Letter Yurt is not actually Asher Astoria’s daughter, but Asher Astoria himself.
This hypothesis was something that even Atar himself found nonsensical.
From the very beginning, their appearances—what Atar was looking at with his own eyes at this very moment—were completely different.
Long eyelashes, youthful eyes, slender eye shape, small lips, delicate jawline.
A graceful face overall.
“…The Dreamer recognized you as Master.”
“I-I don’t quite understand what you’re saying…”
Aside from her face, every other part of her was also drastically different.
Short arms and legs, unmistakably belonging to a child.
A tiny body that seemed light enough to lift with one hand.
The only physical similarities were the color of the hair and eyes.
Even those, rather than being proof that she was Asher Astoria himself, were far more convincing evidence that she was his daughter.
It was far too flimsy a basis to claim they were the same person.
Yet, the Dreamer—
The man who had clashed with Atar’s master countless times in the past—
Had called this young girl by the name Asher.
[The scales of plausibility cannot be deceived, Asher. Do not delude yourself into thinking you can remain hidden forever.]
It was hard to believe this was just a bluff.
No matter how he thought about it, there was no reason for the Dreamer to bluff about this.
‘What difference would it make to treat Letter as a sage?’
‘What would change?’
But then—
Letter’s reaction to the Dreamer’s words was not denial, but affirmation.
Calling Letter by her father’s title, Sage, should have been nothing more than meaningless nonsense.
Yet, the girl sitting before Atar didn’t even bother to refute it.
And it was precisely because of that.
Because Letter did not deny the Dreamer’s words.
“Then, you… No, you are going to have to convince me somehow. Until then, you’re not taking a single step out of this room.”
Atar could not erase the possibility that the person he had been searching for all this time was sitting right in front of him.
Until he heard an answer he could accept, no one would be allowed to see Letter.
He was certain of it.
***
A long silence followed.
Five minutes. Ten minutes. Thirty minutes. An hour.
Or maybe even longer.
A hellish silence stretched between them.
‘This is hopeless.’
The bed, made of expensive and soft fabric.
And on top of it, Atar and Letter sat in silence.
Letter, who had been staring longingly at the delicious desserts now out of her reach, eventually had to admit there was no way out of this.
The very fact that she had stayed silent for so long was proof that she acknowledged Atar’s words.
‘Damn that insufferable sophist… Always causing trouble…’
Blaming the Dreamer—the true cause of all this—Letter let out a quiet sigh.
And then, after attempting a futile justification that she had at least tried to keep it hidden—
“…No one ever taught you how to properly threaten a child.”
She cast aside the mask of Letter Yurt.
Not only that, but even the refined noblewoman’s speech she had learned at House Yurt’s estate.
Atar’s eyes wavered.
The once cold, murderous gaze was momentarily mixed with a maelstrom of emotions.
“You really are… Master… No, how did you end up like this…?”
“Sigh… Ask one thing at a time.”
Only after revealing her true identity did Letter finally get to taste the sweet Northern desserts again.
Though she still felt embarrassment and shame from Atar’s unwavering stare—
At least now, she no longer had to tread carefully around him.
More importantly, she needed sugar to clear her head before she could even begin to talk properly.
Even as Atar’s trembling voice reached her ears, she busied herself munching on the delicious desserts for that very reason.
“I thought—we thought—you were really dead… Why did you hide?”
“Then let me ask you, Atar. If you suddenly became a little kid overnight, would you not hide?”
“No matter what…”
“I figured this was a good opportunity to fix your habits. I got tired of cleaning up the messes you all kept making.”
To be honest, Letter knew that her tone was a bit sharp.
She didn’t have to be this irritated.
They could have had a normal conversation.
But as she thought about it, something clicked.
Atar had seen the Dreamer call her Sage.
‘Which meant—Atar had been watching the entire fight from the very beginning.’
***
“What the hell were you thinking, just standing there watching while a little girl fought? You didn’t even try to protect your own students.”
“…I’m sorry…”
Letter was furious.
