Norman dripped with sweat, and not just because of the sun. It was the sight from the car window, coming ever closer. A great mansion filling the top of a hill, watching down to the rest of Puerta Blanca. The great jungle and high mountains that hid the desert on the other side was the only thing shadowing it. The dread Norman felt for the estate made him sink into his seat.

"Is something wrong, honey?" Annabelle asked, taking his hand. "Are you feeling ill?"

"No, it's just the sun." Norman swept some of the sweat away.

"Don't dampen the suit. We just bought it."

"We've got many." Norman sighed. "Are they...already there?"

"I would think so." Annabelle checked her watch. "We are a bit early."

"Right, right."

Annabelle looked out of the window. "Do you remember our wedding ceremony?"

Norman thought for a while. "Somewhat."

"I did not see your grandfather there. I don't think I have seen him thus far."

"...He's always busy."

"With what? I heard he worked in MIB."

"He formed the MIB."

"Oh." Annabelle got a bit flustered by her lack of knowledge.

"It was a team, but he was the main founder."

"But what does he do now?"

"He researches things," Norman said bluntly.

A glance. "As in?"

"Don't know. It's private."

"Still, a bit rude to miss our wedding."

"It was a fake wedding anyway."

"The cake was still good."

"It was, though grandpa wouldn't probably care," Norman smiled. "What about your family? I saw your father, at least."

"Dad always goes all out for me, for all of us. He paid even more than half of the wedding costs if mom didn't stop him."

"Where do they work?"

"They're lecturers at the academy. Dad teaches self-defense and mom manages the library."

"Oh?"

"Yes, yes. They're not nearly as well-off as your parents."

"No, I think those are fine jobs. I'm sure they're doing what they love."

Silence fell on Annabelle's lips. "All mom loves is her work, well, I suppose dad as well."

"At least you got your dad. All mine cares about me is magic and heritage like I'm just a stepping stone."

"I hear you. I am the third youngest sister in our family. I don't think mom remembers all of our names."

"Having so many sisters is probably fun. All I have is one."

"I haven't seen most of them in a while. Everyone is busy with something, looking for something."

"What are you looking for?" Norman asked.

"I..." Annabelle held her tongue.

"We're here." The driver announced.

"Ah, yes." Annabelle opened the door. "Let's get going."

"Right." Norman tensed up again.

They walked inside through the front yard. It had been so long since he had last walked through it, yet not much had changed. The servants had kept it clean and ready for any visitors. It reminded him of Lionel's castle, though nowhere near as lavish. They were greeted by the servants who escorted them to the main area. The sunlit room was large enough to host a party by itself, with more room over the second-floor balcony. Large windows to the east opened to a ledged patio with a view of the sea and if one were to go around the patio. The servants had arranged a table full of snacks and coffee, ready to serve. Norman sighed with relief upon noticing, thinking it would not be a long party. Still, his mind could not find rest there. He decided to merely look out of the window and gaze beyond to the sea. Yet, that made his heart sink a bit more, as it reminded him of the small island far away, where he could not return to.

Yet, his wonder stopped with the distinct noise of high heels walking up to him. A small, elegant woman in a white fur coat looked up to meet his eyes, and Norman knew exactly who it was. With a wineglass as red as her unamused eyes, Giulietta Norman presented herself in both the glory of her status and the lack of excitement in her guests.

"Ah, you have arrived," She said, taking another sip.

"Good evening, Dr. Giulietta." Annabelle lifted her hem.

"Evening, mother." Norman couldn't hide his frown.

"Evening, Mrs. Annabelle." Giulietta nodded. She turned her head to squint at Norman. "You look terrible, dear. Have you not heard of a razor?"

"I am just fine, thank you."

"And do not let me get started with those scars."

"I have been trying to contact a healer for him." Annabelle stepped into the conversation.

"Do not bother." Giulietta scoffed. "Let him be hideous if he wants."

