Reborn As Papa Silva

Chapter 9: Hage (1)

Chapter 9: Hage (1)

The early morning sun filtered through the heavy fog that lingered over the forsaken realm, casting a dim glow over the rugged landscape. Sebastian's boots crunched softly against the dirt road as he walked, the faint outlines of a small village just starting to take shape in the distance. His cloak, a light brown that blended with the earthy tones of the village outskirts, swayed gently with each step. It was a far cry from the rich, flowing attire typical of the Silva family, but Sebastian had made sure to swap out his usual ensemble for something less conspicuous.

Hage, the forsaken village nestled between jagged hills, was where his journey had led him. It was a place the former Sebastian had only heard of in passing—an impoverished, overlooked corner of the kingdom. Yet, despite the unfamiliar terrain and lackluster atmosphere, there was a purpose to his presence here.

As he walked, Sebastian's thoughts drifted to the conversation he'd had with Alfred the night before. They had spoken late into the evening, Alfred's voice full of its usual quiet authority as he shared the news. Word had spread of a peculiar figure expected to attend the grimoire acceptance ceremony in Hage today: a witch, rumored to possess dream magic, a rare and elusive gift. She was said to wear a pink hat and to be perpetually sleepy, which piqued Sebastian's attention. Even though it might be a while before Dorothy can pull off Glamour World, she's still super valuable. She's one of the few who can dodge Megicula's detection and cut ties with those pesky curses tied to her name. Without her, any treatment for Acier and Nozel would be impossible without Megicula catching on.

Alfred had been certain of the witch's arrival, and that certainty had pushed Sebastian to make the decision to leave the Noble realm earlier than planned. The distance between the forsaken realm and the noble estates was considerable, so he'd parted ways with Acier right after their conversation. Acier had tried to convince him to stay, to wait and talk more at a more leisurely pace, but Sebastian couldn't afford to waste time. The longer he delayed, the higher the chances the witch would slip through his fingers.

Sebastian was pretty sure he'd run into Dorothy again at the Magic Knights Exams, but he wasn't too optimistic about the Silver Eagles winning her loyalty. With squads like The Grey Deer, White Snake, and Blue Rose in the mix, and given that the Silver Eagles are one of the more classist squads in the kingdom, he felt they had a tough road ahead.

And now here he was, walking through the narrow streets of Hage in the soft morning light, his hood pulled low over his face to avoid drawing attention. His attire—a simple pair of black pants, a plain shirt, and the cloak—was as unremarkable as it could be. Beneath the cloak, Sebastian tugged at the material of his shirt, feeling the unfamiliar coarseness against his skin. He couldn't help but grimace, thinking of the luxurious silver robes he usually wore as a Silva. Despite their elegance, he hated them. They were impractical, and stiff, and did nothing but make him stand out in the worst ways.

The very thought made him shake his head in disapproval. The Silva's—his family—were known for their impeccable looks and silver hair, but their fashion sense? Garbage. Especially the men. Their long, flowing silver capes, paired with those ridiculous slippers, made them look like clowns rather than nobles. He'd long held this opinion, but it seemed especially poignant now, surrounded by the drab reality of Hage. Here, in this forsaken place, the absurdity of Silva fashion felt even more stark in comparison to the rough practicality of the villagers' attire.

Sebastian chuckled to himself, adjusting the cloak to ensure none of his silver hair escaped. Normally, his long hair was tied in a rat tail—a signature of the Silva family—but today he had gathered it into a tight man bun, high atop his head, covered under his hood. The last thing he wanted was to give away his identity. Silver hair, while beautiful, had a way of attracting unwanted attention, and he couldn't risk anyone recognizing him for who he truly was.

As he walked through the village, passing by modest homes and crooked fences, his thoughts wandered further. In any other anime or manga, he mused, silver-haired or white-haired characters were always portrayed as these stunning, badass figures—heroes or villains with a sense of style and power that made them larger than life. But the Silva's? Despite their natural good looks, they somehow managed to squander their potential, reducing themselves to walking fashion disasters. Their looks and hair were wasted on them, Sebastian thought with an amused shake of his head.

