Episode 42
Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. Artius truly lived up to his tiger-like nature.
Elonia briefly considered ignoring him as usual, remembering their previous argument. However, she couldn’t avoid him forever.
She spoke reluctantly, “…Come in.”
With Elonia’s permission, Artius cautiously entered the room.
He was still dressed in his formal attire, suggesting he had come straight from the celebration.
He looked apologetic as he saw Elonia in her nightgown.
“I’m sorry to disturb you while you’re sleeping, Elonia.”
“I wasn’t asleep yet, so it’s fine.”
Sarah, sensing the tension, discreetly left the room with the knights.
Artius and Elonia sat facing each other across a small table.
An awkward silence hung between them.
Elonia, unable to bear the tension, spoke first.
“What brings you here?”
She had noticed during the celebration that her pronunciation had improved considerably in the weeks they hadn’t seen each other.
Artius replied calmly, “There’s a gift I haven’t given you yet.”
“I’ve already received plenty of gifts.”
In fact, he had given her far too many.
Artius chuckled wryly at her blunt response.
“But there’s something I truly want to give you.”
“…?”
What else could he possibly want to give her?
Elonia nodded, urging him to continue.
Instead of presenting the gift immediately, Artius began a story.
“…Elonia, I once had a friend who transcended national borders.”
What friend?
Elonia’s heart might have softened slightly after receiving those extravagant gifts, but she wasn’t in the mood for pointless stories.
Just as she was about to tell him to leave, Artius’s next words made her pause.
“She wished for the happiness of my child with Philemon, a child she never even met, until her dying breath. She was a kind soul, unlike her moniker, the War Demon.”
“…!”
Only a fool wouldn’t understand who he was talking about.
The friend Artius was referring to was her, Chelon.
Artius, his gaze fixed on the floor, didn’t notice Elonia’s reaction.
“I’ve been agonizing over what to give you. And then it hit me. I was so blinded by my own foolishness that I couldn’t see you for who you truly are… It’s no wonder you’re closer to your godmother, considering what a terrible father I’ve been.”
“…I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”
Artius rose from his seat and knelt before Elonia.
He pulled out Chelon’s heirloom, the dagger, from his robes and presented it to her.
“Father, this is…”
“I heard you wanted a real sword… This dagger might be a relic now, but it was something my friend cherished and never let go of.”
Even without Artius saying it, Elonia recognized the dagger instantly.
She couldn’t forget it, even after five years.
The only heirloom her mother, Alexia, who had cared for her out of obligation, had left her before she died, claiming it would protect her.
The one treasure she had never let go of as Chelon.
“Why… this?”
“To be honest, I thought it might be too dangerous for you now, so I was planning to give you a proper sword when you were older. But somehow, I felt like this dagger would shine brighter in your hands.”
That wasn’t what she was asking.
She had assumed that Artius had disposed of it after her death as Chelon.
She had never imagined she would ever see it again.
Seeing Elonia staring at the worn dagger with disbelief, Artius felt a pang of regret.
She sometimes had this expression, a look that reminded him of Chelon.
Her talent for Sword Magic was another reminder.
He had instinctively grabbed the dagger and come to her room, but he quickly realized that she probably wouldn’t appreciate such a worn and outdated relic.
“You don’t have to accept it if you don’t want to. This is just my selfish desire. I’ll get you a new one, something you’ll truly like, later.”
“…Father, may I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“I want to know why you’re suddenly acting like this.”
Elonia asked, still holding the dagger.
Her voice trembled, a rare occurrence.
She had always tried to remain composed and rational in front of Artius, no matter the situation.
But now, she felt lost and uncertain.
Giving her the War Demon Chelon’s heirloom was a public declaration of their friendship.
A friendship with the War Demon, of all people.
It was a shameful act.
But Artius didn’t seem to care.
He met her gaze, a pained smile on his face.
“I realized I’ve never properly apologized to you. We’ve never even had a proper conversation, as father and daughter…”
“…”
“Elonia, I was a fool for not keeping my promise to my friend. And I’ve done unforgivable things to you, the child your mother sacrificed her life to save. I won’t make any excuses. It was all my fault, my stupidity. I was wrong, I truly was.”
Elonia was speechless.
She couldn’t find the words. All the hurt and resentment she had bottled up threatened to spill over.
Artius, struggling to articulate his thoughts, paused frequently, searching for the right words.
“I might be a failure as your father… But at least, Elonia, I promise to never let you suffer because of me again. If you could just give me one more chance… I couldn’t ask for anything more.”
No.
She didn’t need any more apologies.
The look on his face when she collapsed, his sincere apology, had already given her a reason to stay.
But hearing a proper apology, an acknowledgment of his mistakes, was surprisingly overwhelming.
“…I hated you, Father.”
Elonia choked out, her voice thick with tears.
Artius accepted her hatred without a word.
“…I understand.”
“I truly hated you. I wanted to run away from home, to punch you, to point a sword at you when I grew up.”
“…I know. You said you wanted to kill me the moment you woke up.”
He remembered that too?
Elonia couldn’t help but chuckle.