Norman's brow wrinkled. The look on his mother's tanned face filled him with ire. "Time has not been that gracious to you either, mother."

Before she could retort, Annabelle dragged Norman a step back. "Excuse me, Dr. Giulietta, but where is Dr. Romus?" She asked.

Giulietta cooled her anger with wine. "He must be with Gaius."

Norman froze. "What is he doing here?"

"He is the one that arranged this." She answered.

"Are Mr. Morgan and Fraya here yet?" Annabelle asked.

Giulietta checked the clock on the wall. "Any time now. Do make yourself comfortable in the meanwhile." She broadly gestured to the buffet.

"Coffee and biscuits, not a long party you have planned out here," Norman noted, hoping to get a confirmation.

"Can't a chat go longer than teatime?" Giulietta raised her brow.

Norman gulped.

"But I suppose your grandfather wouldn't want to prolong this for too long. I heard he is meeting someone afterward."

"That works in our favor as well," Annabelle said. "We have plans as well, right, honey?"

"Y-yeah." Norman nodded along.

"Ugh, you don't need to act all lovey-dovey to my face. Or did your reunion finally spark that flame? If so, congratulations." Giulietta laughed like a frog.

"Mother, your glass is empty."

"So it seems." She swirled the glass and took in the last drops. "Sit around while I go fetch another."

"Thank you." Norman sighed. "Let's go to the table, Annabelle. Annabelle?" He turned as he heard no answer.

"Is she...Always like this?" She asked.

"Drinking? Yes."

"I mean-"

"Yeah." Norman made a quick sigh. "Let's just go to the table." He took her hand.

"Right. Let's." She walked with him.

They took some snacks from the table, laid them on their plates, and walked to some benches to enjoy them.

"Who made these cookies? So delicious." Annabelle's lips curled as she took another bite.

"Must be chef Remy." Norman gulped some coffee.

"I need to hire him. These are just too good."

"Maybe not."

"Why?" Annabelle asked.

"Unlike his food, that bald rat is not good on the eyes," Giulietta snarkily replied.

"You already returned, mother." Norman noticed the servant next to her with a plate full of glasses.

"I said I was going refill my glass, nothing more." Giulietta reminded. "Feel free to take a glass. These are not just for me, you know."

"Oh." Norman made a face. "May I?" He reached for one.

"Wine is made to be brink, is it not?"

"Fair." Norman took a glass and put it on the table.

"What about you, miss Annabelle?"

"Thank you, but I do not fancy drinks." She pushed the platter away.

"Then enjoy your coffee. Wine is an acquired taste too, after all." Giulietta scoffed.

The doors opened again. Everyone turned to the two well-dressed individuals.

"There they are," Giulietta walked to them.

The figures were dressed in red and white, with Annabelle's father, Warren escorting her mother Lorraine.

"Mr. and Mrs. Alcaeus, welcome. Have a drink."

"Thank you, but I need to drive back." Warren declined.

"Oh, then enjoy the coffee table." Giulietta gestured to it. "What about you, Mrs. Lorraine?"

"Excuse me, but I would rather keep my mind clear." She answered, fixing her glasses.

"One wouldn't hurt."

"I prefer coffee." Lorraine persisted.

"Fine then. Help yourself." Giulietta frowned, though only slightly more than usual.

"Ah, Annabelle!" Warren noticed. "How have you been?"

"Dad, I mean, father, we met just a month ago."

"A month is a long time, darling." Warren hugged her. "And I see that he is indeed here," He locked his eyes on Norman.

"Evening, Mr. Alcaeus." Norman nodded.

"Evening, sir Norman." His smile faded.

"It is good to see you still...alive," Lorraine said.

"...As do you."

"We hope you will at least try to provide for your family."

"What man wouldn't?"

"Fair."

Annabelle stepped between the three. "Now, I see you have a lot to talk about but how about we go on with the meeting?"

Giulietta joined the group, already half-done with her glass. "That is when the men decide to start it." She looked over to the second-story balcony. "Speaking of which."

