Reborn As Papa Silva

Chapter 53: Their Story (3)

"My Lady... what exactly are we doing?" Hilda asked hesitantly, her gaze flicking across the circular coffee table to Acier.

"Mm?" Acier responded absentmindedly, not bothering to look at her maid. She rested her cheek against her propped-up right hand, elbow bent on the table, her gaze fixed to the left on a single spot she hadn't looked away from in an hour.

They sat on the outdoor balcony of a café overlooking Kikka's bustling marketplace, a quaint place Acier had dragged Hilda to after breakfast. She'd rented the entire balcony until lunchtime—an indulgence Hilda couldn't question but didn't fully understand.

Hilda tried to ignore the untouched array of decadent sweets on their table, focusing instead on where her princess's gaze lingered. Below, amidst the throngs of vendors and shoppers, she spotted him. The boy.

He was silver-haired, sitting stiff and emotionless at a shabby makeshift stall with little effort in its construction. A crude sign dangled above his station: "Medical Clinic." He looked like a hollow vessel—an empty shell in tattered clothing, barely alive.

Hilda's stomach churned. Why was her princess so fixated on him? They had arrived at the marketplace only an hour ago, yet the moment Acier's eyes landed on the boy, she had lit up with excitement to an extent Hilda hadn't seen in years. Without a word, she had rented the balcony, sat down, and proceeded to silently stare.

Her princess hadn't touched the delicacies brought to their table or even acknowledged Hilda's presence. Instead, Acier seemed utterly engrossed in the boy, as though he were a spectacle of immense importance. The array of expressions that danced across her face—fondness, sorrow, annoyance, sympathy, exasperation—confounded Hilda further.

Does the princess... like him? The thought hit Hilda like a bucket of cold water, and panic bubbled in her chest.

If Lady Amara or the Old Master find out, this won't end well.

Neither would tolerate Acier falling for a street rat—there was no other word for the boy, given his filthy, threadbare clothing. Nicklaus would undoubtedly kill the boy, whether or not the boy in question was even aware of Acier's supposed infatuation. Worse, he'd lock her away in the estate again, stripping her of the minuscule freedom that had miraculously fallen into her life.

And her mother... Hilda shuddered. To Lady Amara, even noble heirs weren't worthy of Acier. A nobody like that boy? The idea would be unthinkable.

If the Old Master ever interrogated Hilda about her princess's excursions, she doubted she could keep the secret unless she suicided. And that action in itself would be a confession of sorts that her princess was doing something she shouldn't. Her princess would lose everything again—her freedom, her will, her spirit. She would return to that lifeless doll Hilda had once known, pulled along by her mother and grandfather's strings.

Hilda's fists clenched. No. Not again.

She reached across the table, placing her slender fingers lightly on Acier's arm. "My Lady," she murmured softly, her voice steady yet imploring.

Acier blinked, finally pulling her gaze from the boy to fix Hilda with a cold, unamused stare.

Hilda swallowed her trepidation, glanced around to ensure no one inside the café was watching, and leaned forward, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Princess... your status and his... they're too different. For both your sake and his, you shouldn't act on whatever it is you're feeling. Please, keep your distance."

Acier blinked, her expression morphing into one of incredulous disbelief. "You think... I fancy—" She gestured vaguely toward the boy, her wide eyes snapping back to Hilda. "—him?"

Hilda froze. Now I'm not so sure... She cringed inwardly but forced herself to nod. "Don't you...?"

Acier recoiled slightly, her nose wrinkling as if Hilda had just suggested something obscene. "No," she said stiffly. "God, no." She shook her head vehemently, casting a brief sidelong glance at the boy below—at Sebastian.

Sebastian Theodoros. That was his name. She had received it in Alfred's report last night, and now it stuck in her mind like a melody.

Well the first part of his name anyway, the second part... Acier had to try to hide her disgust recalling the things she read his father did to him or was at least suspected of doing, in Alfred's report.

He's just Sebastain... nothing else. Acier decided that would be his name, atleast to her.

Her gaze returned to Sebastain, her posture settling back into its previous contemplative pose. Her lips pressed into a thin line. How could I fall for someone I just met? And even if I did... who could fall for someone so... empty?

Hilda watched her princess slip back into her private world, the boy once again consuming her attention. She tried again. "My Lady... then may I ask, what exactly are we—no, what exactly are you doing?"

"Hilda," Acier interrupted sharply, her voice chilly. She didn't even bother to turn this time.

"Y-yes, My Lady?" Hilda stammered.

"Sit quietly and eat. You're distracting me."

Hilda stiffened, bowing her head. "Yes, My Lady," she whispered.

Satisfied, Acier gave a faint nod, her eyes never leaving Sebastian.

Watching him prompted Acier to review what Alfred had included in last night's report.

Sebastian. A name that meant venerable and revered. His parents had chosen it with a purpose—to mold him into someone who could climb the social ladder and drag them up with him. Their ambition wasn't modest either; they aimed to become official Silva nobility, high-ranking ones at that.

That name was meant to carry their dreams. They wanted him to be someone of renown, someone so perfect, so blindingly immaculate, that he could sweep their insecurities and failures under the rug. By extension, his success would reflect back on them, earning them the admiration of royalty and high nobility.