He toyed with the idea of cutting his hair. The thought had crossed his mind many times before, but it lingered longer now. A drastic change might be exactly what he needed—cutting off his long locks, perhaps even changing his entire wardrobe. Maybe he'd trade in the extravagant silver robes for something more practical, more his style. But then again, such a change would undoubtedly cause more of a stir than it was worth. A Silva without their signature hair and attire? The very idea was scandalous.

Still, he couldn't shake the thought. Even if it did attract attention, it was better than walking around in clothes that made him feel like a fool. He grimaced, imagining himself back in those gaudy silver slippers and oversized capes. No, something had to change. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon.

As Sebastian strolled through Hage, he spotted the bustling central square, already buzzing with preparations for the grimoire ceremony. Villagers were busy setting up stalls and decorations, the air filled with their lively chatter. Parents were soothing their kids, while little ones argued over who would snag the best grimoire before heading to the tower. He wrapped his cloak tighter around himself and slipped into the shadows, keeping an eye out for any sign of the young witch. The day was just getting started, but it felt like there was something—or someone—out there worth searching for.

And as he stood there, blending into the village like just another wandering traveler, a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Today, the forsaken realm felt less forsaken, and more like the beginning of something far greater.

Sebastian shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He had spent enough time mulling over the details of his conversation with Alfred and his disdain for Silva fashion. Now, with the day stretching out before him and the grimoire acceptance ceremony still hours away, he decided to explore the village. It would be a long wait until evening, and the charm of Hage beckoned him to see more of it.

His first stop, naturally, would be the church. It was a focal point in any village, and Sebastian was curious to see what this humble sanctuary would look like in a forsaken place like Hage. He set off at a leisurely pace, moving silently through the village streets, his boots barely making a sound on the uneven cobblestone paths. The villagers were already active, bustling about with their daily routines, though some paused to greet him with a wave or a friendly word.

"Morning, traveler!" one of the older men called out, tipping his hat.

Sebastian nodded back with a polite smile, responding to each greeting with a quiet gesture or a brief word. There was a certain peace in the air, a sense of simplicity and contentment that made him sigh in bliss. Hage, despite its reputation as part of the forsaken realm, had an unpretentious beauty to it. The rolling hills, the crooked fences, the modest homes—it was a place where life moved slowly, where people lived with little but seemed content.

Looking around, Sebastian found himself admiring the scene. In another world, he thought, if things had been different, he might have loved living in a place like this. The peaceful isolation, the quiet streets, the absence of the pressures that weighed on him in the noble realm—it was idyllic in its own way. But then, as his eyes wandered toward the edge of the village, his gaze settled on the ominous sight in the distance: the looming silhouette of the demon skull. The massive structure hung over the horizon like a dark omen, casting a long shadow over the peaceful village.

Sebastian's smile faded. As beautiful as Hage was, that skull was a constant reminder that this place wasn't as tranquil as it seemed. It was a forsaken realm for a reason.

He soon arrived at the church, a small, unassuming building nestled on the outskirts of the village. It was simple, with twin wooden doors and stone walls that had clearly seen better days. The cracks in the stone and the sagging roof made it clear that this church had been neglected for years. Sebastian sighed softly as he stood in front of the doors. The gap in wealth between the forsaken and noble realms was painfully obvious here. Even if this is just an orphanage church, he thought, this place is no home for children.

He knocked on the doors, and after a moment, he heard the creak of old wood as one of them slowly opened. The sound made him frown, his eyes wandering over the structure's worn exterior. It was barely holding together, with gaps in the walls that would make it unbearably cold in the winter. Sebastian imagined the freezing drafts seeping through those holes, the children shivering inside. This building wasn't fit for anyone to live in, let alone the six children who would soon call it home. Frostbite was a real risk here.

Before he could dwell further on the state of the church, the door opened fully, revealing a middle-aged man standing in the doorway. He had short, black hair and a neatly trimmed goatee, his long black robe trimmed with wide white bands at the hem and cuffs. A high-collared, white mantle rested on his shoulders, and around his neck hung a gold cross that glinted softly in the morning light.

