Chapter 630: What Could Be Worse?
Diplomacy. Eloquence. Calculations.
In general, these were things they should’ve been good at—excelled at, even.
They had faced war councils, negotiated with hostile races, and spoken words that shifted entire star systems. But in the face of their own flesh and blood?
They were reduced to gawking attendants who couldn’t even squeak.
It took Marshal Julian—sweating bullets, jaw tight—to cut in with a booming greeting toward Duke Leander, Duchess Amelia, and their party. His words were clumsy, but they worked. Attention swerved toward him, giving the monarchs precious seconds to recover.
It was successful. Or at least as successful as anything that haphazard could be.
Still, Empress Gisella was thankful.
Because for one terrifying moment, her heart had almost stopped.
And how could it not, when she saw him?
Tall now, shoulders broad, every line of his body exuded a presence that commanded attention. His white hair caught the light like strands of silver silk, and those azure eyes—so unmistakably his father’s—cut through the room with a quiet strength.
There was no mistaking him. No pretending otherwise.
This was her son. Her child.
Xavier.
And yet... There wasn’t a trace of a child left in him. Not in his physique. Not in his gait. Not in his composure.
He had grown up.
Yes, there had been photos, videos, calls, and even the occasional message. But nothing—nothing—could compare to this. Seeing him in the flesh, standing there not as the boy she had kissed goodnight but as the man before her.
The Empress clutched her chest, breath shaky.
So many emotions warred inside her. Joy. Relief. Pride. But as she tried to sort through them, one realization cut through all the rest like a blade.
What could possibly be worse than seeing your child after so long?
Apparently, it was seeing him as a supposed stranger.
From where she stood in disguise, only a few feet away yet separated by what felt like light years, she could only watch.
And what she saw was a scene that might have been comedic to anyone else.
Duke Leander was flailing dramatically, arms flying as though he meant to wrestle the heavens themselves, while his family tried—and failed—to calm him down. Nearby, Marshal Julian stood stiff as a board, his expression a masterpiece of denial as he desperately pretended not to flinch at every outburst.
And then there was Xavier—her Xavier—standing so naturally, so comfortably close to the Duke, the Duchess, and that cadet who could only be Luca Kyros.
Her son’s circle was there too. Kyle Nox, steady as stone, was carrying someone in his arms while angling closer to Xavier, as if trying to whisper something urgent. And Jax—that sunny child—was off to the side, chattering away to an increasingly exasperated butler who looked two seconds from resignation.
It was chaotic. Messy. Loud.
But it was also warm.
Because Xavier fit.
From where she stood, she could only watch. Watch as her son mingled with them, stood with them, and moved with them. Watch as he leaned into that chaos like it was the most natural thing in the world, a warm family.
But it was a warmth she felt iced out of.
Because as she looked on, she realized the truth.
She was a ghost.
Not a mother. Not here.
She had to be only a ghost: watching, hearing, looking. But never touching. Never hugging. Never acknowledging.
She, the Empress of the Empire of Solaris, the woman whose words could sway armies, could not even whisper the word that burned on her tongue.
"Son."
How ironic.
And how utterly, unbearably painful.
No wonder her mother-in-law had told her to steel her heart.
And how arrogant she had been to believe she’d already prepared herself, that she had accepted all of it long ago. Apparently, such things could only be uttered by those who had yet to become parents.
She had been the happiest person alive when Xavier was born. Even if their child was unusual—different in ways the whispers never failed to point out—there was nothing that could have made her happier.
They had worked harder after that. Tirelessly. Wanting to give him a better Solaris, a better future.
But then came the reminder. The cold, official decree of how heirs were to be raised.
That was when she had nearly gone mad. She had almost taken back every word she had spoken about being ready to let go, the very same vow she had given when she married into the Imperial family.
They had tried to change it. They truly did. Even her husband had prepared ways to shift the system, to carve a new path so their child would not have to grow up like all the heirs before him.
But reality struck harder than they expected.
Xavier, their innocent child, had faced so many attempts on his life that the boy had learned to fight on his own.