Acier's tongue itched to click in derision. She had seen this before—parents burdening their children with unrealistic expectations. Just another pair of venomous snakes among the common waste of nobility and royalty, she thought bitterly. And when their children couldn't meet those expectations? They were discarded or broken.

Her mind flashed back to yesterday. She had struck Sebastian in the jaw, gravely wounding him, only to watch as he healed himself effortlessly, almost robotically. At first, she thought his stiffness was because he was like her—an emotionless void, someone hollowed out by life's demands. But Alfred's report revealed the truth.

That stiffness wasn't emotional. It was practiced, natural, ingrained. The way Sebastian had yanked his book from her hadn't been an act of anger but an instinct, a conditioned response to take what was his and make himself scarce. He hadn't lashed out after being struck because he didn't care—he was used to it. He's used to being hit. Used to being hurt.

And that... that was where her sorrow for him began.

No one should have to live like that. Acier knew she was fortunate in many ways. Her mother and grandfather's suffocation had been unbearable, but it had never been physical. If they had added beatings to their control, she doubted she would still be standing.

She was no fool; she had never deluded herself into believing her suffering was the greatest in the world. There were countless people who would kill to live her life—a warm bed, cooked meals, the promise of another tomorrow. Compared to the vast majority of the kingdom, she literally lived like a princess.

But she had also never truly experienced someone who had it worse than her, not firsthand. Her sheltered life had kept her from the raw reality of others' struggles. Through Alfred's reports, she had begun to see what went on behind closed doors, the truths that couldn't be ignored.

And what she saw made her stomach churn.

Sebastian's parents were despicable. Lavish, riddled with debt, obsessed with appearances. They had lived far beyond their means, desperate to be seen as part of the upper class they idolized. They tried to wring their son for all his worth, and physically mold him into perfection. When it became clear that was useless as Sebastian couldn't fulfill their ambitions, they spiraled into despair and ended their own lives.

To Acier, their deaths were a blessing. Good riddance. They couldn't hurt him anymore. He was free now.

So why...?

Her gaze returned to him, sitting at his pathetic little medical stand with those dead, empty eyes.

Why do you look like that? she questioned silently. You should be happy. You're free. Is it because they were still your parents, and despite everything, you loved them?

Her thoughts churned. Or is it something else? Have you lost your purpose without them?

She tried to piece together the puzzle, forcing herself to understand. According to Alfred's report, Sebastian's parents had been people driven by pride and vanity, their wealth an illusion propped up by endless loans and debts. When their reality crumbled, that Sebastian couldn't live up to their desires, and make that appearance an eternal truth, so did they.

Pathetic. Acier clicked her tongue, disdain seeping into her expression.

Yet, as her gaze lingered on Sebastian, her features softened, her emotions twisting into something more complex—a strange blend of pride and fondness.

She studied him again, as if he were a masterpiece both flawed and magnificent.

Over a year had passed since the day Sebastian's parents had taken their own lives, and shortly after, it seemed as if he had lost everything.

The family house, along with most of their belongings, had been seized by the bank, with assistance from House Legolant. All he had left was the family land. Naturally, the bank couldn't take that—not even if they had the power. That land was Silva land, even if it was on the outskirts of the estate. It had been lent to Sebastian's family by the main house, her house, just as it was for all the branch families.

In truth, the land still belonged to her family. And the bank, no matter how bold, would never dare lay a finger on Silva property, even if they had cause.

But with nothing beyond that patch of land to his name, empty land, Sebastian had lived like a practical street rat. According to Alfred's reports, he had made frequent trips to the common realm, navigating black markets and alleyways, scrounging for coin however he could. He'd taken on odd jobs, spent only on the barest necessities—clothing, evidently, not included—and saved every bit he could.

And, as of yesterday, it seemed his efforts had paid off. He had finally saved enough to pursue what appeared to be his dream, or perhaps goal would be the better term, of becoming a doctor and had even opened his own clinic.

Acier felt a tangle of emotions about that.

She was proud. To achieve all of that on his own, without any help, was admirable. Impressive, even. But she was also worried. Without a proper license, his clinic could be shut down at any moment by the kingdom if he drew too much attention or made a mistake.

And, of course, there was exasperation.

Why take the hard way? she wondered, tapping her cheek in rhythmic contemplation. With his healing skills, he could have walked into the main estate and been groomed as a healing ward or even a high-ranking servant.

Meals, clothing, lodging, amenities, perks—it would all be provided, along with a decent salary.

So why go to such lengths to do everything himself?

Her gaze sharpened as possibilities began to form.

Is it pride? A desire to be independent? Or... Her eyes narrowed. Does he blame the main family for what happened to his own?

She whispered the question softly to herself.

"Does he refuse to serve us?"

Tension between the main house and the branches wasn't a new issue. It had been simmering for nearly a decade. The main family had been placing increasing pressure on the branches, demanding higher performance. But why? No one would speak of it, leaving Acier to piece together fragments of speculation.

Perhaps it was enough to make him resent us, she thought. Enough to refuse to kneel, even if he's barely holding on.

Her gaze flicked back to Sebastian. If that's the case... perhaps I can't blame him.