Sebastian immediately recognized him. Father Orsi, the priest of this church. But something was off. He looked younger, far younger than the gray-haired man Sebastian remembered seeing in the anime. Inwardly, Sebastian marveled at the difference. So this is what Father Orsi looked like in his younger days.

"Oh, a visitor?" Father Orsi greeted him with a warm smile, his eyes crinkling in pleasant surprise. "I'm the priest of this church, Father Orsi. Please, come in."

Sebastian nodded, stepping inside as Father Orsi gestured for him to enter. The interior of the church was just as modest as the outside, but there was a warmth to the place that transcended its physical state. Despite its run-down appearance, it had the feeling of a sanctuary—a place where, no matter how bad things got, people would still find refuge.

Sebastian gave a light nod as he stepped into the church, but his frown deepened as he took in the state of the interior. The condition inside was even worse than the cracked and worn exterior had suggested. The wooden benches lining the small chapel were splintered and cracked, spider webs clung to the corners of the ceiling, and a thick layer of dust covered nearly every surface. Stains—some old, others more recent—spotted the floors and worn-out rugs, evidence of neglect and hard times.

Father Orsi, noticing Sebastian's expression, sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. "I, uh, apologize for the mess," he said with an awkward smile. "This place used to be a lot cleaner, I promise. But now that I've got two babies to look after, I don't have as much time to keep up with everything." He glanced around at the clutter with a guilty look, clearly aware of how bad things had gotten.

Sebastian nodded indifferently, his eyes scanning the dusty room. "Have you requested the clergy to send you a helper?" he asked, his voice even, but his gaze piercing.

Orsi sighed, hanging his head slightly in frustration as he tried to maintain his forced smile. "I did," he admitted, "but, well, the Church can't exactly force anyone to come to a place like this. And let's be honest, the odds of someone willingly moving out to Hage, at the edge of the forsaken realm... they're slim to none."

Sebastian could only agree. It was true; the forsaken realm wasn't exactly a place that attracted volunteers. This village was far from the comforts of the capital and noble realms. His mind wandered briefly to the future—he realized it would still be a few years before Lily Aquaria, the kind-hearted nun, arrived at this church. Until then, Orsi was on his own.

As Sebastian considered this, his admiration for the priest grew. Orsi had taken in Asta and Yuno as helpless babies, despite having little in the way of funds or manpower. The village was isolated, impoverished, and harsh, yet Orsi had seen those two infants and couldn't just leave them to freeze in the winter. Not only had he saved them from certain death, but he had chosen to raise them, despite the overwhelming odds. And in the years to come, he would adopt four more children, building a family in this crumbling, forsaken place.

Orsi interrupted Sebastian's thoughts, his voice hesitant but polite. "So, are you here to pray, or perhaps make a confession?" he asked, trying to gauge Sebastian's purpose.

Sebastian shook his head and reached into his cloak, pulling out a small pouch. Without a word, he pressed the pouch into Orsi's hands. "I'm here to make a donation," he said simply.

Orsi blinked in surprise, feeling the weight of the pouch immediately. His fingers loosened the drawstrings, and through the small opening, he saw the unmistakable gleam of gold coins. His eyes widened in shock. "This... this is..." he stammered, his voice trembling. The weight of the pouch alone had been shocking, but seeing the gleam of gold was something entirely different.

Sebastian, calm and composed, gave him a slight smile. "Go ahead, take it."

But Orsi hesitated, his brows knitting together in concern. "Are you sure this isn't stolen?" he asked, his voice dropping to a worried whisper. "I—I don't want to put the Church in danger. If this money comes from dubious means..."

Sebastian chuckled softly, lifting the edge of his cloak to reveal his silver hair. Orsi's eyes widened even more, recognition immediately flashing across his face.

"House Silva..." Orsi whispered, his voice shaky. He quickly moved to bow, stumbling over his words. "I—I had no idea! Please, forgive me, I didn't realize—"

Sebastian quickly held up a hand to stop him, his tone suddenly more urgent. "No need for that," he said firmly. "I'm here on a secret mission. I'd rather you treat me as a normal person while I'm here."

