Reborn As Papa Silva

"U-um, S-Sebby...?"

"Yes, Acier?"

"I-is-e-everything alright?"

"Hmm? Of course it is. Why would you ask that?"

"I-it's just... y-you're acting kind of… strange?"

"Really? How so?"

"W-well, for one, you keep smiling at me and tracing my face with your fingers…"

"I really like your face." And how beautiful it is.

"... A-and you keep running your hands through my hair…"

"I really like your hair." And how silky it is.

"Y-y-you haven't let go of my hand since my a-appointment ended!"

"I really like your hand." And how warm and smooth it is.

"S-Sebby?!"

"Hmm? Why? Don't you like it?" I thought you wanted me to be more affectionate and bold.

"I-it's—n-not l-like that!"

"Then what is it?"

"I-it's just…"

"Just what?"

"It's just that we're not alone!"

Acier couldn't hold back her frustration any longer. Her scream of embarrassment echoed through the family's private garden, where they sat together at a round table beneath a Victorian-style gazebo.

Sebastian (reluctantly) broke his gaze, which had been fixated on his wife since her appointment. Even during lunch and their walk through the garden, his attention hadn't strayed from her. Slowly, he turned to look at their family seated across the table.

By family, he meant their children. Amara wasn't here. In-laws should know their place and not intrude on close family time.

(Of course, Dorothy was an exception.)

Nozel looked ready to explode, a bulging vein throbbing on his forehead. Dorothy's eternal, playful smile had grown strained as she struggled to endure her parents' "lovey-dovey" display. Nebra was a blushing, fidgeting mess, clearly unsure of where to look.

Solid, however, paid no attention to his parents. His focus was entirely on Noelle, who sat in the center of the table, happily caught up in her own little world.

Sebastian, unbothered by the stares, wrapped an arm around Acier's shoulders, making her blush even brighter.

Even someone as bold as Acier had limits when it came to outwardly expressing her love—especially in front of their children. It was odd, really. She had no problem being playful or even borderline risqué with Sebastian in public. But soft gestures and honeyed words? Those reduced her to a stuttering, blushing mess.

Sebastian smiled to himself. He'd just discovered something very interesting.

Sebastian shot his eldest, Nozel, an almost instigating, smug look before asking a seemingly casual question.

"Your mother's birthday is in a mere five days. Have you got her present picked out yet?"

Nozel froze mid-motion, his mouth opening slightly as he went speechless. His eyes darted to Acier, who was seated across from him, before returning to his father. The silent message was unmistakable: Father, should we really be discussing this in Mother's presence?

Fortunately, Sebastian caught on to his son's concerns and smiled knowingly.

"I didn't ask what you got her—just if you've already bought her gift."

Acier, who had been fidgeting moments before, composed herself somewhat and turned to her son, her eyes sparkling faintly with a hint of expectation.

Ever since Nozel's birth, her birthdays had always been bittersweet. They weren't something she looked forward to; the day often ended on a low note, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. But this year… she had hope. She felt confident that this time would be different.

Nozel averted his gaze, guilt creeping into his expression. His voice, uncharacteristically soft, carried his quiet confession.

"Not… yet…"

The weak tone was so unlike him, and it only deepened his guilt. He hated the idea of letting his mother down. Normally, he would have long since prepared her gift, but the past two weeks had been an overwhelming storm of responsibilities and changes.

Getting his curse treated, accompanying his mother to her appointments, preparing for his engagement ceremony, handling his Magic Knight duties, looking after Noelle, attending to royal court matters, magic training, studies, and practice for his eventual role as the head of House Silva—it was all piling up.

Nozel's life, already overfilled with responsibilities, had become increasingly hectic. He barely had time to breathe, let alone make a trip to retrieve her gift. His only free time came after hours, when curfews rendered stores across the Kingdom closed.

He could have used his influence as House Silva's heir to arrange private appointments after hours, but Nozel hated doing things like that. He despised those who abused their positions of power. Cold and distant he might be, but he wouldn't stoop to corruption, leverage, or blackmail unless it was an absolute necessity. And he especially disliked owing favors to noble-run businesses.

Still, he was in a bind.

Unfortunately, Sebastian wasn't about to let him off the hook so easily. His father clicked his tongue repeatedly, shaking his head in mock disappointment.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk… I expected more from you, Nozel. Don't tell me your mother's present on her special day is going to be some last-second, half-hearted buy. For shame, Nozel. For shame."

Nozel stiffened at the pointed words, and to make matters worse, Noelle decided to join in. She scrunched her little brows, mimicking her father's disapproval with an exaggerated frown on her round baby face before pointing at her brother.

"Bad Bwubba!"

Nozel felt like a statue that had been shattered into tiny fragments and scattered to the wind.

"Ha ha!" Acier's amused laugh broke the tension as she gave Sebastian a playful slap on the arm. There was no real heat to it, just a teasing reprimand. Then, she turned to Nozel with a warm, reassuring smile and reached across the table to clasp his hand.

"Relax, Nozel. You don't have to beat yourself up over this. I'll love anything you give me."