Across the table, Hilda kept her head ducked low, pretending not to have heard anything. She nibbled quietly on a pastry, her movements delicate, as if trying not to disturb the fragile tension in the air.

You think I fancy him?

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The question Acier had posed to her maid replayed itself in her mind as the minutes ticked by. Sebastian still hadn't received a single visitor to his stall.

No, I don't fancy him at all, she thought firmly. Her fixation on him wasn't something as simple as infatuation. It was more complicated than that.

Those dead, lifeless eyes—she had seen them reflected in herself too many times. That was what drew her to him, what made her want to uncover the truth buried beneath his depression.

The fact that he was her age only deepened her intrigue. She felt as though she had stumbled upon a like-minded soul. And maybe, just maybe, that could lead to something she had always longed for: a true friend.

Not the kind of "friend" who came over for orchestrated playdates, thinly veiled attempts by nobles to curry favor with her family. Not the kind of "friend" whose parents hoped their son might one day win her heart.

No, Sebastian seemed different. His lifeless, emotionless demeanor convinced her that he wouldn't care about her status, her body, or her heart. The fact that he hadn't tried to cozy up to the main line only solidified that belief.

If she could befriend him, it would be something pure. No politics, no ulterior motives. Just two people who could talk to each other and confide in each other without pretense.

Just like Hilda once was...

But even Hilda, as her maid, had always been a bit reserved. Their difference in status had created an invisible barrier.

But this guy... Acier's thoughts raced. If he has no love or respect for House Silva, maybe he could treat me like a normal girl. Not a princess. Not Acier Silva. Just Acier.

Her heart pounded in nervous excitement at the thought, a mix of anticipation and apprehension swirling within her. It was why she hadn't spoken to him yet, even though her time in Kikka was running out.

She didn't want to ruin this fragile possibility of friendship with a bad first impression. Or an even worse one, if he remembers me socking him in the jaw yesterday...

Acier cringed at the memory, trying to convince herself that he hadn't registered it—or that, somehow, it wouldn't matter.

But her interest in Sebastian wasn't just personal. There was another reason she felt compelled to watch him so closely, to invest her time in him.

It was her duty.

As long as Sebastian lived on Silva land, even without bearing the Silva name or wearing Silva colors, he was still under Silva rule. Under Silva management. Under Silva protection.

And as the heiress to House Silva, as its future matriarch, it was her responsibility to look after all her prospective subjects.

If Sebastian was hurting, and her family had played even the smallest part in that pain, she felt obligated to help mend his heart and provide him with support.

That sense of duty wasn't limited to him. It extended to every bastard and disowned child of House Silva, to every branch family member, even to the servants, maids, and butlers who carried no trace of Silva blood.

Acier straightened in her seat, resolve hardening in her chest.

I will help him, she vowed silently. And I will prove I need no man to inherit this house. I will care for its people, starting with Sebastian.

It was that inward vow that brought Acier to an awkward standstill. She watched time tick away, her gaze locked on Sebastian's stall, where he sat motionlessly. Still, no patients approached him. The sight made her cringe.

The common realm lacked doctors, yes, but it wasn't without apothecaries and others with medical expertise. The people weren't desperate enough to entrust their lives to a child, not when their meager wealth was at stake.

Who would gamble their health—perhaps their very life—on the abilities of a boy rather than seek out a renowned doctor? Even if Sebastian's rates were lower, which Acier assumed they were, commoners would likely grit their teeth and scrape together the money for a noble doctor's guaranteed care rather than risk an unproven alternative.

A child without even a grimoire. To them, even if he knew healing magic, how effective could it possibly be?

Acier had seen it firsthand—she knew what he could do. But the passersby didn't. They only spared him brief, disdainful glances before sneering or chuckling under their breath and continuing on their way.

To them, life was too valuable to gamble on the hands of a boy with no credentials.

Acier's stomach churned as she realized that at this rate, he wouldn't even be able to put food on his plate. She mulled over the problem, trying to think of a solution.

He clearly had no intention of joining House Silva as a healer—that much was obvious. That left her with another possibility: she could visit his stall as a patient.

But even that posed its own risks.

If Sebastian recognized her, he might grow suspicious of her intentions. Worse, if he harbored any negative feelings or prejudice toward her family, he might outright refuse her. That would ruin her chances of befriending him—or of helping him in any way.

Acier's eyes flicked sidelong to Hilda, seated across from her. A faint glimmer sparked in her lavender pupils.

"Hilda?"

"Y-yes, My Lady?" Hilda jerked her head up, startled out of her silent waiting. She had been sitting awkwardly, hands folded in her lap, after finishing her meal. Now, she looked visibly relieved to be addressed.

Acier twirled a silver lock between her fingers, her tone casual. "Are you sick or feeling under the weather?"

Hilda blinked in confusion. "No, My Lady, not at all. I'm perfectly healthy and ready to serve you!"

"Hmmmm..."

The sound made Hilda's brows twitch in frustration as she held back the urge to ask, What does 'Hmmmm' mean?!

But Acier paid no mind to her maid's visible confusion. Her focus had already shifted back to Sebastian.

She tapped her cheek in contemplation.

Should I... break her fingers?