Orsi gulped and nodded, his nervousness apparent. "O-of course," he managed, though his eyes were still wide with shock. He lightened up a bit when Sebastian continued.

"And don't worry about the money," Sebastian added, his tone more reassuring. "No one will target this church. You can expect monthly donations of at least the same value from now on."

Tears welled up in Orsi's eyes. His hands shook as he gripped the pouch, his emotions clearly overwhelming him. "I... I don't know what to say. Thank you," he whispered, his voice thick with gratitude. But as he looked down at the pouch again, his expression shifted. He bit his lip and, with visible reluctance, tried to press the pouch back into Sebastian's hands. "I... I can't accept this."

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Why not?"

Orsi's face twisted with guilt as he lowered his head in shame. "I've always mocked nobles and royals behind their backs," he admitted quietly. "Called them selfish, uncompassionate people. I don't deserve this kind of generosity. Not after all the things I've said."

Sebastian couldn't help but laugh. "You're not wrong," he said, his voice tinged with amusement. "Most nobles and royals are trash. You weren't wrong to think that." He smiled softly, his gaze steady. "But now that you've learned your lesson, you can move on."

Despite the words of reassurance, Orsi still seemed troubled. His fingers clenched tightly around the pouch, and he looked as though he might refuse it once more. But before he could protest again, Sebastian spoke calmly.

"Even if you don't think you deserve the money, those children do." He pointed toward the staircase, sensing the faint flicker of Yuno's mana upstairs. Asta was no doubt sleeping soundly beside him. "Think of them."

Orsi froze, his gaze following Sebastian's hand. Slowly, the tension in his shoulders eased. After a long pause, he finally nodded. "You're right," he murmured. "This money will go toward the children and the church. I swear it."

Sebastian's gaze softened, and he leaned in slightly. "Just remember," he said quietly, "a church is only as good as its priest. Don't forget to take care of yourself, too."

Orsi's nod was almost imperceptible. His eyes were focused on the pouch, still clearly conflicted. Sebastian sighed inwardly, sensing that the priest wasn't going to budge on this point. Orsi was far too selfless, too devoted to the children, to ever put himself first. It's a battle for another day, Sebastian thought, deciding not to press the issue any further.

Hearing a pair of soft whimpers and cries from upstairs, Father Orsi paused mid-conversation and glanced toward the ceiling. His brow furrowed with concern. "I need to check on the children," he said, already starting to turn toward the stairs.

Sebastian nodded, his expression calm. "Do you need help?"

Orsi hesitated, his eyes widening in surprise. The thought of a royal—especially one from the prestigious House Silva—offering to assist with childcare was not something he had expected. He mentally scolded himself for his bias, realizing that even after everything, he still carried assumptions about nobles. Clearing his throat, Orsi nodded. "That... would actually be very appreciated," he said, his voice a bit unsure but grateful.

Without any further comment, Sebastian followed him up the creaky, streaked staircase. The steps groaned under their weight as they ascended into a modest room with wooden plank floors. The room itself was simple, with a makeshift bed pushed against one wall. But what drew Sebastian's attention were the two well-crafted cribs, standing side by side, each holding a tiny infant swaddled in soft blankets. Both babies were squirming and tossing their tiny limbs as they whimpered softly.

Sebastian's gaze moved between the two children and Father Orsi, who was quick to hurry to the black-haired baby with golden eyes. A pendant with a blue stone hung from the infant's neck, and the child was crying more intensely than the other. "Yuno," Sebastian thought to himself, recognizing him immediately from the anime's future. Orsi gently scooped Yuno into his arms, cradling him with practiced ease. He shushed the baby softly, rocking him gently until Yuno's cries started to calm, his little body relaxing into the comforting hold of the priest.

As Sebastian observed this, he couldn't help but admire Orsi even more. The man was clearly worn down—his clothes were tattered and his frame much too thin. Yet despite his own hardships, Orsi had made sure these children were well cared for. Yuno's clothes were clean and snug, and even though the conditions of the church were rough, the children themselves looked healthy. It was a kind of selflessness that struck Sebastian deeply. To love children who weren't even your own, to give so much of yourself for others without expecting anything in return—it was something he found incredibly rare.

