“Papa.”
The word escaped my lips naturally, without the interference of the sugaki Skill.
Benedict, who had been kneeling on the snow, slowly raised his head. His eyes, brimming with tears, t mine. The sight made sothing within stir—a strange, bittersweet ache I couldn’t fully understand but sohow felt intimately familiar.
“I forgive you.”
The words flowed effortlessly, as if they were not my own, but those of another who had been waiting to speak them for a very long ti. They carried a warmth and weight that surprised even .
Benedict’s expression twisted, as if the simple phrase had pierced through all the guilt and sorrow he had been carrying. Tears spilled freely from his eyes as he shook his head.
“No… I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I—”
“Shh.”
I raised a finger to my lips and tilted my head with a teasing smile.
“Papa, you’re such a crybaby. It’s embarrassing.”
His lips quivered as he stared at , caught between sobbing and laughing. His trembling hands reached out, hesitant, as if afraid I might pull away. Instead, I placed my hand firmly over his, holding it with a warmth that was both mine and not mine.
“Let’s just go for a walk, okay? The snow’s already cleared up, and it’s a perfect day for an aimless stroll. Unless, of course, you’re too old to keep up with your daughter?”
Benedict blinked, then let out a laugh—a genuine, heartfelt laugh that seed to lighten the weight of the mont.
“Old? You think this father of yours can’t handle a little snow?”
“I’ll believe it when I see it. Let’s go!”
I stood and tugged gently at his hand, guiding him to his feet. The snow crunched under our boots as we began walking together, the biting chill of winter unable to touch the warmth between us.
Behind us, unseen, the others watched from a distance. Arthur, Joy, and Frey exchanged glances, their earlier concerns lting away as they saw the light return to Benedict’s eyes and the bright smile on Lucy’s face.
Arthur crossed his arms, sighing in relief. “I suppose that worked out better than expected.”
Joy smiled softly, wiping at her own misty eyes. “It’s good to see them both smiling like that.”
anwhile, Frey tilted her head, pondering sothing aloud. “Does this an I don’t have to do anything else? Or should I go find that crying orb again?”
Arthur groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Frey, please.”
As the snow continued to fall, father and daughter walked together, their steps creating new tracks in the untouched white.
For the first ti in a long while, both felt the heavy weight of their burdens ease, if only a little.
And for the first ti, the winter air seed warm.
Benedict followed closely behind, his steps hesitant at first, but they gradually beca steadier. He held onto the warmth of Lucy’s hand, his fingers gripping hers like a lifeline. The snowstorm seed to part before them, leaving a clear path as if the heavens themselves acknowledged their fragile reconciliation.
“Papa,” Lucy called out, breaking the silence. She turned her head slightly, her cheek catching the glow of the faint sunlight peeking through the clouds.
“Yes, Lucy?”
“I don’t rember everything clearly,” she admitted, her voice soft but resolute. “But I rember enough. Enough to know that you’re not the monster you think you are.”
Benedict stopped in his tracks, his body stiffening. The weight of her words pressed down on him, but he remained silent, waiting for her to continue.
“I hated you for a long ti,” Lucy admitted bluntly. Her eyes were clear, but there was no malice in her tone. “I hated how you weren’t there. I hated how you turned away. But most of all, I hated how you made feel like I wasn’t enough.”
The words stabbed deeply, and Benedict’s head lowered in sha. He opened his mouth to speak, but Lucy cut him off.
“But that’s not the whole story,” she said, her grip on his hand tightening. “I also rember the tis you tried. The tis you smiled, even though it hurt. And the tis you fought so hard to protect , even when you were breaking inside.”
Her voice wavered, but she continued, her words carrying the weight of both past pain and present clarity.
“Papa, I know you think you don’t deserve forgiveness. But forgiveness isn’t sothing you earn. It’s sothing I give because I want to. Because I love you.”
Tears stread down Benedict’s face, his body trembling with the effort to hold back the sobs threatening to escape. Finally, he let go, collapsing onto his knees as his emotions overwheld him.
Lucy knelt with him, wrapping her arms tightly around his shoulders. “Stop carrying everything alone, Papa. You’re not alone anymore. You have .”
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