Reborn As Papa Silva

As Draven Faust advanced toward the Silva heir, his gaze settled upon him with indifferent malice. A tempest of conflicting thoughts swirled within him, each more tempting than the last. The allure of forging a peculiar alliance tugged at him, urging contemplation of the twisted possibilities it presented. Yet, a darker impulse loomed larger in his mind—the temptation to seize the Silva heir as a hostage, to unleash chaos upon the gathering, and to revel in the carnage that would follow. The vision of slaying each person, one by one, before delivering the final blow to the heir lingered like a sweet sin. In that moment of madness, Draven could imagine escaping into shadowy corners far removed from prying eyes, basking in the solace of his wife's embrace and the presence of his son, Natch, as they continued their experiments undeterred.

Yet, gnawing doubt persisted. Morgen would likely not walk this path with them; instead, he would become their pursuer, a self-righteous warden intent on delivering justice for their so-called crimes. Still, a flicker of uncertainty haunted Draven. Was it possible that Morgen already sensed their family's true nature? Perhaps the light of his morality had not yet blinded him completely, and he hesitated to condemn them, clinging to hope where none existed. What had House Faust done to warrant the birth of a child destined to embody purity amidst their pervasive darkness?

Draven's attention shifted, dissecting the condition of the Steel Princess. He was fairly certain he could subdue everyone present with relative ease. The fiery woman flanking her—she might pose a challenge, he conceded. Her spirit burned bright, but it was still unrefined, her true strength yet to awaken. That lioness was still wet behind the ears, floundering in the immaturity of youth. A prodigy is only a prodigy if fortune favors a swift demise, and she'd have to face harsh reality before her potential could truly blossom. For now, Draven could handle her.

So why was he hesitating? It wasn't just the uncertainty that gripped him; it was the insatiable temptation to explore the uncharted waters this alliance might offer. More than that, Draven was drawn to the depths of knowledge and cunning nestled within Sebastian Silva's mind. His gaze locked onto him as Silva cradled the young heir with a tenderness that contrasted starkly with the battlefield ambiance surrounding them. Aside from Draven's wife—and, to a lesser extent, Nathan Agrippa—Silva was the only one in the room unshaken by Draven's entrance into the devil union.

What was it about him that inspired such composure? Did he genuinely feel no threat from Draven, or was this a well-crafted façade cloaking a more sinister backup plan? Draven narrowed his eyes, dissecting the mask of neutrality Sebastian wore as he regarded him with unflinching emotion. Just then, a subtle presence tugged at Draven's awareness—a faint aura hovering discreetly behind his wife, hidden from prying eyes.

Rolling his gaze to the left, Draven caught sight of delicate droplets of water mana coalescing in secret, poised for action. A wry smirk crept across his face at the realization that Sebastian Silva was prepared to unleash a torrent if Draven dared to do anything 'undesirable' toward Nozel. His suspicions crystallized—this man hadn't brought Nathan's and Draven's wives to the meeting merely to fill seats. It was a calculated maneuver, a shield used to leverage their lives against them, a dark bargaining chip meant to sway their treatment of Sebastian's wife and child.

Draven grinned at the Silva patriarch, his devil mask showcasing gleaming fangs. Calmly, as if the tension in the air was nothing more than a whisper, he addressed him. "You're quite cruel, Sebastian."

Sebastian Silva shook his head, indifference dancing in his eyes, though he maintained their gaze. "I'm desperate," he replied with quiet gravity.

A chilling chuckle escaped Draven's lips. So, they were kindred spirits after all—both willing to descend into darkness to secure favorable outcomes for those they held dear. "I think we'll get along just fine," Draven said with calculated ease. "We're the same kind of person."

This time, Sebastian nodded in reluctant agreement. Lady Acier tilted her head in contemplation, while Nozel's brow furrowed, though he remained turned away from his father. Instead, the young boy met Draven's gaze directly, and Draven felt the shift—the trembling fear within Nozel giving way to a stark, unwavering resolve. He would no longer buckle under Draven's presence.

Draven offered him a subtle nod, a gesture of silent acknowledgment for his bravery, though cloaked in his usual unreadable demeanor. His mind raced with possibilities. Perhaps Morgen should be advised to cultivate a bond with this boy; underestimating Nozel would be a grave mistake. He could prove to be a steadfast ally in the turbulent storms ahead. The game had only just begun, and Draven would not be the one to underestimate a child forged in the fires of adversity.

