Soon after, the Duke woke up.

He passed out from exhaustion and didn’t even realize what he had done, making the tutor uncomfortable.

He raised his head, and a calming feeling filled his head and chest.

He had always blamed himself for not being there, for not being able to save his wife when he saved everyone else, but today, she told him it was not his fault.

She gave words that made the burden he had been carrying for seven years feel meaningless.

And then, she scolded him to take care of the child better.

’I didn’t expect it,’ he thought, gripping the sheets. ’Bellanora, you care for this child that much, and I... I always hated him.’

His shoulders quaked, not in tears but in remorse. He felt he had done something horrible, and only now, when he replayed the words from his dead wife, did he realize he had been punishing the child unfairly.

Then, not just the words of his dead wife, but the words of the obnoxious tutor replayed in his head, ’You are the one causing that child more pain than anyone else.’

It was true. He was his father and yet he neglected him more than anyone else.

The Duke felt regretful, and then his eyes fell on the tutor, who was passed out on the bed. He twisted his lips.

He had the tutor to thank for opening his eyes, and using such an amazing artifact to help him see his wife again but...

There was something about this Astrea that made him feel uncomfortable, but at the same time, comfortable.

Maybe it was because he was a magician.

He never really got along with the magicians of the empire since most of them always looked at him like he was ’unfit’.

It could be that, but then it could be something else.

Whatever it was, it was stuck to the visage of this tutor.

’Why did he go so far to help me?’ A single question played on his mind.

Naturally, the Duke would assume he did it to find favor with him and then ask for a reward in return. What he did was so incredible that he wouldn’t even need to ask before a reward was granted.

But it didn’t seem the tutor was after a reward. After all, he had boldly rebuked his actions and blamed him for his child’s loneliness. He was so sharp-tongued.

The Duke covered his mouth, just thinking about it. Usually, he would’ve gotten offended and even thrown him out of the North and towards the wolves but he didn’t.

He told himself he had been patient because of what the tutor promised but was that really enough to bypass the disrespect?

He stared at Julian a little bit longer, watched the pale skin on his face, the lines of his chin and jaw, and then his lashes.

His dark raven hair was no different from his dead wife’s as well.

In a way, they looked alike.

As soon as the Duke thought this, he snapped, shaking his head to get rid of it.

Why was he thinking about the resemblance at this point? He wondered.

He had no idea what he had done in his drunken stupor, though. How he had mistaken Julian for his wife and cried in his arms.

The Duke got up, but staggered, the weight of the alcohol he drank pulling him down. He held the side of the bed frame and then his eyes fell on the young Lord, his son.

Sleeping quietly. He seemed... Too quiet.

Were kids supposed to sleep so quietly?

He worried, and a dangerous thought crossed his mind. He quickly brought his head to the boy’s chest, listening to his heart, and thankfully, there was a heartbeat. A small, fragile, and calm heartbeat.

So, this was what a child’s heartbeat sounded like.

It was so serene and pure.

At the thought of that, he bit his lip and his face squeezed in. He lifted his head and gazed at the child, contempt filling his face, but then that contempt washed away, replaced with regret.

How could he have blamed something so innocent for killing his wife?

He covered his face and dragged his hand down.

He was struck with despair, so there was no way he could’ve thought clearly or had sound judgement, but even then...

’You’re not the only one who lost someone that day. That child did too. He lost his mother.’

Julian’s words replayed, washing over him like a wave.

Of course... He had been a horrible father. Was there anything he could do to make up for what he had done?

No, would the child even accept his apology? After being abandoned for so long?

Duke Alaric did not know that the first step to being redeemed is owning up to ones fault, and the fact that he had accepted his own wrong doing, meant he was ready to change... And ready to become a good father.

He reached for Lucius’s face, his hand trembling. He wanted to feel the warmth of the boy when Julian suddenly propped his body up, startling him.

He flinched, like he had just been caught trying to steal candy but did not say anything. He watched the tutor who simply sat there, saying nothing.

"You..." He was about to confront him when Julian turned his head to him and went,

"Why, hello there."

The Duke’s brows knitted together. This... Was he sleepwalking?

He could feel a different vibe from the tutor, one that made him uncomfortable.

"Please, don’t mind me. I’ll be on my way." Julian said and then got up, heading for the door.

The Duke watched, unable to put a finger on what that difference was. Was it a threat? He wondered but his attention was divided the moment Lucius stirred in his sleep.

He tore his eyes from Julian’s back and down to his child. The blanket was halfway down his chest, and it was quite cold.

So, he lifted it and adjusted it so the boy wouldn’t catch a cold. He felt very awkward about it, very foreign. And just as he was about to take his hand back, Lucius caught his pinky finger.

"..."

It looked like he was saying something, but how? The boy was mute.

He opened his mouth to speak but could only groan in discomfort. A tear slid down his cheek, alarming Alaric.

Why was he crying in his sleep? What to do?

"Papa," the words were small and fragile, coming from the mouth of the little boy who had never spoken a word to anyone in his life.

So, it wasn’t that he couldn’t speak, it was just that he didn’t want to.

This stabbed the Duke in the heart. It was his fault once again, wasn’t it?

He watched the boy sniffle in his sleep, silently pleading for him not to go and he looked at his caught finger. He couldn’t escape it even if he wanted to.

Even if he wanted to run from this responsibility, it just couldn’t happen. His wife had already scolded him once. He couldn’t afford to get another scolding by the time he reunited with her again.

He lay by the boy’s side and patted his chest.

"I have a lot to make up for, don’t I..." He turned his head to solemnly look at the empty space where his dead wife’s phantom had smiled at him. "Bellanora?"