"…You really can't dance."
After firmly guiding Steven's hand from her back to her waist, Gladiia finally glanced down at her shoes—now covered in ssy scuff marks—and sighed softly. Then, leaning in close, she whispered beside his ear:
"I did warn you at the start, didn't I? I'm not the type of guy who lie. You knew that."
Scratching his cheek a bit sheepishly, Steven couldn't help but stare at the girl in front of him. This was the closest he'd ever been to the daughter he had sohow ended up with. Her long white hair frad a delicate, porcelain face, and in her ruby-red eyes shimred a faint, unreadable sorrow.
"Just follow my lead," she said quietly, "and hold my hand."
She was tall—tall enough to et his eyes without even tilting her head. Steven could see himself reflected in those blood-colored pupils, but he couldn't read a single thought from them.
Still, he obediently wrapped an arm around her slender but surprisingly warm waist, and his other hand closed gently around hers. Her fingers were still cold.
Ever since he'd pulled her from the depths of the ocean, her hands had always been like seawater—icy, distant.
Because of that, every ti they walked together, Steven had made a habit of holding her hand tighter, as if trying to warm her through sheer will.
But this ti, sothing changed.
Her cold hand trembled ever so slightly—then, unexpectedly, her fingers closed around his.
Caught off guard, Steven glanced at the girl turning slowly in his arms. She twirled with grace that was effortless and otherworldly. His lips curved into a knowing smile, as if he'd been waiting for this mont.
"…So, how much do you rember now?"
It had started back when she t Skadi. Or no—more precisely, when he had ntioned Ægir Border City. That's when her reactions first began to shift, beca strange.
Later, when she danced on deck with Specter, Steven had noticed sothing else—an unmistakable detail floating above her head: the [Amnesiac] debuff was gone.
That's when he knew. His ti with this daughter—borrowed from the sea—was drawing to an end.
Still, he never expected her first act after regaining her mories would be to ask him for a dance. Not a spear thrown, not a shout of rage—but a hand extended in invitation.
And now, as they danced, Steven realized… maybe he wasn't the only one whose feelings had changed.
"…Everything," she murmured. "Even how you 'treated' ."
Gladiia bit her lip lightly.
When those mories first ca flooding back, her first instinct was to impale him right then and there with her spear. But oddly enough, that fury had lted into sothing else—sothing she couldn't na.
What remained wasn't rage or sha… but a strange, unshakable sweetness.
It wasn't a feeling a proud Abyssal Hunter like her should have.
No—this was the emotion of soone who had lived by Steven's side.
This was the feeling… of a daughter.
But what truly vexed Gladiia… was the fact that even knowing everything now—she didn't really hate him for it.
"You should also know," Steven said, shrugging as he narrowly avoided stepping on her foot again, "that it was honestly just an accident. Given your condition at the ti, it was a miracle I managed to treat you at all. And hey, it's not my fault you couldn't chew that thing."
He let go of her waist, giving her room to spin gracefully away from him, but even as the space widened between them, their hands remained tightly linked—neither letting go.
"I'm not blaming you," Gladiia replied coldly, her voice laced with clarity. "If anything, I owe you a debt. But let's not forget—you bear just as much responsibility for the injury that left like that."
She gazed at the boy in front of her, her scarlet eyes calculating.
From what she'd rembered now, it was clear: back then, Steven had been utterly clueless about the nature of this world.
So where did he co from?
That question still remained unanswered—but strangely, it wasn't what troubled her most right now.
As she twirled once more, she suddenly pulled herself back toward him, using the montum of his hand as leverage. Her free hand rested on his shoulder, and once again, they were dancing in close embrace.
"And," she said, her tone sharp but calm, "you humiliated . Dad. I think you owe an explanation."
Even when accusing him, her voice was so clear and elegant that Steven almost forgot she was scolding him.
He gave a helpless smile.
Her complaint was one he'd heard coming the mont she looked at him like that.
"That title—I never asked for it, alright?" he said. "If anything, now that your mories are back, you should rember it was you who decided that. I just went along with it because I didn't want to upset you."
He had the perfect look of innocent victimhood on his face, and honestly? He is innocent.
He never set out to adopt so mysterious oceanic warrior girl as his daughter. It was Gladiia who insisted on clinging to him back then. If not for the fact that Steven was, at heart, a responsible guy, he might've left her behind in Iberia a long ti ago.
"…But the humiliation part," Gladiia said softly, eyes narrowing just a little, "was real."
She glared at him, eyes filled with a quiet resentnt.
Gladiia knew very well this wasn't normal.