The thought was so absurdly matter-of-fact that it didn't even faze her at first.

If I break her fingers, she'll have to seek Sebastian's services to heal them. Then she could make a big spectacle about his abilities to the passing crowd. Surely, others would take notice and start seeking his help...

Hilda didn't know why a sudden chill ran up her spine, but her body shuddered involuntarily.

Fortunately for her, fate seemed to intervene.

Just as Acier was about to fully commit to her inner plan, Sebastian made his first movement since she'd arrived. Her brow rose as she watched him lean down, rummaging through some unseen belongings behind his stall.

After a moment, he straightened back up, something wooden in his lap.

Acier tilted her head, studying the object as he set it on the stall's ledge and turned it around.

A triangular wooden block.

A moment passed as she noticed there were words on it, and that meant it was a sign.

She narrowed her eyes, squinting to make out the words etched into its surface. After a moment, the meaning clicked.

"Free Service."

Acier froze.

Hilda, noticing her sudden stillness, turned her gaze toward the boy as well. For a moment, both of them sat there, unmoving, their reactions almost comically synchronized.

Acier then proceeded to alternate between parting her mouth and closing it, as whenever she wished to speak no words came out, as she was struck speechless.

All she could do was blink, and scratch her head, trying to figure out what was going on in Sebastian's brain.

What in God's name are you thinking? How are you going to provide for yourself if you don't even charge a fee- Acier cut her own thoughts up, as for the first time today she noticed someone, or rather some people, approach Sebastian's stall.

—

After placing the sign on his stall's ledge, Sebastian didn't have to wait long before a passerby froze mid-step.

She was a relatively young woman, likely in her late twenties, with average looks, black hair tied in a short bun, and hazelnut eyes. She clutched a brown bag to her chest, the scent of fresh bread wafting from it, causing Sebastian's stomach to rumble faintly with hunger.

His face betrayed no sign of his starvation as he observed her. At her feet were two children, likely her own given the resemblance. The older one, appearing around six, stood beside his younger brother, who looked to be about five. Both gazed up at their mother in confusion.

The woman's eyes lingered on the older boy, whose complexion was noticeably pale. She smiled softly, her concern hidden behind a tender expression. "Nova, Nairaid, this way."

The children exchanged puzzled glances but obediently followed as she led them across the street toward Sebastian's stall.

Stopping in front of it, the woman gestured for her boys to stay quiet and behave. Perhaps through practice or education, they nodded dutifully, placing index fingers to their lips in a show of silence.

Despite being the elder, Nairaid seemed slower to respond. The woman rewarded Nova with a beam of approval and ran her fingers softly through Nairaid's hair, causing him to close his eyes in contentment.

Finally, she turned her gaze to Sebastian. Though his vacant, dull ocean-blue eyes unsettled her, she forced herself to remain composed. He looked more like a lifeless puppet than a human being, yet she spoke stiffly.

"Is this true... is it actually free?"

Sebastian nodded silently.

Her shoulders didn't relax. Instead, she pointed hesitantly at a glass jar sitting at the edge of his stall. It resembled the jars used at other stands to collect money, and suspicion crept into her voice as she asked, "T-then, what is that?"

Noticing his icy stare, she quickly added, "I-if you don't mind me asking."

Sebastian's reply was curt. "Tip jar."

The woman blinked, caught off guard by his lack of tact. An awkward pause hung between them before she gritted her teeth and pressed further.

"Like... i-if we're satisfied with your service, we can consider giving you some money... it's not mandatory, right?"

Her voice was cautious, her words calculated. Desperation pushed her to seek help for her son, but experience had taught her that "free" often came with hidden strings.

Free things cost the most.

She scrutinized Sebastian again, taking in his worn clothes and lifeless demeanor. Everything about him made her instincts scream to walk away, yet she stayed.

When Sebastian gave another silent nod, she let out a sigh of relief.

Without wasting another moment, she gently tugged Nairaid forward and knelt beside him, her hands resting lightly on his shoulders.

"My Nairaid has been a bit out of it these past few days," she began softly, masking her worry. "His skin's been getting paler, he's been sweating, heating up... and he hasn't been paying attention to what's going on around him—"

"The flu."

The woman jerked her head up, startled. Sebastian's detached gaze was fixed on her son, as though dissecting him with invisible precision.

"Everything you just said," Sebastian repeated, "are common symptoms of the flu."

She froze, then shook her head vehemently. "That's not possible. It's August—"

"Who said you can't get the flu in August?" Sebastian cut her off, his tone as indifferent as before. "There's such a thing as the summer flu."

"No... no... no... that can't be."

Her voice trembled as panic seized her. Cold sweat formed on her brow, her hands tightening on Nairaid's shoulders. Fear clawed at her chest.

In these times, even something as seemingly simple as the flu could be a death sentence without proper medical care—care that most commoners, herself included, couldn't afford.

Her husband, a caravan worker delivering goods across the kingdom, had left her some emergency money before departing. But if she spent it all on a doctor, her children would starve. There wouldn't be enough left to buy food.

"C-can you do anything about this?" the woman asked Sebastian, desperation thick in her voice.

