"Daddy, look!" His tiny daughter thrust her hands before Jetri like a treasure.

Two pale cyan magic rings shimmered around her small palms.

"You learned this so quickly," Jetri admitted, genuinely surprised. "You’ve got real talent."

"Hehe…" A bashful flush spread across her rosy cheeks. "Daddy’s a good teacher."

"Nonsense. You inherited the gift. Your brother couldn’t grasp it no matter how I taught him…" Jetri stroked her ink-black hair, his voice thick with exasperation for his son and pride for his daughter.

She’d inherited Jetri’s dark hair, dark eyes, and magical aptitude—but her flawless features mirrored her mother’s.

As for his son…

*THUD!*

A crash echoed from beyond the door. Jetri scooped his daughter onto his shoulders. "Let’s see what trouble your brother’s caused now."

"Del! Wipe that smile off your face!!"

The moment the door opened, Veya’s roar hit them.

"Seems your brother’s made your mother angry again," Jetri chuckled up at his daughter perched on his shoulders.

A hint of schadenfreude colored his tone.

"Daddy, really," his daughter sighed, shaking her head at his amusement.

"Mother, please calm down," Del pried himself out of the crater he’d made in the wall. Even after this treatment, his smile remained perfectly in place.

Jetri rubbed his temples, watching the scene. Why did mother and son clash like sworn enemies when others shared such tender bonds?

Del Jetri—son of Richard Jetri and Veya Pendragon—had inherited his mother’s golden hair, emerald eyes, and… that flawless smile.

"Del, that’s enough," Jetri said flatly.

Del’s expression instantly smoothed. He darted behind his father, peeking out. "Daddy… Mama hit me…" A trace of grievance laced his words.

"Veya…" Jetri sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Why get so worked up over a child?"

"Just look at him! Doesn’t he make your blood boil?" Veya stormed over, wooden practice sword in hand.

"He’s just like you were at his age," Jetri teased. "Isn’t that right, Del?" He ruffled his son’s hair.

"Daddy’s the best." Del beamed.

Veya looked ready to explode.

"Brother, stop upsetting Mama," the daughter on Jetri’s shoulders piped up.

Del immediately deflated. He stepped forward, head bowed. "Sorry, Mama."

"Hmph!" Veya wasn’t truly furious. Smashing her son into walls was just part of daily training.

Del Jetri had inherited nearly everything from his mother—except her looks. Including her swordsmanship talent.

"Lily’s the only one who can manage Del," Jetri chuckled at his suddenly obedient son. "Veya, don’t be mad. Kids will be kids."

Olivia Jetri—daughter of Jetri and Veya—had inherited her mother’s beauty and her father’s magic. Her temperament mirrored his too.

Truly, one creature tames another. Though Olivia was younger, her brother Del feared her deeply.

After all, Olivia rarely showed anger. When she did, she silently plotted something devastating.

Often, Del wouldn’t realize he’d fallen into her trap until long after it snapped shut.

"I’m not mad…" Veya mumbled, hiding the wooden sword behind her back and kicking a pebble aside.

"Of course not," Jetri smiled, pulling her close for a quick kiss before taking Del’s hand. "What shall we eat today?"

"Braised pork knuckle!"

"Roast chicken!"

Veya and Del blurted simultaneously, then glared at each other.

Naturally, the son surrendered first. "R-roast chicken…" he muttered.

"Why not make both?" Jetri sighed, amused. He looked up at his daughter. "What about you, Lily? What would you like?"

"Anything Daddy cooks," she declared without hesitation, swinging her little legs.

"Such a good girl~" Jetri’s eyes crinkled with warmth.

Jetri carried Olivia on his right shoulder and held Del’s hand with his left. He’d meant for Veya to take Del’s other hand, but she stood arms crossed, pointedly ignoring her son.

Del mirrored her posture exactly.

Mother and son, indeed…

Jetri sensed their tension. After a moment’s thought, he decided boys should learn to endure a little hardship.

"Del," he said gently, looking down.

"Yes, Daddy?" Del blinked, oblivious to what was coming.