They were devastated.
And it was then that Xavian explained why, even he, had eventually understood the reasoning behind raising heirs in such a brutal way. Because he, too, had gone through the same trial.
It was not only about survival, but also about safety. The ability to grow into a person who could walk the world without constantly wondering if every shadow held a knife meant for his back.
She remembered his words clearly.
"And I personally don’t regret my time out there. It’s one of the best times in my life. I wouldn’t have even met you had it not been for that. And without it, there wouldn’t even be this treasured family."
Empress Gisella ended up thinking long and hard about it, until one night she finally gathered the courage to ask her son about this concern.
The evening was quiet. She sat on the edge of his bed, pulling the covers up to tuck him in. His white hair spilled across the pillow like scattered threads of light, his small face calm, but those azure eyes already far too sharp for a child. Mature, blunt, but still—still her little boy.
Her voice trembled as she asked, "Xavier... what do you think about being sent away for a few years?"
She tried to keep her tone steady, tried to swallow down the lump in her throat, but her heart ached with every word.
Xavier blinked at her, steady, composed, before answering with unnerving calm. "I know. Because it is the best for everyone."
"!!!"
The Empress’s chest tightened. Her little boy, saying something so heavy, so resolute—it was enough to break her.
"Xavier," she whispered, leaning closer, "you don’t always need to consider everyone else. To be of better service to others, you must first take care of yourself in the best way possible."
But the child only nodded, eyes unblinking. "I know, Mother. And I don’t really care if it is best for everyone."
Her heart leapt.
"But in the end, it would be best for you and Father."
"!!!"
Tears threatened to spill. Gisella’s chest clenched so hard she could barely breathe. For a child to think of something like that—was it because of her? Had she ever made him feel like a burden? Was that why he spoke so?
Before she could even form the words to reassure him, Xavier spoke again.
"If I stay alive longer, it would be the best for our family, right?"
Her breath hitched. "W-what, my son?"
Xavier lay relaxed beneath the sheets, but his clear, unflinching eyes locked onto hers. "Mother, isn’t it the best way to stay alive? And if I’m alive and can get strong as soon as possible, then won’t it mean being able to return as fast as possible?"
"Ah..."
The realization struck her hard. She had been selfish. Even her own child understood it was the best way, and yet she—his mother—could not bear to part with him.
She leaned closer, clutching the blanket, her voice breaking. "Xavier... I love you very much. And it won’t be a long time before we are reunited again, I promise you that. No matter how far you go, you are always in my heart."
Her chest heaved as she struggled not to sob, gasping softly for air, forcing herself to smile through the tears. She wanted to reassure him of a thousand things.
But Xavier, ever curt, ever too sharp for his age, only said, "I know, Mother. I will return at the best time possible. I’m not as slow as Father."
"..."
The Empress froze, her tears halting in disbelief. Then a laugh broke free, helpless and trembling. She pulled him into her arms, hugging him tightly against her.
"Yes, yes, my son," she whispered, her voice shaking as her laughter mingled with her tears. "You’re definitely not as slow as your father."
Sure enough, he wasn’t.
While Xavian had returned to the Imperial family not long after his own graduation, Empress Gisella knew that Xavier could have returned far earlier.
He could have come back as early as his days in the Junior Military Academy.
But he hadn’t.
And it hurt. Most definitely. Because she had missed him so terribly that sometimes it felt as though her chest would crack from the weight of it.
But the mother who had been trembling since earlier also understood why he hadn’t.
Her eyes lingered on him now—her child, yet no longer a child—as a subtle smile curved across his lips. It was a smile she would never have seen on the boy she once remembered.
It wasn’t the cold, polite smile he used for diplomacy.
Nor the stiff, formal smile that barely touched his eyes.
This was different.
A subtle smile plastered across the face of the young man who could now so casually exterminate enemies like they were bothersome dirt.
Warm. Unfamiliar.
And yet, so achingly real.
Ah.
It seemed her child was truly living a life of his own.