Metaria followed her sister's gaze.
Over there, her husband was speaking with the boy.
"Yes," Alfia said coolly, as if stating a simple fact. "But don't worry. You don't have to do anything."
"You only need to enjoy the life you've been given from here on out."
"His matters… are mine."
Metaria's eyes widened. A possibility flashed through her mind.
"Big sister… are you planning to—?"
"Mm."
Alfia's voice carried no hesitation.
"From today onward, the reason the one called Alfia exists… is only him."
"I will protect everything that belongs to him…"
"…in the name of 'Silence.'"
"…"
Metaria tried to object, but found she had no grounds.
A debt this large couldn't be repaid even with both of their remaining lifetimes.
Was her sister… trying to shoulder the responsibility for both of them?
But then Alfia's expression changed.
She became the queen again—cold, proud, absolute.
"Don't misunderstand me, Metaria!"
"E-eh?"
"You think this is guilt?"
"I won't deny there's some of that," Alfia said sharply. "But that isn't the whole truth."
"Just like you chose that idiot…"
"He is my true choice."
"And the love I pursue."
Her eyes narrowed, dangerous and possessive.
"So—even you, my little sister—if you try to steal him from me…"
"I will not show mercy."
Metaria's mind went blank.
She didn't even have time to defend her husband.
"Eeeeeeeeeh—?!"
"Big sister… you… that's what you meant?! That's too—too—too reckless!"
"Teacher and disciple and—!"
Her face turned scarlet, steam practically rising from her head. She could not, in her wildest imagination, have predicted this outcome.
Alfia snorted.
"Don't act like I don't know what you've been thinking."
"You think I didn't notice those picture books you hid?"
"Who do you think cleaned them up for you?"
"I'm simply applying what I learned."
Metaria froze.
Then collapsed inward.
"…I want to die."
She had never imagined she would ever experience this kind of social death—at her own sister's hands.
Meanwhile
"Xien… I really don't know what to say. Truly… thank you."
The man bowed again and again, offering the highest respect he could to the boy who had brought miracles to his family. He was so humble, so careful, it was almost comical—he'd never treated even a god with this much reverence.
"You don't have to," Xien said, a bit helpless. "Uncle, this is what I should do."
"That big sister is my teacher's sister."
"And honestly, for me, this wasn't difficult."
He wasn't lying.
To Abundance, this was a trivial matter—little more than lifting a hand.
He understood why they cried. A second life was intoxicating.
But their intensity still made him awkward.
More importantly…
This trip had delivered an unexpected revelation.
When they mentioned the child's name—Bell—Xien finally connected the dots.
The woman he saved was Bell Cranel's mother.
That alone explained the absurd interference reward.
If the "main character's" parents remained alive, the entire story would be rewritten. Bell was the sort who could be reshaped by the people around him—different admiration, different ideals, different routes to "heroism."
So what would he become, with both parents present?
Xien was… genuinely curious.
And if that was true, then his teacher—
Alfia—
was Bell's aunt.
No wonder she was monstrous. No wonder Bell's potential was abnormal.
Family genetics didn't explain everything, but it made the absurd feel slightly less absurd.
Xien's eyes drifted to the man: tired, ordinary-looking, a bit… unrefined. The only striking feature was that rabbit-like red gaze.
So Bell's red eyes are his.
And his white hair… from Metaria.
She truly was beautiful—no less than Alfia, and in some ways, warmer.
So I'm the one who saved the hero's mother…
Xien felt a subtle satisfaction.
Not bad.
"We owe you a debt," the man insisted. "If you ever need anything, we will—"
They continued chatting. Eventually, the man started sharing old stories—Zeus Familia's battles in the Dungeon, the deeper floors, strange ecological patterns, hidden dangers.
He was a support member—not strong compared to Zeus Familia's peak—but he had seen things.
And he spoke with zero reserve.
For Xien, it was a rare opportunity.
He listened like someone starving, having the system store and analyze everything.
By the time he stopped asking questions, he still wanted more.
Dinner
By sunset, the two stunning white-haired sisters returned, hand in hand.
Xien and the man prepared a lavish meal.
The man had insisted on cooking at first, but Xien—thinking of his own taste buds—had quickly taken over.
After watching Xien's technique, the man surrendered with dignity and became his assistant.
Soon, the table filled with dishes that didn't belong in a remote village cottage.
The sisters sat down, visibly startled. The fragrance alone was unfamiliar—rich, layered, almost unfair.
"These are…?" Metaria looked at her husband suspiciously. "Since when can you cook like this?"
The man grimaced.
"It's Xien who cooked."
"My cooking… got demolished."
Metaria stared.
"You made our benefactor cook…?"
She looked like she couldn't decide whether to scold her husband or lose faith in him entirely.