Standing side to side, Gaius and Romus made their presence known. Romus was a well-dressed and even more well-kept man that time seemed to have forgotten. He stood tall and straight by his father's side, waiting for his words. Gaius on the other hand barely kept himself straight with the help of his cane. He could barely look over the railing with his sunken eyes hidden behind a pair of small glasses. His face was sour like he had just eaten a lemon and no amount of glamor, safe for a large hat could cover the ashen bird's nest that was his hair.

"Thank you for all coming here," Gaius opened his croaky voice. "Let us commence." He dryly coughed.

"Mind if I continue from here, father?" Romus whispered.

"Fine," Gaius stubbornly accepted.

"We are gathered here today to announce some great news on behalf of this matrimony, now that the two lovers are once again united."

Romus' words echoed loudly and demanded both attention and respect. Whatever he meant by them was a mystery for most, apart from Giulietta, who smiled smugly as part of the group.

"The reason we have come together, just as these two have, is to give a name to our shared grandchild!"

Lorraine and Warren gasped, yet so did Annabelle and Norman. The group was equally as confused as surprised.

"Do you need help with the stairs, father?" Romus asked.

"I can handle that much!" Gaius pushed him away.

"Does this mean?" Warren turned to Annabelle. "Darling, which is it going to be? A boy, or perhaps a girl? Twins?"

"Hold on," Annabelle shook her head. "What's all this about?" She whispered to Norman.

"How would I know? We didn't do it, did we?" Norman shrugged.

"Obviously!" She snapped back.

"Now," Romus raised his voice, having reached the first floor. "Let us go along with the normal etiquette. Since you Alcaeus are from the west coast, let me explain. Each side shall decide on one first name and one second name."

"I see." Warren nodded.

"I have had the meaning to ask," Lorraine raised her thin hand. "Does not your son lack a second name?"

"That is simple, Mrs. Lorraine," Romus shook his head with a smile. "It was simply a matter of coincidence."

"Coincidence?" Warren questioned.

"Yes, for it merely happens that my father shares a second name with Giulietta's father. Thus, we agreed to share the first name."

"A rare occurrence, indeed," Lorraine noted. "A true equal split."

"I know the rule is to only have children until you get a boy, but how do you decide on who names which child?" Warren asked.

"The father's side of the family names the first boy, and the mother's the first girl. From that point on, you will name the second boy and every second girl."

"So in practice, we are here to name the girl?" Warren summed it up.

"As you said," Romus nodded. "Both parties need to accept each other's suggestions."

"But what about the other children?" Annabelle asked.

"Those are not of importance," Gaius brushed the question off with a cold glance.

The simple look of indifference shook Annabelle in a way her mother could never have done. To think that only the eldest would matter of her children made her shiver, to think the others would suffer the same fate as her.

The meeting went along smoothly. It was decided that the boy would be named Vali Aetas, with the first name from Gaius and the second from Giulietta. The girl would then be Rita Stepney, with the first name of Lorraine's mother and the second name of Warren.

Gaius coughed again. Norman caught a glance of his napkin, yet could not be sure of what he saw.

"There is one more thing," Gaius said as he hid the napkin in his pocket. "I have a proposal." He said, looking at Annabelle's parents.

"For us?" Warren asked. "Yes, what is it?"

"If only the first boy, could he be just Norman?"

Warren and Lorraine glanced at each other.

"All the others can be the same as Tobias and his bride, but please let us continue for our ancestry to continue."

The two were as offended by the offer as they were genuinely surprised by the old man's honest plead.

"Is that not something for them to decide?" Warren asked.

Gaius frowned. "That is not their concern."

Norman gritted his teeth. "Then what is?"

"Shut it, boy," Gaius frowned. "This is none of your business."

"You..." Norman gathered his strength. "You're all sick! We're supposed to be the parents over here!"

"Remember where you come from, you impudent brat! Without your father, there would be no you; without me, you would be nothing!"