"A boy should bear a little hardship, shouldn’t he?" Jetri coaxed.

"Yes," Del nodded obediently, though unease flickered in his eyes.

Jetri slowly withdrew his hand. Veya seized the chance, shoving Del aside to grab Jetri’s arm with a triumphant smirk.

In that instant, Del felt abandoned by the entire world.

"Veya," Jetri murmured.

Grudgingly, like a child forced into reconciliation, Veya extended her hand toward Del.

Del took it with equal reluctance.

*I feel like a kindergarten teacher…* Jetri sighed inwardly.

But by dinner, Veya and Del had made up.

"When will I be as strong as you, Mama?" Del’s eyes shone.

"Hah! You won’t catch up in a hundred years~" Veya declared proudly.

"Eh… but Mother, I’m already Level 21? You must’ve been even stronger at my age, right?" Del gushed with exaggerated admiration.

"Obviously." Veya lied without blinking.

Del’s shoulders slumped as he digested this "truth," suddenly doubting his entire existence.

Jetri smiled silently.

Olivia hid her own smile behind a delicate hand.

Their harmony didn’t last. Before the meal ended, they were at each other’s throats again.

Jetri and Olivia exchanged weary glances over the chaos.

Their children grew more vibrant each day.

Jetri felt the weight of years settle deeper.

"So why haven’t you aged a day?" Jetri asked later, watching Veya curl against him under the covers.

"Is that bad?" Veya grinned up at him. "Who knows when some wandering mage or priestess might snatch my husband away?"

"…" Jetri was speechless. "You’re being paranoid."

"Not at all. Last time I left you alone for five minutes, I came back to find girls swarming you." Her expression darkened slightly.

"I told you—they were just asking directions! Besides, you got hit on too," Jetri sighed. "I could never match your… methods."

"Oh, men did approach me. But they all paid a~price~" Veya chirped.

"You…" Jetri didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

"Don’t worry. Just minor lessons—though the truly persistent ones had their… equipment permanently disabled."

"Good heavens…" Jetri groaned.

"See? After our travels, reckless men across the continent think twice before bothering women~"

"Alright, I suppose that *is* a good thing."

"Of course—besides, you only *look* weathered, not old. Girls adore that. I have to stay vigilant."

"Vigilant? You’ll bury them before the season ends! Who’s your next target in the Underworld?"

"A married man who flirts deserves death." Veya batted her eyelashes innocently.

"Some don’t know I’m married…"

"Exactly why I haven’t killed anyone *yet*," Veya launched into another lecture about "girls’ tricks." "They use ‘asking directions’ as an excuse. I know their game—it’s what *I* used to pull."

"What? When did you ever ‘ask for directions’ like that?"

"Never. But I did it with *you*."

"When?"

"Twenty years ago. At Brave Academy. Our first meeting."

"You were…?"

"Not really. I just thought you seemed reliable."

"Reliable enough not to sell me off, right?"

"Exactly. I still remember your cold face: *‘I haven’t seen who you’re looking for. Please keep quiet in the library.’*"

"Did I say that?"

"You did! You scared those girls off. Don’t you remember?"

"Faintly… Was it really that significant?"

"Doesn’t matter. It wasn’t important anyway."

"Mm. Let’s sleep. It’s late."

"Tired?" Veya’s eyes gleamed mischievously. "You were the one begging to stop earlier."

Jetri rolled his eyes. "You always say ‘no no no,’ then after a rest it’s ‘yes yes yes.’ Am I some machine you switch on and off at will?"

"Mmm~" Veya nuzzled into his chest, whining. "I want to~"

"Fine, fine…" Jetri sighed.

*A loving wife at home / Makes even ginseng useless.*

The wind blows through all seasons, sweeping across every corner of the land.

Time’s wind sweeps all before it—carrying away old friends, leaving only memories.

Thirty years had passed since Veya dragged him away that day.

Jetri sat in a garden rocking chair, soaking in the sun.

"Chad." Veya stepped into the garden.

She remained unchanged. Sometimes Jetri wondered if she had Elven blood—how else could she defy time while he grew old?