"Yes," he replied, his tone as emotionless as ever. Without a hint of sympathy, he continued, "The boy's illness is only in the preliminary phase. If it had progressed further, he wouldn't even be able to move around. Treating it before it worsens is simple."

"O-oh, thank goodness," she breathed, relief washing over her as she steadied Nairaid by his shoulders.

"What do we need to do, Dr.... um, I haven't caught your name yet—"

"I'm not a doctor."

Sebastian cut her off with an icy bluntness, then reached out over the stall's ledge, placing his hand unceremoniously on Nairaid's forehead.

"My name is Sebastian," he declared.

Before the woman could respond, a dazzling aqua-blue light erupted from his palm, momentarily blinding her. She blinked in astonishment.

He can use healing magic without a grimoire?!

Her thoughts raced as she gawked, the brilliance of pure mana drawing the attention of passersby, many of whom froze in place to stare.

Nairaid closed his eyes in bliss as a cool, soothing sensation swept over him. Streams of magic flowed into his body, seeping through his skin and coursing through his bloodstream. The mana targeted and eradicated the microscopic parasites causing his illness, flooding his organs with restorative energy.

After five minutes, Sebastian withdrew his hand, his magic ceasing abruptly. His gaze, indifferent as ever, fixed on the woman.

"Take him home and let him rest in bed," he instructed. "Feed him fresh fruits, vegetables, or lean meats if you have any. Make sure he drinks plenty of water, juice, or soup if he starts sweating again. And ensure that not only he but everyone in your household washes thoroughly with soap. Simple hygiene goes a long way to prevent disease."

His voice came out hoarse and stilted, as if unaccustomed to speaking at length. Without another word, he resumed his seat, falling back into his stiff, robotic posture as though nothing had happened.

The woman blinked in stunned silence, her gaze shifting from Sebastian to her son. Her eyes widened as she noticed Nairaid's complexion—once pale and sickly—now rosy and full of life.

The boy opened his eyes, beaming. A soft giggle escaped him as he wrapped his arms around her waist. "Mama... I feel better now."

Her heart softened at his words. Looking back up at Sebastian, she felt a surge of gratitude. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a small bun of bread.

"Here," she said gently, drawing his attention. For the first time, his gaze didn't intimidate her. She placed the bun into his hand with care. "I know it's not money, or much of anything, but I hope this can help you in some way."

Sebastian glanced at the bread in his hand as his stomach let out a faint growl. Looks like I get to have lunch today, he thought inwardly. His expression remained as blank as ever, but he gave her a simple nod.

The woman smiled warmly before taking her children home, Nairaid happily skipping at her side.

From her vantage point on the café balcony, Acier watched the scene unfold. A wave of relief washed over her, followed by a soft smile as she noticed passersby casting hesitant glances at Sebastian's stall.

So that's what he's aiming for, she thought, feeling as though she understood his plan.

If no one was willing to risk their money on a no-name boy's services, Sebastian had created an offer they couldn't refuse: free treatment. Once he successfully healed several people, word would spread, and he'd build a reputation. Then he could start charging a fee—not the exorbitant sums demanded by licensed doctors in the noble and common realms, but something affordable for the average commoner or peasant.

Even if he didn't charge outright, people's discomfort with accepting charity would lead them to tip him or offer goods and services in return, ensuring his efforts weren't thankless.

And because he was a Silva, he didn't have to pay taxes. House Silva handled tribute to the kingdom on behalf of its estate members, meaning Sebastian could keep all his earnings.

He's making decent business! Acier grinned in satisfaction. If he avoided legal trouble and obtained official licensing in a few years, he could open a larger clinic—or even become a royal doctor. He could lead a good life.

In her mind's eye, she envisioned Sebastian's future unfolding. Smirking smugly, Acier felt a rare sense of hope and pride for him.

Acier watched as people in need began crowding around Sebastian's stall. Time flowed by, and she observed him tend to various ailments and troubles. He treated minor injuries like small bruises, bumps, and cuts, helped drunken passersby clean themselves and sober up, and even lent a hand to a few street beggars—giving them a fighting chance to survive another day. All of it was done with that same emotionless gaze.

Some people compensated him; others did not. Yet, despite this uneven exchange, Sebastian appeared to have accumulated a modest haul by the end of it all: three copper coins, a single silver piece, a banana, a pop tart, a wooden water bottle, a mason jar, a pocket knife, and a lighter.

Though he maintained his dull and lifeless demeanor, Acier felt something shift in him. The oppressive, depressing aura that seemed to radiate from him and hang over the street now retracted into himself, diminished greatly.

To her, he looked satisfied—maybe even pleased.

Acier suddenly noticed the time. Lunch was nearing, and she would soon need to return to the castle. Rising slowly from her seat, she brushed off her dress.

Noticing her movement, Hilda, ever vigilant, stood abruptly and curtsied politely. "We're leaving, My Lady? Should I have the café pack the remaining treats for us to take back—"

"Hilda," Acier interrupted, her tone sharp.

"Yes, My Lady?" Hilda responded deferentially, taking no offense at the interruption.

Acier turned to face her maid, her expression serious. The shift in atmosphere caused Hilda to grow slightly nervous.

"How do I look?" Acier asked, her voice unusually grave.