"With all due respect, grandfather, how long do I need to be grateful that you and grandmother connected one time?"

The old, wart-filled face heated up like a pot of stew as Gaius' lips failed to keep up with his anger. Both the servants and Alcaeus stayed quiet, not knowing what to do.

Romus slapped Norman right across the face.

"You will not talk like that to your grandfather." He tightened his gloves.

Norman took it without a word. While the slap was delivered with a relaxed wrist, it was also coated with Pierce.

"It seems that our son has forgotten his manners while away," Giulietta said.

"I apologize for my son's rudeness." Romus bowed to the others. "You may leave now if you wish."

While the parents conversed, Annabelle went closer to Norman.

"Are you alright?" She asked.

"Just fine," Norman rubbed his cheek.

"That's what you get for causing a scene. Be sure to apologize for them later."

"...I need to go to the bathroom." Norman walked away.

Norman looked at himself in the mirror and saw that his cheek was red and swollen, if only slightly. He took a towel and drenched it in cold water before applying it to the spot.

The door opened. It was Warren with a sorry look on his face. Norman said nothing, minding his own business. The man went and washed his hands without even a glance at him.

"I wanted to have a little talk, just between the two of us," He said.

Norman did not reply but saw that Warren sported a small yet warm smile on his face. He spoke very much as Norman did during his off time, with a mix of the west coast accent.

"I only want my girl to be happy, whether that is with you or anywhere else, but we don't always get what we want. We're shackled by our past. I couldn't escape it, but you did."

Norman looked at himself in the mirror again. "As if. They just got a longer chain. I was on borrowed until they decided to yank the chain." Norman slapped the towed to the sink.

"We're all on borrowed time, but we shouldn't owe it to anyone," Warren said, drying his hands.

"There's not much of a choice." Norman sighed.

"Funny thing you say that," Warren chuckled to himself. "I teach self-defense for my living. People usually think there are only two options in it: Either you get hurt, or someone else does. But there is a third option."

"What is it?"

"It's to run." Warren laughed. "I know it sounds stupid, but it should be the first thing on your mind."

Norman's lips did not flinch, only his brow tightened with worry. "There are things you can't run away from. You can't protect anyone by running away."

"You don't need to run away alone." Warren turned to him. "Be there for them and escape together. That's what my father taught me."

Norman glanced at Warren. Though not resembling him at all in terms of looks, he could see the same smile on him as on Orel.

"You look surprised," Warren said.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"You don't want to be here, right?"

Norman did not answer.

"You don't need to hide it from me. You almost said it out loud a moment ago."

"What are you getting at?"

"I want you to ask an important question. Not just for yourself, but 'Belle too. What do you want to do?"

Norman was dumbfounded, yet the sincerity in the man's eyes kept him from fleeting into humor.

"Are you asking for me to run?"

"Only you can do that."

"Why can't you do it?" Norman raised his brow.

"I'm too tangled up in this mess to get away. I should have realized sooner, but now is too late. All I got left are crumbs of my desire. I just want my girls to be happy, that's why I let them decide for themselves as much as they could."

"Does that mean Annabelle chose me?"

"That doesn't matter right now," Warren shook his head.

"What do you want me to do?" Norman shrugged.

"What you want to do is all up to you, just don't make her suffer."

"I..." Norman could not think of an answer.

"You don't need to tell me," Warren turned to the door. "Whether you stay here or not is for you to decide, not anyone else." He walked out.

Norman watched the door close before him as Warren returned to the party. He could not utter a word to him. There never had been a man he admired as much at that moment. Men like him will not necessarily go in history books, but all their memories would be engraved in gold for the people around them for time immemorial. Norman could not think of becoming such a man, but trying to follow a noble cause was all he could ask for.

Meanwhile, another father felt a heavy heart upon arriving at a certain hospital.

"Is there an Orel Eislandr here?" Emil asked the nurse.

"Are you a visitor?"

"I am his father."

"Oh, right this way."