Without further hesitation, Draven swiftly brought his right claw to the young lord's throat, the sharpness of his intent matching the wickedness of his touch. Mereoleona Vermillion observed him with hawk-like scrutiny, her gaze unyielding as he prodded the tender skin beneath his elongated fingertip, his nail glinting menacingly—a sinister testament to his integration with the devil Azazel.

The moment his finger made contact, he uttered the word, "Reveal." Instantly, the curse that had remained hidden from all but Draven in this form was laid bare for everyone in the room to witness. A series of swirling, bloody magic circles erupted around Nozel's throat, intricate with ominous runes and sigils that pointed to realms beyond. The weight of supreme devilish mana clung to the seemingly simplistic array, and Draven could sense Azazel's apprehension creeping through him like a chilling frost. Certainty had transformed into a keen awareness that this was undoubtedly 'her' handiwork.

Draven caught the expressions on Nozel's parents—his mother's shock, his father's raised brow—as they turned their attention toward him, their eyes demanding answers. Understanding the gravity of the moment, Draven decided it was crucial to clarify his intentions before proceeding.

"Right now, I'm in a devil union, which allows me to harness Azazel's mana and abilities," he explained, gauging their reactions. As they nodded in understanding, he pressed on. "Azazel possesses a magical attribute called wisdom magic, enabling him to decrypt and convey forbidden knowledge. His insight is incredibly valuable for exploring matters related to the otherworld."

Noticing the thoughtful nods from the audience, Draven allowed a slight chuckle to escape. He spread his arms wide. "While he may only be classified as a mid-rank devil due to his smaller mana reserves, his abilities are indispensable to a researcher like me. He proves more useful than a high or even supreme devil for House Faust's academic pursuits."

Turning his gaze toward Sebastian, Draven sought his approval. "I'm about to begin the examination if that's alright?" With Silva's nod of silent affirmation, Draven wasted no time and moved forward, ready to unravel the layers of mystery surrounding Nozel and the curse that bound him.

His grimoire hovered before him, a manifestation of shadowy mana entwined with Azazel's dark essence. As it flipped to a new page, strange, floating heads appeared within its depths. Draven invoked his spell. "Shadow x Wisdom Magic: Spectating Spirits."

Tendrils of shadow surged upward around Draven, coalescing into seven ghostly specter heads, each adorned with two visages—one on the front, another on the back. They unleashed unsettling chuckles and cryptic whispers, nonsensical to everyone but him. As they began to circle around Nozel, their heads spun rhythmically, analyzing the intricate curse. Draven held his breath, waiting for their verdict.

Then, they halted, turning their gaze toward him with a nod that signaled completion. In an instant, they dissipated like vapor, and their findings surged into Draven's mind—a flood of knowledge both exhilarating and overwhelming.

In response, Draven's shadowy limbs retrieved a piece of paper and a quill. He began to transcribe the uncovered information, his eyes growing listless as his movements turned mechanical. Each word flowed from the quill as if it were the only anchor to the chaotic brilliance now swirling within his mind.

While Draven Faust worked diligently on diagnosing Nozel's curse, Sebastian Silva wrestled with his own thoughts. Outwardly, he maintained an icy, indifferent demeanor, carefully concealing his emotions not only from his family, who trusted him implicitly, but more crucially from Draven himself. He couldn't afford to let Draven realize the extent of his inner turmoil or expose any weakness that could be exploited.

Internally, Sebastian berated himself for overlooking a critical detail—Devil Union. He had completely forgotten that any devil host who completes the binding ritual can freely wield this ability. The exceptions were rare, like Asta with Liebe, who chose an equal contract. It should have been obvious, especially considering Nacht's future with four enslaved devils, what kind of binding contract his father, Draven, had made.

Still, he kept his turmoil under control. Showing even a flicker of unease would risk handing control to Draven, making it clear who truly held the upper hand in this gathering. I told Nozel that risks are necessary to achieve results. Well, this was bound to happen sooner or later, he mused grimly.

As Draven meticulously transcribed his findings, Sebastian allowed himself a moment of internal relief. It seemed that the Faust patriarch had chosen to commit to their alliance, at least for now.