If any of my kids ever get married, Sebastian thought, a brief, wistful smile crossing his face, I'd want Father Orsi to oversee the ceremony.

Breaking from his thoughts, Sebastian moved to the other crib, where the ash-blonde baby with bright green eyes was still whimpering, though not as loudly as Yuno had been. Sebastian lifted the baby gently, noting the boy's lively energy. "Asta," he thought. But instead of calming down like Yuno, Asta's eyes flew wide open, and his soft whimpers turned into an excited giggle. His little legs kicked out happily, and before Sebastian could react, Asta's tiny hands reached up and scratched at his cheek as if they were playing a game.

Sebastian blinked in surprise, then chuckled at the sudden shift in the baby's mood. Asta's innocent laughter echoed in the small room as he continued to kick and squirm in Sebastian's arms, completely unaware of who was holding him. His small, sharp nails left light scratches on Sebastian's skin, but the royal man didn't seem to mind.

Orsi, on the other hand, gawking at the sight, looked immediately flustered. "I—uh—he's just a lively kid!" Orsi stammered, clearly worried that Sebastian might take offense. He hurried to add, "He doesn't mean any harm, I promise."

Sebastian let out a low, amused chuckle, still gently holding the wriggling Asta. "Calm down," he said, his voice steady and reassuring. "I'm not going to raise a hand against an infant."

Orsi's shoulders sagged in relief, but his expression shifted to one of embarrassment. He nodded sheepishly, his hands fiddling nervously with the hem of his robe. "Of course," he murmured, clearly ashamed for assuming otherwise.

Sebastian only smiled as Asta continued to giggle and play in his arms. Lively is an understatement, he thought, watching as the little baby squirmed and babbled happily. But instead of feeling irritated, he found himself strangely comforted by Asta's innocent energy. The child was completely carefree, completely oblivious to the harsh world outside the church walls. For just a moment, everything felt lighter.

As Sebastian looked down at Asta and Yuno, a wave of warmth washed over him. Their innocent faces, soft and peaceful in sleep, stirred something deep within his heart. For a moment, a powerful temptation swept over him—a desire to take these two remarkable babies back with him to the Noble Realm, to raise them within the opulence and security of Castle Silva.

He imagined them growing up in the grand halls of the castle, trained by the best tutors and exposed to the finest education and magical resources the kingdom had to offer. In his mind, he could see a future where Lucius, the tyrannical villain, would wreak havoc, only to be swiftly defeated by two imposing butlers from House Silva. The mere thought of this made him almost giddy with excitement, and he had to stop himself from grinning too widely or—heavens forbid—drooling at the daydream.

But just as quickly as the fantasy took hold, Sebastian shook his head, bringing himself back to reality. He knew that taking Asta and Yuno away from Hage, away from the harsh yet humble life they were destined for, would change who they were at their core. Sure, they might still grow strong under Noble care—perhaps even more so—but their character? Their fire? That unyielding drive to become the Wizard King and bring equality to the Clover Kingdom? That would likely be snuffed out, dimmed by the ease and privilege of a noble upbringing. They would lack the empathy and understanding of what it meant to be a peasant or a commoner, the very things that would fuel their resolve and make them the protectors they were meant to be.

No, Sebastian realized. As tempting as it was, Asta and Yuno needed to stay here in Hage, raised as peasants, experiencing hardship and growing stronger because of it. That was their path. The best thing he could do for them was to ensure they had the resources they needed to grow up in a stable environment. That meant frequent donations to the church, so they wouldn't have to worry about things like food, shelter, or warmth during the brutal winters.

As Asta and Yuno drifted off into peaceful sleep once more, Sebastian and Orsi carefully placed them back into their cribs, gently covering them with blankets. Asta's tiny hand clutched the edge of his blanket, while Yuno slept quietly, his blue pendant glinting faintly in the dim light. The two men stood there for a moment, watching the babies rest before silently making their way back downstairs.

