Chapter 205: The Oswald Family Story

He opened the car door for her with a resigned sigh.

"I'm starting to realize that."

They got into the car, leaving the gala, its intrigues, and, above all, a Saphir who was clearly far too pleased with himself behind them. The young Drakion hit the gas.

"Well... I understand a little better now why you preferred anonymity."

Blanche smiled.

"We'll talk about it when I get back," she replied. "In the meantime, tell me everything you know."

William then launched into a long monologue, as though Saphir's few words had suddenly opened a door he normally kept firmly shut.

At first, he spoke lightly.

A few anecdotes about his childhood, memories of his grandparents, childish mischief. Then, gradually, the smile faded from his face.

His mother had died in childbirth.

He had never known her except through the few memories his grandparents had preserved of her, a handful of portraits, carefully stored belongings, and stories they had told him when he was still too young to truly understand what it meant to lose someone.

His father, on the other hand, had survived long enough to become a hero in his sons' eyes.

Then he had gone to war.

And he had never returned.

Sean had been there when he fell.

William paused as he mentioned his brother.

Sean had watched their father die before his eyes.

William had not.

He had grown up with that absence, with an idealized image of a man he had ultimately barely known.

The two brothers were then raised by their grandparents.

A strange life, made up of incomplete memories, family silences, and questions no one seemed willing to answer.

And despite what Blanche had initially believed, they were not actually separated by a few years.

They were separated by centuries.

A difference that, in their world, was anything but insignificant.

Sean had grown up with their father.

William had grown up without him.

Two radically different childhoods for two brothers who should have shared the same memories.

"Sean had what I never did," William murmured.

He didn't seem to resent him.

Perhaps that was what made his story even sadder.

"He knew our father. He learned from him. He saw him fight, he saw him laugh... He knew what he was really like."

William lowered his eyes.

"I only had what people told me."

And so he had grown up with one fixed idea.

One day, he would become someone his father would have been proud of.

He wanted to be like him.

Wear his uniform.

Follow in his footsteps.

Become a soldier.

A hero, perhaps.

Eventually, he accepted a mission that, in his eyes, was supposed to allow him to prove himself.

To earn the recognition he still believed he could obtain.

There was just one thing he didn't know.

His father had been dead for a very long time.

Very, very long.

In the Otherworld, time did not flow the same way as it did here. Years could become decades, decades could become centuries, and those living on one side could remain unaware for an eternity of what had happened on the other.

William had therefore pursued his dream believing that, one day, perhaps, his father would hear about him.

That he would learn he had become a soldier.

That he would know he had been brave.

That he would be proud.

He let out a small, bitter laugh.

"It's stupid, isn't it?"

Blanche gently shook her head.

"No."

William shrugged.

"I just wanted him to be proud of me."

He looked out the vehicle's window, the lights of the parking garage passing over his face.

"Even if he wasn't there anymore to tell me."

Silence settled between them.

Then William smiled faintly.

"And then there was Sean."

His brother.

His twin, despite the centuries that had ultimately created an almost absurd difference between them.

"He grew up with Dad. So naturally, I always felt like I was the one who had to catch up somehow."

Blanche listened without interrupting.

She now understood things she had never really noticed before.

Behind Wiwi's humor, his enthusiasm, and his childish mannerisms was a boy who had spent part of his life chasing the shadow of a father he had never had the chance to know.

And perhaps, deep down, his desire to become a good soldier had never been solely about duty.

It was his way of saying to him, despite the centuries and death:

Look at me. I made it.

"Remember? I told you about it. I agreed to become a bodyguard at an academy for your mother..."

"Right," Blanche replied, already knowing what that meant.

"You were in our class..."

"Great. And I thought I was going to end up as a waitress..." she said sarcastically.

"Sorry?"

She realized he still knew nothing about her extracurricular activities.

"Nothing. Keep going."

He then explained that the young woman had spent at least an entire year by his side.

A year.

Blanche went pale.

In her journal, she had never mentioned the duration, only the relentless pace of her days.

That was how they eventually arrived at the mansion.

They were warmly welcomed by an elderly man and an elderly Drakionne.

Blanche had barely crossed the threshold when she froze.

A human?!

She slowly turned her head toward Wiwi, eyes wide.

The young man had clearly anticipated her reaction, because all he did was give her a guilty grimace.

The old man, meanwhile, burst out laughing.

A hearty, booming, infectious laugh that made the knickknacks on the shelves tremble.

"I bet he didn't tell you about me!"

Blanche blinked.

"Not exactly..."

"I knew it!"

He held out his hand with a mischievous smile.

"Bill."

That was how he introduced himself, with disarming simplicity, as though being a human among a family of Drakions were the most natural thing in the world.

Beside him, Helena smiled.

Tall despite her age, she had retained an impressive elegance. Her long silver hair was swept up into a simple bun, revealing two magnificent scales worn as earrings, just like Blanche's.

But it was her green eyes that caught Blanche's attention most.

The same as her grandchildren's.

Bright.

Piercing.

Terribly intelligent.

Wiwi then made the introductions more formally.

Helena was a great-aunt on Winter's side of the family.

In other words, a Drakionne of royal blood.

And, above all, the twins' grandmother.

Blanche's eyes widened again.

They were family!

This evening was taking an increasingly surprising turn.

They settled into the enormous library, whose walls were almost entirely hidden behind shelves packed with ancient books. Deep armchairs surrounded a fireplace where a quiet fire crackled, giving the room a warm atmosphere despite its immense size.

Bill soon began recounting, with delightful humor, how he had fallen in love with Helena.

A little café.

An ordinary encounter.

A beautiful woman who, according to him, "looked far too sophisticated to drink such terrible coffee."

Helena rolled her eyes.

"He still claims he was the one who seduced me."

"Because it's the truth."

"You spilled your coffee on my dress."

"A very effective seduction technique."

Wiwi burst out laughing.

So did Blanche.