Draven's mind felt clearer as he concluded his analysis and ended his union with Azazel. His appearance reverted to normal, and with a shadowed hand, he returned his pen to his satchel before reviewing the parchment. Scanning the details of his findings, he nodded in understanding.

"It's truly a curse created by Megicula's host—rushed and crude," Draven noted to himself inwardly. "It shouldn't be much of an issue."

However, being the pragmatic man he was, Draven wouldn't take any chances. He turned and handed the analysis to Nathan Agrippa for further review. Nathan scanned the parchment, nodding in agreement that everything checked out.

Facing Nozel and his parents, Draven addressed them with a nod. "As we suspected, the curse is manageable. I just need to refresh my knowledge of some runic studies and trap magic to remove it."

Acier Silva exhaled audibly, the tension melting from her sickly frame. A smile spread across her face, and she was about to express her gratitude when a hand on her shoulder stopped her. Startled, she looked to her right to find her husband holding her shoulder with one hand while cradling Noelle with the other. He wasn't even looking at her—his eyes remained fixed on Draven.

"I'm sensing a 'but' here," Sebastian said, his voice low and steady, sending a sinking feeling through Acier's stomach. Her gaze followed his to Draven, whose expression had darkened slightly.

Draven nodded at Sebastian, his eyes shifting between Acier and Nozel. After a moment, he began to voice his concern. Scratching his beard thoughtfully, he said, "I'll be honest with you, there's a bigger issue at play once we tamper with this curse."

"And what would that be?" Nozel, now fully dressed, looked up at Draven as he stood from his mother's bedside.

Draven's gaze followed Nozel's movement before he cleared his throat and explained, "The devil that host draws power from, is the progenitor of all curses. She has authority over all curse magic and hexes, especially those cast with her power. She will know the moment we break this curse and will send her host to finish you off."

Acier clenched the bedsheets in frustration, her mind racing at the thought of facing that infernal woman again, especially with her children at risk. Sebastian's hand slid from her shoulder to her back, a reassuring gesture that soothed her tension just a bit, but she didn't dare look at him for fear she'd fall apart under the weight of her emotions. Her focus remained on Nozel.

The young heir wasn't backing down. "Then that's all the more reason to heal my mother first—or at least delay curing me until we can deal with both of us at the same time. Once she's healed and back at full strength, she'll handle that wretch. She beat her once before; she can do it again."

Draven shook his head, disagreeing. "I doubt it, Young Lord Nozel. Devil hosts grow stronger through battle. It's been a year since your mother's last life-or-death fight, and in that time, her host has surely grown much stronger. Your mother, on the other hand, has been battling illness. Even after removing the curse, it'll take time for her to fully recover, time we simply don't have."

Nozel frowned, biting back his frustration. He knew the truth. As much as he adored his mother, he wasn't blind to reality. "But we have you as well, don't we? My mother won't be fighting alone, and by that same logic, you can grow stronger too, right?"

Once more, Draven shook his head. "Our contracts are different. My contract with Azazel is a one-sided enslavement in my favor, allowing me to draw out 100% of his power. But that also means I've reached my limit. Your mother's foe, on the other hand, has an equal contract with a supreme-grade devil. Over time, that host will be able to draw out more of their devil's power—power that my mid-rank devil can't compete with."

Nozel clenched his fists. Nothing ever goes as planned.

Draven continued, "Azazel's abilities aren't suited for battle either. They'll boost my mana and physical strength enough to support your mother in a fight, but only the first time. That host has strong vitality and tricky methods. We won't be able to kill or seal her easily, and she'll just retreat, recover, and return stronger. Maybe we'll hold her off two or three times, but after that, she'll surpass us."

Rubbing his forehead, Draven sighed. "And it might not take long for her to grow bored or impatient. She could easily curse you both to death or worse. She likely has allies—similar hosts with powerful devils—and could call them in for backup. This isn't just about us anymore. The entire Clover Kingdom could be at risk. And I won't endanger my family, even if we are allies."

Draven was surprised by the look of understanding on Nozel's face. Instead of another defiant outburst, the young lord seemed resigned.

"That's fine." The soft yet resolute words from Acier cut through the tension in the room, drawing everyone's gaze. She smiled gently before turning to Draven. "We'll move forward with the treatment. And we'll enlist Conrad's help. He'll give us shelter."

It was no small offer. Being personally protected by the Wizard King was a privilege reserved for royalty or individuals of immense importance to the kingdom—an honor Acier Silva was undoubtedly worthy of.