For a moment, Nozel seemed frozen, but then he snapped back to reality. His expression grew somber as he looked at his mother.

"Mother, I've known for a long time what I want to give you. I even reserved it—I just need to go down to Kikka and pick it up!"

Acier's eyes widened briefly before she broke into a radiant, blinding smile.

"I'll look forward to it."

Nozel blushed at her reaction, lowering his head to hide his flushed cheeks. He gave a small, respectful nod.

Unfortunately for Nozel, Sebastian wasn't done raining on his parade. He glanced down at his son, his brows furrowed in confusion.

"If you already have the gift picked out… then why didn't you just have it delivered here?"

Sebastian's question carried weight. While the current era lacked a centralized delivery or postage system, Nozel was undoubtedly buying from high-end merchants who catered exclusively to elite clientele. These merchants often offered personal delivery services, ensuring that the goods arrived securely at their clients' estates.

After all, it was beneath nobility—especially royalty—to carry their purchases around in bags like commoners or peasants.

Nozel raised his head, opening his mouth to respond, but before he could speak, everyone's attention shifted to his right.

"Oh, that kind of has to do with me."

All eyes turned to Dorothy, who was scratching her cheek, looking both nervous and embarrassed. She cast an awkward glance toward Acier.

"Mom… I don't really know you too well yet—your likes and dislikes—so I asked Nozel to show me around Kikka and give me some advice."

She fidgeted slightly before continuing, her voice quiet.

"He's actually taking me down there today. Since he was already going, he decided to pick up your gift himself to make sure it's handled securely."

While merchants were known for treating their clients' belongings with the utmost care, Nozel couldn't shake his protective nature when it came to his family. Even the best service didn't entirely ease his insecurities when his loved ones were involved.

Acier froze, her lips parting wordlessly as she took in Dorothy's nervous expression. Then, she smiled softly.

"Dorothy… like I just told Nozel, you don't have to—"

"I know!" Dorothy blurted, startling everyone. Her face turned a deep red as she lowered her head, fists clenching at her sides.

"It's just… it's just… all of you have been so nice and accepting of me… especially you." She directed her gaze to Acier, her voice trembling. "So I just want to show some appreciation and gratitude."

Nozel, Nebra, and Solid stared at Dorothy, wide-eyed. Slowly, their surprise melted into fond expressions. Even Noelle seemed caught up in the mood, clapping her little hands with glee.

"Aga… aga… aga!"

Dorothy, who had been staring fixedly at the ground, froze as she felt her witch hat lift from her head. A moment later, a warm, smooth touch planted itself gently on her forehead.

She blinked in shock and raised her eyes, only to see Acier leaning across the table. Her pupils dilated as she realized what had just happened—Acier had kissed her forehead.

Stiff as a board, Dorothy remained motionless as Acier clasped her face in both hands. The older woman's gaze radiated gentle, palpable love as she spoke.

"Thank you, honey. I'll look forward to it."

Dorothy gaped, watching as Acier settled back into her seat. Slowly, she raised a trembling hand to touch the spot where the kiss had landed.

An indescribable warmth bloomed in her chest, flooding her with a feeling she couldn't quite put into words. Without thinking, she grabbed her hat and jammed it back onto her head, pulling it low until it nearly obscured her face. She then leaned forward, resting her head on the edge of the table in an attempt to hide her crimson cheeks and shaky smile.

So this is what a mother's love feels like.

Sebastian smiled at Dorothy, but his grin quickly faded into a near-frown as he cast a sidelong look at Nozel.

Is this thief trying to take her out on a date?

Sebastian narrowed his eyes. No, no, no. Who knows what could happen if a young man and a lady go shopping together?

His gaze shifted to the other end of the table, landing on Solid. After a moment of silent scrutiny, his expression brightened into a smile.

"Solid, why don't you join them and pick out a gift as well?"

Nozel gave Sebastian an almost imperceptible narrowed-eyed glare, clearly catching onto his father's intention.

Meanwhile, Solid's face lit up with excitement as he shot up in his seat.

"Can I?"

At only four years old, Solid had never received an allowance and had never bought anything—not for himself, and certainly not a gift for his mother.

Sebastian's smile grew warmer.

"Yes, don't worry about the cost. I'll hand Nozel a blank cheque to settle the bill."

Solid turned to Nozel, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. Nozel, ever composed, gave his little brother a faint, indifferent nod. That was all Solid needed to start bouncing in his seat, his excitement barely contained. He turned to Acier with a determined look.

"Mom, I'll buy you the biggest thing I can find!"

Acier chuckled softly, her eyes sparkling with amusement. She wasn't about to repeat the same reassurances she'd given Nozel and Dorothy earlier—it would feel hypocritical.

"I'm looking forward to it!"

Solid's grin stretched even wider, prompting an amused exchange of glances between Sebastian and Acier. It seemed to escape them both that Solid was still a four-year-old, and when he said "biggest," he likely meant it very literally.

