Chapter 647: Returning Ho
The magic circle closed behind them with a low sigh, as if the space itself were relieved to release that accumulated tension.
The air shifted.
There was no biting wind, no divine pressure, no endless clouds beneath their feet. Only the familiar sll of ho—ancient stone, ward wood, stabilized dostic magic. A living, inhabited, safe place.
Vergil barely had ti to adjust Níðhögg on his shoulder.
“KATH—!”
He didn’t finish the word.
Katharina was the first to appear, running down the corridor like a runaway projectile. Her feet barely touched the ground before she leaped, her arms wrapping around his neck tightly enough to almost knock him over.
“YOU DISAPPEARED!” she protested, burying her face in his shoulder. “You damned husband! Let know when you’re going out! You just vanished into thin air!!!”
“Disappeared?” Vergil asked, trying to keep his balance.
“Yes, your awful husband disappeared!” she replied, pouting.
Too late.
Roxanne ca right after—less impulsive, but no less determined. She didn’t jump… she just hugged him tightly, her arms around his waist as if making sure he was still real.
“We missed you,” she said softly. There was no drama there. Just truth. “Awful husband!” she said, mimicking Katharina.
Vergil let out a breath with a half-laugh, half-sigh, one hand instinctively landing on Katharina’s head, the other resting on Roxanne’s back.
“I missed you too,” he replied honestly. “And I’m a great husband, stop being dramatic.”
“You took your ti.” Ada said, hugging him from behind. “Don’t take your ti…” She spoke sweetly and shyly, she didn’t even seem like Ada. “I missed you… so much…”
That’s when he noticed the silence.
Not the comfortable silence. The other.
Sapphire was still there.
Katharina lifted her face, her eyes still shining with emotion… and t her mother’s gaze.
The world slowed down.
Sapphire stopped a few steps from the magic circle. Her posture was straight, impeccable as always—but there was sothing different. An almost invisible detail. Her shoulders too rigid. Her hands too relaxed at her sides.
Mother and daughter stared at each other.
No words were spoken.
None needed to be.
Katharina didn’t move. The embrace with Vergil loosened, but didn’t dissolve. Her smile slowly disappeared, replaced by a cautious, closed expression, like soone who didn’t know whether to advance or retreat.
Sapphire didn’t smile either.
She didn’t frown.
She didn’t show anger.
She just looked.
A deep, silent look, laden with things that had never been said—and perhaps never would be.
Vergil felt it.
He felt the weight in the air. The abrupt change in atmosphere. The tension that didn’t stem from power, but from history.
Roxanne noticed it too. Her embrace loosened discreetly, her gaze shifting from Katharina to Safira, then to Vergil, trying to understand what wasn’t being said.
Safira was the first to break eye contact.
She looked away.
Not in defeat.
In decision.
Without saying a single word, Safira turned and began to walk out of the room. Her steps were silent, controlled, as always—but there was sothing definitive about them. Like a door closing without a slamming.
Katharina didn’t call her.
She didn’t move.
She simply watched her mother walk away until she disappeared down the adjacent corridor.
The silence that remained was… cruel.
Vergil felt Katharina’s body stiffen slightly against his.
Roxanne cleared her throat uncomfortably. “…I’ll…let the others know you’re back,” she said, carefully releasing the hug. “Before soone faints from fright.”
“I’ll tell my mother you’re back,” Ada said.
She cast one last glance at Katharina and stepped back, giving them space.
Vergil remained there.
Katharina finally released her arms.
She didn’t move far. Just took a step back, her eyes lowered for a mont.
“…She didn’t even speak to ,” she murmured.
Vergil didn’t respond imdiately.
He carefully supported Níðhögg against the wall, ensuring the weapon remained silent, respectful. Only then did he lower himself slightly, reaching her level.
“She saw you,” he said carefully. “That already ans more than it seems.”
Katharina laughed humorlessly.
“She always sees,” she replied. “She just never stays.” The comnt wasn’t accusatory. It was weary.
Vergil felt a pang in his chest. “Do you want to go talk to her?” he asked.
Katharina hesitated. “…No,” she finally said. “We’re still… fighting… there’s no point in talking if she doesn’t want to…”
She took a deep breath, straightening her shoulders, trying to regain so composure.
“But you ca back,” she added, looking at him again. “That counts.”
Vergil nodded.
“It counts,” he confird.
For a mont, they stood there in silence—not awkward, but heavy. A silence of unresolved issues that no one knew exactly how to fix.
In the distance, footsteps echoed. Voices. The house slowly coming back to life.
Vergil cast one last glance in the direction Safira had gone.
He didn’t follow her.
Not yet.
So distances can’t be crossed by running.
‘I’ll have to make them reconcile…’ Vergil thought with a sigh, then hugged Katharina again.
