I drifted somewhere between sleep and awareness.
Not quite conscious, but not fully gone either.
The weight in my limbs was suffocating—too heavy, too sluggish. A dull ache settled deep in my bones, like my body was reminding me of what I had done.
I didn't make it to the door.
The memory surfaced slowly, pieces flickering into place.
I had collapsed. Reilan caught me. And then…
Suffocating exhaustion. Nothing after that.
[Notice: Consciousness detected. Recovery status: 73% complete.]
Great Sage.
That's new.
I didn't usually hear the system like this upon waking up.
"How long?" My voice was barely above a whisper, even in my own mind.
[Elapsed time since emergency shutdown: 19 hours, 42 minutes.]
Almost a full day?
I inhaled slowly. That explained the stiffness in my body.
I didn't need Great Sage to tell me why my body felt like lead.
I pushed too far. Again.
I had barely been holding myself together before I collapsed, but… my tails had moved.
Instinctively. Automatically.
And then they failed.
"System integrity," I muttered. "Still at risk?"
[Negative. Primary mana pathways stabilized. Physical condition returning to optimal state.]
A pause. Then—
[Recommendation: Do not attempt mana activation. Full stabilization required.]
I exhaled.
"Meaning I shouldn't move."
[Yes]
I shifted slightly beneath the blankets, just enough to test my body. Not as bad as before. The pain was still there, but it wasn't crushing.
I turned my head next, finally taking in the figures in the room.
The first thing I noticed was the warmth beside me.
I turned my head slightly and found Mom.
Her arms were folded on the bed, her head resting near me, her breathing slow and steady.
Asleep.
I frowned slightly. Mom didn't fall asleep in uncomfortable places. She was always composed, always in control. And yet, here she was, her posture slightly hunched, exhaustion pressing into the sharp lines of her features.
She must have stayed here all night.
"Great Sage."
[Listening.]
"Scan her."
A pause. Then—
[Subject identified: Lady Lelyah Tomaszewski.]
[Status: Asleep.]
[Heart rate: 54 BPM. Blood pressure: 112/72. Respiratory rate: 14 breaths per minute.]
[Stress markers: Elevated.]
[Signs of mana depletion: Moderate.]
[Fatigue levels: High. Estimated consecutive wake time prior to sleep: 19 hours, 33 minutes.]
[Core temperature slightly below standard baseline—indicating prolonged stillness in an unregulated environment.]
I exhaled slowly, absorbing the information.
Nineteen hours.
She had been awake nearly the entire time I was unconscious.
Waiting. Watching.
The realization sat heavy in my chest.
"Any health concerns?" I asked, my voice barely above a thought.
[No critical abnormalities detected. Subject requires rest. Mild tension in shoulder and wrist tendons suggests prolonged stress positioning. Moderate mana usage suggests magic was used to help your recovery. Overall, the subject's recovery is ongoing but stable.]
I frowned slightly. She had been here too long.
I shifted just slightly, resisting the urge to adjust her posture for her. I knew she would wake up the moment I moved too much.
She wasn't the type to let her guard down completely.
I shifted my gaze to the other side of the bed.
Reilan.
His posture was loose, slumped slightly forward, head tilted downward as he slept. Hair disheveled, hand resting lightly over mine. Not gripping, not pressing—just there. Surprisingly, his hand was soft. His hair looked a lot like Mom's. Something is telling me that they are related but I don't wanna push further.
His face was unreadable in sleep—calm, composed even now.
[Subject identified: Reilan Gintama.]
[Status: Asleep.]
[Heart rate: 57 BPM. Blood pressure: 118/75. Respiratory rate: 16 breaths per minute.]
[Stress markers: Mild, decreasing.]
[Signs of mana depletion: None.]
[Fatigue levels: Moderate—estimated consecutive wake time prior to sleep: 14 hours, 2 minutes.]
Everything seemed normal.
Then—
[Gender: Female.]
I blinked.
…What?
I stared at the line of text as if it would shift under my scrutiny.
"Run that again."
[Subject identified: Reilan Gintama. Gender: Female.]
I didn't move. Didn't react.
I just… stared.
That was wrong.
It had to be.
I flicked my gaze back to him, as if looking at him directly would somehow make the scan correct itself. But nothing changed.