Nozel, still feeling a bit petty over his father's interference, decided he wouldn't stop Solid. In fact, he would subtly encourage his younger brother to be as bold as possible with his spending.

Yes, he thought, Mother and Father are in for a very "big" surprise courtesy of their son.

"Big Brother… may I join you?"

Nebra's nervous voice broke through the moment, drawing everyone's attention. Her wide eyes and hesitant expression were filled with a mixture of hope and desperation.

This time, no one dared to make comments about forgetting to buy something—her demeanor made it clear she didn't need the added pressure.

Nozel regarded Nebra for a moment before giving her a nod. Despite his reserved nature, he'd always had a soft spot for his siblings. With Solid already tagging along, there was no reason to refuse her.

Nebra let out a small sigh of relief, but then froze when she felt a warm hand over her own. She looked across the table to see Acier smiling at her gently, rubbing the back of her hand in a soothing motion. Acier's words, spoken with quiet encouragement, mirrored those she had offered the others.

"Nebra, I'm looking forward to it."

Nebra nodded, but her heart ached with guilt. She hadn't picked out a gift for her mother—not because she was too busy, or unsure of what to buy, or even because she lacked the funds.

No, Nebra had never bought Acier a gift because the thought had been too painful. Ever since her mother's illness, Nebra had convinced herself that August 31st would mark a somber concession, not a celebration. She hadn't dared to imagine a future where Acier would recover and live to see another birthday.

Now, with her mother smiling warmly at her, the guilt clawed at her chest. Compared to Nozel, who had faced the same fears and still pushed through to pick something out, Nebra felt like she had failed.

Acier seemed to sense her daughter's inner turmoil. She continued to rub the back of Nebra's hand, offering silent comfort without speaking a word. Sometimes, gestures spoke louder than anything else could.

Nozel's gaze shifted briefly before he turned his eyes back to Sebastian, speaking with a sly edge to his tone.

"Well, Father, I suppose that means you've long since picked out Mother's gift?"

It was less a question and more a deliberate jab, the kind of statement meant to provoke. Sebastian, however, merely smiled at his son, unfazed by the challenge.

Acier turned to him with a curious and expectant look, prompting Sebastian to scratch the back of his head sheepishly.

"No, I still have to pick them up."

Nozel froze in place, his eyes widening in disbelief before his face flushed red with fury. You damn hypocrite! The words burned in his throat, but instead of yelling, he clenched his teeth, took a deep breath, and forced himself to calm down.

Rising from his chair, Nozel gave Dorothy a light tap on the shoulder before casting a pointed look at Nebra and Solid.

"If we want to have enough time to actually buy something, we should get going."

The three stood up with a nod, ready to follow his lead. Meanwhile, Sebastian reached into the satchel he always carried, pulling out his ever-present cheque book. He tore off a cheque, signed it swiftly, and handed it to Nozel without a word.

Nozel accepted it with a curt nod, slipping it into his bag before turning back to the table. Each of them—Nozel, Dorothy, Nebra, and Solid—leaned down to ruffle Noelle's soft hair in turn.

Then, they spoke their farewells.

Nozel started. "Mother, Father…"

The others chimed in. "Mom, Dad…"

Finally, in unison, they added, "See you at dinner."

Acier and Sebastian watched the quartet depart, their faces glowing with affection. Once the group faded from view, obscured by the shrubbery , Sebastian leaned over the table, scooping Noelle into his arms before settling her in his lap.

He smiled down at his youngest child, then turned his gaze to Acier, his voice soft and inviting.

"Would you care to join me in going somewhere?"

Acier's lips curved into a gentle smile as she nodded. "I'd love to."

Sebastian's smile widened as he looked back down at Noelle, adopting a playful tone.

"And what about you? Want to come along with Mama and Papa?"

Noelle tilted her head to the side in confusion, her bright eyes searching his face.

"Baboo?"

—

The Clover Kingdom is divided into three distinct realms. The outer edges, where most peasants reside, are called the Forsaken Realm.

The middle ring, known as the Common Realm, serves as the hub where nobility and peasants occasionally cross paths.

And at the heart of it all is the Noble Realm—a place reserved for the elites and those of the highest birth. Commoners and peasants may visit, but owning property here is a privilege granted only through noble rank.

These three realms are the embodiment of the kingdom's rigid class structure. Few services or functions span all three realms, each tier offering less as you move outward.

If there are levels to everything, the Noble Realm holds grand stores and boutiques, the Common Realm is dotted with smaller shops, and even the sight of a simple stall feels rare in the Forsaken Realm.

This disparity is reflected even in the Church's presence across the kingdom.

In the Forsaken Realm, a humble chapel is a blessing. Churches are few and scattered, barely a lifeline of faith.

In the Common Realm, churches are more frequent, and the castle towns boast a few Cathedrals.

The Noble Realm, however, has fewer churches due to its smaller population and area, but what it lacks in quantity, it makes up for in grandeur.

The Cathedrals here tower over their counterparts, each one a marvel of wealth and divine artistry.

And above them all stands the heart of the Church's power: The Basilica of Saint Luminous.