But Sebastian quickly shot the idea down. "That's not an option." His voice was firm, leaving no room for debate.

Mereoleona, never one to stand down, demanded, "And why the hell not?"

Sebastian ignored her, locking eyes with Acier, his expression heavy with warning. "A devil host bonded to a supreme devil can't just stroll into the capital, wage a bloody battle with the Dancing Princess of the Battlefield, and expect no one to notice. Not unless there's someone behind the scenes pulling strings."

Acier froze, her breath catching as Sebastian's words sunk in. A creeping dread settled over her as she realized she had overlooked something vital. How had that devil host breached the kingdom's barrier, attacked her villa, and left undetected? The battle had been anything but subtle—the surge of mana, the destruction... Yet, even her own villa staff had been oblivious to the fight, only shrieking in horror when they found their lady covered in blood and bruises. Acier had been unable to explain herself, bound by the curse that silenced her.

Now, it became clear: someone had to be helping or covering for the woman who cursed her. But still, Acier shook her head. "It can't be Conrad. He's not that kind of person." She was sure of it.

Sebastian gave a slight nod. "I agree. But there are royals and nobles who are just waiting for him to slip up—they despise everything he stands for. That's a separate problem."

"That's why I'm adamant about keeping this meeting confidential and limiting the number of people involved. We can't afford unnecessary risks."

His voice dropped lower. "We have to be discreet. It works to our advantage that House Faust and the Agrippa Family are socially isolated. Fewer eyes on us."

He continued, "On the surface, we maintain no ties—no direct connection. We meet in secret, and speak face-to-face only. No letters, nothing that can be intercepted. Magic communication will be a last resort, used only in emergencies."

Acier opened her mouth to ask why, but Sebastian cut her off. "Too many people—especially certain royals—would love to take down House Silva. Removing you, our family's greatest strength would be their first move."

He was right. Someone as high-profile as Conrad couldn't act without raising suspicion, especially if it meant visiting the Silva residence. The moment he stepped foot there, eyes would be watching—people who wished for both his and Acier's downfall.

A grim realization settled over Acier as she nodded slowly. "Then why not ask Julius for help? He's a bit of a lone wolf, but he's a dear friend."

She knew Julius's habits well—how he would often disguise himself and sneak away from his duties, either to enjoy life among common folk or to meet individuals with strange and fascinating magic. He'd definitely be able to move undetected by the nobles and royals who wished harm upon House Silva.

But to her shock, Sebastian's temper flared, and for the first time, he yelled, "Absolutely not!"

Acier recoiled at the force of his words, trembling. Noelle, startled by the outburst, began crying in his arms. Immediately, Sebastian's expression softened. "I'm sorry," he sighed, rocking Noelle back to sleep. "But Julius should be the last person we involve."

Nozel, who had remained silent until now, turned to his father, his voice firm. "Julius Novachrono is trustworthy. He's a man of integrity, and he values the Clover Kingdom and its people more than anyone."

Sebastian shook his head, his voice laden with caution. "Nozel, Julius is being groomed to be the next Wizard King if something happens to Conrad. His open-mindedness towards peasants and commoners, his choice to mentor a foreigner and a bastard noble son—it's earned him no favors with the aristocracy. There are many who would love to see him fall."

The implication was clear—Julius, like Conrad, had powerful enemies, and those enemies would do anything to interfere with his efforts.

Nozel didn't argue but pressed, "There has to be a stronger reason than that." His eyes narrowed as he stared down his father, knowing Sebastian was holding something back.

Sebastian's face darkened, his voice dropping to a whisper. "There is," he muttered, refusing to elaborate. "Never meet with Julius in private. Keep your interactions brief, but don't make it obvious you're avoiding him. Be careful."

Acier's heart clenched, her voice thick with emotion. "There's no way Julius is involved in something like this." She refused to believe it.

Sebastian clenched his teeth, his frustration clear. "I know. Julius is a good man, but..."

"But what?" Mereoleona's voice sliced through the tension in the room.

Sebastian didn't answer. Instead, he exchanged a loaded look with Draven, one that sent Draven into a spiral of realization.

No, it can't be! Draven began biting his nails, tugging at his hair in disbelief. His thoughts raced uncontrollably. My son is in his squad... Julius can't be involved in this!

