A few dozen minutes earlier—
"You're certain you won't take part in her birthday celebration, Archbishop?"
"Of course not." Otto shrugged. "This is simply the reward she deserves. I don't need to use it to earn goodwill."
Rita glanced at Cecilia. The white-haired woman blinked at her in tacit understanding. Rita immediately caught on.
"I understand, Archbishop."
She bowed and stepped into the room.
"You see? I chose a good maid for her, didn't I?"
Otto turned around, showing off like a child.
"Thank you for your thoughtfulness, Archbishop. It's just that in the future…"
Cecilia smiled gently, though a hint of concern flickered in her eyes.
"Their compatibility… might be a little too good."
"Worried little Bianka won't get married?" Otto teased.
"Yes," Cecilia sighed helplessly. "At this rate… my child truly won't need a partner."
"That's probably the difference between men and women." Otto clicked his tongue. "As her mother, you imagine her walking down the aisle in the most beautiful wedding dress. But when I think of the cabbage I've raised getting rooted up by some pig—do you know how many Divine Keys Schicksal has?"
"Pfft!"
Cecilia couldn't hold back her laughter.
"That reminds me… at my wedding, you even threatened… that person."
Her gaze dimmed slightly.
"It's all in the past." Otto lightly patted her shoulder. "You can sever ties with him whenever you wish. And as for little Bianka—her path hasn't lacked fatherly affection."
"In a few days, we'll visit St. Freya and tell Theresa. Then she'll have one more person who loves her."
"That's true." Cecilia nodded. "No need to dwell on unpleasant things tonight."
Her feelings for Siegfried had never been particularly deep to begin with. The plane crash incident and the theft of their daughter's name had long since drained what remained.
In this version of events, after all, there had been no imprisonment at Schicksal Headquarters, no rescued princess falling in love with tales of traveling the world.
Cecilia sighed softly and forced a smile.
"What a pity. Under your iron rule, I might never see little Bianka in a wedding dress…"
"Oh, come now."
Otto flicked her forehead lightly.
"Your daughter doesn't need a male partner. Her destructive power against girls is no less than against boys."
He began counting on his fingers.
"Let's see… Dr. Nagamitsu of Schicksal Research Institute 1504 wants to see her dreams realized. All Valkyries idolize her. Rita, a quasi-S-rank Valkyrie, is her personal maid. Even the sentient consciousness of the Divine Weapon at her side chose to serve her because she's a beautiful girl…"
Cecilia: …
As expected of my daughter.
Her gaze grew resolute.
"From now on, she'll simply be little Bianka. Bianka Durandal Ataegina."
A faint, bitter smile tugged at her lips.
"She carried the burden of a world at twelve… I truly don't know—if she were to bear the Kaslana name, if she learned she is both Saint and Knight—just how much responsibility she would feel toward this world."
"Yes," Otto sighed. "The Kaslana savior complex spreads even without the surname. Blood as a bond, strangling generation after generation… honestly, it's enough to make one see Kallen."
"This is… a bit of selfishness on my part as a mother," Cecilia admitted quietly. "I'm afraid that at a crucial moment, she might make the same choice I did."
Otto said nothing, merely gave her a sidelong look.
Oh? Now you're afraid?
"Yes, yes, I don't regret it." Cecilia laughed sheepishly. "But what mother wouldn't wish for her child's safety?"
"It just means… that child will be wronged a little."
They fell silent.
Finally, Otto spoke.
"Then love her back as your true daughter. Psychologically speaking, no matter how fond you are of a child, you'll inevitably feel a subconscious barrier toward the one who took your biological daughter's name. That's not your fault—it's maternal instinct.
"But when you realize that this arrangement benefits little Goose, you'll feel a natural guilt toward that child. And that guilt will turn your love more tender. For her, that won't be a bad thing."
Though who knows how silly that little Kiana will grow up with a 'dad'—himself, shameless father-fan—plus a mom and an older sister, all in power. Schicksal's spoiled little princess…
Cecilia's expression softened into a complicated sigh.
"In the end… it's all because of the Honkai."
Then she looked up again.
"Archbishop, what's your New Year's wish?"
"Mine?" Otto tilted his head. "What wish could I possibly have?"
She simply stared at him, sea-green eyes shimmering.
"Very well, little Cecilia."
He exhaled softly, gaze drifting to the night sky.
With his hands clasped behind his back, he answered lightly—
"I want to give you an era.
"You—and all of you."
"That's all."
That's all?
Cecilia froze.
The words carried no grand rhetoric. Yet from his tall figure and tranquil green eyes emanated something vast and weighty—as though he weren't speaking of a wish, but of something inevitable.
As though the stars themselves had settled in his eyes.
…
"It's time for your entrance."
Otto checked the time and stepped back.
"Go celebrate our little Bianka."
But Cecilia caught his wrist, smiling brightly.
