Three days was enough ti for Vanitas to sort out his thoughts.
This was an important matter, and during his recovery, he chose to balance his priorities in any way he could, focusing on recovery while maintaining personal training.
At the sa ti, he carefully considered how to approach Charlotte.
Once everything seed right, Vanitas called for Charlotte to et him in the Astrea Head Office.
Charlotte swallowed deeply as she settled into the seat across from Vanitas’s desk. It had been a long ti since he had regarded her this seriously.
What was he planning to talk about?
"Before we begin, I need to apologize in advance," he said. "I may bring up things that could trigger mories you’d rather not relive. But I need to get the facts right."
"...."
Charlotte stiffened slightly but held his gaze.
He had asked her open-ended questions before. But never anything too deep. Never anything that would force her to confront her trauma outright.
She exhaled slowly.
"It’s fine," she said. "I was wondering when you’d finally ask properly. I don’t mind. I’ll answer as best as I can."
Vanitas studied her expression for a mont, then nodded. "Alright."
Leaning slightly forward, his fingers laced together on the desk as he licked his lips.
Then, he spoke.
"Has it ever occurred to you about instances where your brother’s mood just…. shifts?"
"Ah—"
"No, wait," Vanitas interrupted, raising a hand. "Let rephrase that."
He cleared his throat.
"Have there ever been tis when you felt like your brother was a completely different person? You’ve told before that he changed—from the kind brother you knew to soone scary. But I’m asking about before your mother’s death. Were there monts, even back then, where he felt… different?"
"...."
Charlotte blinked. Her fingers curled slightly in her lap.
"Different how?" she asked.
"Like soone else had taken his place," Vanitas clarified. "Another personality, in particular."
Charlotte frowned. "That’s—"
"Like ," he interrupted. "Exactly. But I’ve told you before. I’m a different person. I’m not your brother. Neither am I the result of a personality disorder."
"...."
Of course, she knew that. That fact had been established countless tis.
But it didn’t matter.
Archmage Zen or not, Charlotte considered this person family more than she ever did her brother.
"I do rember… an instance," she admitted. "It’s hard to forget since it shocked too. It happened when I accidentally burned myself while practicing a pyro spell."
"What happened?"
"A burn mark ford, of course. It’s gone now after healing treatnts. But when my brother saw it, it was like…. a switch flipped?" she said, tilting her head. "I had to call my mother because he started hyperventilating and muttering nonsense."
Vanitas leaned forward. "What was he saying?"
Charlotte frowned, trying to recall.
"I don’t rember it word for word," she admitted. "But.… he kept apologizing. Not to . But to nothing. Then he started saying his na."
Vanitas narrowed his eyes. "His na?"
"Yes. Things like, ’I’m Vanitas Astrea. I’m Vanitas Astrea. Nothing else. I’m Vanitas Astrea.’" She shuddered. "It was really…. scary."
Vanitas’s fingers tapped lightly against the desk, his brows furrowing.
"Did this happen only once?"
Charlotte shook her head.
"There were… other monts," she murmured. "But that was the worst."
She hesitated before continuing.
"Other tis, it was smaller. Things I didn’t pay much attention to at the ti. But now that we’re talking about it… I think that’s exactly what was happening. He would forget things he should have rembered. Or he’d act strangely. Like a completely different person. But then, the next mont, he’d snap back, as if nothing had happened."
"Like a reset," Vanitas muttered under his breath.
Charlotte nodded slowly. "Yeah. That’s the best way I can describe it."
Silence stretched between them as Vanitas processed her words. It didn’t take long before he broke it.
"His stigmata," he said. "Do you know anything about it?"
Charlotte shook her head. "No. Those are always private, even within the family. But after reading his diary…. I do now."
"Alright."
Vanitas leaned back, exhaling as he pieced his thoughts together.
Then, he asked, "Charlotte."
"...."
She tensed at the shift in his tone.
"Have you ever seen signs of Vanitas being…." Vanitas clicked his tongue, choosing his words carefully. "Alright, I’ll be blunt. Have you ever seen him being abused at ho? By your father, or your mother?"
"...."
Charlotte’s breath hitched. Her fingers curled into fists.
"....Why are you asking that?"
"Just answer the question," Vanitas pressed.
"...."
Charlotte swallowed hard, feeling her heart starting to pound in her chest.
"My mother would never.…" she started, but there was a crack in her voice.
Vanitas didn’t react and simply waited. Charlotte took a shaky breath.
"My father, though…" she said, her lips trembling. "There were tis when he would take my brother to his office. He’d co out quiet. Sotis, I saw bruises."
She gritted her teeth.
"He always told they were from training. He was being shaped to be the head, after all. So I thought…. there was bound to be so injuries."
Vanitas’s gaze darkened. "And you believed him?"
Charlotte’s hands trembled.
