Her mother's voice came first, gentle yet firm, reaching through the storm of emotions that still held her captive.
"My dear, rise. Just like your father, and just like yourself, I have already forgiven every mistake you have ever made. Whatever it may be, to me, you have always been our child without fault."
"Even if you have erred, we forgave it long before you ever thought to ask."
"All of it is nothing more than traces of the past, just as your father said. Every action you take becomes a page that completes the story of our lives."
I lifted my gaze and looked into Mother's face.
Her eyes were soft.
So very soft.
The warmth within them calmed the trembling of my heart, as though a quiet hand had reached into my chest and stilled the restless waves.
My tears slowed, fading little by little beneath that gentle light.
Then her expression shifted.
As it always did.
She became the anchor of this home once more, the unshakable presence that balanced Father's tenderness with unwavering resolve.
Yet even within that firmness, her kindness lingered, impossible to conceal entirely.
The emerald glow in her eyes shimmered, like a quiet radiance that seeped into me, soothing what little pain remained.
"Rise, my daughter."
I obeyed without hesitation.
"Charlotte Wieser."
"I love you."
A smile found its way to my lips.
I stepped closer, pressing a reverent kiss to her forehead before meeting her gaze again, taking in the grace and maturity that defined her presence.
I understood then, more clearly than ever, why Father had never been able to turn away from her.
She was breathtaking.
A quiet laugh slipped from me, an old habit returning to soften the moment, to keep her from sinking too deeply into worry.
"I love you so much, Mother."
I leaned in again, placing gentle kisses upon both her cheeks.
"My most beautiful mother… thank you for everything."
Her smile bloomed.
So radiant that, for a fleeting moment, I found myself unable to look away.
One day…
I want to become as graceful as she is.
Once more, I kissed her forehead.
"I love you… truly."
She smiled, her cheeks faintly flushed from my affection. Her hand continued to stroke Karina's back, soothing the little one, even as she answered me.
"I love you too. My daughter, the strongest in the world, and the most beautiful."
"Hehehe… Mother, your words grow sweeter. I might never stop kissing you at this rate… though Father might grow jealous."
A soft laugh followed.
"Then go on. Say something to your father, you mischievous girl."
"Very well, Mother."
Father…
It is difficult to put into words just how much he means to me.
The man who has cherished me since childhood, who filled my days with warmth and laughter, weaving memories that will forever remain entwined with Mother and my siblings.
I lowered my head briefly before lifting my gaze to him.
"Father."
He raised his head to meet my eyes, a gentle smile forming upon his lips.
"What is it, my little girl? My words are no different from your mother's."
I stepped closer and placed a soft kiss upon his forehead, just as I had done with Mother.
"I am Father's first little daughter… his most adorable daughter… his sweetest little girl. Thank you for everything, Father."
"I love you."
As before, I kissed both his cheeks.
"My most handsome father… Charlotte Wieser, your strongest daughter, asks for your forgiveness."
He looked at me more deeply then.
And softly, he laughed.
"My adorable daughter… I forgive every mistake you have made, even those you have yet to make."
"I love you. Thank you for loving and cherishing us."
"I love you too, Father."
For a brief moment, my gaze shifted to Ian and Ryan, then returned to Father and Mother.
"Your daughter loves you both dearly. I promise… I will make you proud."
"Your mother prays for your happiness."
"Your father supports you. Walk your path, and I will await the day you return with your achievements."
"Just wait for me, Father… Mother."
They exchanged a glance, then looked back at me with the same warm smiles.
I stepped back, returning to the long wooden bench lined with soft feather cushions.
My heart felt light.
As though every burden I had carried had dissolved, washed away by a sacred warmth that filled the room.
I watched my siblings, one by one, step forward to speak their hearts, to ask forgiveness and offer it in return.
I took it all in.
Moved by every word, by every response filled with love.
I was grateful.
So deeply grateful.
To be part of this family.
Their warmth carried me closer to my dream.
So close…
It felt as though I could reach out and grasp it at any moment.
I want to make them proud.
Just as I said.
To become an elder sister worthy of trust, of admiration, of being looked up to, and spoken of with pride before the world.
I want Grandmother to smile with pride, telling others of her remarkable granddaughter.
I want my aunt to lift her head high, speaking of her niece with quiet dignity and joy wherever she goes.
My friends…
Cecilia, Rose, Harris, Boris… and all the others.
I want them to be proud.