“I can’t be a good daughter. I don’t know how to act cute or pretend to be close to someone I dislike.”
“I don’t expect that from you. You can ask for anything, take anything you want.”
She had tried to let go of hope.
She had tried to convince herself that she shouldn’t expect anything from him, that she should just observe from a distance.
But now, it was impossible not to feel a glimmer of hope.
Anyone would feel the same.
Elonia accepted the dagger from Artius.
Clutching it tightly, her hand trembling with a mixture of fear and anticipation, she asked,
“…Tell me who this dagger belonged to.”
Artius looked surprised, but he answered without hesitation, as if he had already made up his mind.
“Chelon.”
He repeated his friend’s name, his voice firm and unwavering.
“This dagger belonged to Chelon Heilan, the deceased First Princess of Heilan.”
His words shattered the dam she had built around her heart.
The dam she had painstakingly erected, in both her past and present life, crumbled.
And as always, it was Artius who caused its destruction.
But this time, she was glad.
‘He didn’t forget me.’
She had believed her death was meaningless.
But she was wrong.
‘He remembered me. He still considered me his friend…!’
The dagger was proof that Artius hadn’t forgotten Chelon, her death, or her dying wish.
Otherwise, after five years, the dagger wouldn’t be in pristine condition, without a single scratch or a speck of rust, just as it was when her mother had given it to her.
Elonia no longer needed the dam she had built to protect herself from him.
“E-Elonia?”
Large tears rolled down her cheeks.
She was happy.
Both as Chelon and as Elonia.
She had thought she would never experience the warmth of family in this life.
But Artius had repeatedly swallowed his pride, apologized for his mistakes, and knelt before her.
“I actually snuck into your office before.”
“…!”
Artius was surprised.
He had suspected it, but he hadn’t been sure. She had actually been there that day.
He felt a surge of fear, wondering if she had overheard his confession.
“I saw your family portrait, Mother’s portrait, and my portrait.”
Overwhelmed by emotions, Elonia forgot about using formal language.
Her voice cracked, her nose running from her tears.
Her eyes burned.
But she couldn’t just cry.
There was something she had to ask.
Ignoring her tear-stained face and distorted expression, Elonia choked out,
“Was I… sniff… never meant to be… a misfortune… sob… from the start?”
People had always told her that she was born to bring calamity upon the world.
She had assumed Artius felt the same way, even though he never said it out loud.
But the truth was, he had acted out of fear, out of a desperate desire to protect her. And he had apologized, striving to become a better person.
“Of course not. If anything, I was the misfortune, not you. Elonia, you were my hope, my reason for living, from the moment you were born.”
Artius’s unwavering response shattered Elonia’s composure.
She buried her face in her hands, her tears flowing freely.
She wiped her eyes with her sleeve, her sobs turning into loud wails.
Artius, initially flustered, felt his heart clench with pain.
He had wanted to make her happy on her birthday, but he had made her cry again.
He wanted to comfort her, to soothe her pain.
But empty words wouldn’t be enough.
His hand hovered hesitantly before finally wrapping around her small frame.
“…!”
He awkwardly patted her back, trying to offer her some comfort.
After a while, Elonia spoke, her voice barely a whisper.
“…Thank…”
“…What did you say?”
Artius thought he had misheard.
She would never call him that.
But Elonia, as if calling him a fool for doubting her, took a deep breath, her eyes still filled with tears, and repeated,
“…Thank you, Dad.”
“Elonia, you just called me—”
Dad.
She had called him “Dad” for the first time.
Elonia, her face a mixture of tears and smiles, clutched the dagger tightly and repeated,
“I love the gift. Thank you so much, Dad.”
“Elonia…”
This was the first time Elonia had cried in front of him.
She had been on the verge of tears many times before.
But she always held them back, as if she considered crying to be a sign of weakness, especially in front of him.
And now, his precious daughter was crying in his arms.
He was overjoyed.
Not because she was crying.
But because she had finally acknowledged him as family, allowing herself to be vulnerable in his presence.
He felt like he had finally been allowed into her world, into her heart.
He was grateful that she had accepted him, that he could be a part of her future.
Tears welled up in his eyes, blurring his vision.
“…Elonia, thank you. Thank you for being my daughter.”
Elonia had once truly hated him.
She had been disappointed that he wasn’t the father she had dreamed of.
She had wished he was a perfect adult, capable of creating a perfect family, where everyone was happy.
But the world wasn’t a fairy tale.
Perfect parents were rare.
Even Alexia, Chelon’s mother, who she missed dearly, hadn’t been perfect.
What mattered was how quickly they realized their mistakes and how hard they tried to fix them.
Parents learned and grew, becoming better adults, and children learned from them, growing up in their love and guidance.
That was Elonia’s ideal family.
But even if it wasn’t ideal, so what?
She finally had…
“Happy birthday again, Elonia.”
Artius’s embrace was warm and comforting.
Elonia finally understood the warmth of family.
For the first time, her gut feeling had been right.
This was the best birthday of her life, so happy and fulfilling that she couldn’t wait to celebrate her next birthday with her family.