Located directly across from the royal palace, it is the seat of the Diocese and a testament to faith and authority.

Saint Luminous, the pioneer of the Church's hierarchy and the first pope during the reign of the Clover Kingdom's founder, is honored in its name.

It's hard to imagine that this towering structure once began as a modest village church. After his passing, it was reconstructed into its current neo-gothic splendor, a symbol of faith that dominates the skyline.

The Basilica, built from pale gray stone, seems impervious to the passage of time. Its surface remains untouched by dirt, as though blessed by some divine force.

Four bell towers rise at its corners, each adorned with spires crowned by crosses that stretch toward the heavens.

Its walls are lined with tall, arched windows of stained glass, accented with smooth, intricate carvings resembling crown moulding.

At the entryway, cobblestone steps lead to massive twin bronze doors trimmed with golden embroidery. The doors themselves are a mural—a tribute to Saint Luminous.

They depict an elderly yet heroic figure, bald with a long, bloodied beard, kneeling in battle. He wore rough, battered knight's armor, his head bowed and his hands gripping a sword embedded in the skull of a monstrous beast.

What kind of beast was it?

Only fragments remain visible—a shaggy lamb's fur, a horned head. Yet the legend is clear: Saint Luminous gave his life defending the kingdom, felling the creature with the last of his strength.

Above the doors is a magnificent circular rose window, its stained glass divided into five equal sections like the slices of a pie.

Each segment bears a distinct symbol, arranged clockwise: a white cloud, a brown trumpet, a blue book, a yellow sun, and a black river.

What do they mean?

After a moment, an ornate white carriage, drawn by a pair of regal horses, came to a stop in front of the Basilica. Its design was nothing short of luxurious—vivid silver floral patterns adorned its frame, while intricate eagle-wing motifs embellished the trimmings.

The coachman, Jeeves, quickly dismounted from the driver's seat. With practiced efficiency, he made his way to the enclosed passenger compartment, opened the door, and stepped aside with a deferential bow.

Sebastian emerged first, his presence commanding even in the quiet. He wore a long, flowing white gown, layered with a silver fur mantle draped over his shoulders. A gleaming silver cross hung from his neck, and a black girdle cinched his waist. His boots, crafted from fine brown leather, bore gold trim that caught the sunlight with every step.

For a moment, he paused, his sharp gaze fixed on the towering Basilica before him. His lips twitched as though suppressing a smirk. If you want to learn about heaven, why not ask the experts?

He quickly masked his amusement, turning back to the carriage. With a graceful motion, he extended his hand, and a slender, delicate hand met his.

Acier stepped out next, a vision of elegance and poise. Her gown mirrored Sebastian's in design—flowing white fabric with an air of reverence—though hers was accented by a silver surcoat. At its center, a silver eagle was emblazoned, styled like a breastplate. A white wimple covered her throat and neck, while a long veil draped over her head, cascading down to obscure much of her face from her eyes to the bridge of her nose.

Despite her simplicity, she exuded an undeniable grace, wearing no jewelry save for her wedding ring.

In her left arm, she cradled Noelle, snug in a soft pink blanket. The baby's curious eyes darted around, taking in her surroundings. She wore a white chemise styled as a dress, layered with a simple cotton gown designed for comfort and ease. A silk cap, trimmed with silver lace, rested securely atop her head, while her tiny feet were protected by black booties gentle enough for her delicate skin.

Acier's right arm linked with Sebastian's as they stood together, an unspoken understanding passing between them. Sebastian cast an indifferent glance at Jeeves.

"No need to accompany us," he said flatly. "Park the carriage somewhere and wait for our return."

"Of course, my lord." Jeeves bowed deeply, watching as his masters ascended the cobblestone steps before taking his leave.

Sebastian led Acier up the Basilica steps, their movements calm and deliberate. When they reached the grand bronze doors, they did not push through but paused, standing in quiet anticipation.

Sebastian leaned slightly toward Acier, his voice low and smooth. "Ready to put on a show?"

Acier's lips curved into a soft smile. "Yes." Finally, I get to join in on one of his little schemes."

As if on cue, the massive doors seemed to awaken with a will of their own. They swung inward slowly, revealing the expansive nave of the Basilica. Without hesitation, the trio crossed the threshold, their every step echoing through the hallowed space.

Behind them, the doors closed just as gently as they had opened, sealing them within the grandeur of the sacred hall.

As they entered the nave, the trio was greeted by the grandeur of the Basilica's interior. The elongated space stretched out before them, its high vaulted ceilings supported by slender, light blue ribbed columns that seemed almost ethereal in their elegance.

Above, a circular stained-glass dome adorned the ceiling, depicting a strange, abstract mural. The design was blurry, indecipherable to the naked eye, as though its meaning was hidden in plain sight.

Beneath their feet, the smooth stone flooring gleamed, its intricate geometric patterns running seamlessly down the expansive halls. The walls were alive with vibrant frescoes. Unlike the dome's indistinct images, these frescoes were vivid and detailed, offering a clear depiction of Saint Luminous's life.