"I—"
She had convinced herself that it was just rigorous training. After all, their father had always been kind to her.
Yes, he was strict with Vanitas, but that was expected. Firstborn sons of noble households were raised with high expectations. It was never unusual for them to be pushed harder.
At the ti, however, it had never seed cruel enough for Charlotte to suspect outright abuse.
But now, after reading his diary, she knew the truth.
Their father was not a kind man. At least, not to Vanitas.
"No way…." she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. "Then, was it…."
"What you saw were probably trauma responses."
"...." Experience tales at .Côm
Charlotte’s breath caught in her throat.
Her mind raced back to every odd mont, every unexplained shift in her brother’s deanor. The tis when he had snapped into an almost chanical state. The way he would stare at nothing, like he wasn’t fully present.
The way he was slowly descending into ’that’ brother of hers.
"Vanitas," she said, her voice shaking. "Are you saying… my brother—"
"I’m saying what you already suspect," he interrupted. "Just like he did to you, your brother was also a victim of abuse."
Charlotte’s entire body stiffened. "What makes you so sure—"
"I’ve seen it," Vanitas said.
She frowned. "Seen what?"
"There are monts," he continued, his voice steady. "Instances where sothing triggers it… and I catch glimpses of Vanitas’s past."
Charlotte froze.
"What?"
Vanitas exhaled, leaning back slightly.
"It’s not constant, and it’s not sothing I can control. But it happens."
Her mind reeled.
How was that even possible?
Yet, before she could argue, before she could tell him it made no sense, sothing inside her hesitated and she looked at him with a serious gaze.
"...."
Those athyst eyes of his. Eyes she hadn’t inherited from their mother.
"Really…." she murmured. "Just who are you?"
Vanitas exhaled, resting his arms on the desk as he t her gaze.
"I told you before, didn’t I?" he said. "I’m not your brother."
Charlotte’s fingers twitched.
"Yes," she admitted. "But that’s not what I ant."
Vanitas tilted his head slightly. "And I’ve told you my na already."
"I know, but you said you’ve seen his past," she said. "That ans… in a way, you still have his mories."
That ant her brother was still sowhere inside.
"Fragnts," Vanitas corrected.
"Fragnts, fine," she conceded. "But mories nonetheless."
She swallowed hard, steadying herself.
"So, I’ll ask again. Who are you?"
Vanitas exhaled, leaning back slightly. "Charlotte. Does it matter?"
"Yes, it does," she insisted. "Listen, I appreciate you. I truly do. But no matter what you say, even if you told you were Vanitas all along and just pretending to fix your mistakes, maybe it’d be hard to forgive you, but…. you’re trying. And in these past few months, I’ve never felt more at peace."
Before she even registered his movent, Vanitas was already beside her.
A gentle hand rested atop her head.
"...."
Charlotte stiffened.
"I understand," he said softly. "The cycle of abuse cannot be justified. Just because he was abused doesn’t an what he did to you was excusable."
Her breath hitched.
"I don’t know the specifics," he continued. "And I won’t ask. But I do know this."
She didn’t look up, keeping her gaze fixed on the window behind his desk, afraid to et his eyes.
"And I will repeat it as many tis as it takes," he said. "You are my sister, Charlotte."
"...."
Charlotte bit her lip, her vision blurring.
Her fingers curled tightly in her lap.
She had told herself she wouldn’t cry anymore.
"...."
This issue—her brother, the past, the current Vanitas—she had avoided thinking about it for so long, fearing everything might just combust if it did.
Drip.
Yet, in that mont, sothing deep inside her shattered as a single tear trickled down her cheek.
* * *
"Hoo…."
Astrid stared at her reflection in the mirror, feeling her heart pounding in her chest for reasons she couldn’t quite explain.
She had bought new outfits the mont she heard the news—Professor Vanitas was coming to the Imperial Palace. While she didn’t live there, the second her brother ntioned it, she knew she had to be present.
And so, she had spared no effort in preparing herself. With the help of the palace servants, she had pampered and dressed herself to the best of her ability.
After all, several distinguished figures who had served the Empire during the Blood Moon would be attending.
She had to look presentable.
Though no formal duties were expected of her, Astrid had volunteered for the awarding ceremony anyway.
Draped in a golden gown that radiated elegance, she carried herself with the regal poise befitting a princess.
The dress accentuated her curves without being excessive, her makeup was refined yet subtle, and the carefully chosen jewelry complented her features without overwhelming them.
Tak. Tak—!
Stepping out of the changing room, Astrid took a deep breath and made her way toward the hall.
"...."
Then, she hesitated.
A crowd had already gathered and had ford a long line.
"...."
Her gaze swept across the room.
She was searching for him. Yet, despite scanning the sea of faces, there was no sign of Professor Vanitas.
She hadn’t seen him in two weeks, and though she wouldn’t admit it outright, she was disappointed.
