CHAPTER 303: CHAPTER 302 - “...CAT’S OUT OF THE BAG.”

The afternoon light filtered through the tall windows of the Vaise family’s private infirmary, gilding the room in muted gold.

Dust motes drifted lazily in the beams, floating above the bed where the mountain of a man—Varian Von Vaise—lay still, his chest rising and falling in slow, heavy breaths.

Raven stood at the foot of the bed with his arms crossed, posture casual, but his eyes sharp.

Clara leaned at his side, expression calm as always, though her gaze kept flicking between Raven and the man in the bed, her mind no doubt already parsing the weight of this "family secret."

Selena stood a step back, composed as a blade sheathed, though her fingers curled slightly whenever Raven shifted closer to Clara.

Siris, predictably, was pouting. "Why isn’t he up yet? Why don’t we just stab him awake?"

"No stabbing," Raven deadpanned without looking at her.

Lia gave Siris a patient, motherly pat on the shoulder, the kind that said, ’Sweetheart, you’re hopeless, but we still love you anyway.’

"We wait," she said.

Graye, shifting in her sleek armor, tilted her head like a curious cat. "Can I poke him with my sword’s hilt? Just a little? Promise I’ll stop if he dies."

Jessy pinched the bridge of her nose. "...You’re unbelievable."

"Thanks," Graye beamed.

Rufus hummed, pretending to look profound as he leaned forward. "I once read that waking up a sleeper too suddenly could damage their soul. Or maybe it was their bladder."

Alex squinted. "How do you confuse those two?"

"I multitask," Rufus replied with pride.

"Yo, don’t worry, I got this," Omni chimed in from Raven’s arm, voice brimming with streetwise swagger. "Couple of slaps, a lil’ water, bada bing—he’ll be singin’ opera in no time."

"Do that and I’m yeeting you into the moat," Raven muttered.

But the room’s center wasn’t their banter—it was Randolf.

The usually impenetrable butler stood like a statue turned to flesh, silver-white eyes wide, his composure cracked for the first time any of them had seen.

His lips parted, but no sound came out, his throat working as he stared at the face on the bed.

Raven glanced at him sidelong, voice low and uncharacteristically soft. "Didn’t expect this, did you... uncle?"

Randolf didn’t answer. He couldn’t answer.

For decades, he and Argon had buried the weight of a brother they thought would only return to them once he died.

They had buried it so deep that it had become a habit to show no grief. But here he was. Flesh and blood. Breathing.

When Varian’s fingers twitched, Randolf finally drew a breath that sounded more like a gasp.

The room stilled. Even Graye, for once, quieted down.

A low groan rumbled from Vairan’s throat. His eyelids fluttered, lashes catching the sunlight, and when he opened his eyes, they were the same piercing silver as Randolf’s—dull at first, then slowly sharpening with recognition.

"...Ralph?" His voice was hoarse and worn, but the single word carried decades of weight.

Randolf’s throat bobbed as he heard the name only his oldest brother used to call him with.

He stepped closer, each movement stiff as though he couldn’t trust his own legs. "...Brother."

The room stilled. Even Omni, usually quick to throw in some quip, was silent in Raven’s palm-tattoo, as if understanding the gravity of the moment.

For a long moment, the two men merely looked at each other—Randolf, trembling despite himself, and Varian, blinking slowly as though piecing together the fragments of memory through fog.

Finally, Randolf exhaled, a sound half a laugh, half a sob. "You... idiot. We thought—Argon and I—we thought you were dead."

Varian’s lips curved faintly, tired but soft. "...Would’ve been easier... if I was."

That broke something in Randolf.

His hand lifted, hesitant, then finally pressed firmly to Varian’s shoulder. "...You bastard. You survived all this time and said nothing."

"I couldn’t," Varian rasped. His eyes flicked briefly toward Raven. "The command. It—"

"I know." Randolf cut him off, shaking his head. "Don’t. Not now."

His fingers tightened, the only show of emotion in a man who had lived half his life in shadows.

For a moment, silence reigned again, except for Graye sniffing suspiciously loudly, blinking quickly as though trying not to cry. "Damn, why’s it so dusty in here..."

"Armor’s squeezing your chest too hard," Siris teased.

"Shut up!" Graye yelped, cheeks flushing.

That broke the tension enough that Raven sighed, muttering, "We’re really incapable of handling emotional moments like normal people, huh."

But Varian wasn’t paying attention anymore.

His eyes swept the group, lingering briefly on each face—the cold majesty of Selena, Clara’s calm warmth, Siris’s dangerous smile, and Lia’s motherly poise.

His gaze brushed Jessy, Rufus, Alex, and even Nibbles, who was holding up another sign: Hi Uncle, want a nut?

But then his eyes landed on Jake, and he froze.

Varian’s breath hitched audibly. His body stiffened, silver eyes trembling in a way none of them had ever seen.