Once they reached the entrance, Orsi turned to Sebastian, his eyes filled with gratitude. "I can't thank you enough," he said, his voice full of emotion. "What you've done today—"

Sebastian raised a hand to stop him. "It's time for me to be on my way," he said, his tone calm and composed.

Orsi nodded, moving to open the door. As Sebastian stepped out, the priest suddenly paused, as if remembering something. "Wait," he said, his brows furrowing slightly. "I never got your name."

Sebastian smiled faintly and shook his head. "I'm on a secret mission, remember? I can't give you my identity."

Orsi blinked, then nodded in understanding. "Of course. I'll remember that."

Before Sebastian turned to leave, he added one more thing, his voice firm but not unkind. "And remember, I was never here. No one from House Silva came to Hage today. That money—it came from the head church. Nothing more."

Orsi swallowed hard, clearly nervous at the idea of keeping such a secret, but he nodded once more. "I understand," he said softly.

With that, Sebastian turned and walked away, his hood pulled up over his silver hair. The village of Hage grew smaller behind him as he disappeared into the forest, the light filtering through the trees and casting shadows over his figure.

As Sebastian walked slowly toward the ominous silhouette of the demon skull looming in the distance, a strange mix of excitement and awe built inside him. The sight stirred memories of his past life, of all the times he daydreamed about being isekaid into the world of Black Clover. He had always imagined what it would be like to visit this very place—standing beneath the towering, fossilized skull of a demon, gazing up at the statue of the first Wizard King. Now, it wasn't just a fantasy. It was real, and that realization made his heart race with childlike giddiness.

"This is it," he thought, his lips curling into a small, anticipatory smile. "I'm actually here."

With each step, the forest around him came alive in ways that felt both foreign and familiar. He moved silently, his eyes scanning the greenery as he admired the wildlife. Birds chirped overhead, flitting between the branches of ancient trees. The scent of damp earth and fresh foliage filled his lungs, and the gentle rustle of leaves underfoot created a soothing cadence as he made his way closer to the edge of the forsaken realm.

Eventually, the forest thinned, and Sebastian found himself standing at the foot of the enormous demon skull. Its hollow eyes stared down at him, a haunting reminder of the epic battle fought long ago. Sebastian exhaled, trying to steady the excitement building inside him. This was a sacred place—a place where history had been written in blood and stone.

He began his ascent, climbing the ridged surface of the skull carefully, gripping the rough bone as he pulled himself up higher and higher. Every now and then, he paused, catching glimpses of the vast landscape below, a mix of sprawling forest and scattered villages. But his true focus lay ahead—at the top, where the statue of Lemiel Silvamillion Clover, the first Wizard King, awaited him.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Sebastian reached the peak. There, standing tall and regal against the sky, was the stone effigy of Lemiel. The statue's expression was calm, noble, and full of the quiet strength that had defined the man in life. Sebastian walked slowly toward it, each step reverent. His breath caught in his throat. He was here—standing before the very monument he had once only seen through the glow of a screen.

Suddenly, something caught his attention. A small movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned just in time to see a tiny antimagic bird—a familiar creature in this world—flutter gracefully toward the statue. In its beak, it held a delicate flower, which it carefully placed at Lemiel's feet before perching itself on the Wizard King's stone shoulder.

Sebastian blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the scene. The bird, small and unimposing, narrowed its eyes at him as if scrutinizing his presence. It was only then that the realization hit him—this wasn't just any bird. This was Secre Swallowtail, the bird who had loyally protected Lemiel's and Licht's legacy for centuries, who would eventually regain her human form, about 15 years from now. Sebastian hadn't planned on encountering her quite yet, but fate, it seemed, had other ideas.

He paused, contemplating his next move. In his original plan, he hadn't intended to make contact with Secre until much later. But now, with her right here in front of him, the wheels in his mind began to turn. Her presence was often disregarded or overlooked by many, making her an ideal ally to use in the shadows. He could leverage her forgotten status to his advantage—after all, who better to help him navigate the complexities of this world than someone who had already been through it all?

