Suddenly—

A tiny stone fell on her head with a soft ting.

“Huh!? Who threw this?”

“This isn’t just any place, Diya-san.” Yui chuckled softly, her gaze sweeping the area. “This is his dimension. The vast space.”

“Huh? But Haruki’s vast space didn’t look like this…” Diya’s eyes darted around the room, blinking like the walls had betrayed her.

Airi, already sitting cross-legged on a nearby cushion, said, “Okay, start now.”

Everyone turned to her.

She quickly shifted and sat properly. “I mean… you brought us all here for some important conversation, right?”

Kazuma stepped forward, his voice calm but layered with something heavier underneath. “Sixteen years ago—”

Everyone blinked in surprise except for Miko and Ren.

Airi counted on her fingers. “Sixteen years ago… then I was eight?”

“Be quiet…” Yui gently touched Airi’s hand, her tone warning but kind.

“Mira-san… I don’t want to bring back painful memories.” Kazuma’s steady gaze didn’t waver as he continued, “But sixteen years ago… a baby was lost.”

Rina’s eyes blinked rapidly. ‘What is he saying? Is it—’

“That’s… I-I didn’t mean to… I didn’t do that intentionally…” Mira’s eyes widened, already shimmering with guilt she had buried too long.

“Please… Mira-san, I’m not blaming you.” He raised his hand quickly, stopping her spiral with a firm but soft gesture.

He slowly turned toward Rina and Diya. “Your daughter… Yuna… isn’t your real daughter, right?”

Both women froze.

“Huh?!”

Yui and Airi exchanged startled glances.

“Who told you that?! She is my daughter!” Diya’s voice rose sharply, bristling with panic and pride.

Ren sat in silence, facing the other way, saying nothing.

“She told us herself. So don’t act.” Kazuma looked down, voice turning heavy. “On the other side… another mother lost her child.”

“D-Diya-san… is it true? Please say it…” Mira’s lips trembled as she whispered, “Yuna’s sixteen now, right?”

“Huh?! Why would she even tell you something like that?! How do you know her?!” Diya shouted, flustered and cornered.

Kazuma’s expression darkened slightly. “I didn’t want to say why you sent her in that way… Reha—”

“She told it to him.” He took a slow breath. “During the second round.”

Everyone held their breath.

Even Miko’s breath caught. ‘Huh? Why… why did they send her like that? Did he know?’ thoughts tumbling like scattered petals in a storm, soft, unheard, but shaking her within.

“Huh!… Reha…” Yui blinked slowly, her voice barely a breath. “Is she the one Ken bumped into that day?”

“Reha…?” Airi’s brows furrowed gently as she recalled, “I think we crossed her a couple of times… but she always wore a mask, right?”

“What if Reha is Yuna?!” Diya shot up. “And Ken? Yeah, she told me about that guy, but she didn’t say all this!”

“Don’t change the topic.” Kazuma didn’t even blink. “What she told you… doesn’t matter right now.”

“First of all, who are you to talk to us like that?!” Diya snapped, her anger crackling like sparks from dry branches.

“Wait, Diya.” Rina stepped forward, her voice soft but edged with steel. “Just… wait for a few minutes.”

Her eyes turned slowly toward Mira. “Mira… was it you who placed the baby basket… in the laundry shed that night?”

Mira’s face fractured like porcelain hit by wind. Her lips parted, but no sound came, just a quiver, like something shattered deep inside.

“Yes, Rina-san… I did…”

“I didn’t mean to… I-I didn’t even realize what I was doing…”

she whispered, shaking her head like she could turn time back. “That night… the lights were out…” Her fingers twisted the edge of her dress, knotted with guilt.

“I was just trying to pick up some clothes from the floor… Mom told me to place the basket in the laundry shed…”

“But… the basket already had the baby inside…” Her shoulders trembled. “I-I just threw in some clothes… I didn’t even notice…”

Yui gasped, her hands flying to her mouth as if to catch the truth before it fell.

“The baby didn’t cry… she was so silent.” Her breath stuttered mid-sentence. “I-I didn’t see… I just… I placed the basket at the laundry shed behind the hospital…”

She paused, choking slightly, blinking through glassy red eyes, yet the tears flowed, no longer needing permission.

“When the lights came back… Sakuragi-san noticed the baby was gone. There was just… another basket with clothes.”

“She screamed… panicked… her husband came running. Mom searched everywhere…”

Her hands clutched her chest. Fingernails digging. “B-but when we checked the shed…”

“T-there was nothing in it…”

“My mom scolded me so much…” she whispered, collapsing forward and wrapping her arms around herself. “She kept apologizing to them… but because of me… Sakuragi-san lost her baby…”

The words hit the room like glass falling on marble, quiet, but unmistakably shattered.