The scenes told his story: a boy taking his first steps into the world, an energetic youth helping to build the village that would grow into the Clover Kingdom, a seasoned warrior standing against adversity, a devoted man of the cloth rising through the Church's hierarchy—from priest to bishop, cardinal to pope—and finally, returning to his roots as a warrior, giving his life for the kingdom.

Lavishly polished wooden pews lined both sides of the nave, inviting the faithful to sit, pray, confess, and reflect. The air carried a solemn stillness, broken only by the soft sounds of footsteps on stone as the trio moved forward.

They stopped at the far end of the hall, their eyes drawn to the focal point of the nave: the altar. It stood framed by an ornate backdrop of gold and marble, adorned with a mosaic motif. At its center, the silhouette of a holy cross rose upright against a depiction of a starry night sky.

Candles in glass holders encircled the altar, their flickering flames casting a warm, serene light. From these, the soothing scents of vanilla, lavender, and rosemary wafted through the air, filling the nave with a sense of peace.

To the right of the altar stood a richly carved wooden pulpit, angled slightly toward the congregation. Its decorative canopy drew Sebastian's gaze for a moment before his eyes wandered back over the nave. He spoke in a low voice, just loud enough for Acier to hear.

"It's been a while since we came here," he said, his tone laced with quiet emotion.

Acier stifled a soft laugh and shook her head. "Speak for yourself. I've been here a few times over the years."

She looked down at Noelle, who tilted her head in confusion before reaching out her small, pudgy hands and squeezing Acier's nose. Acier smiled fondly at the gesture, and Sebastian, watching them, felt his emotions stir.

"You sure have, haven't you…" His words sounded more like a statement than a question. He knew Acier had been here—for her father's funeral procession and the baptisms of each of their children.

Sebastian clenched his right fist slightly, a faint shadow of self-reproach crossing his face. All those times I should have been here with you.

A quiet ache twisted in his chest. Knowing he was always "Sebastian" filled him with a sense of belonging, but it also came with burdens. Atoning for the original Sebastian's sins—or, rather, his own sins—was no longer just a matter of obligation or self-gratification. Now it was personal, and it churned his stomach.

Acier glanced at him, her expression soft and understanding. She tightened her hold on his arm before turning her gaze to the altar. "Well, you're not wrong. It's been a long time since we came here together."

Sebastian nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. "Seventeen years now, in fact."

Acier's expression turned complex as she closed her eyes, the faintest tremble overtaking her. In her mind's eye, she saw their younger selves standing before the altar, facing each other across the divide.

Sebastian in a sleek silver-gray suit. Herself in a long white gown.

The memory resurfaced feelings she had buried deep: the helplessness that had hollowed her out, the weight of her weakness, and the sharp sting of guilt. She had been so miserable then—miserable with herself, miserable for Sebastian, and for the burden she knew she had placed on her family. The intensity of those feelings made her chest tighten, her heart race, and her body tremble.

But then the trembling stilled, replaced by a soft warmth spreading across her forehead. Her eyes fluttered open to find Sebastian pressing a gentle kiss there. His hand cupped her chin, lifting her face so their gazes met.

"Do you want a redo?"

"Hmm?" Acier's eyebrow arched in surprise.

Sebastian didn't break eye contact as his fingers brushed against her chin, tracing it lightly, sending a curious warmth rippling through her.

"Our wedding," he clarified.

Acier's eyes widened.

"It doesn't have to be a grand affair," Sebastian continued. "No one even has to know. We could just hire a private priest, renew our vows, and—"

His words were cut short as Acier raised a finger to his lips, silencing him. She shook her head, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"What did I tell you about moving on to the future and not reopening old wounds?" Her voice was soft, but it carried a hoarse edge.

Sebastian reached into his satchel, pulling out a napkin to dab at the corners of her eyes. "I'm sorry," he murmured.

Acier gave a faint shake of her head, her lips curving into a slow, tender smile. She leaned closer, her breath warm against his ear.

"The wedding itself… yes, it was a terrible time for me. I admit that," she whispered. "But what came after… what you did for me… it changed everything."

Her voice faltered, her words imbued with an unmistakable warmth. "I'd never trade that memory for anything in the world… because… because…"

Acier rose slightly onto her toes and pressed a soft kiss to Sebastian's lips. When she pulled back, her smile shone brighter than he had seen in years.

"That was the second time you saved me," she said gently. And the first time you saved Nozel.

Sebastian's pupils widened slightly, a telltale sign that her words had struck a chord. Acier hesitated as she caught the subtle shift in his demeanor. Her smile dimmed, replaced by an expression tinged with somber realization, frustration, and quiet disappointment.

"…You don't remember, do you?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I do remember," Sebastian replied, but the strain in his voice betrayed him. Acier tilted her head, watching as he bit his lip. "It's just… I thought that was the only time. I can't remember the first."

Acier's lips parted in a soft exhale before she smiled again, this time with a trace of bittersweet understanding. "Don't worry. You'll remember soon," she assured him, her tone lighter. "You were really cool back then."

