If he sent Diana away from the castle and his mother became extremely distressed, causing her health to rapidly deteriorate… Could he guarantee that nothing tragic would happen then? Could he absolutely promise that merely sending someone away wouldn’t result in his mother’s death?

Dante couldn’t assert with certainty that it wouldn’t happen.

Esteller was the first to raise her head. In that time, she seemed to have sorted through her emotions, as her eyes had cleared. She spoke in a composed voice.

“I’d like to find a way to heal Lady Cecilia, difficult as it may be.”

“Is there a way to treat a disease of the heart?”

“Every disease has a treatment method. The only difference is the degree of difficulty.”

Until arriving at Halpenrit, Esteller had thought she could allow some grace period. But Diana was more foolish and impulsive than she had expected. Even if Esteller could be patient, she couldn’t leave Cecilia entirely in the hands of someone with such a narrow perspective and stubborn temperament.

Esteller had stirred up the capital considerably. Her enemies had temporarily quieted down to recover from the damage they’d suffered, but they certainly hadn’t given up or surrendered.

What if someone like Princess Sabrina or the Duke of Ranpier turned their attention to Halpenrit? Once they decided to cause trouble, people like Diana and Lyle would become the easiest weaknesses to exploit.

‘I’m back to square one. Somehow I need to improve Lady Cecilia’s condition so she doesn’t have to rely on Diana anymore. And I need to hurry.’

Esteller tapped the top of the armrest with her well-manicured fingernails. Feeling the time pressure, her mind began to work rapidly.

She recalled the contents of a unique medical book she had read in the imperial library before her regression.

“…I once read a book by a doctor who specialized in studying mental illnesses. It said that a person’s body and mind are closely connected. So when the mind is sick, one suffers constantly even without any physical ailment.”

Dante nodded in agreement. The doctors who had examined Cecilia had said similar things—that while Cecilia’s body was weakened, there was no significant physical disease.

‘That’s why it’s even harder to treat.’

With a disease, one could use medicine or attempt treatment, but without a clear diagnosis, as she simply grew weaker, treatment was impossible.

“We need to resolve her worries. This illness comes from concerns and anxieties that pile up deep in the heart without one even realizing it. As for the concern in Lady Cecilia’s heart…”

“It must be about Father.”

Dante spoke without any sign of deep contemplation, as if there had only ever been one answer.

“For Mother, no one is more important than Father. It’s no exaggeration to say their hearts were bound together. This isn’t self-deprecation, but no matter how hard I try, it’s impossible for me to fill Father’s absence.”

Cecilia had said she was immeasurably happy with her husband. But conversely, that meant she would be terribly unhappy without him.

‘When I was young, I couldn’t think deeply enough to realize this.’

Bitterness filled Dante’s eyes.

Esteller gently touched her cheek. She too had heard general rumors about how much Kyler had cherished Cecilia in their youth.

‘How sad that such deep love became poison instead.’

In her youth, Cecilia had loved, trusted, and depended on Kyler with all her heart. But then the person who had cherished and protected her like a pillar suddenly collapsed.

Thinking of it that way, it wasn’t so strange that Cecilia hadn’t been able to properly regain her senses.

“Father didn’t helplessly give up on everything right after the accident. He attempted rehabilitation with the help of various doctors and priests.”

Dante continued calmly.

This was a story he had never revealed to anyone for a long time. But for some reason, he felt he could share it with Esteller.

That year, Kyler had considered his rehabilitating appearance unsightly and didn’t want even his family to see him. However, Dante, missing his father’s embrace and also worried about him, had secretly climbed a tall tree in the garden to spy on him.

His father, gripping two parallel support bars, was taking precarious steps one by one while sweating profusely. He looked as weak as an old man. The doctors hovering nearby, unable to help him directly or just stand and watch…

This wasn’t the Kyler that young Dante had known. Watching his father become so powerless was painful beyond mere sympathy.

Though it wasn’t particularly hot that day, the boy’s back was drenched in sweat and his eyes turned bright red. Dante fled the scene, leaving his painful emotions behind.