Not the kind of pride spoken lightly upon the lips, fleeting and hollow, but the kind that grows quietly within the heart. The kind they carry home without realizing, the kind they speak of to their families with smiles they cannot quite hide.
That they once walked beside me.
That they knew me… before the world ever did.
The people of this village…
I want them to know that someone extraordinary was born upon the very soil they tread.
That from this small place, from this quiet and unassuming corner of the world, a figure will rise—one who will be remembered by time itself.
Until one day…
That name will cross the borders of nations.
People from every corner of the world will speak it, alongside the name of the village where I was born.
The place where I was raised.
The place where I first learned what it meant to live.
The hero from the southern lands of the Empire.
Father once said…
That my hair, so much like Mother's, reminded him of something from a distant past. Like a flower—beautiful, graceful—yet at its most captivating when its petals fall, drifting gently upon an unseen wind.
Perhaps…
That is how the world will come to know me.
In a time still far beyond today's reach…
That title will echo.
Carried from city to city.
Whispered into every corner of the Empire.
That name will be spoken, laced with awe, always accompanied by my family's name, and the village that shaped me.
Like this…
"Look… the hero from the southern Empire."
"You know her name?"
"Of course. One of the most beautiful women in the Empire. How could I not?"
"Charlotte Wieser."
"Of the Wieser family."
"...from Green Pine Village."
All of it…
Still lies far ahead.
Yet the desire is real.
And I will make it real.
Time feels as though it moves too quickly.
I try to steady my heart and quiet my thoughts, though unease seeps in like a silent chill creeping beneath the skin.
Tomorrow…
I will part ways.
With Father.
With Mother.
With Ryan.
And Karina.
The feeling burns within my chest, threatening to erode the resolve I have built with such care.
I glance at Ian.
My younger brother remains calm.
As though nothing that transpired in the family hall had stirred even the faintest ripple within him.
For the first time…
I feel envy.
Envy of his steadiness.
Of the way he holds his emotions, keeps them contained, conceals them without leaving a single crack.
But…
Enough.
As Father and Mother said…
This parting is only temporary.
Ryan has already promised to visit us, together with Father, Mother, and Karina.
And Father…
With the power he possesses, no matter where Ian and I may go, as long as our chakra bears his mark, he can reach us in an instant, with a precision that defies reason itself.
That power within his eyes…
It is truly extraordinary.
One day, I want my own eyes to reach that same height.
If I remember correctly…
Father once explained it.
Eyes that can see through darkness.
A power born to protect those one holds dear.
And yet…
Behind it lies a price far from light.
A blessing.
And a curse intertwined.
A power awakened through the loss of someone most precious.
Mangekyou Sharingan.
Father said that power came from Grandmother… from his mother who is no longer in this world.
Yet…
Doubt lingers.
I am not entirely certain that it is the whole truth.
Or perhaps it is simply one of many secrets Father keeps hidden, even from Mother.
Who knows.
I do not wish to dwell on it too deeply.
Perhaps someday…
Father will tell us everything.
With nothing left concealed.
At a time he deems we are ready to understand.
Yet there is one thing…
That continues to trouble me.
The thought never truly leaves, as though it has taken root deep within me, enduring no matter how much time passes.
When I was around ten years old…
A vague memory returns to me again and again.
It repeats within my dreams.
I…
Was fighting Father.
The battle felt real.
Fierce.
Close.
And without hesitation…
I broke his arm.
Yet when I awoke, I tried to convince myself it had only been a dream.
A dream too vivid.
Too real, leaving behind traces that refused to fade.
When I asked Mother…
She told me I had awakened after being unconscious for an entire week.
Before that…
The last thing I remembered was training with Father.
Ian later added…
That Father carried me home in his arms, unconscious.
And his hand had been injured.
Only bruised.
Not broken, as I had seen in that dream.
Since then, my certainty began to waver.
Perhaps…
It truly was nothing more than a dream.
Yet the image of it returns again and again.
Appearing at the most unexpected moments.
As though something within me longed to affirm it.
As though a hidden fragment of my own soul refused to dismiss it as nothing more than a fleeting illusion.
When I asked Father…
His answer came short, simple, and closed.
"It is nothing. You need not trouble yourself."
And like so many other things that surrounded him…
It became yet another secret.
One more truth sealed away behind the quiet walls of his silence.
Father's secret.
At times, I find myself wondering in the stillness of my thoughts…
How many truths has he hidden from us?
How many stories remain buried beneath that calm, unreadable gaze?