“Because of me…!”

Miko’s eyes glistened. She moved without hesitation, knelt beside Mira, and gently wrapped her arm around the girl’s trembling shoulders.

“Don’t cry, Mira… please.”

Her voice dropped into something softer, motherly, aching.

“On that night…” Miko sat back down slowly, her fingers brushing a tear from the corner of her eye. “I started checking just in case someone registered a newborn.”

“But no one did.” She swallowed, her gaze still as if searching for the baby. “Nothing came.”

“I checked daily…” She looked like she hadn’t forgiven herself even now. “But without knowing when they’d register… I couldn’t keep checking. You know how it is, right? With babies at that age, even Sensemitters can’t sense them.”

“Aunty…” Kazuma leaned forward, brows pulled together. “What if all the Sensemitters searched together?”

Miko blinked. “Then… yes. Maybe there’s a chance.” She nodded slowly. “But for that… they’d have to check manually. Every single new entry. Every day. And I… I can’t tell the Head just based on a guess.”

“Damn it.” Her fists clenched in her lap, jaw tight with regret. “Why didn’t I say it earlier?”

“The baby… she was in their home…” Her hands gripped her clothes without realizing. “If I’d said even one word… just one! Maybe none of this would’ve happened…”

Her words broke off. Miko looked away, but her shoulders were already shaking.

The silence was heavy. Everyone felt it.

Kazuma tapped his chin slowly. Then he turned to Yui-san and Airi, voice soft. “You both should go now. From here on, it’s not your part to listen.”

Yui frowned. “Hey… still, I—”

Kazuma gave a small, kind smile. “He said you, right?” He nodded toward Ren.

“Mira-san, you too,” Kazuma turned to her, his voice firm yet understanding. “It’s not your fault. The baby didn’t cry… that’s why you didn’t recognize her. Please… don’t cry.”

“But one thing…” Airi blinked, her voice soft as hesitation curled in her chest. “I still don’t get…”

She turned to Rina, her voice barely above a whisper. “Why did Yuna come as… Reha, Rina Aunty?”

“You don’t need to know that…” Rina lowered her eyes. “Just know that tomorrow… she’ll play normally.”

“Yui, take Mira-san.” Ren opened the portal with his katana silently, his face unreadable.

“Come on…” Yui gently took Mira’s arm as they stepped into the portal. Airi hesitated, casting one last confused glance back. “We’ll wait outside.”

The portal closed behind them with a soft swish.

Silence.

“Now… Rina-san.” Kazuma crossed his arms, but there was no pride in it. “Please… tell us your version.”

“That day… I was on my way back to the capital.” Rina stepped forward slowly, exhaling like her lungs were unsure. “It was the back road… behind the hospital.”

“My locket fell from my bag and rolled toward the fence.” She stared at the floor. Her voice sounded far away, like her mind was still stuck back there. “It’s very precious to me… so I climbed over it to get it.”

Her hand trembled as she gestured, remembering the moment. “That’s when… I saw a basket.”

She glanced at Diya, who was crying without a sound, her face hidden beneath her hair. “I noticed a hand… a tiny one, peeking from under the cloth.”

“I gently lifted the cloth. And she was there… silent. Alone.”

“I looked around… no one.” Her voice softened as her eyes met Kazuma. “Even the hospital’s back door was shut. I… I really thought someone abandoned her.”

“I stared at her. So tiny. So quiet. I took the baby.” Her hands fidgeted with her sleeve, like she was afraid she’d drop the baby all over again. “I couldn’t leave her there like that.”

“That same week…” Her eyes flicked toward Diya again, fragile with hesitation. “Diya conceived a baby…”

Her voice cracked. “...Her baby passed away.”

Diya covered her face with both hands, silent tears falling.

She thought to herself, ‘You don’t have to say everything, Yenge. We don’t need to explain.’

She felt the sadness quietly, but said nothing more.

Miko put a hand on her chest, lips parted, stunned. Ren and Kazuma went motionless.

Rina’s expression shifted. “So… we told everyone Yuna was Diya’s daughter.”

“But we didn’t lie to her.” She stepped forward slightly, arms crossed as if hugging her own pain. “We told Yuna the truth… that we found her, raised her. But we never… never hid the love.”

Kazuma took a step forward, a hint of frustration in his voice. “Rina-san… didn’t you think to ask at the hospital? Or inform someone? Get a thought of someone searching for her…?”

Rina lowered her head, voice barely a whisper. “T-that’s…”

Diya chimed in sharply, eyes glinting with defiance. “Why are you looking down, yenge? We don’t need to give any explanations. We didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You think… she was abandoned because of her cursed eye?” Kazuma’s voice sliced through the room, low and deadly calm. “Is that what you truly believed?”

