"Do you really think a mother’s love is that petty? Your mother isn’t even a religious woman, silly girl." Amelia said between soft giggles, the corners of her lips curving into a tender smile.

"I promise she won’t even notice your current form while she’s showering you with affection.

Mireya remained motionless, her blood-red eyes slowly shifting toward Ethan.

"Mother is right..." Ethan said, his voice calm and steady. "If Ysara were really going to reject you for becoming a death knight—and she won’t—no amount of preparation in the world would fix that."

Ethan stood up, took a sip of the green fairy’s wine, and walked over to Mireya, sealing her lips with a sweet, brief kiss.

She still hadn’t responded. Her blood-red eyes trembled, their crimson glow seeming almost liquid.

It was comical, really.

She had been one of the greatest geniuses of her generation, a swordswoman no less talented than her own mother.

She had faced great enemy champions, served on the front lines in battles involving hundreds of thousands of men, cut through flesh, and bathed in blood until her own hands went numb from the force with which she gripped her sword hilt.

She had never trembled in the face of death.

Even when she was transformed into a death knight, her first reaction was to slit the throat of the necromancer who tried to enslave her.

And that was exactly what she did.

She lived for the death of her enemies.

For nearly five hundred years, she guarded that gloomy cell, reaping more lives than she could ever count, her mind slowly crumbling into madness.

And yet, there she was.

Five hundred and thirty-seven years old, trembling at the thought of being rejected by her mother, as if she were just a little girl.

Finally, she took a step forward and gripped Amelia’s hand firmly, her cold fingers seeking the courage she lacked.

What was the point of cowering now? Of spending the rest of her life waiting?

***

Shortly after Ethan and Amelia left for their private conversation, Ysara made her way to the walled garden in the center of Ethan’s palace.

Her golden eyes were calm, her face wearing a relaxed expression as she settled into one of the stone benches.

She didn’t know what important matter Ethan wanted to discuss with his mother, and, honestly, she didn’t really care.

She still had a bottle of green fairy wine stashed in her spatial ring.

She carefully removed it, cradling it in her delicate hands as if that emerald-colored crystal were a rare treasure.

Slowly, she raised the bottle to her full, golden lips, the cold glass clinking softly against her teeth.

The liquid danced on her tongue and slid down her throat in a warm trail, drawing a soft gasp from her.

"Ah... blessed brat... how can his cum be better than this?" she murmured, furrowing her brow.

Now that she thought about it, Ethan’s semen was strangely rich in mana and aura.

She wasn’t an experienced woman, but she was almost certain that wasn’t normal.

In the end, she just shook her head, letting out a resigned little laugh.

She’d never imagined that her nearly five hundred years of chastity would be broken by a young man who’d barely outgrown his baby hair.

When she thought about it more calmly, she found the situation amusing—especially when he claimed he planned to take both of them as wives.

She’d expected him to set his sights on his half-sisters, or perhaps his stepmothers, but her and Amelia?

Such greed...

Ysara took a second sip.

For a moment, she considered stopping her alcohol suppression and allowing herself to get drunk again, but she quickly dismissed the idea.

She didn’t want to show up in Ethan’s room begging for his cock out of the blue.

Suddenly, Ysara stopped drinking.

Her golden eyes locked onto the double doors leading to that garden.

As a fifth-stage specialist, her senses swept through the entire palace.

She could sense Ethan and Amelia—but there was a third presence with them.

Slowly, Ysara stood up, watching as the door opened.

Her affectionate grip on the green fairy’s wine bottle weakened, her fingers gradually losing their strength.

The emerald liquid spilled onto the ground as the bottle shattered at her feet, shards glistening like broken stars against the garden’s stone.

For a mother who truly loved, it didn’t matter how different her child was.

It didn’t matter how much time had passed.

Years, decades, centuries.

Even if everything had changed, her child was still her child.

When Ysara saw that woman with trembling, tear-filled eyes, she knew immediately who she was.

"Hi... Mom..." Mireya said with a pained expression, looking away.

The next moment, Ysara vanished, her body tearing through the air with all the speed of a fifth-stage expert.

Ethan, who considered himself to have fairly good eyesight, wasn’t even able to follow her with his eyes.

Only a figure flashed past him, the golden strands of her hair fluttering in the displaced air as she passed, coming very close to breaking the sound barrier.

Ysara came to stand before Mireya, touching her face with trembling fingers.

Her skin was cold, lacking the warmth a living daughter would have, but that mattered little.

It took just one glance to know that this was her little Mireya, her beloved Mireya, the treasure of her entire life.

"H-how is this possible? How can you be here? All this time, I... I’ve searched for you so much..." Ysara’s voice came out shaky, breaking between words.

She seemed to be fighting back tears, her golden eyes glistening with held-back moisture.

"A necromancer poisoned me and then... turned me into a death knight..." Mireya began, her voice low and hesitant.

"When I woke up, I killed that wretch, but I was trapped in that cursed cave, and besides... I was afraid. I was afraid that even if I managed to get out of there, you wouldn’t take me back.

And..."

Mireya continued speaking, and in silence, Ysara continued to listen.

Five hundred years.

She had already lost hope. She thought that was the end of her Mireya.

But there she was.

Amelia, standing a little apart, simply smiled tenderly at her friend.

Today, the two of them were whole women.