Perhaps it was because, in his absence, she felt her academic progress had stagnated.
"...."
At least, that’s what she told herself.
It had to be said, this wasn’t a banquet, nor was it a lavish party. It was simply a gathering of honorable individuals.
So of them, she suspected, would probably be elevated to higher nobility.
At that mont, just as Astrid was about to enter the hall, a voice reached her ears.
——What are you doing here?
"Ah—"
Astrid turned, and her eyes widened.
"...."
Professor Vanitas stood right in front of her.
His hair had been neatly styled. His signature glasses were nowhere to be seen, revealing his sharp, perfectly symtrical athyst eyes.
And his attire….
"...."
Astrid swallowed.
A finely tailored suit hugged his fra just right, accentuating his height and lean build. Maybe it was because she hadn’t seen him in quite a while, but he looked totally different.
For a mont, she forgot to speak.
"...."
Then, realizing she had been staring, she quickly straightened her posture and cleared her throat.
"P-Professor… L-Long ti no see…." she stamred, inwardly cursing herself.
This was her professor! How unsightly of her to just freeze like that!
"Yes, it’s been a while, Princess," he said.
Princess? He always called her Astrid within the university grounds.
Then, realization dawned—of course. They weren’t at the university. They were in the Imperial Palace, surrounded by nobles, officials, and knights. Formality was expected.
"I’ve… heard about your endeavors, Professor," she said. "I think you might beco an Imperial Professor soon."
Vanitas tilted his head slightly, amusent glinting in his athyst eyes. "Is that so?"
"I’m serious. With your contributions during the Blood Moon and your research on the Thirteen Eclipses, it wouldn’t be surprising if my father himself granted you the title."
"Does the Emperor have authority over the Scholars Institute?"
"No," Astrid admitted, shaking her head. "But who knows? Recomndations go a long way."
Vanitas humd thoughtfully. "Then may I recomnd sothing, Princess?"
"What is it?"
"Would a duchy be possible?"
"Y-Yes?" Astrid blinked, clearly caught off guard.
Vanitas studied her reaction for a mont before continuing.
"If recomndations go a long way, then I assu a duchy is possible under the right circumstances."
Astrid frowned slightly. "Technically speaking…. yes, but that’s an entirely different matter. Why would you bring that up?"
"I was just curious," Vanitas said, offering a nonchalant shrug. "Nothing more."
"...."
Astrid, clearly not convinced, narrowed her eyes. "Professor, I don’t think you ask questions ’just because’—"
Before she could press further, a royal attendant approached and bowed deeply.
"Princess. Professor Vanitas Astrea. The ceremony is about to begin."
* * *
Vanitas swallowed, his gaze sweeping across the grand hall. Scholars, knights, and mages had gathered, waiting for each of their nas to be called.
"...."
At the front, Franz Barielle Aetherion stood beside the Emperor, exuding a refined and composed deanor befitting his status. On the opposite side, Astrid stood with her hands clasped in front of her
"...."
But Vanitas’s focus wasn’t on them.
——Please, step forward, Vanitas Constantine Astrea.
His attention was fixed on the Emperor.
The man whom he had wronged.
As Vanitas stepped forward and knelt before the throne, his gaze hovered to the two figures standing at either side of the Emperor.
Prince Franz. Princess Astrid.
Then, his eyes returned to the Emperor, Decadien Aetherion.
"It is an honor to be in your presence, Your Imperial Highness."
The words left his lips with perfect decorum.
Yet, beneath the surface, there was a single truth that threatened to turn everything he had worked so hard to build. It was so reminiscent of the tis he was held at gunpoint.
"I’ve heard much about you, Professor Astrea," Emperor Decadien said. "And now, after the epiphany that was the Blood Moon, your na has spread far and wide, even beyond the academic circles you are accustod to."
Vanitas remained silent, his head bowed.
"Tell , Professor. When you theorized the Thirteen Eclipses, did you anticipate your findings would shape the very course of our Empire’s future?"
Vanitas lifted his head slightly, eting those piercing golden eyes.
"I theorized because the truth was necessary," Vanitas said. "Before I am a professor, I am a man of the crown. I may only belong to a Viscount’s family, but House Astrea has always served the Empire for generations."
He hesitated for a mont, wondering if he had spoken too much. But the Emperor’s gaze remained fixed on him, as if expecting him to continue.
So he did.
"I did not theorize to alter the course of history, but to prevent the mistakes of the past from being repeated."
The hall fell silent.
Then, the Emperor leaned forward slightly on his throne.
"Then tell , Professor Astrea," the Emperor said. "If you were given the ans…. would you change the past?"
"...."
Vanitas did not look away.
Ba… Thump! Ba… Thump!
But his heart pounded harder against his ribs.
Because the man before him was not just the Emperor of the Empire.
"...."
.…He was the husband of the woman whose life Vanitas Astrea had taken.
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