"Vani... tas?"
It felt surreal.
The boy she had never seen again after that night had appeared before her. And in the years that had passed, he had grown into a decent-looking man.
"Y-You’re Vanitas Astrea, aren’t you?"
"I am."
Vanitas remained standing, but Beatrice could see the pity in his eyes.
In truth, he had never forgotten her. But to keep that happy-looking family away from the clutches of the Astreas, he had believed there was no other choice but to stay away.
"...Why are you here?" Beatrice asked.
"I don’t know," Vanitas replied. "A letter appeared in my office with this address. That’s what led here."
He had nearly dismissed it as a prank. Under normal circumstances, he would have.
But the na written on the letter had stopped him.
"Your daughter told to co here."
"...Karina did?"
The letter had been signed "Karina Maeril."
Of all people, it had been that little girl. Vanitas had no idea how she had even learned that he had recently been instated as a professor. But in the end, he decided to grant the Maerils so favors.
"Anyway," Vanitas began, "what is it you need... Teacher—no, Professor Maeril?"
A faint smile touched Beatrice’s lips. "My, you never called that before."
She paused, then let out a chuckle.
"Back then, you often called a hag. Hehe."
Vanitas looked away, choosing not to make a remark.
"How did you end up like this?" he asked.
"Seems like age finally caught up to ," Beatrice replied. "But enough about that. How have you been? It’s really been such a long ti."
Vanitas nearly frowned.
He hadn’t co here for small talk. And if that was all she wanted, then this visit would have been a complete waste of ti. But for reasons he could not explain, he pulled a stool closer and sat beside her, choosing to indulge her questions.
For Beatrice Maeril, he could do that.
"To start... I’m a professor now. At the Silver University Tower."
"Th-That’s amazing..."
Beatrice’s eyes widened.
For many professors, it was a dream institution.
And for a first-ti educator to be teaching at the collegiate level in his very first year, it told Beatrice everything she needed to know.
The boy she once knew had beco truly exceptional.
So much so that her heart had ward all of a sudden, genuinely feeling proud of him.
"But I don’t think I’m cut out for the job."
"Why is that?"
"It’s stressful," Vanitas said. "Truly. I don’t have the patience to teach idiots. I should’ve just settled for being a scholar."
Beatrice laughed. "You sound exactly like how I used to. I thought the sa thing when I first started teaching."
Vanitas glanced at her. "Then why?"
"Because, even if most days were exhausting, there were always one or two students who made it worthwhile."
She looked at him gently.
"You rember that, don’t you?"
"...."
"I’ve experienced many things during my years as an educator. The good and the bad. At first, I thought that if I simply worked hard enough, I could make a na for myself. That effort alone would be rewarded."
She paused, gathering her thoughts.
"But reality was not so kind. There is a process to everything. And if you don’t have the ans to protect yourself, they will take everything from you."
At that, Beatrice began to explain.
Of the papers she had worked on for years, only to see her na removed before publication.
Of discoveries presented under soone else’s authority, while she remained standing in the background as little more than an assistant.
Of promises made in closed rooms, benefits that never ca, and opportunities that vanished the mont they beca inconvenient.
Of supervisors who praised her work in private, then dismissed her in public.
Of promotions that were always just out of reach.
Of how rit mattered less than lineage, and how those without backing were easy to exploit.
"But I have to say, I didn’t hate teaching."
"...."
"Because I was able to reach the few who need it the most."
Her eyes t his.
"You were one of them."
Vanitas looked away, saying nothing.
"But even one student like that," Beatrice continued, "is enough to make the job aningful."
Vanitas remained silent for a mont, feeling awkward.
Truthfully, he had not beco a professor for the sake of teaching. It had been a matter of convenience and access. The Silver University Tower offered benefits and freedoms the Scholars Institute never would.
Had he remained there, he would have been unable to pursue the studies he truly wanted. At best, his career would have stagnated into diocrity.
And yet, listening to Beatrice now, perhaps there was more to guiding others.
Perhaps through the compromises, there was sothing genuinely worthwhile in it after all.
"I don’t know the struggles and hardships you’ve been through," Beatrice said. "But seeing what you’ve accomplished, and what you will accomplish, I’m genuinely proud of you, Vanitas."
"...."
Vanitas looked away.
For a long mont, he said nothing.
"...What is it you want from ?" Vanitas asked. "I’m a busy man now, you know."
"But I suppose so things never change," Beatrice said with a giggle. "You’re still that stubborn boy I rember."
"I’m serious."
"Well, I don’t know why Karina wanted you to see . But may I ask you for a favor, Vanitas?"
"What is it?"
"That girl... She’s walking down the sa path as . But I want her to be better. Not to settle as an academy professor, but to soar to heights I could never reach."
"And what do you want to do?
Beatrice had seen the feelings Karina had kept bottled up all these years. She did not know what her daughter had struggled with, only that it had not been easy.
When she had asked Romulus, all he could say was that even he did not know.