Vergil exhaled slowly, as if accepting an unavoidable weight.
He hugged Katharina again, this ti more firmly, an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to his chest. It wasn’t a possessive gesture—it was protective. Stable. Present.
“Listen,” he said softly, just loud enough for only her to hear. “I’ll have to prepare for the Celestial Tournant.”
Katharina stiffened for a mont. She already knew what that ant. Risk. Gods. Things that were never simple.
But before she could answer, Vergil continued:
“But before that,” he added, his voice softer, “I’m going to help you with your mother.”
She slowly lifted her face.
“You don’t need to—”
“I want to,” he interrupted her, without harshness. Just conviction. “And not because I think you’re wrong. Nor because I think she’s right.”
Katharina swallowed hard.
Vergil brought one hand to her head, his fingers carefully running through her hair, an almost automatic gesture—too familiar to be rehearsed.
“You two are bad at saying what you feel,” he continued. “Each in your own way. And soone’s going to have to sit in the middle until this explodes.”
She let out a weak, sowhat sad laugh.
“So it’s up to you?”
“Looks like it,” he replied, with a hint of a smile. “I’ve faced worse.”
Katharina was silent for a few seconds. Her gaze wandered down the corridor where Sapphire had disappeared, then returned to Vergil.
“…She never apologizes,” she murmured. “Never.”
Vergil nodded slowly.
“I know.”
“And when I try to talk, it feels like I’m talking to a wall.”
“I know that too.”
She frowned.
“Then why do you think that—”
Vergil leaned in slightly and kissed her forehead.
It was a simple gesture.
But effective.
Katharina froze for a second—surprised—before relaxing, her shoulders slumping as if sothing inside her had finally lost its strength.
“Because soone needs to remind you two,” he said softly, “that you’re not on opposite sides.”
She closed her eyes for a mont.
“Everything will be alright,” Vergil finished. Not as an empty promise. As a decision. “I won’t let things stay the way they are.”
Katharina took a deep breath.
When she opened her eyes, they were still moist—but firr.
“…You say that as if it were easy,” she murmured.
“It’s not,” he replied. “But it’s necessary.”
She nodded slowly.
Then, in a silent gesture, she rested her forehead against his chest for a mont, just enough to compose herself.
Vergil remained there. He didn’t rush. He didn’t pressure.
When she pulled away, there was sothing different in his posture. Not resolved—but sustained.
“Okay,” she said finally. “But if she kicks you out—”
“I’ve been kicked out of worse places,” he interrupted, with a half-smile.
She huffed, almost laughing.
In the distance, the house continued to be alive. Voices crossed, footsteps echoed, doors opened and closed. Normality trying to assert itself once more.
Vergil picked up Níðhögg and rested it on his shoulder, feeling the familiar weight of the weapon—silent, restrained, respectful in that mont.
He cast one last glance at the empty hallway. “I’ll see the others, then co to my room tonight.” Vergil said to Katharina as he began to walk.
Vergil walked down the hallway towards the kitchen, the sounds of the house filling the empty spaces—cutlery being arranged, a pot bubbling gently, the discreet crackling of the fire under the stove.
The sll of hot food hit him first.
Then, the sight.
Viviane was standing with her back to him, focused on what she was doing. The yellowish light of the room softly outlined her silhouette, reflecting on the well-fitted fabric of the uniform she wore—too neat to be rely functional, too familiar to be ignored.
Vergil paused for a second at the door.
That scene was simple.
And, for that very reason, dangerous.
He approached silently and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, a firm, familiar embrace. There was no hurry, no urgency—just presence. Vergil tilted his face and placed a light kiss on her neck, lingering long enough to make her shudder in surprise.
Viviane let out a small, involuntary sigh.
“Vergil…” she murmured, the na coming out more as a reaction than a word.
She turned quickly, still with her hands resting on the counter, and before she could say anything else, she was already grabbing his collar, pulling him into a direct, hot kiss, full of accumulated longing.
There was no urgency.
There was reunion.
When she pulled away enough to breathe, her eyes shone—not playfully, but with relief.
“You took your ti,” she said, resting her forehead against his. Her voice was low, intimate. “The house felt… strange without you.”
Vergil smiled slightly, one hand rising to her face, his thumb gently brushing her cheek.
“I know,” he replied. “I felt it too.”
Viviane took a deep breath, as if only now believing he was really there. Her arms closed around him again, this ti in a calr, longer embrace.
“I missed you,” she admitted. There was no provocation. Just sincerity.
Vergil rested his chin on the top of her head for a mont.
“I’m back,” he said. “And I intend to stay as long as I can.”
She smiled against his chest before pulling away slightly, rembering the stove. She carefully turned off the heat, but kept one hand on his, as if she didn’t want to break the contact.
“Then stay here with a little while,” she asked. “Even if it’s just that.”
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