Hilda blinked, a flicker of confusion crossing her face. She quickly suppressed it, replacing it with a practiced smile. "Apologies, My Lady, could you clarify what you mean?"

Acier crossed her arms and frowned. "Clarify? It's a simple question: how do I look?"

Hilda blinked again, her confusion growing.

Acier's brows twitched in irritation. She shook her hands in frustration. "Come on, Hilda, answer me! Do I look clean and tidy?"

"Of course, My Lady," Hilda replied with calm reassurance. "You look pristine and enchantingly beautiful, as always—"

"No! That's not good!" Acier hissed, cutting her off. Hilda instinctively jerked back as Acier closed the gap, grabbing her maid's shoulders.

"Quick, Hilda—de-beautify me!" Acier demanded, her eyes wild. "But not too much! I still need to look clean and regal enough to make a good impression!"

Hilda parted her lips, gaping at her princess in bewilderment. "My Lady, what on Earth are you talking about?"

Acier's grip tightened on Hilda's shoulders, making the maid wince slightly. "Do I have to spell it out for you? I'm about to go greet that boy down there," Acier hissed. "I want it to be clear that I'm not approaching him in a professional or romantic manner—just casually! Got it?"

Hilda blinked, her gaze shifting downward toward Sebastian's stall. She stared at the unassuming boy, then turned back to Acier, her jaw slack.

"Huh?" was all she managed to say.

Acier's forehead vein visibly bulged, and she raised a hand as if she were considering slapping some sense into her maid. Before she could act, however, her attention was drawn to movement below.

Two small figures had approached Sebastian's stall.

—

Sebastian set aside his meager earnings for the day as he noticed two small figures approach his stall. The children hesitated, their steps faltering, before coming closer. They were about the same age as the boy he had helped earlier, but these two were clearly in far worse condition. Their tattered, straw-like rags barely qualified as clothing, marking them not merely as peasants, but as true street rats.

Unlike Sebastian, who at least had a small plot of land and minor but essential benefits that ensured his survival, these boys had nothing.

The slightly larger and healthier-looking boy dragged the smaller one forward. The smaller boy limped on his right leg, his pale face twisted in discomfort.

Sebastian's sharp eyes narrowed subtly as he noticed the limp. He quickly schooled his expression, trying to appear neutral, unassuming—anything but intimidating. However, his attempt to suppress emotion only succeeded in making him look more lifeless, which in turn seemed to unnerve the boys even further.

The smaller boy tugged against his companion's grip, his eyes darting toward escape. But the bigger one gritted his teeth and stubbornly pulled him forward until they stood directly in front of Sebastian's stall.

Passersby glanced at the boys with thinly veiled disgust. Some pinched their noses, quickening their pace to avoid the flies and fleas that seemed to hover around the pair.

The bigger boy, Jonas, felt a sinking weight in his chest. He was sure Sebastian would tell them to leave, just as countless others had before. Yet, when Jonas met Sebastian's gaze, he found no rejection there—only a blank, inscrutable stare.

Jonas didn't know what to feel. Relief that they weren't immediately shooed away? Or fear, because he couldn't read the intentions behind those lifeless eyes?

The smaller boy, Jack, hissed in a low voice, "Let's go, Jonas. I'll be fine."

Jonas hesitated, but his gaze dropped to his brother's leg. The thought of leaving gnawed at him, and he shook his head firmly.

"Shut up and stay put, Jack," he thought, recalling their mother's dying words to look after his little brother.

Jack fell silent, though his fear remained palpable. Jonas squared his shoulders and looked up at Sebastian, forcing himself to meet the older boy's eyes head-on. He gritted his teeth, bit his lip, and knelt down, pulling up Jack's torn, baggy shorts.

On Jack's knee was a ghastly mark—a deep purple bruise encircled by angry red teeth marks. Jonas pointed to the wound, his voice trembling. "Sir, m-my brother got bit by a snake. C-can you help him?"

Sebastian remained silent, his empty gaze fixed on the injury.

Jonas swallowed hard, his lips trembling. He lowered his head, despair sinking in. Of course, no one's going to help street rats like us...

Desperate, Jonas forced a brittle smile. "Then... could I borrow your knife? I-I'll cut it open and suck the venom out. Don't worry, I'll do it right here so you'll know I'm not trying to steal it—"

"Are you an idiot?"

Sebastian's icy voice cut through Jonas's plea like a blade. Jonas stiffened, his breath hitching, as Sebastian abruptly stood and walked around the stall. Crouching in front of the boys, he loomed closer.

Jonas instinctively shifted to shield Jack, his voice cracking with panic. "W-what are you trying to do?"

Nearby passersby frowned at the scene but kept their distance, unwilling to intervene.

Sebastian's sharp gaze locked onto Jonas. "Who told you to cut open a snake bite and suck out the venom?"

Jonas blinked, taken aback by the unexpected question. He stammered, "M-Mister Scraggy said... h-he told me that's how I can save Jack..."

"A beggar?" Sebastian pressed.

Jonas gulped and nodded.

Sebastian's sneer twisted his otherwise emotionless face, and his tone dripped with disdain. "You took medical advice from a beggar?"

Jonas flushed with embarrassment, the heat rising to his cheeks. Behind him, Jack whimpered nervously.

