Bane closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe. Even then, the tremor in his voice betrayed emotions he could no longer fully suppress.

"Are you saying I should have just stood there and watched my daughter die?" he said hoarsely. "As her father… I couldn't do that."

Vermut's gaze hardened.

"A true family stays until the very end," he snapped back. "They don't turn their backs and run away like you did."

They were standing in the same room, speaking to each other.

Yet their thoughts were worlds apart.

A father who had abandoned everything, claiming he would overturn the world—leaving behind a daughter dying from an incurable disease.

And grandparents who had never given up, who stayed by her side day and night, holding her hand until the very last moment.

Between them lay a chasm that could never be bridged.

"You vanished for all those years," Vermut continued coldly, "and now you dare show your face only after Rain regains consciousness? You may be my son, but what you did is nothing short of despicable."

Vermut's mana surged violently, the air around him rippling as if a spell might erupt at any moment.

For an instant, it seemed he would strike.

But then he remembered—this man, infuriating as he was, was still his son.

And more importantly, he was Rain's only remaining parent.

The spell dissipated before it could take form.

Unable to act, Vermut let the magic fade and poured all his fury into words instead, his voice trembling with anger and grief—spoken not just for himself, but for Rain as well.

Vermut's aged, deeply wrinkled face twisted with barely restrained fury as he withdrew his magical energy.

"Don't ever show your face before us again," he said coldly. "If you dare bring that damned face back, I'll sear it with lightning."

If it ever came to that, Vermut had already made up his mind.

From that moment on, he would no longer see Bane as his son—only as an enemy.

Leaving behind that final warning, Vermut rose from his seat.

BANG!

The tavern door slammed shut as he stormed out.

Bane didn't try to stop him. He simply watched in silence, his expression unreadable.

"Are you… alright?"

A young blonde woman stepped closer, her voice tinged with concern. Bane, who had been standing there with his lips pressed tightly together, raised a hand to reassure her.

"Don't worry about it," he said calmly. "This much doesn't bother me."

And it was true.

He firmly believed that convictions he had forged over time wouldn't be shaken by something like this. He had already made his choice. Already taken his vow.

To change this cursed world—no matter the cost.

Even if it meant losing everything he once had.

He had long since committed himself to a path with no turning back.

"More importantly, what's the situation?"

"We've already dispatched our comrades to retrieve your daughter."

Recently, every radical faction within the revolutionary army—those who proudly called themselves rebels—had been wiped out.

Bane didn't know what had emboldened them to act so recklessly, but their downfall was obvious. They had overreached by attempting to kidnap the princess.

Unlike his own faction, which sought to dismantle the system slowly and methodically to truly improve the world, those fools had only wanted blood. They dreamed of killing the king and seizing power in one violent stroke.

And in doing so, they had ruined everything.

By pushing too far, they had only strengthened the existing order and closed off the very paths the revolution needed to survive.

It was dangerous.

If word ever leaked that he was connected to the revolutionary army, Bane couldn't guarantee Rain's safety.

He had to bring her back—back into his protection.

But he also knew one painful truth: his father would never hand Rain over willingly.

So he chose the only option left.

He would draw his father out.

And while all eyes were on him… they would take Rain.

Bane swallowed the words he would never get to say, the ones meant for a father who had already disappeared from his life.

I'm sorry, Father.

Those unspoken feelings were buried deep in his heart—sealed away, where they would never see the light.

---

The carriage rocked gently as it moved through the narrow back streets, the sound of hooves muffled by the thick fog settling over the capital.

Bane stared out the window, his reflection faintly visible against the dark glass.

Everything was already in motion.

If the operation succeeded, Rain would be brought to a safe house on the outskirts of the city—far from the palace, far from his father's reach. From there, Bane could finally explain everything to her. Why he had stayed away. Why he had chosen this path. Why he couldn't afford to hesitate.

If it failed—

His fingers tightened slowly.

Failure was not an option.

"Sir," a man seated across from him spoke in a low voice. "The palace guard has increased patrols since the incident. Timing will be tight."

"I know," Bane replied calmly. Too calmly. "That's why we move before dawn."

The man hesitated. "And if… His Majesty intervenes?"

Bane's gaze sharpened.

"Then I'll handle it."

The carriage fell silent.

They both understood what that meant.

No matter how carefully he justified it, no matter how noble the cause sounded in his head, this was still betrayal. Not just of the crown—but of blood.

Bane closed his eyes briefly.

Rain's face surfaced in his mind, just as it always did. The way she laughed when she thought no one was watching. The way she stubbornly stood her ground, even as a child, when the world tried to push her aside.

She deserved a future where she wasn't a pawn.

Where she didn't have to inherit a throne soaked in compromise and fear.

"I'll protect you," he murmured under his breath.

Whether she hated him for it or not.

The carriage slowed.

"We're here," the man said.

Bane stepped out into the fog, the cold air biting at his skin. Ahead, silhouettes of cloaked figures waited in silence—his allies, his accomplices, his sins.

Once he took another step forward, there would be no turning back.

And yet—

Bane moved without hesitation.

Because some choices, once made, could only be carried through to the end.

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