An Abyssal Hunter wasn't supposed to feel these kinds of emotions.
She had better things to do—bigger goals to chase.
And yet, she couldn't stop herself from thinking about this.
She had already lost everything once.
But here—here she'd gained sothing she never had before.
What was it, even?
Family? A father's love? Simple care?
Or sothing more… confusing?
Sothing deeper?
As an Ægir Technology Consul, Gladiia had never once wavered. But now, she found herself standing on uncertain ground—feeling lost, even.
And despite everything, she realized one thing with frightening clarity:
She didn't dislike these feelings.
"Well then, what do you want to do?" Steven said, chuckling. "Keep compensating you forever? You do rember how well I treated you when you had amnesia, right?"
He smiled.
If she could still joke about it, then maybe what really mattered to her had never been about the treatnt or the injury or even the title.
Maybe what she truly cared about… was sothing else entirely.
At least now, Steven didn't have to worry about being stabbed by his not-quite-daughter-now-actually-a-deep-sea-warrior-again for how things had turned out.
"…That might not be a bad idea," Gladiia said coolly. "After all, this sha of mine is no longer a secret. Our companions already recognize the bond between us. The news of you being my father might even reach my holand soday."
Steven blinked.
"…Wait. You're not actually threatening with that, are you?"
"How ridiculous," Gladiia murmured, her lips curled into sothing between a smirk and a scowl. "For the people of Ægir, the idea that their Honorary Army leader would call a land-dweller father… it'd be laughable. And yet—"
Her fingers tightened around Steven's shoulder, hard enough that he could feel bruises forming.
"Yet I can't bring myself to hate it. Surely… that's your fault, isn't it?"
"Alright, alright," Steven winced, still grinning. "If you say so, I'll take the bla. Guilty of being too kind. Guilty of making it hard for you to even want to stab ."
He was clearly amused. And in that mont, he realized sothing strange—despite regaining her mories, despite being the fearso Abyssal Hunter once more… the girl in his arms was still, in so quiet and stubborn way, his Gladiia. The one who'd once clung to him like a lost child, calling him "Dad."
And honestly? He didn't mind it one bit.
Whether Gladiia felt the sa… that was another matter.
"That is your problem," she said coldly. "Why show such tenderness to a stranger? Just because I called you dad once? From your actions afterward, you didn't seem particularly interested in my body."
The mont those words left her mouth, an odd tension pulsed between them.
And maybe it was her way of teasing, or maybe it was sothing else entirely—but Steven laughed.
"Maybe because… you were the only person in this world who felt like family to ," he said softly. "Even if it was just an impulsive 'dad,' that reliance… it ant sothing. Being needed by soone—it made feel like I wasn't alone. Like I wasn't just drifting through this world without purpose."
He looked straight into her crimson eyes, sincere and unflinching.
"When I first arrived here, everything was unfamiliar. I had no one. I'd been alone for so long… for so long, Gladiia. And then you ca along—soone who leaned on , trusted , relied on . You didn't just give soone to protect… you saved , too."
He smiled, a quiet, aching smile that only soone who'd tasted true loneliness could make.
"And maybe, in a strange way, I saved you too."
Gladiia said nothing. She rely stared back at him, unmoving—so still she didn't even notice that they had stopped dancing.
A long silence stretched between them.
Then, at last, the cold, elegant woman let out a quiet sigh.
She had no words—not because she didn't understand, but because she did. Too well.
Every word Steven spoke had co from the heart. And because of that, she could no longer be angry with him. She couldn't even pretend to be.
Because wasn't she the sa?
Wasn't she just as afraid of being alone?
The Gladiia who had lost her mories… that version of her had been the purest, most unguarded part of herself. And her attachnt to Steven—her reliance on him—ca from a deep, aching loneliness she had tried so hard to bury.
It wasn't weakness. It was simply… human.
"Enough of that," she said at last, brushing away the fog in her mind. "Let's talk about sothing else."
She narrowed her eyes at him.
"Now that I've regained my mories… what exactly are we supposed to be from now on?"
It was a fair question.
The fragile father-daughter bond they'd built couldn't possibly hold now that she rembered everything. It was a temporary illusion—one born of amnesia and circumstance.
Surely, he wouldn't try to keep up the pretense… right?
"…Honestly?" Steven said, rubbing the back of his head with a sheepish grin. "If you're okay with it… I don't really mind keeping things the way they are. I've got room in my heart for another daughter."
He paused, his eyes twinkling.
"I an, it's not like I can't handle the responsibility."
< >
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