Emil was alone, yet felt all eyes upon him. Walking through the corridors, he tried desperately to remember what Orel looked like as he counted the years.

"My son, he will be eighteen this year," He muttered to himself.

"Congratulations," The nurse smiled.

"Has it truly been that long?"

He arrived at the door and carefully grasped the handle. His shaking hands accidentally opened it, and he felt forced to walk inside.

Before he could step in, a man of large build blocked his way with a frown on his face. "Who the hell are you?" Ándras asked.

"I..." Emil muttered. "Emil, Emil Eislandr."

"Dad?" Orel turned in his bed.

Ándras made way for him.

"It's been long, hasn't it, Orel?" Emil said awkwardly.

He panicked as soon as he saw tears forming in Orel's eyes. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Dad, it's you." Orel sniffed. "I can't believe it," He cried.

Emil calmed himself and went in for a hug. "Sorry for that. I'm really sorry." He let the tears flow.

Even with one hand and the other in pain, Orel held him as firmly as he could. Ándras let the two share the moment for as long as they needed.

"But how did you know I was here?" Orel let go.

"I, Eh," Emil tried to explain.

"Because of me!" The thing jumped out from under the bed with its serpentine hair.

Orel almost fell out as he screamed.

"What's wrong?" Ándras asked.

"Can't you see it?" Orel asked.

"No, he cannot." It answered. "Only people of his lineage can see me."

"Sigh. This is Bacmon." Emil introduced the floating clown.

"Nice to meet you, child." Bacmon honked his nose.

"...What."

"Long story short, he is somehow connected to grandpa. Now he is stuck to me."

Orel rubbed his eyes. "Okay..."

"Yet, this thing doesn't want to tell me what exactly happened."

"Nah ah," Bacmon crossed his fingers. "The secret dies with me. But I am a god, so I can't die, hehe."

"You're a god?" Orel asked.

"Whoops, I didn't mean to say that." Bacmon covered his mouth.

"Don't listen to him," Emil shook his head. "Now go away, Bacmon."

"Aww, but I just got here."

"Now!" Emil raised his voice.

"Always with such a sour mood. Like father like son, they say." The clown exploded into bubbles and popped away.

Ándras looked around. "Is he- Is he gone?"

"But Orel, what happened to you?" Emil looked at his arm.

"I...Got into a fight." Orel gripped the cast.

"Yeah, they jumped on him!" Ándras said.

"Are you going to be alright?"

"Yeah, but..."

"We're here because of a friend, and we don't want to waste any more time to go look for him," Ándras explained.

"Well, I happen to have a party member that can heal that wound."

"Really?" The two asked.

"It's not healing per se, but he can use it for that." Emil sighed. "I will call him up." He took out his phone.

"Thanks, dad."

The phone call was swift, though Emil did not seem to enjoy it.

"So, you said you were here because of a friend?" He asked.

"Yeah, Norman," Orel nodded. "Did mom send a letter?"

"Norman?" The name hit Emil's ear.

"Well, his real name is Tobias, but he doesn't like that name."

"So he is from the Norman family?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Nothing, we just happen to have some...Business with another Norman."

"I just want to meet him, but they don't seem to let us in Eden's gate."

"It's not a place that lets you just walk in."

Someone knocked at the door.

"Who is it?" Ándras asked.

"Aston. Emil sent me."

"Come in," Emil called.

A man with finely spun mustaches walked in.

"Who are these people, Emil?" He asked.

"This here is my son, Orel." Emil gestured. "And here is, um..."

"Ándras."

"You heard him."

"You never told me you had a son," Martin's large forehead wrinkled.

"You never listen to me." Emil sighed.

"But why did you call me here anyway?"

"Right. Could you fix his arm?" Emil pointed at the cast.

"You called me over for that?"

"Shut it and make use of that spell already."

"Fine." Martin rolled his eyes. "First I need you to get that cast off."

"I can help with that," Ándras took hold of it.