And Aunt Erna…
I only came to know of her yesterday.
A woman whose face I have never truly seen with my own eyes.
Yet within the small illustration Father once revealed, framed carefully as though it were a treasure beyond price…
She was breathtaking.
Not merely beautiful in the way others might be praised.
But enchanting.
The kind of beauty that lingers, that quietly steals the breath without asking permission.
Like a figure born from the oldest of tales.
Her face…
Carried a resemblance to Father's.
Hair like threads of silver, soft and luminous.
Eyes of blue, clear as an endless sky untouched by cloud or storm.
That beauty did not feel real.
It felt distant.
Untouchable.
As though she had never belonged to this world, but rather to a story whispered from one generation to the next.
Like a princess of legend…
Waiting somewhere beyond reach.
Destined to meet a prince in a tale written by fate itself.
And slowly, without meaning to…
A thought began to take root within me.
Father is not an ordinary man.
It came and passed like a fleeting shadow, swift and uncertain. Perhaps a fallen noble… yet I cast it aside before it could grow into something too bold, too dangerous to entertain.
Erna… and Father are siblings.
Both of them…
Far too perfect to be called the children of a simple farmer, as Mother once remarked years ago, her tone light, almost playful, yet carrying something deeper beneath it.
A farmer who fled his homeland because of disaster.
Back then…
I never questioned it.
Never found anything strange.
But now…
Everything feels… different.
There is a faint dissonance.
Something that refuses to settle quietly in its place.
Something that lingers.
Something that stirs.
Even so, Father never denied Mother's words.
Is that not curious?
Mother did not seem angered.
Not even in the slightest.
As though she had always known… or at least guessed the truth hidden beneath his silence.
Or perhaps…
Just as she often says with that teasing smile.
Because Father is wealthy.
"Hehe…"
Mother is right.
I might have made the same choice.
So long as I would not have to live in hardship.
Who would choose a life of struggle?
I would not.
If someone claims they would… perhaps they have never truly felt the weight of lacking even the simplest of things.
Ah…
My thoughts have wandered far beyond where they should be.
I shake my head lightly, letting out a small laugh at my own foolishness.
"How narrow my thinking has become. That will not do."
"Remember Mother's words… character above all else."
"Hehe…"
It seems…
That particular wish of Mother's will not be easy for me to fulfill completely.
Very well.
I bid my younger brother farewell within the quiet of my heart.
It is time to rest.
Tomorrow will come.
A new day.
The first step upon a path I have yet to walk.
I will depart for the city with Ian.
To Grandmother's home… and to Aunt Adela.
Until we meet again.
My body sinks gently into the softness of the bed, layered thick with comfort, its surface filled with the finest down, soft as drifting clouds.
The pillows cradle me the same way.
Warm.
Yielding.
Drawing me into a quiet, unspoken comfort.
So this is what it means… to live without want.
Thank you, Father.
And thank you, Mother… for choosing him.
Ah…
A small smile forms as my gaze drifts toward the ceiling, slowly blurring at the edges.
But before sleep fully takes me…
A memory surfaces.
Good night, Asteria.
Father once told me…
That you can grant a wish beneath the veil of night.
My wish is simple.
Let me sleep in peace.
Deeply.
Gently.
Until every burden fades away, like footprints erased by waves upon the shore.
Calm this restless heart, which roars like a distant storm, until it becomes as still as a quiet lake beneath the light of spring.
Untangle these wandering thoughts, scattered and restless, like ants gathering over a single drop of sweetness.
My beautiful fairy…
Let this night embrace me in serenity.
The night that belongs to you.
The night where you dwell within unseen shadows, watching the world in silence.
That is all.
Simple… is it not?
And surely, it must be easy…
Asteria…
Sovereign of the dark.
Moments pass.
Sleep comes softly, yet irresistibly.
The thoughts that once twisted and turned begin to settle, smoothing into stillness like water resting within a wooden basin untouched by wind.
Calm spreads through me.
Gently.
Quietly.
Driving away the unease that once filled my chest.
Carrying it far from the depths of my soul, where turmoil once stirred.
It seems…
My wish has been granted.
A faint breath escapes my lips.
My eyelids grow heavy.
So very heavy.
Even the smallest effort to keep them open fades into nothing.
My awareness drifts.
Sinking.
All thoughts dissolve.
All sounds grow distant, fading into silence.
Now…
I surrender to the quiet darkness.
To rest.
To gather strength within its still embrace.
Good night.
And thank you…
The fairest.