Xien raised a hand, calm and confident.
"Please don't misunderstand, Sister Metaria."
"This was a contest between men."
"The winner earns the right to be tonight's head chef."
His expression said it all:
Male pride is sacred. Do not question it.
"Exactly," the man said quickly, grateful for the rescue.
Metaria nearly covered her face.
Men, sometimes, were indistinguishable from children.
Alfia—already eating—spoke without looking up.
"Why are you wasting time?"
"Eat."
"It's surprisingly good."
Metaria's DNA activated instantly.
She was a certified food fanatic—the type who could make even a god kneel in penance over stolen snacks.
So once she started, she didn't stop.
Within minutes, she was happily devouring everything in sight, cheeks puffed up like a content little bun.
"Unbelievable…"
"It's too good."
"I've never eaten anything like this…"
Xien chuckled. "Then eat more. We made plenty."
Afterward
An hour later, everyone reclined lazily and started talking.
The husband quietly excused himself to do the dishes.
He had self-awareness: being allowed at this table was already Alfia's mercy, granted for Metaria's sake. He wasn't going to test the queen's patience further.
The remaining three were perfectly fine with it.
Especially Xien.
He had no desire to do dishes.
Metaria looked at Xien thoughtfully.
"Xien… you're from Astrea Familia, aren't you?"
"That's surprising."
"…But also, somehow, it fits."
Xien blinked. "You mean…?"
"You traveled all this way to save someone who has nothing to do with you."
"That's exactly how I've always imagined them."
Her smile was gentle, gratitude overflowing.
Metaria was genuinely kind—so kind that in a familia full of elite, hard-edged women, she'd always been the "odd one out."
They loved her, protected her… and yet, deep down, she felt a certain loneliness.
Not loneliness of family—
Loneliness of path.
Her familia valued strength. She valued gentleness.
The only group she'd ever thought might understand her was Astrea Familia.
But back then they'd been too small, and she'd been too constrained, and life had never given her the chance to meet them.
And now—
At the edge of death—
Someone from that familia had crossed mountains to pull her back.
It moved her more than she could express.
Meeting Xien—being saved by him—only strengthened her resolve to remain a good person.
So this world does have others who recognize what is truly beautiful.
A feeling rose in her chest:
My road is not solitary.
"Thank you," Xien said softly.
"For me, that's the best repayment you could give."
He wasn't exaggerating.
He had protected Astrea's name.
And he had gained far more than he expected—experience, knowledge, interference points, and perhaps most valuable of all…
He had seen the will of love.
The Queen's Concern
Then Metaria's tone shifted.
"Xien…"
"Are you really alright?"
"That kind of miracle… it can't be free."
Xien paused.
He hadn't expected his teacher's first question to be concern for him.
Alfia's face held real seriousness.
The warmth in his chest was immediate.
He smiled.
"There is a cost."
"It consumes an enormous amount of life force."
Alfia's eyes sharpened. "Then you—"
Life force wasn't mana. It wasn't stamina.
It was dangerously close to the domain of gods.
Spending it recklessly was like cutting flesh off your own body to feed someone else.
Xien lifted his hand.
A pure, emerald energy gathered above his palm—clean, luminous, alive.
"This is the least important side effect for me."
"You only need to know one thing."
"My life force doesn't run out."
"The rest… I can't explain yet."
He wasn't dodging.
He simply couldn't.
"Abundance," paths, higher authorities beyond this world—
At his current level, telling them would do more harm than good.
If he ever reached the true summit—standing at the same height as the gods—
Then they could understand.
For now, it would only confuse and destabilize them.
And there was another reason:
His body, strengthened by repeated reconstruction, generated life force in excess—regularly.
This was the portion he could wield like mana, without harming himself.
In fact, using it periodically was beneficial.
Overaccumulation could cause "issues." That was what Orange Cat had warned him.
It was also one reason he kept doing free clinics.
Alfia watched the energy, then spoke with a calm precision that reminded Xien why she was a genius.
"So you aren't merely transferring life from yourself to others."
"You regenerate it."
"Which is why you can say it so confidently."
"Am I right?"
Xien nodded. "Exactly."
"What I used today was only a small fraction."
Alfia's shoulders loosened.
The tightness in her expression faded, replaced by a faint curve of her lips—subtle, elegant, almost dangerously charming.
Xien noticed it.
His "queen" had changed—just a little.
But it was the change he wanted.
The kind that meant the knot in her heart had loosened.
He felt relieved.
Good.
That was the point.
And in moments like this, he found himself genuinely grateful to the path that had given him this chance.
He began to understand what Orange Cat meant:
Taking a life was easy.
Saving one—
was hard.
And that difficulty was what made "power" real.
....
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