I inhaled slowly, steadying myself. Not now.
I pushed it down. Filed it away for later.
The room was quiet. Peaceful, even. But there was something else.
Something off.
Not a sound. Not a movement. Just a presence.
Slowly, I turned my gaze toward the foot of the bed.
There, sitting in a chair, his back straight, expression unreadable—
Father.
Satoshi Tomaszewski.
His eyes met mine. Steady. Cold.
Watching.
He hadn't spoken. Hadn't moved. But he had been here.
For how long?
I didn't move.
I barely even breathed.
But he knew.
His gaze sharpened, just slightly—a shift so subtle that if I hadn't been watching him, I might have missed it.
He had been waiting.
And now, he knew I was awake.
The silence stretched, thick and weighted.
Then—he spoke.
Not as my father.
But as Satoshi Hoshino.
"You're awake."
It wasn't a question. Just a fact. A confirmation.
His voice was steady, but different. Not the cold, measured tone of a noble. Not the voice of my father as I had always known him.
This was something else.
Something unfamiliar.
"Do you remember what I told you?"
I froze.
I swallowed, my throat dry.
What he told me?
The words echoed in my mind, but I found nothing—no answer, no memory.
Because I didn't know the answer. He had never told me anything.
I clenched my fingers weakly against the sheets.
What was I supposed to say?
"Great Sage," I whispered in my thoughts, my voice tight.
"Did he ever say anything like that to me?"
A pause.
Then—
[Query received. Searching full memory logs for relevant conversations with Subject: Satoshi Hoshino)]
My breath caught. I waited, eyes still locked on my father's, as if the answer might suddenly form between us.
Another pause. Longer this time.
[No results found.]
Nothing?
[No recorded dialogue matches query: "Do you remember what I told you?" under applicable context.]
[Additional note: Subject has not previously referred to himself as "Hoshino" in direct communication with you.]
My throat tightened.
He was staring at me—expecting something.
Even if Great Sage found nothing, even if logic said there was no answer…
He wanted one.
So I spoke.
Slowly. Cautiously.
"…That strength isn't enough."
It came out softer than I meant it to—more question than conviction.
But I didn't stop.
"That it's not just about control, but…" I faltered, eyes narrowing slightly as I grasped at what felt right. "…about knowing when to let go?"
A beat of silence.
He didn't react.
Not a twitch. Not a breath.
Then—
His gaze shifted. Slightly.
Not approval. Not disapproval. Just acknowledgement.
And somehow, that was worse.
He didn't answer.
Didn't correct me.
Didn't confirm it either.
Just silence.
And that silence said everything.
He wasn't going to tell me if I was right.
Because it didn't matter.
Not to him.
This wasn't about answers.
It was about whether I understood.
Whether I could.
I clenched my jaw, forcing my gaze to hold steady even as my chest tightened.
He had always been hard to read.
But this—
This felt cruel.
I already knew what he'd say.
"You weren't ready."
And maybe…
Maybe I still wasn't.
I could feel it—that invisible wall between us. Thick. Cold.
Uncrossable.
Until—
[Confirmed: Due to Circumstances and Hoshino Blood, the Unique Skill –The Chorus has been successfully acquired.]
[Notice: Initiating ancestral echo.]
My breath caught.
What—?
My heart skipped. My vision shifted.
The air around me seemed to still, as if something—someone—else was in the room.
Not physically.
But within me.
A voice not my own threaded into my mind. Faint. Distant. But mine all the same.
Not memory.
Not instinct.
Legacy.
My lips moved before I fully knew what I was saying.
The words surfaced—not invented, not recited. Remembered.
"The first step to control is surrender.
To master power, you must let it echo.
Through your breath.
Through your pulse.
Through your silence."
Satoshi's eyes sharpened.
No shift in posture. No spoken reaction.
But I saw it.
That flicker of recognition.
That was it.
That's what he wanted to hear.
My voice had barely faded before the tension in the air snapped.
Like a string pulled too tight.
Then—cut.
Dad moved.
It was instinctual. Violent.
There was no shout. No command.
Only motion.
One step—two. A flicker of his sleeve. His mana cracked the air like glass.
I couldn't move.
[Emergency alert: Lethal intent detected.]
Great Sage—!