Sebastian continued coldly, his voice laced with scorn. "Sucking out venom, or cutting open a snake bite to let it bleed out, is a myth. Doing so only makes things worse. It can damage blood vessels and nerves, and might even make the venom spread faster."

He jabbed a finger into Jonas's stomach, making the boy flinch. "If you'd followed that fool's advice, you might've killed your brother—or, at the very least, paralyzed him."

Jonas turned as pale as the moon, his body trembling. Behind him, Jack let out a shaky whimper, clutching his brother's sleeve. Jonas felt self-loathing wash over him like a wave.

Around them, the small crowd of spectators ducked their heads, murmuring in confusion.

Wait... isn't that how you treat a snake bite?

Jonas clenched his fists, panic evident in his tear-filled eyes as he pleaded with Sebastian. "Then how c-can I get the poison out? P-please tell me! How can I save my brother?"

"No need," Sebastian interrupted flatly.

Jonas froze, his face paling before it flushed red with fury. "You're saying I'm just supposed to let my brother die?!"

Sebastian responded with a swift flick to Jonas's forehead. "Ow!" Jonas yelped, clutching his head as his eyes watered. He looked up to see Sebastian calmly flicking his fingers, his emotionless gaze practically asking, Do you want another one?

Jonas quickly shook his head. He didn't.

Sebastian snorted and pointed at Jack's knee. "See these teeth marks?"

Jonas blinked and turned his attention to the wound, then nodded hesitantly.

Sebastian nodded in return. "Rows of teeth like this mean it was a non-venomous snake. That's why I said there's no need—there's nothing to take out."

Jonas and Jack, along with most of the onlookers, stared in surprise as Sebastian continued.

"If it had been venomous, there would've been two distinct puncture marks, like fang bites." He paused before adding with a touch of disdain, "Honestly, if you weren't such an idiot, you should've realized this already."

Jonas bristled, indignation coloring his tone. "W-what do you mean?!"

Sebastian's cold, deadpan stare made Jonas gulp. With an exasperated sigh, Sebastian explained. "Based on the dried blood, this bite happened hours ago, correct?"

Jack nodded timidly. "I-I woke up like this. The snake must've bitten me overnight, b-but I didn't notice because it was cold."

Sebastian nodded again and continued. "If it had been venomous and left untreated for this long, you'd already be dead. The pain and numbness you're feeling? It's just like a bruise that's been ignored. This is an easy fix."

Jack and Jonas froze, their mouths agape, as Sebastian reached out toward Jack's knee. A faint glow of water mana enveloped his hand as he placed it over the wound.

Jack hummed in relief, his stiff leg loosening as the feeling returned. After a moment, Sebastian pulled back his hand, revealing smooth, unblemished skin where the ghastly wound had been.

Jack shook his leg experimentally, his face lighting up with joy as it responded naturally.

Jonas turned to Sebastian, his face still a mixture of confusion and awe. "M-mister, what was that purple spot?"

Sebastian stood and shrugged nonchalantly. "Probably saliva or bile from the snake that bit him. I wouldn't know unless you brought me the snake—but it doesn't matter anymore."

Jonas hesitated, then nodded, satisfied with the answer.

Sebastian turned to Jack and spoke matter-of-factly. "There are a few things you need to keep in mind."

Jack straightened, nodding earnestly. "I-I'm listening, Mister."

Sebastian folded his arms behind his back. "First, if you notice swelling on that leg or any signs of infection, come back here immediately. Just because the snake wasn't venomous doesn't mean it wasn't dangerous."

Jonas's eyes widened slightly. Does that mean we can return here if we need help?

Jack nodded meekly. "Y-yes, Mister."

Sebastian continued, "Second, for the rest of the week, don't raise your knee above your heart. Understand?"

Jack bobbed his head again. "Y-yes, Mister."

Sebastian nodded in approval, then waved a dismissive hand. "Good. Now get lost—you're stinking up my stand."

The boys hesitated before their faces softened into shy smiles. "Thank you, Mister!"

Sebastian froze for a moment. Then, for the first time that day, a faint glimmer of emotion flickered in his eyes. He offered the barest hint of a smile, so subtle it might have gone unnoticed by most.

"No problem," he murmured, his voice low. "I hate snakes, after all."

It wasn't entirely unnoticed.

Across the street, Acier stood on a café balcony, her hawk-like gaze fixed on Sebastian. She caught that fleeting smile, and her heart raced. That glimmer of color in his eyes sent a flutter through her chest.

She wanted to see that smile more, she wanted to be the target of that smile.

She beamed as she turned to her maid, Hilda, shaking her arm excitedly. "Did you hear that, Hilda? He said he hates snakes! We're destined to be friends, we're soulmates!"

Hilda blinked, her smile tight with panic. "Y-Young Miss, I-I don't think that means what you think it means!"

But her words fell on deaf ears. Acier was lost in her own world, grinning ear to ear as she walked to the edge of the balcony.

With startling grace, she climbed onto the railing and leapt, clearing the two-story drop and the street below in a single bound. She landed lightly on her toes in front of Sebastian's stall, her movements as fluid as a dancer's, barely making a sound.

