The crisp air nipped gently at Luna's cheeks as she pushed through her third lap.
Her strides were steady, breath deeper and more controlled than before.
Sweat trickled down her brow, but instead of discomfort, it brought clarity—movement had become her ritual, a grounding thread that wove her into the day.
After her jog, she took a refreshing shower and joined Emmerich for breakfast. Their exchange was lighter, a rhythm forming between father and daughter: a subtle mix of warmth, quiet support, and the occasional teasing.
By mid-morning, Luna entered the therapy wing with confident steps. Emmerich, as usual, accompanied her to the threshold. This time, he didn't linger. He gave her a small smile and a proud nod before stepping away.
Inside, Dr. Falne greeted her warmly.
"How are we today?" the therapist asked.
"Better," Luna replied truthfully. "And a little more curious than scared."
"Curiosity is a great sign," Dr. Falne said, gesturing toward the seat. "Let's follow it."
The session flowed deeper. They peeled through the layers: Luna's quiet endurance before finding her father, her instincts to isolate and minimize, her fear of not being enough even now.
But also—her will to confront it all.
LIBRARY SUITE…
With tea steaming beside her, Luna returned to her research. She dug deeper this time—not just company overviews but intricate profiles, older interviews, and archived news footage.
"Emmerich Arklight sponsors gifted war orphan's education."
The headline was fifteen years ago.
Luna leaned closer, reading the article:
Edward Sola, age 13, winner of the Continental Youth Science Challenge, has been granted a full scholarship and research funding under the Arklight Foundation. Emmerich Arklight, when asked about the decision, simply said: 'Talent should not be hindered by circumstance. The world benefits when brilliance is given room to breathe.'
A photo accompanied the piece—young Edward with stark eyes and a sharp, solemn smile, holding a circuit-laced prototype.
He looked… familiar. Not in the surface way, but something subtle—his gaze, or maybe the way he held himself. A twinge passed through Luna's chest. She didn't linger on it.
Instead, she continued.
Emmerich's work sprawled across pages—his influence shaping sustainable urban planning, educational initiatives in remote areas, rehabilitation centers for displaced youths, even support for struggling artists and minority-led start-ups.
Interviews with musicians, professors, and politicians cited his quiet backing.
One documentary clip had a community leader saying:
"Emmerich Arklight doesn't walk into a room asking what's in it for him. He walks in asking what he can leave behind that would truly help us live our lives better."
Luna closed her laptop softly.
She felt overwhelmed—awestruck, yes, but also dwarfed by the legacy she was born into. Her own traumas, her goals… they felt so small in comparison.
But she didn't retreat from the feeling. She let it settle.
Luna looked out the window, the wind rustling the leaves beyond the tall hedges.
"One step at a time," she whispered to herself.
She placed a hand over her heart. It was still racing—not from fear, but from something else entirely:
A resolve slowly crystallizing into purpose.
The air was still warm when Luna entered Emmerich's study, her expression resolute. Her steps were steady, not hesitant, but beneath them was a carefully braced determination.
Emmerich looked up from his tablet, raising a brow as he set it down.
"Something on your mind?" he asked, folding his hands together.
Luna stood in front of his desk, back straight.
"Yes," she said. "I want to learn what I need to carry your legacy."
Emmerich's eyes softened, but there was also a trace of tension at the corner of his mouth. "Luna… that was never something I expected of you."
"I know," she replied, not missing a beat. "But I'm involved now, Dad. I am your daughter. And with that comes the weight of what you've built—your name, your enemies, your allies, your values."
He leaned back in his chair, thoughtful, arms crossed loosely. "And what if I told you I just want you to live a life you're happy with? That I'd rather see you dancing in the kitchen again with music blasting, than buried under expectations I never wanted for you?"
Luna gave him a tired smile. "It's too late for that. Not because of pressure or duty. But because I want to be someone who can stand beside what you've made… not behind it. I don't want to depend on luck or protection anymore. I want to be confident—capable."
Emmerich regarded her quietly, deeply.
"You sound just like your mother," he murmured. "Stubborn in the exact right way."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
They both chuckled softly before silence settled again, warmer this time.
"You don't have to rush into all of it," he finally said. "Start with what you need right now. Not what you think you have to master in a day."
Luna tilted her head. "Like what?"
"Self-defense," he offered. "You've been through a lot. Gaining strength—physically, mentally—it's a good foundation. Let yourself build from there."
Luna opened her mouth to protest, maybe about strategy or leadership or corporate literacy, but stopped. She was still feeling the echo of her last emotional overload, and Dr. Falne's voice still rang in her ears:
"Awareness is where strength begins. But don't carry more than your heart can hold at once."
"…Alright," Luna said at last, her tone reluctant but sincere. "Self-defense first. I can work with that."
Emmerich smiled and rose from his chair, placing a hand gently on her shoulder.
"I'll set up a private instructor," he said. "Someone discreet. Someone who won't go easy on you."
"Good," Luna replied. "I'd hate to get coddled now."
He chuckled. "No danger of that, Ms. Determined. But remember, Luna—I'll always be here. You don't have to prove anything to me."
She looked at him, gaze unwavering. "I know. But I want to prove it to myself."
Emmerich nodded. "Then let's start where we need to. One step at a time."
And so Luna left the study that day not with answers, but with a direction, and the quiet steel of a choice fully made.
The clinking of silverware and the low hum of a string quartet set a composed, elegant atmosphere—but the moment Luna stepped into the dining room, that delicate ambiance was immediately offset by the unmistakable presence of them.
Sitting leisurely at the long dining table, dressed like they walked out of a fashion spread and a secret mission all at once, were her cousins, Sebas and Cass Arklight.