He never told anyone about sneaking into the rehabilitation area that day. He kept it secret even from his mother.

“But as time passed, it became painfully clear that Father could never return to his former self… and at some point, his will broke completely.”

In the past, Kyler had been a renowned swordsman, exceptional since boyhood. He had been talented enough to cause the chronically insecure Gheorghe, educated by the Empire’s finest instructors as Crown Prince, to suffer from inferiority complexes.

But during the Sea Serpent subjugation, Kyler lost his right arm. Asking someone who had wielded a sword with his right hand all his life to suddenly use his left made no sense at all.

His core was damaged, preventing him from drawing mana, and both legs had suffered broken bones and severed tendons that took a long time to heal. During rehabilitation, walking even a few steps caused stabbing pain. Forget running quickly—even walking normally became difficult.

Kyler had lived his entire life soaring ahead of everyone else from the highest position. But in an instant, his wings were broken and his legs snapped, reducing him from flight to crawling on the ground.

The fall was too great, and Kyler simply couldn’t accept his reality.

“When Father stopped going outside, Mother gradually lost her will to live, following his example. Doctors advised her to maintain hope, but she wouldn’t listen. No, it would be more accurate to say her spirit was too broken to follow their advice.”

“Was this around the time when you had just awakened your divine eyes?”

“…Yes.”

How chaotic and desperate those times must have been.

Young Dante had been completely isolated. Though he had developed an extraordinary ability, the awakening of his divine eyes hadn’t made him emotionally mature.

He had no one to lean on. Children can’t cry when scared if there are no adults around to comfort them. So the Dante of that time probably couldn’t cry no matter how sad or frightened he felt.

But beneath his mature-looking shell, his essence was merely a child pretending to be an adult—putting on a brave face while hiding his still-tender core.

‘How did you survive that time?’

The painful question swirled in her mouth before fading away.

She wanted to hug the Dante from that time if she could meet him. She wanted to whisper that he was amazing and brave, that she was proud of him. She wanted to embrace the back of that boy who was still too small and tender to bear the title of hero, and gently stroke it with affection.

But since she couldn’t do that, Esteller decided to embrace him now instead.

Esteller opened her arms wide.

Her golden eyes, calm and moist like a lake, shone with a light that seemed intent on protecting and comforting Dante himself. After a moment of dazed stillness before those beautiful eyes, he understood her intention and smiled. Dante bent his knees and collapsed into her embrace.

“Essie…”

Esteller’s embrace was as soft and warm as a cradle. A familiar, welcome warmth. And from her chest came the sweet, fiery scent of mint. That refreshing fragrance calmed his restless insides.

Dante buried his face in Esteller’s shoulder and mumbled.

“Many people advised Mother to strengthen her resolve and rise again, and I wished for that too. I prayed she would shake off her despair and become cheerful again like before. I wanted to see her smile brightly again. I wanted to believe that I still had somewhere to return to… someone who would welcome me gladly when I came back from facing hardships outside, someone who would be a pillar allowing me to rest.”

“……”

“But I couldn’t dare ask that of Mother.”

His voice cracked at the edges and gradually faded. Though Esteller couldn’t see his face, she imagined Dante must be wearing a pained expression.

Fifteen years ago, Dante had also hoped his mother would become stronger. He had wanted her to protect him like a brave, majestic lioness hiding her cub behind her.

For Dante, raised with privilege as the Leodinas heir, the battlefield was a harsh place. Suffering from mana sickness while learning to use unfamiliar divine eyes was terrible, as was witnessing people injured by demonic beast attacks.

Moreover, unexpected hardships existed beyond the battlefield too. The shortage of supplies meant enduring hard bedding and rough food, and riding horses until his thighs were chafed—all surprisingly painful experiences.

Of course, Dante’s tent was larger than those of ordinary soldiers, and his sleeping bag was relatively clean and sturdy. But for a young master accustomed to using feather-soft bedding and receiving attentive care from servants during baths and meals, the sudden change felt like being thrown onto a cold street—difficult to adapt to and painful.