The crowd stared in stunned silence as Sebastian jerked his head toward her, visibly startled. He quickly composed himself, his eyes narrowing as he took in her presence.

Acier ignored the gawking onlookers, her attention fixed solely on Sebastian. She noted the recognition in his narrowed eyes and smirked to herself.

So, you do know who I am...

Acier chuckled inwardly, already planning her next move.

Just as Acier prepared to speak, Sebastian's voice echoed in her mind with crisp clarity.

"Princess Acier, is there something you need?"

She paused, blinking in surprise. Wait, in my mind? How did he—

Her thoughts trailed off as she noticed a faint pulse of mana. Lowering her gaze, she spotted a small, unimpressive copper ring on Sebastian's thumb, adorned with a speck-sized, clear magic gem.

Her eyes widened as the gem glowed crimson, and Sebastian's voice repeated in her mind.

"Princess Acier, is there something you need?"

Outwardly, Sebastian's face remained impassive, his lips unmoving. Yet, his voice resonated clearly in her thoughts. At that moment, Acier pieced together how he had silently coordinated with his vendors yesterday.

He's using a magic item to project his voice into their minds, she realized. The subtle reactions of his vendors suggested it was a two-way connection.

What's even the point of that? Acier wondered, her thoughts drifting. Is he so lazy or introverted that he avoids speaking out loud?

She shook her head. No, that makes no sense. He's been talking to patients all morning.

Brushing off the curiosity, Acier focused on her thoughts, testing the mental connection. "I wish to speak to you."

The gem glowed again, and Sebastian's monotone voice returned in her mind. "How may I be of service to you, Princess Acier?"

A thrill coursed through her. If there's ever something important or private to discuss, we can use this tool without fear of eavesdroppers. Acier bit back her excitement and mentally replied, "Acier is just fine, Sebastian. No need for the 'Princess.'"

Sebastian's eyes narrowed slightly as his voice returned, tinged with sarcasm. "I dare not show you the slightest disrespect, Princess Acier."

The deliberate emphasis on her title made her grimace. Give him time, she thought, forcing a smile. He'll come around.

Determined to continue, she beamed mentally, "Well, first off, I'd like to say hello!"

Sebastian didn't respond with words, but the unimpressed raise of his brow spoke volumes. His expression screamed disbelief, as if to say, A princess doesn't go out of her way to greet a nobody like me.

Ordinarily, he would've been right. But in Acier's case, she truly was trying to make his acquaintance—no ulterior motives, save perhaps her desire to befriend him.

Hiding her nerves, Acier rallied herself. Don't worry, you expected this kind of distrust. You'll just have to melt that cold heart of his.

Shifting her approach, she mentally continued, "As the heiress of House Silva, I've made it my duty to get to know our branch family members, including you. If you have concerns or requests, feel free to let me know. I'll do my best to accommodate—"

"No need."

The mental interruption was jarring. Acier stiffened as Sebastian's dull eyes bore into her, their emptiness taking on an almost predatory sharpness.

"I have no intention of integrating with House Silva," he began, his voice chillingly cold. "This stall is proof of my desire for independence from your house. As soon as my finances allow, I'll leave the Silva estate entirely."

His words cut deeper than she expected.

"So you need not concern yourself with me," he concluded icily. "Look elsewhere."

Switching to his actual voice, Sebastian addressed her aloud. "Young Lady, if you're only here to stare, I'll ask you to leave. I have patients waiting."

Acier stiffened, turning to find the crowd staring at her. From their perspective, she had quite literally dropped out of the sky and was now glaring at their "new doctor."

No one dared approach, though their expressions spoke volumes. Another noble here to look down on us, their skeptical frowns seemed to say.

The scene wasn't helped by her extravagant dress, which screamed wealth and privilege. Those who recognized her silver hair were even more wary, fearing she might abuse her authority at the slightest provocation.

Even Jonas and Jack had fled as soon as Acier arrived, unwilling to risk an encounter with someone so high above their station.

Acier's stomach sank, realizing the misunderstanding. She caught sight of Hilda weaving through the crowd, her maid's expression tight with concern.

Pulling Hilda closer, Acier shot the crowd an apologetic smile. To their surprise, it felt genuine.

For a moment, their expressions softened. The bitterness harbored by those wronged by the aristocracy eased slightly, though many still watched cautiously.

Turning back to Sebastian, Acier gave him a gentle smile, undeterred by their earlier exchange. "I'll see you tomorrow, Sebastian," she said lightly, adding to herself, my new friend.

With that, she grabbed Hilda's arm and darted through the marketplace, her mana-boosted steps carrying her up the hill to the noble district. Please, don't let Grandfather be upset—I'm only a minute or two late for lunch.

Sebastian watched her retreating figure, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. The lifelessness in his gaze flickered slightly, giving way to guarded thoughtfulness.

How does Princess Acier know me? he wondered. And what does she want from me?

Author's Notes:

[1] Starting the next Chapter the pacing is going to pick up a bit.

[2] From Chapter 43, based on Sebastian's diary, this is the last intact entry corresponding to today's date, August 3rd 1600, so that should give you an idea of the time period, for any of those wondering.

[3] As always feel free to join the discord at: https://discord.gg/s3MME8X8ar