She reached up and pinched his cheeks lightly, prompting him to smile helplessly.

"Am I not cool now?" he teased.

Her smile grew playful as she held up her hand in front of him, her thumb and forefinger barely an inch apart.

"Just a bit," she said with mock seriousness.

Sebastian chuckled, his amusement genuine, but their moment was interrupted by the sound of hooves clopping against stone. Both turned toward the approaching figure, their shared moment fading into anticipation of what was to come.

An elderly man approached, appearing to be in his late seventies, his weathered features framed by the marks of time—wrinkled skin and heavy bags under his eyes. Yet, there was a striking vibrancy about him. His soft smile radiated warmth, a reflection of a kind and wise spirit.

Beneath his red cap, strands of hair, entirely white with age, peeked out in a neat arrangement. His eyes, a lighter shade of blue than Sebastian's, gleamed with a quiet intensity, while his small, slightly squared nose added a distinct touch to his features.

Like Sebastian and Acier, he wore an overflowing white gown, but over it rested a purplish robe adorned with golden lace embroidery. A silver cross hung around his neck, its upper three ends rounded like the leaves of a clover. A broad brown belt sat snugly around his waist, housing a reddish-gold grimoire, and nearly invisible leather shoes peeked from beneath his robe as he walked.

As he neared the trio, his smile deepened, and both Sebastian and Acier immediately dipped into a bow, their movements practiced and synchronized. Even with Noelle cradled in her arms, Acier lowered her head with grace.

"Your eminence," they said in unison, their voices reverent.

The elderly man's eyes widened slightly, and he waved his hands quickly, almost flustered.

"Lord Sebastian, Lady Acier, what is the meaning of this? There's no need for such formality. We are all equal in the eyes of the Lord."

Still bowed, eyes shut in respect, Sebastian replied calmly, "Cardinal, this is the Basilica, and hierarchy must be observed. Please allow us to express our reverence."

Though his face remained composed, Sebastian suppressed a sneer. Equal in the eyes of the Lord, huh? Perhaps… but not everyone is fortunate enough to even appear beneath His gaze.

This Basilica was unlike the churches, cathedrals, and chapels scattered across the Clover Kingdom. Entry here was reserved for those of the highest status. Its grand entrance, controlled by a powerful and intricate magical barrier, would not open for the unrecognized or unworthy.

As for forcing your way in—well, even if one succeeded, what would be the point? Such an act would invite not the Lord's grace but His ire. No devout servant would dare commit such blasphemy, and any villain bold enough to try would face not only divine retribution but the wrath of the entire kingdom.

If you have that kind of courage, Sebastian thought, you may as well try robbing the royal treasury instead.

He buried the thought, his expression giving away nothing.

The Cardinal paused, his smile softening as he straightened. Clasping his hands together, he began a sacred gesture, his movements fluid and deliberate.

"In the name of the Creator," he intoned, bringing his right hand to his forehead.

"And of the creations," he continued, moving his hand to the center of his chest.

Sliding his hand diagonally to rest over his heart, he added, "And of heavenly will."

Finally, he tapped his right shoulder and concluded, "I bless and pardon you under the Lord's gaze." He clasped his hands once more and finished, "Amen. You may rise."

Sebastian and Acier straightened, mirroring his gestures, though their movements were faster, each finger tap executed in flawless unison.

"Praise the Lord!" they said in chorus.

The Cardinal's smile deepened with pleasure as he nodded. "Praise the Lord."

The Cardinal's smile softened as he glanced at Noelle, then shifted his gaze back to Sebastian and Acier. A bemused, wry chuckle escaped him.

"I must admit, seeing the two of you here together is quite the surprise. It's been… a very long time."

Sebastian inclined his head. "Indeed, it has, Cardinal."

Anslem Veritas scratched his neck, his expression turning playfully reproachful. "Please, my child, you're being too formal. Call me by my name. After all, it was I who officiated your wedding and…" His gaze returned to Noelle, nestled securely in Acier's arms, and his smile deepened. "…baptized your children."

Sebastian gave a small nod. "Then, Cardinal Veritas."

The Cardinal opened his mouth as if to protest, but then shook his head with a resigned chuckle. He realized he wouldn't coax any more familiarity out of Sebastian.

This boy is always so stiff, Anslem mused to himself, stifling another chuckle. Though… he did cause quite the scene that time.

Anslem Veritas, once a nobleman, had relinquished his title when his House fell. Choosing a life of devotion, he had risen through the ranks to become the highest-ranking Cardinal of the Clover Kingdom and the second-in-command of the Holy See.

Turning to Acier, Anslem rested a gentle hand on her shoulder, his expression warm. "You don't know how overjoyed we were when we received the good news. Just look at you now. If I hadn't personally accompanied those clerics and chaplains to treat you back then, I'd never believe you were unwell in the first place."

Acier smiled softly, holding Noelle a little closer. "Thank you, Cardinal."

Anslem nodded, though his expression dimmed slightly, his eyes reflecting regret. "It's a shame His Holiness is absent. He would've been overjoyed to see you as well."