Slumping into a nearby chair, Draven's voice was distant, filled with dread. "There are three devils who lord over the underworld: Beelzebub of space, Lucifero of gravity, and Astaroth of time."

A suffocating silence blanketed the room as Draven continued. "To my knowledge, no one in the Clover Kingdom—or any kingdom, for that matter—has ever wielded time magic, except Julius Novachrono."

The room trembled under the weight of the revelation. No one wanted to believe it. Draven pressed on. "There's no trace of time magic in the Novachrono bloodline. Years ago, there was a strange rumor that Julius wasn't born into the family—that he was adopted. The Novachronos denied it, and the rumor faded. But now, I wonder..."

"Julius doesn't even resemble his parents," Acier whispered, her voice laced with fear. "Besides his blonde hair, he looks nothing like them."

"How did no one notice this before?!" Mereoleona growled, flames flickering in her clenched fists.

"Someone did." All eyes turned to Nozel as he pointed at his father.

Everyone's gaze fell on Sebastian, their expressions accusing, demanding answers.

Sebastian bit his lip, trembling before he spoke hoarsely. "There's a theory... that whoever is pulling the strings has the ability to affect minds—to make people overlook obvious facts or dismiss common sense in specific areas. Not full mind control, but enough to create a kind of 'blind stupidity' when it comes to certain topics."

"But Julius's magic is Time!" multiple voices cried out in the room.

Sebastian clapped his hands to regain control of the conversation. "I'm not saying Julius is the traitor. But... it's possible that Astaroth, with dominion over time, is using Julius without his knowledge. Manipulating him, controlling his actions in subtle ways—perhaps even using him to orchestrate the downfall of this kingdom, starting with its most powerful defenders."

He hesitated to mention Lucius by name, fearing that such a direct reference might trigger a response from the self-proclaimed messiah—one that could shift the future toward something far more dangerous.

The air grew colder as everyone processed his words, their faces pale with fear. Acier broke the silence. "I believe in Julius. There's no way the joy in his eyes every time he helped someone or challenged the nobles' outdated views was a lie. He loves this kingdom!"

Draven, still caught in disbelief, summoned Azazel once more. "Azazel! Tell us—do their claims hold any truth?" Draven demanded, seeking answers from the devil of forbidden knowledge.

To their horror, Azazel began to tremble, his form flickering as though he were being erased from existence. Bowing to Draven, the devil struggled to speak. "You... are... on... the right... path... but... I cannot... say... more... or... he'll... know... If you... value your lives... drop this... now... never... speak... of this... again." With that, Azazel forcefully unsummoned himself, disappearing from the room.

A deathly silence fell over everyone. No one dared speak another word about the matter. They didn't even want to think about it, each of them trying to convince themselves it was all just a terrible nightmare.

Draven stood abruptly, his hands trembling slightly as he rose to his feet. Without addressing the unnerving revelation they had all just experienced, he refocused on the matter at hand, his voice steady but strained. "Let's get back to the real issue—Nozel and Acier's treatment. We need to figure out how to help without tipping 'her' off when we tamper with the curse."

Sebastian, ever the tactician, cleared his throat before speaking. "For Nozel, we can modify the curse—make it less vulnerable to 'her; manipulation. We wouldn't sever her connection outright, since that would raise her suspicion. But instead, we could layer another curse on top of it. A curse within a curse. One that would nullify any damage, she'd try to inflict on him."

Acier raised an eyebrow at the suggestion, while Nozel, who had been watching intently, finally spoke, his voice skeptical. "And you think that's safe?" His arms were crossed, his expression hard.

"No," Sebastian admitted, his tone matter-of-fact. "But until we're strong enough to face them head-on, without fear, we have no choice but to take calculated risks like this."

He then turned to Acier, his gaze softening. "For you, Acier, it's different. We can reverse the curse—not just heal you, but make you stronger. We could turn the curse into something that helps, not harms." He glanced at Nathan, gesturing for his support. "Isn't that right?"

Nathan's face lit up with enthusiasm, his excitement almost childlike. "Exactly! It's a brilliant idea. I've tried something similar before, but I couldn't quite make it work. This might be our chance."

Nozel, however, remained unconvinced. His eyes narrowed, filled with doubt. "Can that really be done? Curses don't just flip like that."

Sebastian and Draven exchanged a quick glance before nodding. "It can," Draven said confidently. "We've seen it happen. It's risky, but it's possible."