"What is it?" Jetri turned his chair slowly.

"Victoria," Veya spoke a name from another lifetime. "Victoria Hanover… has been crowned."

"Oh… and?" Jetri nodded vaguely, puzzled.

"She… never married." Veya’s voice held complex layers.

"I see. So?" Jetri still didn’t grasp her meaning.

"Should we… go back? Just to see?"

"Go back? No. We left knowing we couldn’t return." Jetri pulled her onto his lap, smiling softly. "What would we be there? I have children. A wife. A home. I could abandon titles or lands, but never these."

"Mm…" Veya murmured.

"Why have you grown so sentimental with age? You used to strike fast and true."

"...Perhaps it’s just old age catching up with me. I suddenly realized that back then..."

"Enough," Jetri gently cut off Veya’s self-reproach. "Things are good now. You’re good. The children are good. Life is good. I’m good."

"As for Victoria..." Jetri’s voice grew complex at the distant name. "Send a letter. Whether it reaches her hands is up to the gods."

"Dad!" A boy’s eager shout interrupted them.

Del burst in. "I want to see the outside world! Central Land! The Delan Kingdom!"

Jetri blinked in surprise, then shot Veya a *told-you-so* look.

"What about your sister? Is Lia coming too?" he asked.

"Coming." The reply came not from Del, but from Ovelia, who stepped slowly from the doorway behind him.

"I see..." Jetri nodded. "What do you think?" He turned to Veya.

"Weren’t we already hunting the Demon King at their age?" Veya smiled.

"The Demon King?!" Del’s eyes widened. "You mean *that* Demon King?!"

Jetri shot Veya a helpless glare. *Why tell the kids this?*

"Well then—" Jetri seized the opening. "I have a letter for the King of Delan. Since you’re going there, deliver it for me."

"What’s in it?" Del asked.

"Sigh..." Jetri exhaled. "If you’re curious, open it when you reach Delan. But don’t say you’re the son of Richard Jetri and Veya Pendragon."

"Why not?"

"If this letter reaches the King’s hands... she might tell you."

"How do I get it to her?"

"Figure it out yourself. It’s optional—no reward, no pressure to succeed."

"Got it."

As Del nodded, Jetri lifted Veya to her feet. His steps faltered slightly—he wasn’t young anymore—but he steadied her. Moments later, he produced a letter dried by magic. He waved it at his son. "Go."

"Lia, I need to speak with you alone," Veya called as Ovelia turned to leave.

Del wisely slipped out first.

Ovelia had blossomed into a young woman. Without her formidable magic and powerful parents, suitors would’ve worn a path to their doorstep. Her beauty was flawless, her grace mirroring her father’s, her education meticulously shaped by both parents. Simply standing there, she embodied pure grace.

She waited quietly, ready to listen. Jetri lingered, curious.

Veya’s expression turned dead serious. "Lia, listen: when you find a boy you like, move fast!"

Jetri’s face froze in utter bewilderment.

"Mom... I don’t have anyone like that yet..." Ovelia flushed, glancing at her father for rescue.

Jetri had none to offer. He hadn’t seen *this* coming either. Father and daughter exchanged helpless stares.

"I mean *if*," Veya pressed. "Don’t think your excellence lets you pick freely. You’re wrong. Your father? I *snatched* him."

Ovelia’s eyes flew wide. She turned to Jetri for confirmation.

His expression screamed *Why are you telling her this?!* before he buried his face in his hands.

"Really?" Ovelia whispered, stunned.

"Do you think your father’s exceptional?"

"Of course. He’s the most exceptional man in the world." She spoke without a daughter’s usual shyness, utterly earnest.

"And am *I* exceptional?"

"Hmm..." Ovelia hesitated this time. "You are too."

"Hmph. Everyone loves your father," Veya huffed, ignoring the pause. "Chad. Tell her—who’s the most exceptional woman you’ve ever met?"

"...You," Jetri admitted, flushing slightly.

Veya’s chin lifted triumphantly. Ovelia blinked.

"Lia, your mother truly is the most exceptional woman I know," Jetri added, humoring his wife despite his confusion.