There had been periods when Karina was younger and had stopped visiting her altogether. Beatrice could only speculate. Perhaps the girl did not want to see her mother so weak and frail.
Perhaps she had even begun to resent her for falling ill.
In truth, Beatrice no longer knew what to think. She had not been there for much of her daughter’s growth.
So perhaps this was the only help she could still offer.
"Please, provide a letter of recomndation for her... I know I’m asking for a lot, but..."
"Alright."
Through Vanitas.
"I’ll try to bring her into the Tower."
"Thank you..."
With that, Vanitas stood. It was about ti to leave.
"I’d love to stay and catch up," he said, "but I have a faculty eting in about an hour."
"Of course," Beatrice replied. "You’re an important man now. Hehe. It feels like just yesterday I’d see you sitting alone at the back of the classroom."
Vanitas paused, then smiled faintly, before turning to leave.
Just as his hand reached for the doorknob, Beatrice spoke again.
"Co visit anyti," she said. "It would be nice to have company. There’s still so much left to talk about."
"Right. I’ll keep that in mind."
The following week, Vanitas ca again.
"Did you ever ask your daughter why she sent that letter?"
"She hasn’t visited in a while," Beatrice replied. "And I have no way of contacting her. I did ask my husband, but he said he doesn’t know either. He plans to visit her apartnt soti soon."
"I see," Vanitas said. "She’s old enough to live alone now."
"Mhm. Her university is quite far from our ho, and she saved enough to rent a place closer to it. Ti really does fly by, doesn’t it? My little girl is already a first-year university student."
The following week, he ca by again.
"I think I ssed up, Teacher."
"What do you an?"
"My temper got the better of ," Vanitas said. "I snapped at a student. She’s quite resilient, though. Stood her ground. That’s probably why it irritated . At this rate, I’ll end up being painted as a terror professor."
Beatrice smiled. "You know, the fact that you’re worried about that already tells you’re not one."
"These brats just don’t get it. I don’t understand why there’s such a generational gap between them and when I’m not even that much older. They think university is all fun and gas."
Beatrice chuckled. "They’re not wrong. For so of them, it is."
"That’s exactly the problem."
And the next week, he ca by again.
For so reason, there was always a pattern to it. If he visited on a Monday, then the next visit would be on a Tuesday the following week.
Gradually, the intervals stretched.
Once a week beca once every two weeks.
Then once every three.
Eventually, once a month.
Even so, Beatrice was genuinely happy.
He had found a place for himself in this world. He was standing on his own, moving forward in his own way, and that was all she had ever wished for him.
If she had ever been given a son of her own, she thought, she would have wanted him to grow up just like Vanitas.
"Mother."
And then, one day, out of the blue, soone unexpected paid her a visit.
"...Karina?"
It was Karina.
This should have been the busiest period of her university life. And yet, for so reason, she still ca. Karina often visited whenever she could, at least thrice or four tis a month when her schedule allowed, and Beatrice understood how difficult that was.
Living far from the hospital. Juggling multiple part-ti jobs. Trying to keep up with her studies. None of it was easy.
"Aren’t you going to sit, dear?"
For so reason, Karina remained standing where she was. Then, slowly, she stepped closer. Moonlight spilled through the window, illuminating her figure. She was taller than Beatrice rembered, but nevertheless, she was undoubtedly Karina.
"Oh, right," Beatrice said. "The letter you sent. Vanitas actually ca. He’s been visiting quite often."
"...."
"Karina?"
"That man knows where my father is."
"What?"
"They’ve been working together to treat the Empress this whole ti," Karina said. "Vanitas and my father. Zelliel."
"Karina, how do you—"
Beatrice wanted to ask how she knew. Why she knew. How she was aware that Beatrice had been searching for Zelliel in the first place.
"Ask him," Karina said. "Ask him to et my father. And ask Father why he left us..."
"Karina, you—"
Beatrice’s eyes opened.
"...."
It was a dream.
The following month, Vanitas ca by again.
"You’re here, Viscount Astrea."
Vanitas paused. Beatrice was unusually formal today. She hesitated, then spoke again.
"I know this is a strange question to ask, but... do you know Doctor Zelliel?"
"...."
Vanitas’s eyes shook. Beatrice couldn’t help but catch that subtle shift in his expression.
"So you do..."
"I don’t."
"Zelliel," she began. "I know you’re working with him."
"...."
Vanitas took an unconscious step back.
"I don’t care how you know him," Beatrice continued. "Or what kind of relationship you have with him. But please..."
"Professor—"
"He’s... my ex-husband... I need... to see him... W-Will you grant this favor...?"
Faced with those desperate, trembling eyes, Vanitas could not bring himself to refuse.
Beatrice did not have much ti left. He knew that much. He had already spoken with her doctors in private and arranged to sponsor her treatnts behind her back.
Even then, the prognosis remained grim.
The reason his visits had grown fewer was simply that he did not want to grow attached.
He did not want to say goodbye.
Not to this woman who had only been part of his childhood for half a sester, yet had beco more of a mother to him than his own mother ever had.
"...Alright."
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