Sebas, sharp-eyed and perpetually unreadable behind his glasses, looked up and gave her a nod with zero enthusiasm.
Cass, a touch more theatrical, raised his wine glass in greeting and said, "Dear cousin, still in one piece, I see. Good. I'd hate to waste the flight."
Luna blinked, deadpan. "Wonderful. The 'Stoic' and the 'Snake' are here. Who summoned you both from your respective caves?"
"Us?" Cass said innocently. "We're simply concerned family. Checking on our dearest cousin who just barely escaped death's clutches."
"You don't look concerned."
"We're internally processing it, worry not, cousin," Sebas added, without inflection.
Luna crossed her arms. "So? What are you really here for?"
Emmerich, seated at the head of the table with a mild smile, answered before they could get too far.
"They're here to check on you, Luna. And on behalf of Emilio, who apparently volunteered to be your self-defense instructor."
Luna's fork paused halfway to her mouth. "Emilio?" she repeated slowly.
Cass leaned forward, smirking. "Yes. That Emilio. The same one who visited with us before. And apparently, the same one who visits you on your 'part-time'."
"He's also the reigning champion of four martial arts federations," Sebas added. "The guy is practically a weapon with legs."
Cass grinned. "Honestly, you should be honored, cousin. People pay a fortune just to train at his boot camps."
Before Luna could respond, Emmerich set his glass down quietly, but with the kind of gravity that made both Sebas and Cass look over in surprise.
"Emilio will not be Luna's instructor," Emmerich said flatly.
Cass blinked. "Come again?"
"He's disqualified," Emmerich repeated, voice calm but resolute.
Sebas, frowning slightly, folded his hands. "And the reason would be?"
"He's a man," Emmerich said without missing a beat.
Luna choked on her dessert.
She coughed into her napkin, eyes watering as her cousins gawked at their uncle.
Cass looked like he just witnessed an opera twist. Sebas raised an eyebrow, genuinely thrown off.
"You can't be serious," Cass muttered.
Emmerich gave them both a steady look. "I've made my decision."
Sebas gestured toward Luna, dryly. "She survived a kidnapping and a targeted assassination attempt. I'm fairly certain gender isn't the key variable here."
Cass added with theatrical outrage, "Uncle, Emilio would rather snap his own fingers off than lay an inappropriate hand on Luna. He's so disciplined, it's infuriating."
Luna, still wheezing slightly, waved them off. "I—I'm good. I'm good. But, uh… Dad, really?"
"I trust women instructors more with my daughter," Emmerich said firmly. "Especially for close-contact training. My decision stands."
The cousins looked at Luna, silently asking if she was going to protest.
Luna… didn't.
Because while the logic was flawed, Emmerich's tone was final—and truthfully, she could feel his underlying worry masked by stoicism. That kind of protectiveness didn't always come in perfect packages.
So she sighed, leaned back in her chair, and smiled.
"Well," she said, "looks like I'm going to miss out on seeing Emilio's stupid smug grin while getting tossed across a mat."
Cass groaned. "Injustice. Absolute injustice."
Sebas merely sipped his wine. "Uncle's logic may be flawed, but it's unyielding. No point wasting breath."
Luna chuckled and popped a grape in her mouth. "Still, this might be the most entertaining dinner I've had in weeks."
Emmerich looked across the table at his daughter's faint, amused smirk and her brightening eyes.
Maybe the real victory tonight wasn't about self-defense instructors at all.
The soft golden glow of her desk lamp spilled across Luna's study table, bathing her open journal in warm light. Outside, the world was quiet—only the faint rustle of leaves and the distant hum of crickets broke the stillness.
She had just returned from bidding her cousins a half-hearted goodnight, as befitting the kind of tiring energy they always brought into her life. Cass had given her a slow nod in parting, eyeing her incredulously; Sebas, a nod that somehow felt like both a farewell and a riddle.
Her father had accepted her teasing reminder to rest after "dealing with the Arklight menace" with a tired chuckle and a rare one-armed hug.
After pampering Milo with treats, a brushing session, and enough affection to turn any other cat aloof—he finally deigned to curl up at the foot of her bed.
Now, wrapped in a cozy robe, her hair slightly damp and the scent of lavender still clinging from her bath, Luna sat quietly at her desk. She picked up her pen and hesitated for only a moment before writing:
Journal Entry – Evening
I didn't realize how quickly a dinner could spiral into chaos until Sebas and Cass walked in. I'm not sure if they came to genuinely check on me or just stir the pot for fun.
Emilio being rejected as my instructor was… honestly funny. But also kind of comforting. Dad really is worried. It's just strange, isn't it? A part of me still isn't used to having someone who cares so fiercely.
I've been thinking more seriously about what I want to be. What kind of woman I want to grow into. And it's overwhelming. But today felt like a step forward. A small one. But mine.
…I didn't expect to laugh so much at dinner. I didn't think I still could.
Just as she dotted the final period, her phone buzzed.
Edward Sola
"Can I call you now?"
Luna blinked. Her heart did a strange fluttering skip.
Edward?
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.
Sure.
Backspace.
Yeah, go ahead.
Backspace again.
I'm free now.
Delete.
Finally, she settled on:
"Yes, you can."
No sooner had she hit send did her phone vibrate again—this time with an incoming video call. Edward Sola.
Luna inhaled sharply. Why am I nervous? This is just Edward… right?
Still, her thumb hit "accept" without hesitation.
His face filled the screen, the dim light behind him casting soft gold over his features. His voice, as steady and rich as always, cut gently through the quiet:
"Luna."
Just her name. And somehow, it landed deeper than expected.
Luna's lips curled into a faint smile, a breath of warmth blooming in her chest.
"…Hey, Edward."