But for now, he decided not to act too hastily. Secre's gaze remained fixed on him, cautious yet curious. Sebastian met her eyes for a brief moment before offering a slight nod, a silent acknowledgment of her presence. The antimagic bird tilted its head, seemingly satisfied, before ruffling its feathers and settling more comfortably on Lemiel's shoulder.

With a final glance at the statue, Sebastian stepped back, taking in the full scene before him—the statue, the demon skull, and the quiet bird that watched over it all. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he turned and made his way back down the skull, the excitement still simmering within him.

Sebastian was just about to descend from the demon skull, ready to put some distance between himself and this sacred place, when a voice—deep and gruff—sliced through the air.

"Sebastian?"

The sound of his name being called like that made his entire body freeze. His head snapped up, eyes narrowing, searching for the source. It didn't take long to spot the man standing a short distance away, watching him with a raised brow of confusion. Unlike Sebastian, the man wore no cloak or hood to conceal his identity. In fact, his appearance was strikingly familiar, so much so that Sebastian's pupils widened in shock.

The man was tall, towering even, with messy black hair that framed his rugged face, but what stood out most was the unmistakable green patch of hair on the right side of his head. His clothes were regal yet practical—he wore a high-collared shirt beneath a dark grey jacket lined with intricate green scrollwork. A red fabric belt cinched the jacket closed, and around his chest and waist, five gold strands of keys jingled softly as he moved. Dark grey pants and black boots completed his look, the boots trimmed with red and adorned with gold, diamond-shaped ornaments. Draped over his shoulders was a long cape, dark grey and lined with white fur, which flowed down to a mantle held together by a gold chain and red tassels hanging down in front.

Sebastian's throat tightened as the reality of who stood before him sank in.

One of the two people he had been actively avoiding since he had arrived in this world. And now, here he was, staring him down with a mix of curiosity and bewilderment, as though trying to make sense of why Sebastian, of all people, was lurking near the demon skull.

Conrad Leto.

Omake

Secre perched on Lemiel's shoulder, her small bird eyes narrowing as she watched Sebastian approach. She was ready to act if needed, but before she could, he spoke.

"I know who you are. Secre Swallowtail"

Secre's eyes widened in surprise. How could he know? But when he called her Secre Swallowtail and mentioned she was Lemiel's assistant, it was clear this wasn't just some clueless stranger. Then, to top it off, he pointed at Lemiel's statue and said it wasn't just a statue, but the real Lemiel.

Her eyes narrowed further, and she let out a sharp squeak. "What do you want?"

Sebastian, unusually serious, replied, "I need an answer to a question."

Secre gave a small nod, curious now.

Pointing at the statue again, Sebastian asked, "Why's he standing like that?"

Secre blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

Sebastian cleared his throat. "Lemiel was badly hurt, right? So why is he posing like that? It's like a full-on hero stance. Did he ask you to wait before you sealed him so he could strike a pose?"

Secre froze, trying to process what he just said.

Sebastian pushed further, still dead serious. "Like, did he picture people coming by in the future and thought, 'I better look cool for my fans?'"

Secre just stood there, her face heating up as she remembered something she hadn't thought about in centuries.

485 years ago:

Lemiel was lying on the ground, barely alive. Secre was ready to seal him, sad but determined when suddenly he waved her off.

"Wait, Secre," he rasped, struggling to sit up.

"Yes, my prince?" she answered.

Coughing, blood dripping from his wounds, Lemiel forced himself to stand. Despite being on the brink of death, he posed dramatically—grimoire open in one hand, the other pointing heroically out toward the horizon, standing tall at the edge of the demon skull.

Without looking back at her, he said, "Alright, Secre. Now."

Secre was dumbstruck. Here was her dying prince, posing like a hero in his last moments, and she had to resist every urge to punch him for it.

Back to the present:

Secre's wings twitched as she snapped back to reality, the memory making her blush hard. She glanced at Sebastian, her pride wounded.

"Don't ask," she muttered, clearly embarrassed.

Sebastian would never get a clear answer to this question.