The Demonfire estate, once standing tall in pride and secrecy, now lay in smoldering memory. They didn't mourn it, they moved on.
Instead of rebuilding ruins, they adapted.
The final floor of their company building was cleared entirely. Walls torn down, panels reinforced, infrastructure gutted and replaced. In its place rose their new stronghold, a home in the skies. A full-floor haven, reimagined not with extravagance, but with functionality and readiness.
Retractable glass panels framed the open central space, allowing wind and light to dance through when needed, and sealing tight at a moment's notice. The view stretched endlessly, like a reminder: this was their new vantage point, and nothing would close them in again.
Sofie walked beside Slacovich as they returned, General Richard a step behind. The silence in the elevator wasn't heavy, it was focused. Richard held a quiet presence, more shadow than man, but his gaze swept the place like a second set of eyes.
Back at the lab, Harry and Carolina resumed their work in tightening every loose thread in the serum's aftermath. Too much had unraveled to leave anything unchecked.
Nicholson, was left with Ania.
They'd asked him to watch over her. Not because they doubted her strength, but because their new home wasn't yet sealed tight. Until the last layer of security was locked in, she would remain under Nicholson's vigilant guard. His loyalty to Sun University had never faltered, and now, neither would his protection of the girl who bore a soul too precious for risk.
Li had taken full control over the floor's safety upgrades. Every sensor, camera, and hidden reinforcement was under her command. From biometric locks to silent alarms, the floor was being transformed into more than just a home.
It would become a fortress.
Sofie looked out at the horizon through the half-sealed glass.
"It won't be like before," she said quietly.
Slacovich folded his arms, standing beside her. "No. This time, they'll have to bring down the sky to reach us."
The sun dipped low, casting a warm hue across the glass walls of Nicholson's office. It was unusually quiet, the kind of lull that only happens when the storm has passed, but no one's sure for how long.
Nicholson sat with a heavy sigh, paperwork abandoned as Ania climbed onto his desk like it was a jungle gym. She peeked over the frame of the painting, propping her chin on her hands.
"Yureeeeeiv."
"…Yes?"
"Did you love Queen Nimpha?"
Dead silence.
Nicholson blinked.
Yureiv stammered, voice a flicker. "T-That's not… I mean… that's not a question you just---"
"You did, huh?" she interrupted, eyes narrowing with suspicious delight. "You talk all weird when you're guilty."
Nicholson didn't even try to hide his grin.
"I wasn't guilty," Yureiv muttered, dimming faintly. "I was loyal."
Ania tilted her head. "Isn't loving someone being loyal too? Or were you only loyal because she was pretty?"
Nicholson nearly spit his drink.
Yureiv sounded mortified. "I was not, I never, that's not the reason!"
Ania poked the bottom of the painting. "But you blushed~."
"I don't blush!"
"Yes, you do. You're all glowy and pinkish right now."
"…That's the lighting!"
"Nope," she chirped. "That's 'cause I'm talking about her."
Nicholson leaned back. "She's got you cornered, buddy. Just admit it and maybe she'll go easy on you."
"No promises!" Ania sang.
Yureiv sighed. A long, glowing sigh.
"…I loved her," he said finally, voice faint, like charcoal across a canvas.
Ania lit up. "HA! I knew it!"
Then, with a seven-year-old's devastating sincerity, she asked---
"Did you cry when she married the king?"
Yureiv's soul went silent.
Nicholson coughed hard, choking on his coffee again.
Ania waited patiently.
"…Yes," came the whisper.
She nodded. "That's okay. My big sister says love hurts. Like, in your heart, not your foot."
Nicholson muttered, "Well, sometimes both."
Yureiv chuckled faintly, the kind of laugh you let out when someone sees through you.
Then Ania squinted again. "So you painted her all the time. Even when your heart hurt?"
"Yes."
"…Why?"
Yureiv's glow softened. "Because she smiled when I did."
Ania stared a moment, then gave the painting a thumbs up. "You're a good boy, Yureiv."
Nicholson snorted into his mug.
Ania turned to him. "Uncle Nick, did you ever have a crush?"
"Nope."
"Why not?"
"…Because I value peace and sanity," he said, side-eyeing the painting.
Yureiv, dimming again, muttered under his breath, "I heard that."
Ania plopped herself on the floor, cross-legged, hands under her chin. Nicholson leaned back on the couch, sipping his drink with the look of a man watching a soap opera live.
"Yureiv," Ania began sweetly.
He immediately sounded suspicious. "Yes…?"
"Did Queen Nimpha ever know?"
"…Know what?"
She smiled innocently. "That you liked her soooo much that you never looked at another girl?"
Nicholson grinned behind his mug.
"…I don't know," Yureiv murmured.
Ania raised an eyebrow. "You never told her?"
"She was married to the king."
"That's not an answer."
"I---!" The glowing soul in the painting flickered with panic. "She… she was happy. I didn't want to ruin that."
Ania nodded slowly, thoughtfully… then stabbed again, merciless.
"If she wasn't married to the king, would you have asked her to marry you?"
Yureiv went completely silent.
Nicholson muttered, "Oof."
"…Maybe," Yureiv finally whispered.
Ania's eyes widened, full of mischief. "So you wanted to!"
"I thought about it," he admitted with a groan. "When we were younger."