Acier shook her head gently. "Don't trouble yourself, Cardinal. The Pope has many important duties. We wouldn't dream of taking up his time."

Sebastian added with a small nod, "It's already an honor for you to personally greet and attend to us."

Anslem coughed into his fist, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. He wasn't sure why, but their words carried a refreshing sincerity that warmed him. Perhaps it was the absence of exaggerated, hollow praise or the fact that such courtesy came from the Patriarch and Matriarch of a royal house.

Folding his hands behind his back, Anslem tilted his head curiously. "Is there something specific I can help you with? A confession, a blessing, spiritual cleansing, or something else?"

Acier glanced at Sebastian, prompting the Cardinal to do the same. Sebastian clasped his hands together and offered a short bow.

"We are here to show our gratitude."

Anslem's brows furrowed slightly in confusion. "Gratitude?"

Sebastian straightened and wrapped an arm around Acier, his expression resolute as he began, "As you've seen for yourself, my wife was terminally ill. If fate had its way, she would be resting beneath the earth in a casket by now."

Anslem nodded stiffly, his brows furrowed as Sebastian continued, his voice taking on a fervent edge. "But about two weeks ago, everything changed. The way to save her… it came to me in a dream."

Acier's lips parted slightly as her thoughts swirled. Is that how Sebby knows all these things? Through a dream?

Anslem tilted his head, a glimmer of realization crossing his face. "You're saying this was…"

Sebastian nodded firmly. "Yes. What could it be but a divine revelation? While Acier hasn't fully recovered yet, we believe it's only a matter of time. And because she's now healthy enough to move about, we felt it was necessary to come here and show our gratitude."

Anslem blinked, stunned. So that's how she recovered…?

But his expression darkened slightly as he furrowed his brow. "If that's the case, why did House Silva wait so long? You're well aware of protocol—the Holy See must be notified immediately at the first sign or even suspicion of a divine gift."

Sebastian lowered his head in shame, and Acier mirrored the movement. Noelle, still cradled in Acier's arms, let out a delighted giggle, oblivious to the tension.

"Forgive us, Cardinal," Sebastian said solemnly.

Anslem scratched his cheek, his tone exasperated but soft. "Forgive you? My children, speak plainly—what for?"

Sebastian, head still bowed, began, his voice steady but tinged with guilt. "I won't make excuses. House Silva, and I especially, have always been… less than devout. Instead of following the Church's wishes, I let selfishness blind me. I didn't want to risk anyone interfering with Acier's recovery. My distrust and disobedience are shameful, and I beg your forgiveness."

Anslem regarded him thoughtfully before shaking his head, his voice gentle. "Please, raise your head. There's no need for this."

Sebastian and Acier obeyed, meeting the Cardinal's gaze as he continued, "Your decision was rooted in love—one of the holiest emotions. Love for your wife. There is no sin in that."

Sebastian bowed his head again, this time in sincere gratitude. "Thank you, Your Grace."

Anslem nodded, his expression softening further. After a brief pause, he spoke again. "Well, now that you've come, will you share the details of this revelation with us?"

Sebastian shook his head, cutting off Anslem's response with a raised hand. "Forgive me, Cardinal. All I can say is that Acier's illness is not of natural origin. Until it is fully resolved, speaking further would put others in danger."

Anslem's expression grew serious as he narrowed his eyes at Acier. A curse? Forbidden magic? Some form of dark art? But shouldn't we have been able to purify such a thing?

He didn't immediately reply, instead asking carefully, "My child, I don't believe you would mention this to me without the intent to elaborate eventually. What is it that holds you back?"

Sebastian offered a soft, almost sheepish smile. "Don't worry, Your Grace. Acier's illness is nearly resolved. When the time comes, I'll explain everything. It's just…"

"Just what?" Anslem prompted gently.

Sebastian hesitated, his demeanor nervous and uncertain. "I don't believe I'm a prophet. I was simply blessed with one small mercy—a vision. So when the time comes, I only ask one thing: that you keep it a secret and don't announce it to the masses."

Anslem froze, processing the request. It wasn't unusual—many divinely gifted individuals in the Church's long history had wished for privacy. That much he understood.

But what he couldn't grasp was why Sebastian had come to the Holy See in the first place if secrecy was so important to him.

Anslem phrased his question gently, his tone inviting but measured. "Is there something you desire, my child?"

Sebastian nodded, his gaze steady. "Thanks to this dream, I was able to save my wife."

Acier blushed faintly, her cheeks tinged with genuine warmth, as Sebastian continued, "I've always felt distant—alienated, even—from religion and God. But now, with this newfound belief, I want to forge a stronger connection."

"Meaning?" Anslem's eyes narrowed slightly, the weight of his role evident in his sharp, assessing gaze.

"Meaning," Sebastian said, his voice steady but purposeful, "I want to learn. I want to understand the deeper truths, the knowledge reserved for the highest ranks of the diocese. As someone blessed, I believe I have a right to know."