Everything went silent.

Rina, Diya, and Miko gasped, air caught in their throats.

Rina stumbled on her words. “H-How do you know that?”

“Wait… what?” Miko blinked rapidly, her gaze darting between them. “She wears a mask… is that why?”

Diya’s voice cracked, louder than before. “How do you know that?!”

Kazuma’s tone turned icy, but steady. “Why are you yelling? She can control it now, right? Then why worry?”

He glanced sideways, voice soft but bitter. “Well that’s a good thing she did.”

“But you, Rina-san…” He turned sharply. “How could you assume they abandoned her for that? She was a newborn, how would anyone even notice such a thing then?”

“I-I wasn’t sure…” Rina’s lips trembled as she spoke, the words falling between regret and defense. “We told Yuna… it was possible too.”

“…But after Diya’s baby died… we thought we could raise her as our own…”

“So what now?!” Diya rose suddenly, her eyes blazing as her fingers grabbed Kazuma’s collar. “She’s my daughter. Ask her if you want… she loves me more!”

SLAP.

Kazuma slapped her cheek, the sound sharp, raw.

Silence.

“What did you just say?” His voice sliced the silence, trembling between fury and hurt. “After hearing all this… you’re still saying that?”

“Do you know how her mother lived without her? Do you even know what’s been happening in this kingdom? And you're just holding my collar, acting like none of that matters?!”

Everyone paused. Even the walls felt heavier.

Kazuma’s fingers hovered mid-air, stiff, unwilling to drop.

Diya’s head turned from the force, her hair falling across her cheek as her hand slowly lifted to touch it.

Silence fell like snow.

“You… you slapped me?! Who do you think you are?”

She turned helplessly toward Rina. “Yenge… did I do anything wrong to her? Didn’t we raise her as our own?”

“Tell mom…” She looked toward Kazuma. “Disqualify this guy somehow!”

“So what?” Kazuma’s voice dropped low like thunder hiding in clouds. “Who cares about that?”

He turned to Ren, who sat still without facing them, quiet. “You wanted to see her, right? To talk to her? Well, look at her now.”

“Look how she turned out…” His fist clenched by his side, knuckles white. “Saying things like this without even once thinking of anyone else.”

Rina stepped back. Miko’s lips parted. Both were speechless.

“Huh? What are you talking about?” Diya blinked, brows knitting tightly. “Why would he want to see me…?”

“Oh…” Her eyes flicked briefly toward the memory, softening just slightly. “Yuna said… he wants to see me.”

Kazuma muttered under his breath, pinching his nose. “This idiot still didn’t understand…”

Miko whispered sharply, “Hey!”

“Senpai… we wanted to say it.” Kazuma didn’t look at Miko. His gaze stayed on Diya, unreadable. “But not like this… Who knew she’d turn out like this…”

Rina blinked, caught the word. ‘They… wanted to say?’

Diya scoffed, stepping back. “Huh? Senpai? Whatever, you must have a screw loose.”

“And I don’t care…” She crossed her arms tightly, voice cracking mid-sentence. “Take her if you want… but she’s still my daughter. Only mine.”

Her tears finally fell freely.

Kazuma gritted his teeth, stepped forward and grabbed her shoulders gently.

“Hey, idiot...

How many more clues do I have to give?

Do you still not understand?”

“We are…” His voice softened, not in weakness, but in truth cracking open. “Kazuma and Ren.”

Her eyes widened.

Miko and Rina paused for a moment, the truth hanging like thunder. ‘He said it! Directly!’

“What?” Diya blinked, her breath catching slightly.

Kazuma’s hands gripped her shoulders, firm and trembling. “Idiot,” he whispered, voice caught between frustration and ache.

Her mind went blank. Her body stiffened. She stood frozen, staring at him. Her heart thudded as if time had folded in on itself. ‘Is it real? A cruel dream?’

Her lips quivered as she lifted a trembling hand to his cheek, brushing the skin.

“You’re not…” she whispered, her eyes shrinking and glassy.

She took a half-step back, then gently pushed him away, her fingers lingering on his chest as if hoping to feel proof he was real.

A single tear escaped. Then another. Trails of silent grief from both eyes. “Why are you telling a lie…?”

Kazuma’s gaze fell to the floor, heavy, regretful. “I’m not lying,” he said, barely audible.

“Are you really… my brother?” Her breathing hitched, the question barely escaping.

She suddenly slapped on his cheeks twice sharply.

Then she grabbed his collar, her hands shaking. “Why didn’t you… why didn’t you come all these years!? What happened to you!?”