"If you planned this birthday," she said sweetly, "why not join it?"
"This is a mother's gratitude—and a younger sister's request. Elder Brother, you won't refuse, will you?"
His brows lifted slightly. After a brief pause, he smiled—helpless, indulgent.
"As you wish."
He took the other side of the cake cart, standing beside her.
When Rita said, "Lady Bianka—happy birthday," Cecilia pushed open the door.
Under Durandal's stunned gaze—under Rita's teasing smile—the two walked in together.
The golden-haired girl had already stood up, staring blankly at Cecilia carrying the cake. Even after it was set down and Cecilia looked at her with overflowing affection, she remained frozen.
A gentle push from behind—Rita's assistance—sent her forward a few steps.
This time, strangely, no reflexive counterattack came.
Bianka Durandal Ataegina met Cecilia Schariac's gaze.
Their eyes reflected one another.
Then—
The white-haired woman pulled the golden-haired girl into her arms.
"Happy birthday, my treasure."
Snap.
Otto snapped his fingers.
Fireworks burst across the night sky, dazzling above the stars, illuminating the dawn of a new year.
…
The black cake was laced with white frosting patterns. Rich caramel met sweet cream, spelling out "HAPPY BIRTHDAY." Neatly arranged chocolates framed the edges, candlelight flickering warmly in Durandal's wide blue eyes.
"Birth… day?"
She still hadn't recovered.
Rita set the table. Cecilia unwrapped the cake. Otto raised a hand—golden pennants formed her name in English letters across the room.
"I just filled in that date casually," Durandal said awkwardly. "There's no need to celebrate."
"The date itself may not matter," Rita replied gently, guiding her forward. "But the ritual gives it meaning."
"It marks the past and blesses the future," Cecilia added. "A day to make wishes without shooting stars. A new starting point."
The plastic knife was placed in her hand.
"Caramel fresh cream cocoa cake," Rita smiled. "Personally chosen by the Archbishop."
Otto merely raised a brow.
Cecilia refused to let him fade into the background.
"So—cutting the power grid, preparing cake, arranging fireworks—does our Archbishop have anything to say?"
Durandal looked at him, touched—but still protested.
"This is too extravagant. And shutting down headquarters inconveniences others."
"Raise their salaries."
Four simple words.
Durandal: "…Fair enough."
"Today, everyone at headquarters has paid leave," Otto added casually. "Shuttle flights every thirty minutes for anyone who wants to go out."
Durandal: …
Laughter broke out.
"Only you would speak so freely before the Archbishop," Cecilia chuckled, kneading her shoulder gently.
"Please make a wish, Lady Bianka," Rita urged softly.
Durandal closed her eyes, silently repeating her vow to drive the Honkai from the world.
She blew out the candles.
In the dim light, Otto's knowing smile met her gaze.
"Go on," Cecilia said, sitting beside her. "Cut the cake."
She hesitated—worried about caloric intake—but faced with three expectant faces, she obediently sliced it evenly.
The cream melted on her tongue. Sweet, soft, faintly fruity.
Lavender calms the mind… honey won't be too sweet… just one more bite…
Click.
She looked up sharply.
Otto had snapped a photo of her conflicted expression.
"…."
So much for enjoying the cake.
She cracked her knuckles and glared—though with her looks, it only came off adorably fierce.
Otto calmly handed the camera to Rita and raised his hand—
A blur—
A cool sensation—
When her vision cleared, he was gone.
In his place: a mirror.
Three caramel cream stripes marked each of her cheeks.
And atop her head—a fuzzy cat-ear hair accessory.
"Archbishop!"
She stood up—but Cecilia caught her hand, soothing her gently.
"You're not the only one."
Durandal turned.
Rita and Cecilia both wore matching cat-ear headbands. Cecilia even had a caramel fingerprint stamped on her forehead.
"I'm not angry," Durandal insisted.
Not entirely.
"I'm just… impressed by his speed. Even you, an S-rank Valkyrie, couldn't avoid him."
Oh, I could have, Cecilia thought. But why would I?
When the Archbishop isn't serious… he's rather adorable.
She pressed a hand to her chest, cheeks faintly pink.
"His strength growing stronger—isn't that good for Schicksal?"
"And also more—hmph!"
Durandal punched the air once, still half-pouting.
"Come," Cecilia said softly, leading her to the window. "A life where you can laugh with the Archbishop every day… was once my dream."
Durandal opened her mouth—
Cecilia pressed a finger to her lips.
"Shh. The second round of fireworks is about to begin."
The sky bloomed again—fireworks forming smiling faces. Below, the floating island's backup lights flickered on, arranged deliberately to spell her name.
The first round welcomed the New Year.
This one celebrated new life.
Rita stepped back quietly, lifting the camera Otto had given her.
Framed by fireworks and light, mother and daughter stood together.
She pressed the shutter.
And captured the moment forever.
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