[Initiating defensive protocols. Insufficient mana to sustain active shielding.]
[Estimated response delay: 2.3 seconds.]
In that moment—I understood.
This wasn't my father.
This was a Hoshino Executioner.
The last of them.
And now that The Chorus had awakened in me—he saw a threat.
But before the strike could fall—light erupted.
A wall of mana surged between us, gold and blue spiraling like veins of fire and water.
The force of the collision shook the room.
My bed slid inches back. Reilan jolted awake with a gasp.
"Enough."
The voice wasn't loud.
But it carried centuries of fury.
Mom.
She stood between us now, one hand raised, the other shielding me. Her magic still flickered, wild and radiant, as if she had ripped it from her own core.
Not like a noble.
Not like a mother.
Like a killer.
She was standing. Fully alert.
No hesitation. No confusion.
I couldn't process what had just happened.
Satoshi—my father—had tried to kill me.
Not hesitate. Not restrain.
Execute.
And Mom…
She hadn't just stopped him.
She had known this could happen.
Because the way she stood now—braced, arms trembling, eyes narrowed—wasn't surprise.
It was expectation.
She turned her head just slightly, her voice softer now, but no less fierce.
"You were never supposed to awaken it. Not like this."
Something cold curled in my stomach.
"What...?"
Dad's wind blade was stopped inches from Moms neck.
"I knew it," Satoshi muttered. "You never really put it down."
Lelyah's voice was ice. "And you never changed."
I couldn't understand what I was seeing.
Mom had never fought.
She was a healer. A tactician. She didn't fight. She wasn't…
"She's not ready," Lelyah hissed. "And you're still a coward if you think this is how you protect her."
Satoshi's eyes didn't waver. "The Chorus awakens only when the Hoshino blood sings too loud."
He looked past her.
To me.
"Which means she's one of them now."
Before the tension could shatter completely—
Before another blow could fall—
A soft pop echoed through the air.
Like a wine cork pulled from a bottle.
And with it came the scent of singed cinnamon.
"Well," a voice drawled casually, "this escalated."
The air shimmered at the edge of the room—then parted.
Calamitas stepped through like she'd been walking a hallway instead of bending reality. Her boots didn't make a sound as they touched the floor.
She tilted her head, gaze drifting lazily between Satoshi's drawn blade, Lelyah's flaring magic, and Chiori's trembling form.
"Honestly," she sighed, "I leave for one conversation and the house starts murdering heirs. Very unbecoming of a noble household."
Her fingers flicked, almost dismissively—and in that instant, the mana in the room froze.
Not literally.
It was still there.
But it couldn't move.
Not forward. Not backward. Not outward.
Every line of pressure—suspended.
Satoshi's blade hovered.
Lelyah's barrier burned like fire without fuel.
Even Reilan, fully awake now, couldn't move.
Only Calamitas walked through the room, utterly unaffected.
She stopped beside Chiori's bed, planting a hand casually on the bedpost.
"Everyone breathe. Or don't. I'm not your physician."
She smiled, sharp and bright.
She looked at Satoshi first.
Then Lelyah.
"Put your toys away. She's not ready to be killed or saved. Not yet."
She snapped her fingers.
The magic released.
The pressure that had filled every corner of the air vanished, like a breath held too long finally released.
No clashing mana.
Just stillness.
My heart was still racing, but the world no longer tilted beneath me.
I blinked.
Calamitas was standing at the edge of my bed, one hand resting lazily on the post, her posture loose, completely untouched by the chaos she had unraveled.
Her presence wasn't oppressive.
It wasn't even loud.
But it filled the space in a way that told everyone in the room—She had taken control.
And no one argued.
Across the room, my father hadn't moved.
His wind blades were still raised—motionless.
But the conviction in his stance had evaporated.
He stared at me now.
Not like a soldier seeing a threat.
Not like an Executioner preparing to carry out a verdict.
Like a man who had nearly done something he couldn't take back.
His brow furrowed—just barely.
His fingers twitched. The blades lowered.
Not with reluctance.
But with weight.
Like it had just dawned on him what he almost did.
I didn't speak.
Couldn't.
Everything inside me was locked.
Not from fear.
Not from grief.
From shock.
My father had looked at me and seen something worth killing.