"Are you sure about this?" Orel asked nervously.

"It's like cracking open an egg," Ándras said as he gripped it. The cast shattered under the pressure, while Orel feared that his hand would do the same. Fortunately, only the cast cracked open, revealing the linen-wrapped hand inside.

"Now, this is going to feel weird, but don't squirm." Martin grabbed the hand from the tip of the middle finger and where it was cut. "Do not break my concentration."

"Alright," Orel nodded.

"Dilapidation Touch." Martin chanted.

Suddenly the wounds on the hand began to close and heal. Moreover, the skin began to flake and nails grow at a rapid pace. Martin observed with sweat drenching his forehead. As he saw the scars begin to fade, took his hands off.

"There, done." He brushed off the sweat. "Try moving it."

Orel could move his arm again for the first time in days, yet it required some effort. Though it was healed, his muscles had shrunk as if he had not used them in months.

"It is not much healing as hastening the recovery," Martin explained. "Dilapidation Touch rapidly accelerates time for anything I touch with both of my hands. It's not that precise, since I usually use it to replicate the process of aging in artifacts."

"In other words, he just aged your hand, and maybe a bit you as well," Emil said with a smirk. "Feeling old yet?"

"Wow, must be nice having him," Orel smiled.

"See, Emil? Some people respect my talents."

"When you use them right."

"But what is this boy even doing here? Going after his father?"

"I'm looking for the hidden realms, but for now I'm trying to meet a friend."

"You really are Emil's son," Martin nodded with a smile.

"About that," Emil remembered. "We might be able to help another."

"How so?" Martin asked.

"His friend is a Norman."

"Oh," Martin snapped his fingers. "But are you going to bring your son into this mess?"

"If you're thinking about other means to get in, that's what we're planning," Ándras picked on the conversation.

"I see," Emil made a face. "Then I guess there's no point in hiding it. We are trying to get an artifact from a man named Gaius Norman."

"Does it have something to do with grandpa?" Orel asked.

"According to my info, it could be his belonging."

"I see." Orel nodded.

"But there's no way to get our hands on it," Martin noted. "Except."

"Stealing it," Emil said.

"Hey, I was going to say that!"

"We could use some help too," Orel stood up from the bed.

"I don't want you to get in danger but looks like you already know how to do that," Emil thought.

"He sure does." Ándras laughed.

"Is it just the two of you?"

"We have a third member, but he's working now."

"Then I guess we should get going. I will introduce you to the rest of my party." Emil went to the door.

"Sure, just let me text Diarmuid before he comes here and thinks I'm kidnapped," Orel took out his phone.

The mansion had emptied of visitors again, except for the servants and the old owner. A single car with black-tinted windows arrived. With armed guards following him, Hào walked inside with Chun by her side. Gaius waited for him on the terrace in the afternoon shade.

His face was stiff as ever, but only for a moment. It then softened like old leather to a small smile.

"Welcome," Gaius said, leaning on the railing.

"Long time no see, old friend," Hào smiled back.

"Please, have a seat," Gaius gestured at a few lounge chairs. "There is some coffee and biscuits. We just held a meeting, so they are still fresh."

"Thank you." Hào sat down.

"I see you have a lovely..." Gaius sat opposite him.

"Daughter."

"Ah, but so young?"

"Time has treated me well." Hào brushed his silver beard. "I could not say the same about you."

"You are a few centuries younger than me, after all," Gaius reminded.

"Speaking of time, how have you been lately?"

"Developments are scarce at this age. Hobbies and family are all I have, though my senseless grandson has proven a headache, to say the least."

"Family is important." Hào hummed.

"Kids these days do not care for family honor, even for how hard I fought for it."

"Not without a little help from me," Hào smirked.

Gaius' smile wavered. "I should have guessed you would mention it."

"So, what contract did you form? What did you gain? What did it cost?" Hào asked eagerly.

"I will show you if you wish to accompany me back to Eden's gate for a tour."

"Fine by me."