"Who chased your father back then? Do you know?"

"Who?" Ovelia leaned in.

"Queen Delan was one. Think she’s still unmarried for no reason?"

"...Seriously?" Ovelia’s mouth fell open.

"I—I’ll step out. You two talk," Jetri muttered, fleeing before Veya could brag about "stealing" him. His old face burned.

"Absolutely. And the next Elven Queen? She was another suitor."

"So... how did you *win*, Mom?"

"*Snatched* him!"

Jetri closed the door firmly behind him.

Del pounced the moment he saw his father. "Dad! What were you talking about?!"

"Ask your sister. If she’ll tell you."

"Aww, she won’t. Just tell me?"

"My private affairs. Too embarrassing." Jetri shook his head. "You’ll learn when you deliver that letter."

"Fine..." Del switched tactics. "Dad, what’s Mom’s level *really*?"

"Her? I don’t know exactly. But she broke past level 100 over twenty years ago."

"*What?!*" Del yelped.

"Level 100+. How far past? No idea." Jetri chuckled at his son’s shock. *Can’t blame him. Anyone would react like this.*

"Seriously...?" Del muttered, his skeptical words belying his awestruck face.

"Exactly. So, Del—if you can’t even beat your *mother*, stop dreaming about Demon Kings."

"Were you and Mom teammates back then?"

"Yes."

"Just the two of you?"

"Two others."

"Who?"

"One’s the Delan King you’re delivering to. The other... probably Crown Prince of the Forest Kingdom now."

"Dad..." Del’s voice dropped. "This letter isn’t some... old flame reunion, is it?" He suddenly looked nervous.

"I held your mother while she wrote it."

"Oh. Right." Del nodded again.

Jetri sighed inwardly. *Del’s strong, but his wits... Did Veya skip that gene?* He dismissed the worry. *Their lives, their paths.*

Inside, the mother-daughter talk ended. Veya and Ovelia emerged.

"Done?" Jetri smiled softly.

"Yes." Ovelia nodded.

"Then go. When you’re ready."

"Roger!" Del whooped.

Their bags were already packed. Only parental approval was needed.

"Oh—take this." Jetri handed Ovelia a ring.

"What is it?" She took it.

"An emergency measure. I trust your mother covered everything. Just one thing: watch your brother. Don’t let him fall into pits." He didn’t spare Del a glance.

Del just grinned. He’d long accepted his sister’s calm, mischievous wit—the spitting image of their father’s.

Jetri watched them walk away, waving goodbye. His throat tightened. Tears pricked his eyes. He held them back, silently watching.

Far down the road, Del suddenly bellowed: "DAD! MOM! NOW THAT WE’RE GONE, YOU CAN FINALLY HAVE YOUR *PRIVATE TIME*!!"

The shout choked Jetri’s tears into a cough.

Veya’s face flushed crimson. She hurled a wooden sword—it *thwacked* against Del’s back just as he vanished from sight.

Only when the road lay empty did Jetri lead the reluctant Veya inside.

"Chad..." Veya draped herself over his back like decades ago. "Do you think we..." Words failed her. Tears spilled first.

"When they return," Jetri murmured, kissing the tears from her eyes, "let’s hold a wedding."

...

Ovelia and Del returned ten years later.

Jetri barely recognized them.

But they brought partners home.

Their love stories lacked their parents’ drama—just quiet meetings, growing closeness, steady devotion. Jetri felt a warmth like watching children return from a long day’s play.

"You’re back. Dinner’s ready."

While Jetri radiated quiet warmth, Veya sobbed into Ovelia and Del’s shoulders. "How could you be so heartless? Ten years! Not a single letter..."

Jetri smiled, letting them reunite. He turned to Ovelia’s fiancé and Del’s fiancée. "What do you do for work?"

"Mages." ×2

Both resembled Jetri in demeanor. Same profession too.

"Good," Jetri nodded. "When’s the wedding?"

"Your thoughts?" ×2

"*My* thoughts?" Jetri laughed, pressing two invitations into their hands. "Since they’re back... Veya and I are renewing our vows. You’ll come."