"Did you imagine it?" she asked, her eyes glittering. "Like… her walking down the aisle? In a shiny dress? Did you dream of kissing her?"
Nicholson sputtered into his coffee again. "This kid's gonna give the ghost a breakdown."
Yureiv practically groaned, flustered beyond all help. "Ania…"
"What?" she asked with wide, innocent eyes. "You're already dead! You can't die from embarrassment!"
Nicholson burst out laughing.
Yureiv, flickering faintly, sighed like a man being exorcised by a seven-year-old. "Yes… I imagined it. Once. Maybe more than once."
Ania squealed, rolling onto her back. "You're soooo cheesy! I love it!"
Then she rolled back up, serious again. "Do you think… if she wasn't the queen… if she didn't have to marry the king… would she have picked you?"
The air stilled.
Yureiv didn't answer right away.
"…I don't know," he said quietly. "Maybe. Maybe not. But she loved the king. And he loved her. That was enough."
Ania stared at him for a long moment, then smiled. "She said she remembers everything, you know. Maybe when she wakes up fully, you should ask her."
Yureiv stilled.
Nicholson raised an eyebrow. "She remembers?"
Ania nodded. "She said, 'I remember every stroke of his brush. And the way he looked at me when he thought I couldn't see.'"
Yureiv's glow pulsed bright, then dimmed, speechless.
Ania leaned back, smug.
"I told you," she said. "You're a very obvious ghost."
Nicholson chuckled. "Crushed. Completely destroyed."
"I'm not destroyed," Yureiv muttered.
"Then blush harder," Ania grinned.
Ania sat cross-legged on the office rug, cheeks puffed, her hands fiddling with a juice box. Yureiv's portrait on the wall glowed faintly, his ghostly expression already bracing for impact.
Nicholson, sitting at his desk, glanced up with a brow raised. "You've been quiet for too long."
Ania blinked sweetly. "Uncle Nich…"
"Hmm?"
"Was she happy when she died?"
Nicholson froze.
Ania continued softly, "Carolina's mom… your wife. Was she happy in the end?"
The hunter's jaw clenched slightly. "…Yes. I like to believe she was."
"You should know," Ania said, lips pursing. "Because you were the one who gave her that happiness."
Yureiv tilted his head in the painting. "That was actually sweet."
Then----
"But…"
Nicholson frowned. "But?"
"She still died because of Dr. Brischt's serum. Right?"
The air shifted.
Nicholson didn't speak.
Ania tilted her head, innocent eyes gleaming. "So even if you were happy together, she still paid the price of his sins. You loved her… but couldn't save her from the ghost of her past."
Yureiv: "…Oh."
Ania didn't stop. Her voice was light, but her words cut deep.
"She left Brischt because he chose science over family. But the thing that killed her… was still his science."
Nicholson exhaled quietly, eyes distant.
"You must hate him a little, huh?" she added. "For giving you the woman you loved… and being the reason you lost her too."
Nicholson whispered, "It's complicated."
"But not really," Ania replied. "Because no matter how you twist it… Brischt had her first. And he left. And then you came, and loved her right. But it was already too late."
She leaned back with a sigh. "You're always too late, Uncle Nich."
Yureiv actually made a dramatic ghost gasp.
Nicholson's head dipped slightly. "That's enough, Ania."
But Ania looked at him gently now. "It's okay, though. You were there when it mattered. And that's why she smiled before she left, right?"
Silence.
Yureiv's voice broke through. "For the record, she's seven. How does she talk like this?"
Nicholson wiped at his eyes subtly. "I have no idea."
Just then, Carolina stepped in with a tablet. "Nicholson, oh. Why do you look like someone dug up your grave and reburied it?"
Ania smiled sweetly.
"I poked the part that still hurts."
Ania sat on top of a coffee table in Nicholson's office, swinging her legs while chewing on a strawberry lollipop. Across the room, Carolina worked through files, serious and focused.
"Hey Carolina…" Ania started, tilting her head like a curious kitten.
"Yes?"
"Your dad was Doctor Brischt, right?"
Carolina's pen paused for a split second. "Yes."
Ania looked at her thoughtfully, then grinned.
"So you're like… the daughter of the guy who made the vampire problem… but you're fighting vampires?"
Carolina raised an eyebrow. "You could put it that way."
Ania hopped off the table, skipping closer. "That's kinda like saying, 'My dad made a mess, but I'm the broom.'"
Yureiv's voice faded in from the painting: "She's terrifyingly accurate."
Carolina chuckled. "That's not wrong."
"You're really smart, huh?" Ania said, eyes wide.
"I try."
Ania sat cross-legged at her feet and asked, "Do you ever get mad? Like… he was super smart, but he used it wrong."
Carolina hesitated, then looked away. "I used to be. But now I just want to make sure no one else suffers from his mistakes."
Ania gave a toothy grin. "You're the good version then."
Carolina blinked.
Ania nodded confidently. "He made chaos. You make order. He hurt people. You protect them. You're like… the anti-virus of your family."
Nicholson, sipping tea behind the desk, muttered, "Oof. That one hit."
Yureiv: "That child should not be allowed to philosophize."
Ania looked up at Carolina again, sweet but firm.
"You're not your dad's shadow. You're your mom's fire. And that's why you're not doomed to repeat anything."
Carolina just stared.
Then gave a small, rare smile.
"Thank you, Ania."
Ania winked. "I accept lollipops as payment."