“Am I correct, Master?” Nia’s lips curved into a rare, faint smile as she murmured in a calm, measured tone meant only for their ears.

“Master?” Fate’s heart skipped a beat, though his voice remained perfectly even. “Milady Knight… are you speaking to me?”

He gestured to himself with an incredulous look.

“Surely you’ve mistaken me. I don’t recall ever teaching anyone a craft—let alone taking on an apprentice.”

“You and this child don’t resemble each other,” Nia replied, sidestepping his question and circling back to the topic.

“In what way? Must I remove my helmet to prove it?”

“Is that so?” Nia fell silent, her gaze locked onto Fate—a look that bordered on outright accusation.

Fate pretended not to notice. When she stayed quiet, he did too.

“Then I shall not stand on ceremony.” Seeing Fate play dumb, Nia took the initiative.

“.........?” *I made a polite remark—and you’re running with it?*

“Perhaps you could try proving it?” Nia’s eyes stayed fixed on the iron helmet clamped firmly over Fate’s head.

“Ahem… As you noted, my voice is deeper than usual. I’ve caught a cold these past days,” Fate coughed deliberately. “I’ll keep the helmet on—to avoid impropriety later.”

“I see. Serious?” Nia asked.

“Not at all.”

“If it’s not serious… why refuse to remove it?”

“Not fully recovered. Still coughing, sneezing.” Fate deliberately covered the helmet’s breathing slit with his hand.

“I know a bit about diagnosis. May I examine you without the helmet? Determine the type of cold?” Nia’s tone held no aggression, her voice steady—yet carried quiet, unshakable resolve, as if she wouldn’t leave until she uncovered the truth.

“Miss Nia, do you have urgent matters?”

“Urgent? None.” She answered without hesitation, ignoring the chief justice behind her who seemed about to speak.

“Very well. You have none—I do.” Fate adjusted his helmet.

“That urgent?”

“Yes. Personal. I’ll take my leave.” *Perfect excuse to slip away. She wouldn’t dare tail me over “personal business,” not before my identity’s confirmed… right?*

“Is it about the child?” Nia called out before Fate took two steps.

“..........” He halted. “What is it?”

“If you face any trouble, I will help you—unconditionally.” A faint, knowing smile touched Nia’s lips. Her voice was calm, yet firm. “Past, present, or future.”

“..........”

Her meaning was clear.

She offered help for Lide—but in what capacity could Fate accept it?

The answer was obvious.

She was also stating plainly: she’d long suspected his identity. Only final confirmation was missing.

Even if he escaped today, she’d pursue it relentlessly. As a Royal Knight and Empress Beatrice’s personal guard, she might report this directly to the Empress.

After weighing it all, Fate expressionlessly ran a hand over his iron helmet.

He’d retired.

Resolved to cut ties with the past—yet within two months, his own apprentice recognized him.

What was destined could not be avoided.

“Lide, head home today. Give me a few days.” Fate bent down and ruffled the boy’s hair.

“........Alright.” Trapped between them, Lide—a total outsider to their cryptic exchange—had long wanted to leave. He glanced at Nia, then Fate, and walked away alone.

“Mr. Fate, decided on dinner?” Nia stepped beside him, effortlessly familiar after seeing Lide dismissed.

“No.”

“Then follow me. I know a place nearby—great ambiance, excellent food.”

“Mm. Lead the way,” Fate nodded.

At those words, Nia’s heart skipped.

She knew: this was his acknowledgment.

She’d been certain it was him—but still found it hard to believe.

After all… she’d stood at his graveside.

Even now, she couldn’t fathom how he returned, how he crawled from the grave.

And… was it her imagination? Her Master felt different.

His tone, once rigidly upright, now carried a gentle softness.

——————

They arrived on foot at a restaurant adorned like a palace.

Fate recognized it: “Shenfei Nihong,” a nationally renowned chain. Nobles often hosted guests here—undeniably high-end.

Back when he was a knight, he’d dined here often. The cuisine truly was exceptional.

After retirement—penniless and undocumented—he’d been shut out of Shenfei Nihong.

As a famous chain, its branches shared near-identical interiors. For Fate, stepping inside felt like a long-missed indulgence.

Nia presented her knight credentials to the attendants at the entrance.

At such establishments, entry demanded more than coin—it required passing this identity checkpoint.

“Honored Palace Knight, please step inside.” The attendants bowed deeply, returning her credentials and ushering them in.