"You’re so romantic. I wouldn’t miss it."

"Count me in."

This time, their replies weren’t in sync. Del’s fiancée’s eyes held longing—for a love like Jetri and Veya’s. Ovelia’s fiancé remained calm.

Jetri saw the difference. He smiled gently. "It’s been hard, hasn’t it?"

The calm fiancé’s composure cracked. A tear slipped free. "You... you see too much..."

"Your lives are yours now. I won’t interfere. Children grow up." Jetri handed him a handkerchief, amused.

Preparations began the moment they left.

On the wedding day, the house bloomed with joy.

Veya stood in a pristine white wedding gown, gazing sweetly at Jetri.

Jetri, clad in a sharp tuxedo, looked back at her with tender eyes.

“Then, Miss Veya Pendragon, do you take Richard Jetri to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do!” Veya’s voice trembled with excitement, slightly choked up.

“Mr. Richard Jetri, do you take Veya Pendragon to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I—”

“I object!!” ×3

The wedding ceremony shattered abruptly.

Jetri stared in shock at the three intruders.

“L-Lilith… Victoria… Veya?” Even after all these years, he recognized his old teammates instantly.

Veya’s expression darkened. Reacting swiftly, she drew a longsword from the ring on her finger, pointing it straight at the trio.

“Since when do you get a say?”

Jetri opened his mouth, raising a hand to stop the chaos—

—but no words came.

The sudden scene sent murmurs rippling through the guests.

Veya’s daughter covered her mouth in surprise. “Mom wasn’t lying… Dad really *was* stolen away by you…”

Del tugged his fiancée’s sleeve, eyes gleaming. “Told you!”

His fiancée shot him a look reserved for fools. “That’s your *father*. You’re enjoying this?”

“He loved watching me struggle as a kid. Now it’s my turn.”

She facepalmed and fell silent.

Other guests finally noticed the intruders’ identities.

“That one… isn’t he the King of Delan?”

“And that woman… could she be the ruler of the Forest Kingdom?”

“Even… His Holiness the Pope…?”

Whispers swirled around the unexpected spectacle.

Most eyes sparkled with excitement.

Truthfully, the “guests” were few—just the priest, physicians, and Del.

With Jetri and the wedding officiant, only four men stood present.

The young-looking priest seemed decades Jetri’s junior. Though the Sage neared level ninety and retained a handsome, aged grace, today he looked utterly powerless. Four women—each appearing young enough to be his daughter, yet all former lovers—clashed above him. Sparks flew. Pure, popcorn-worthy drama.

The female priests and healers plopped down right there, snacks materializing as they settled in.

Jetri couldn’t stop the fight, but his barrier shielded them from stray magic.

Front-row seats to this juicy scandal had the women thrilled—especially the priests.

*The Pope himself!* A figure most would never glimpse in a lifetime.

Jetri stood helpless, frozen by the chaos.

Veya was already locked in combat with Victoria and Lilith.

True to her title as Valiant Hero, she held her own against three foes in her wedding gown.

Her longsword danced—a fierce, unrelenting storm of steel, leaving no opening. No rust from years of peace showed.

Her opponents matched her ferocity.

A shortsword. A warhammer. Twin holy blades.

“You stole a march on us?!” snarled the Half-Elf, her blade piercing Veya’s guard again and again.

“You stole him away?!” Victoria’s lake-blue eyes burned crimson as her angelic wings mirrored her swings.

“You *bitch*!!” Veya’s daughter roared, slamming her holy hammer against the sword’s glow.

“How did you know about our two kids?” Veya shot back coldly.

Old flames burned hottest. This wasn’t just stolen hearts—it was stolen decades.

Jetri watched in despair as four demigods tore his wedding apart.

*Hilarious*, he thought bitterly. *If only I weren’t the groom.*

Powerless to intervene, he could only maintain his barrier, shielding the spectators below.

Surveying the shattered chapel—gowns torn, petals scattered, holy light clashing with magic—he groaned inwardly:

*What fresh hell is this?!*