

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