Jake, caught off guard, shifted slightly, his usual stoic calm unsettled under that intense stare. "...What?"

Varian’s lips parted. For a long, heavy second, nothing came out. Then, barely above a whisper, the word slipped free, cracked and raw, "...Son."

The room fell utterly silent.

Even Nibbles dropped his sign.

The silence stretched so long it began to press on the air, heavy and unyielding.

Varian’s single word—Son—echoed in the minds of everyone present, replaying like a bell toll that refused to fade.

Jake’s brows furrowed ever so slightly, the smallest crack in his usual calm mask.

His hand twitched near his side, as though unsure whether to reach for a weapon or for... something else. "...What did you just say?"

Randolf closed his eyes, exhaling through his nose. He looked tired, older than usual, but there was something softer in his face—resignation mixed with relief.

He didn’t interrupt because he knew this was not his moment.

Raven, however, shifted his weight against the bedpost and muttered, "Well... that cat’s out of the bag."

Omni chuckled from Raven’s arm, voice low and teasing. "Cat? Bro, that was a whole damn zoo gettin’ released. Kid’s about to learn he got gorilla genetics."

Clara gave Raven a pointed look. "You knew?"

"Of course, he knew," Selena said coolly, though her narrowed eyes flicked at Raven with the tiniest bite of teasing. "He always knows things he doesn’t share."

"I don’t always know," Raven corrected with a shrug. "Just the important stuff. Like who Jake’s dad is."

Honestly, the only reason Vairan was awake now was because Raven had healed the man’s soul for some time.

But that wasn’t something he needed to mention.

A friend could finally meet his dad, and for that, this much was nothing.

Siris leaned forward with unholy glee. "Wait-wait-wait. Hold up. This guy’s dad is that guy?"

She pointed both daggers dramatically between Jake and Varian. "That makes Jake like... a royal super-puppy edition or something!"

"...That’s not how bloodlines work," Jessy muttered, already massaging her forehead.

"Does now," Siris insisted.

Lia, however, laid a gentle hand on Jake’s arm and smiled, her voice soft and warm. "Breathe, Jake. It’s all right."

Jake did breathe, slow and measured, though his usually steady gaze was unmoored. His voice came out low and strained. "My... father?"

Varian sat up with some effort, his massive frame shifting, every muscle tense. His silver eyes burned into Jake’s as though trying to make up for years in a single look. "...Yes. I am your father."

A ripple went through the room.

Jake’s jaw tightened. He looked down, his shadowed face unreadable. "All my life... they called me a bastard. A mistake. Even my mother... she never told me who you were."

Varian’s expression crumpled—just slightly, but enough. "She couldn’t. If Lorian had known... if the king had found out about you—that you had inherited my shadow affinity—he would have enslaved you too. I couldn’t—"

His voice broke, rough and raw. "...I couldn’t protect you then."

The words hit like stones in water, sinking deep.

For the first time anyone could remember, Jake looked... small. Not weak, but like someone who had carried a weight for too long without knowing why.

His eyes shimmered, though no tears fell. "...So all this time..."

"You were never a mistake," Varian said firmly, his voice gaining strength despite the weakness of his body. "You are my son."

The room went utterly still.

Then Graye, sniffling loudly, blurted, "That’s it. I’m crying. Don’t look at me. My armor’s just... leaking!"

"You’re crying?" Rufus scoffed, wiping his own cheek. "My eyes are just sweating, okay? Happens when the light hits them wrong."

Alex sniffed suspiciously, too. "Damn pollen in here. Who keeps flowers in an infirmary?"

"...There are no flowers," Jessy deadpanned, though even her voice softened at the edges.

Siris, of course, ruined the mood further by patting Jake’s back with a grin. "Congrats, buddy. Bet your dad could crush mountains. You’re officially a prince of muscle!"

"Stop saying nonsense," Selena hissed.

But Jake—Jake’s lips twitched. Not a smile, not yet. Just the barest hint of something easing in his chest. His gaze lifted back to Varian, his voice quieter than ever. "...Father."

Varian’s entire frame shuddered at the word. His hand, massive and scarred, reached out slowly, almost timidly, like a man afraid of shattering glass.

Jake hesitated only a moment before meeting it, their palms locking together with a weight that filled the room more than any battle ever could.

Randolf turned away for a moment, his jaw tight, but the sheen in his silver eyes betrayed him.

"Yo..." Omni muttered softly, almost reverent despite himself. "This is some straight-up family movie finale right here. Someone get me popcorn."

Clara smiled faintly, leaning against Raven’s shoulder. "This... is good."

"...Yeah," Raven admitted, lips quirking despite the lump in his throat. "It is."

The group didn’t cheer, didn’t clap. They didn’t need to. The quiet was enough.

For the first time in his life, Jake realized that he wasn’t a bastard. He was a son.

Varian, on the other hand, was, at last, a father again.