Sebastian's mind drifted to the future, thinking of how Charlotte Roselei would eventually turn her curse into anti-curse magic. The thought gave him confidence as he continued.

"Remember how the curse was placed? The host used curse-warding magic to enhance her own attacks, making them stronger and faster by weakening herself. If a curse can be twisted that way, why can't we reverse it to strengthen Acier instead?"

Acier, lost in thought, slowly nodded. "That makes sense. If a curse can weaken, then there's no reason it can't also be adjusted to strengthen."

But Nozel wasn't so easily convinced. His suspicion only grew deeper. "How do you know all of this, Father? You seem to know far too much about curses—and other things you shouldn't."

Sebastian's face tensed. "Nozel, you won't like the answer," he muttered, his tone leaving no room for argument. "So it's best you don't ask."

Nozel opened his mouth to press further, but Acier placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, stopping him. She turned to Sebastian, her voice calm yet firm. "At least tell me the name of the damned woman who cursed us. After everything, I deserve that much."

Sebastian's expression darkened, his eyes clouding over with memories. "Vanica Zogratis."

The name sent a shiver through the room. Nozel's face hardened, his suspicion growing. "You mentioned the Zogratis family of Spade before. Are they the same?"

Sebastian gave a slow, deliberate nod. "Yes. The same family."

Draven, who had remained silent until now, added, "Our families have crossed paths before. We collaborated on forbidden magic research years ago. But after Spade closed its borders, all contact was severed."

Sebastian nodded in agreement, his voice dropping lower. "That's also why we can't work together openly. The Zogratis family is well aware of House Faust's abilities."

Draven sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. "Even if we manage to alter the curse's effects, there's still a high probability she'll sense it."

Sebastian's lips curled into a faint smile, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "I've already got a plan to work around that."

Before anyone could ask for details, Sebastian turned abruptly to Alfred. "See to task number two," he said, his tone clipped and authoritative. With a flick of his wrist, he opened a small gap in the barrier surrounding the door, allowing Alfred to slip out unnoticed.

Draven raised an eyebrow, curious but deciding not to press. Instead, he turned to Acier, his tone gentle. "Let's check on you now. We need to see how the curse is affecting your body."

Sebastian glanced at Acier. "Would you prefer Nozel and me to leave the room?"

Acier hesitated, confusion flickering in her eyes. "Why?"

"Because..." Sebastian's voice softened, a hint of embarrassment creeping in. "You'll need to take off your shirt for the diagnosis."

Acier's cheeks flushed slightly as she glanced uncomfortably at the two men in the room. Draven and Nathan, sensing her unease, exchanged quick looks before speaking up.

"We'll step outside," Draven said firmly. "My wife is fully capable. She and Nathan's can handle the rest."

Nathan nodded in agreement, already gathering his tools. "Jonna is my assistant in my research, she's more than qualified to examine. We won't be far."

Acier exhaled, nodding in thanks. "Nozel, take Noelle and leave as well. Mereoleona, you should go too."

Mereoleona raised an eyebrow, a teasing smirk tugging at her lips. "You sure you'll be fine without me? You know I don't like sitting things out."

Acier offered her a small smile. "I'll be fine. Sebastian's here."

Sebastian's heart skipped a beat at the mention of his name, and despite his best efforts, he couldn't stop the rush of conflicting thoughts. The memories from his transmigration into this body were vivid—he had lived through Sebastian's experiences, even the most intimate ones with Acier. But now, standing here, it felt completely different. This time, it wasn't just a memory he was passively recalling. He was about to see her naked with his own eyes.

The thought hit him hard. He had already lived through the physical connection with her in another life, but this was personal—this was him seeing her, not the previous Sebastian. The idea sent an unsettling mix of embarrassment and curiosity through him, something he wasn't prepared to feel. His face flushed for a moment before he schooled it into a mask of indifference.

He cleared his throat, trying to focus. I'm just a healer right now—nothing more. He repeated the thought, hoping it would settle the unwanted emotions bubbling up. But the reality of seeing Acier like this, in such a vulnerable state, clashed with his sense of professionalism. It was one thing to know her body through memories; it was another to witness it firsthand.

Sebastian forced himself to stay composed, pushing the image from his mind. Stay professional. Don't let your thoughts get in the way. But the idea lingered, no matter how much he tried to shove it aside.