Anslem raised a hand to his groomed, beardless chin, scratching thoughtfully before lifting a finger. "My child, you must realize you're asking for something… quite significant."

Sebastian nodded. "I do."

Anslem rolled his neck, clearly mulling over the request, before giving a slight nod. "As a Blessed of God, you do have certain rights—to be privy to truths most never glimpse…"

"But?" Acier interjected, speaking for Sebastian, her tone calm but curious.

Anslem inclined his head. "But. Merely going off your words, your personal testimony, would not suffice. Even as the highest-ranking Cardinal, I lack the authority to grant what you ask. That privilege lies solely with His Holiness."

Sebastian raised a brow. "So…?"

"So…" Anslem began carefully, "we can either wait for His Holiness to return, or…"

"Or what, Your Grace?" Sebastian asked, masking his budding smile behind an air of impatience.

"Or," Anslem continued, "I can preside over a ritual to confirm your identity as a Blessed. I won't lie to you, my child. I am skeptical—not merely because you've refused to disclose your dream in full but because, historically, His Holiness is often the first to receive divine revelation when a Blessed emerges. It allows us to approach them before those with… unsavory intentions can."

Or before you hoard them and their power for yourselves, Sebastian thought, an inward sneer forming. He'd read enough books to know how this game worked. Even if not every religious sect was rotten, more often than not, their deepest corners were far from pure.

Sebastian smiled outwardly, his tone calm and agreeable. "That will be perfectly fine with me, Your Grace."

Anslem let out a breath of relief at Sebastian's cooperation. For all the Church's influence, the royal houses were a powerful counterweight, both institutions tied to the kingdom's fragile balance of power.

Making an enemy of House Silva, especially in the current era, was a gamble Anslem couldn't afford. For the first time in centuries, the three royal houses seemed united. If they chose to act together, not even the Church could stop them—not without bleeding itself dry in the process.

This was why the Pope himself, who rarely left the Basilica, was absent. He'd gone to seek an audience with King Augustus and Damnatio Kira, ensuring that the delicate "status quo" between the Church and the aristocracy remained intact.

If the Pope returned to find that House Silva had been rudely dismissed, Anslem could well spend the last years of his life groveling for forgiveness—or worse. And if Sebastian truly was Blessed and the Cardinal had failed to recognize it?

The consequences would be catastrophic.

Anslem knew the truth: aside from the Pope and the Blessed, everyone in the Church—even someone of his rank—was expendable. This compromise, then, was his shield. If Sebastian's claim failed to be verified, Anslem would be praised for his prudence, commended for safeguarding the Church's secrets from a potential fraud.

And if Sebastian's claim was false, the Church could turn the tables entirely. They could use the scandal to blackmail House Silva, demanding concessions and obedience. The kingdom's hatred for false prophets was nearly universal; the disgrace would force the Silvas to bend, practically becoming vassals of the Church to avoid public ruin.

Fortunately for House Silva—and perhaps unfortunately for the Church—Anslem wasn't so far gone as to let greed guide his actions. He gave Sebastian a reassuring pat on the shoulder, his voice calm but laced with understanding.

"Don't worry, my child. If you fail, I'll simply pretend this meeting never happened."

Sebastian's expression softened, his smile growing more genuine. "Thank you for your mercy, Your Grace."

Anslem waved a hand dismissively, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "No need for thanks. Dreams are strange things. Many come here believing they've been touched by the divine, only to discover it was mere coincidence—or their imagination playing tricks on them."

His gaze flickered, his eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly. Besides, the Lord is not the only one who bestows guidance through dreams.

Leaving his hand resting on Sebastian's shoulder, Anslem's focus snapped back, his tone steady once more. "As for your wish—should it prove true—I will honor your desire to keep your identity hidden. However, His Holiness must be informed. Do you understand? If you have any reservations, we can end this now."

Sebastian shook his head gently, his tone measured. "No need, Your Grace. I understand, and I appreciate how accommodating you've been."

Anslem beamed warmly, his demeanor shifting to one of encouragement. "Good. Then follow me to my office. Don't worry if anyone sees us. Those within these walls know well what words can—and cannot—leave without express permission."

Sebastian and Acier exchanged a quiet, knowing smile, their arms linking naturally. With a shared sense of purpose, they followed Anslem as he led them out of the nave, his steps measured but purposeful.

May the light guide us all, Anslem thought, his mind a swirl of cautious optimism and lingering doubt.

—

Author's Notes:

[1] I want to extend my sincerest apologies to any Christians if my depiction of certain aspects of faith, rituals, or terminology is inaccurate or unintentionally offensive. While I've been doing my best to research and portray things authentically, I've never had the opportunity to so much as step inside a church myself. As such, some elements may not align perfectly with real-world practices.

Please consider this story as taking place in an alternate universe (AU). While the religion depicted shares similarities with Christianity—particularly Catholicism—it will diverge in some ways, reflecting its fictional nature.

This creative choice is inspired in part by Yūki Tabata, who blends Jewish and Christian motifs in Black Clover. I hope you can approach these differences with an open mind as part of the story's unique world-building.

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