She had no doubt that Atar had been too focused on watching rather than actually ensuring the safety of the students.
That was why she scolded him as if chastising a child.
Above all, the successor of the North had almost torn apart a noblewoman’s dress in his recklessness.
He had no sense of his position, no self-awareness.
It was no wonder he was called a scoundrel.
“Even Orphion wouldn’t pull something like this.”
“…It was for treatment.”
“And I told you—I could handle it myself.”
“How is a little kid supposed to treat herself? I bet you don’t even know how to wrap a bandage properly.”
“If I tell Karian, he’ll probably rip you to pieces.”
“…Haah…”
Frustration and a mix of other emotions washed over Atar as he ran a hand down his face.
But then again—he had long been used to his master’s scoldings.
More than anything, hearing her chastise him in such a young voice…
Was just adorable.
So no matter how much she reprimanded him, he didn’t let it bother him.
Right now, he was too preoccupied with the fact that he had reunited with his master.
“…You’ve gotten a lot weaker while we were apart, Master. You even let a mere dreamer pierce your chest.”
“I took his arm off too. And it wasn’t a fatal wound.”
“Hah, and yet you were staggering earlier….”
Even as he spoke, small chuckles kept slipping out. Was it because he was glad to see his master again, or because he had missed him?
Letter, her cheeks puffed out like a squirrel hoarding acorns, was stuffing herself with sweet desserts.
That sight made Atar feel relieved.
The master he had thought was dead was standing right here before his eyes.
Well, maybe not exactly “fine.”
She had turned into this tiny little kid, and a scar remained on her chest where she had been impaled.
But still, she was alive.
That was enough.
“Haah….”
Thud.
Atar let out a light sigh as his body gradually tilted and then completely collapsed.
The problem was that his sharp-featured face had landed right on Letter’s lap, as if using it as a pillow.
“You’re heavy. Get up.”
“Just for a moment. Let me lie here for a bit….”
“I said, get up.”
“You still have to pay for the desserts.”
“…You’re so petty….”
He considered smacking that familiar face staring up at him from her lap.
But she knew that even if she did, with these small fists, the man wouldn’t so much as flinch.
“Don’t tell the others.”
“Why not?”
“You still have bad habits. Not that yours have gotten any better.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“…I’ll summon Ifrit.”
“I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
“Good.”
In the end, she let him stay there, lying on her lap.
It was because, without realizing it, she had noticed something.
That despite how much time had passed, this fully grown man was acting just like he had in the past—seeking comfort like a child.
But even though Atar had revealed his identity, he still wasn’t allowed to leave this room.
So in the end, she had no choice but to sleep in the same bed as Atar—
“Have I lost my mind? You’re sleeping on the floor.”
—Or not.
After all, he was still a noble lady.
There was no good reason to let weird rumors spread about her and Atar.
“This is my bed, though.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be a patient? I’ve never taught you to make a patient sleep on the floor.”
“Unbelievable….”
And so, she finally kicked the supposed owner of this spacious room to the floor.
Then, as the exhaustion and weariness caught up to her, she quickly shut her eyes.
She was just about to let sleep take over—
“…Master.”
“What.”
Atar spoke up.
And then, a memory from long ago.
“When you first came to the North, do you remember?”
Somehow, a conversation about the past had begun, causing Letter’s drowsiness to fade.
Still, she couldn’t ignore it.
It was because there was no trace of mischief in Atar’s voice.
***
A long time ago.
Back when the heir to the North had yet to be decided.
—Tap, tap.
“Hello.”
A man had come to find a boy locked deep in the underground of the northern stronghold.
“What do you want?”
“You should speak respectfully to your elders.”
“Screw off. Before I kill you.”
‘…As expected.’
Their first meeting had been brutal.
“Then, shall we start by fixing that attitude?”
“You really have a death wish.”
And so, it inevitably led to a fight.
For the man, it was brief.
For the boy, it was unbearably long.
—Boom!!
“Looking forward to working with you. From now on, I’ll be your master, Asher Astoria.”
“…Damn you….”
“Oh, my bad. I’ll heal you first.”