Ethan’s heart was racing even faster than it had in the gate and the tower as a series of questions bounced around his mind.

’Will they recognise me?’

’Even if they do, will they care?’

’What do I even say?’

He clenched his jaw slightly.

’I guess there’s only one way to find out.’

Ethan took a deep breath, suppressing any further thoughts.

If he could fight giant beasts with his life on the line and stand beside A Ranks, then he could do this. There were no more excuses he could use, as Mark unlocked the door and stepped aside.

"Go ahead."

He gave Ethan a slight push as he hesitantly entered the home. Elara, on the other hand, feeling the tension, didn’t enter and hung around outside instead.

It was warm, clean, and, despite all the changes, was familiar.

He slipped off his shoes automatically, the motion ingrained into him after years of repetition. His feet carried him forward, into the living room, memories flashing with every step.

Laughter, arguments, meals, moments - hundreds of them flooded his mind.

And there, sitting in the rocking chair she had inherited and always used, was Mark’s mother. She was gently swaying back and forth, locking eyes with Ethan as he stepped in.

He froze in place across from her, unsure what to say.

But she didn’t speak either, waiting for him to break the silence.

"Um... hey, Aunty."

It was awkward, but her response, or lack thereof, wasn’t what he expected. She simply kept rocking, her gaze unfocused, as if she hadn’t heard him at all.

Ethan hesitated before approaching slowly, each step heavier than the last, as the soft creak of the rocking chair filled the room in a steady rhythm.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

It was such a small sound, yet it carried years of memories with it, memories he had buried, ignored, and run from.

"Um... hey, Aunty," he said awkwardly, his voice lacking the confidence he usually carried.

She remained silent until he was standing right in front of her, and that’s when she snapped.

"If I was your aunty," she said sharply, her voice cutting through the air, "you would have come to see me straight away, boy."

Ethan opened his mouth, but before he could say a single word.

Smack!

Her hand struck the back of his head.

It wasn’t particularly strong, especially not compared to what he could endure now, but it still caught him off guard. More than the force, it was the familiarity of it that stunned him.

Ethan blinked.

"I-"

She pulled him in suddenly before he could speak. Her arms wrapped around him tightly, holding him with a strength that had nothing to do with physical power.

And just like that, everything he was anxious about disappeared.

He froze for a brief moment before slowly relaxing into the embrace, his body betraying him as the tension he had carried for years began to melt away.

Her scent, warmth, and presence hit him all at once.

Ethan hadn’t realised just how much he had missed it, not in prison, not after getting out, not even when he was drowning himself in alcohol or throwing himself into training and battle.

He hadn’t let himself think about it.

One was never too old for their mother’s love, and now that he was here, he realised that he was the only thing in the way of experiencing it. While she wasn’t his birth mother, she was the woman who had taken him in, raised him, fed him, protected him, and loved him like her own.

Ethan closed his eyes briefly, embracing her back, but just for a second.

That was all he allowed himself before pulling back.

As he did, Clarissa’s hands moved to his head, fingers threading through his long hair before giving it a firm tug.

"You really need a haircut, Ethan."

A small smile tugged at his lips.

"Is that you offering?"

"Tasha and the others should be home soon," she replied, settling back into her chair. "I’m sure she’d cut it for you best. I would, like I used to, if I could, but..."

She raised her hand slightly.

It trembled uncontrollably, and even though only slightly, it was still on the verge of being debilitating.

"Parkinson’s a bitch," she added bluntly.

Ethan’s smile faded slightly as he looked at her hand, then back at her face.

He nodded.

But his mind was already elsewhere.

’What if a Titled used their healing on her?’

The thought came instantly.

There were such abilities out there; he had seen enough to know that much. Skills that could mend flesh, restore bones, even purge toxins were common among many Titled who worked for the Association.

So, could Parkinson’s be healed?

Could she be helped?

He wasn’t a doctor, nor was he sure how it worked, but it felt possible, everything did in the age of Titled. And if there was a way, he would make it happen, no matter the cost.

’I owe her that much... at least.’

He pushed the thought aside for now, reaching into his pocket instead.

The crinkling of paper broke the brief silence as he pulled out the paper bag of cash Elara had given him.

"Aunty," he said, stepping forward and placing it on her lap, "here’s some money that Mark and I managed to get together."

Mark, who had been leaning against the wall, frowned.

He had given Ethan space to have his moment with their mother; it was a heartfelt reunion that was a long time coming. But after hearing the mention of money, his ears pricked up, and he walked over.

’I don’t remember making any money with him.’

Overcome with curiosity, his eyes immediately dropped to the bag, taking in its size.

’Now that’s a lot of cash.’

His first thought was ridiculous.

’Did he get paid in singles like some stripper?’

There was just... so much of it.

But when he peered inside and saw the notes, his expression changed completely.

"Those are hundreds!"

He looked up at Ethan, then back at the bag, then back at Ethan again.

’There’s no way an E Rank gets paid this much!’

Mark was baffled, utterly lost for words, but Ethan just winked at him without offering any explanation.

’Did he steal it? Or maybe that A Rank gave it to him since she seems obsessed with him. But if that’s true, why? Is he some kind of gigolo?’

Nothing made sense anymore, but before he could even begin to process it, Clarrisa moved.

She flung the bag right back at him weakly.

"I don’t need your money, boy."

Ethan didn’t even bother catching it, confused.

"Huh?"

Before he could react further, she grabbed his ear and twisted it hard.

"Ow! What’s that for?"

She yanked him closer to her, her eyes sharp despite everything.

"Are you back to that shit already after you just got out?" she snapped. "Was seven years of your life not enough?"

He couldn’t even explain himself when she began pounding on his head with her other hand relentlessly. Her strikes weren’t hard, but each one was filled with frustration, fear, and something deeper that she couldn’t quite put into words.

Ethan tried to explain himself.

"I- wait- that’s not-"

But she wasn’t listening at all, filled with concern for the son she had just reunited with. Mark, meanwhile, was laughing openly, harder than he had laughed in years.

Eventually, he stepped in, grabbing her arm gently.

"Ma, wait, wait. He’s not doing anything illegal," he said, trying to calm her down. "He’s... he’s a Titled now."

She paused, slowly turning her head toward Ethan.

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

"You’re really one of those freaks?"

Ethan rubbed the back of his head, his ear still burning red.

"...Yeah," he answered hesitantly, unsure of what her reaction would be like.

There was a pause.

Then she burst out laughing.

"Hahaha! Good on you, boy! I always knew there was something special about you," she said, clearly pleased. "So that money’s all legit then?"

Ethan nodded.

He couldn’t help but notice how much he took after her in terms of his character, but she surprised him when she still didn’t take the money.

Instead, she smiled softly, a warmth returning to her expression.

"All a mother wants is to see her children happy and successful," she said gently. "So keep that money and build something for yourself."

Before she could even finish, Mark lunged for the bag on the floor.

"If you don’t want it, I-"

Ethan moved faster, snatching it up instantly.

"Too slow, mate."

Mark clicked his tongue.

"Don’t think ’cause you’re a Titled now that I can’t still beat your ass."

Ethan smirked.

"You think?"

And just like that, they were on each other: grabbing, shoving, laughing.

They crashed onto the floor, wrestling like they used to as kids, rolling across the living room with zero regard for anything around them.

Clarissa watched, smiling to herself quietly.

"I hope this peace can last forever," she whispered under her breath.

Ethan’s hearing was sharp, picking up on it.

’That’s going to be tough,’ he was honest with himself. ’But I’ll fucking make sure it happens.’

With that, he continued tussling with Mark, and it wasn’t long before he reunited with the others...