Nicolas remained in the restaurant, bewildered, too catatonic to say a word. He watched Ethan—the boy who thought himself the strongest, with an arrogant face and no concern for hurting others to avoid being questioned—still sitting at the bar, unmoving, though Nicolas knew he was crying.

The girls, not being close enough, hadn’t heard any of that conversation. They kept talking about trivial things—shopping, makeup, upcoming events.

—“Nicolas, what do you think about going to the festivals as couples? You also have to help us; we’re in charge of the preparations for the school anniversary. All the founding families will be there. I think it’s the only day they didn’t hate each other. What do you think, Nico?” Ivana asked.

But Nicolas didn’t respond. He kept staring in shock at the boy who had once attacked him when he first arrived at school, now crying. Ivana noticed Nicolas was looking elsewhere, and Andrea and Rachel followed his gaze instinctively, stumbling upon the scene of the woman crying.

—“She always comes here. We’re used to seeing her cry. It’s so unpleasant when it’s all her fault. Don’t get distracted by that, Nico,” Rebeka said, her mocking, cruel tone revealing her true personality.

Nicolas was stunned by that declaration. He had always thought Rebeka was superficial, but he hadn’t realized how little she cared about someone else’s suffering. He looked at Ivana and Andrea; both nodded with the same tone in their voices. He couldn’t believe how little compassion they had, and worse, they spoke so loudly that he knew the woman could hear them—and so could the boy at the bar.

So much so that Ethan stood up, his gaze murderous, directed at the girls. He was approaching their table. Nicolas knew that, given Ethan’s nature, he wouldn’t care if they were women—he would hit them, or at least insult them. But Nicolas, with his hero complex, couldn’t allow it, even though Ethan had every right.

Nicolas rose from his seat, placing himself between Ethan and the girls, who continued with their cruel words, thinking there would be no consequences. But then, unexpectedly, Margaret herself stood up aggressively. Her chair screeched against the wooden floor, drawing everyone’s attention.

She walked to her son, placed a hand on his shoulder, stopped him, pulled out a handkerchief, and wiped his tears with the unique tenderness only a mother could have. Then she turned to the girls who had mocked her.

She smiled with scorn, her voice loud and firm:

—“Ladies, perhaps you should be more careful about whom you speak of. You don’t know who you might be about to offend. Nico, darling, maybe you should clean up your personal space—it’s full of trash. Ethan, baby, let’s go. We have many things to do today.”

Margaret headed for the exit, waiting for Ethan to pay for his drink.

—“Mom, what will you do?” Ethan asked.

Margaret looked back at him with a genuine smile—a smile some hadn’t seen since she was a teenager, and others had never seen at all.

—“I’m going to follow the advice I gave Nicolas, sweetheart. I’m going to clean up our trash.”

Ethan followed her, knowing that day she would return to her business and remain single.

Meanwhile, at the Lindverg house, Kaius had no idea that what began as an act—restoring dignity to a suffering woman—would become the start of a chain of events and a genuine friendship.

He rose from the couch and went directly to what had once been his room when he was human. Entering, it was just as he remembered: wooden floors, a large bed, a study space, and a private bathroom—though smaller than the mansion’s. In his defense, his room had a coffee table and a modern, magical fireplace, so he wouldn’t complain.

He heard the front door open. He knew it was his brother and his friends. He wiped his mouth and descended quickly, unseen, stopping halfway down the stairs. He walked toward the living room when they called his name.

—“Kaius, come sit with us,” Ivana said with a smile that disgusted him.

Kaius ignored her and continued toward the bar in the adjoining room. He wanted to show how much he disliked their drama. He would start by taking revenge on Rebeka—doing to her what she and her friends did to boys. He would play with them. It would be fun.

—“Girls, would you like something to drink? We have whiskey, rum, or beer.”

Ivana pointed out the obvious.

—“Kaius, we’re seventeen. Why don’t you offer us water or soda? One for me and some for my friends.”

They all laughed.

Kaius stiffened. That tone was her true personality. But in front of his brother, her mask hadn’t fallen. He looked at Nicolas, who was lost in thought, his gaze distant like when they were children. Ivana was clearly upset, though Kaius didn’t know why. He wouldn’t let those spoiled girls boss him around in his own house. He had to be smart, though.

The witch also smiled and said:

—“We don’t have soda, but I’ll bring you water.”

Kaius went to the kitchen, fetched two pitchers of water, cooled them with magic, and cast an expansion spell so there would be more water than appeared. He carried them back quietly, unnoticed as the girls babbled about something that had happened at the bar.

He imagined himself pouring the cold water over their heads, soaking them completely. He pictured their screams, Nicolas’s shock, and his own satisfaction.

But it was only imagination.

In reality, he stopped halfway. Nicolas pulled him from his thoughts. Kaius approached, set the pitchers on the table, and forced himself to stay calm. He had a plan. He wouldn’t get involved with Nicolas. He would remain quiet while his brother watched. But secretly, he would make the girls’ lives miserable—intelligently.

—“Kaius, are you alright?” Nicolas asked, concerned.

Kaius walked away without answering, left through the front door, got into his car, and drove off. It was past three in the afternoon. He wandered through town, trying to clear his mind of that sweet fantasy. If he didn’t, it might become more than imagination—especially with his magic.

He saw two men stranded with a broken-down car. He decided to help, to distract himself. He stopped behind them, got out, and approached. They were twins, blond-haired, tall, laughing together, joking about how their car had failed. They seemed very young.

—“Hello, are you alright? Need help?” Kaius asked, inspecting the car. It was overheated, smoke rising from the hood.

—“Thank you so much, yes please,” one replied.

Kaius opened the hood, checked the damage. It wasn’t safe to restart it, even with water. He told them so and offered to call a tow truck. They chatted for a few minutes. He realized they were adults, but carefree and funny. He laughed with them while waiting.

The tow truck arrived, took the car to the nearest shop. Kaius offered to drive them to their destination. They gave him an address—an old, large house he knew well. The Graywood house. Margaret’s maiden name. So they were related to her.

He parked, helped them unload their luggage (Kaius, the bellboy, ha). They knocked. Margaret and Ethan opened the door. The twins rushed in, hugging them with joy.

—“Sister, we missed you so much!”

—“Easy, nephew, there are hugs for you too!”

Kaius froze. He didn’t know these men. They had never been mentioned. But maybe it was good—for Margaret and Ethan. Two more people to stand between her and her husband’s horrible fights.

Kaius tried to leave quietly, but one of the twins grabbed his hand.

—“Thanks for bringing us, kid. I’m Marcos Graywood, the eldest,” he said with a huge laugh, the kind that makes you think the world is full of joy.

—“And I’m Michael Graywood. You can call me Micha,” said the other, with the same smile but a softer voice, the only difference if you listened closely.

—“Nice to meet you. I’m Kaius Lindverg. It was nothing, anyone would have done it. I should go—it’s a family reunion.”

Margaret spoke then.

—“Don’t be silly, Kaius. Come in, make yourself comfortable.”

Kaius smiled, thanked her, and accepted. After all, he had nothing else to do but wait for Rouge’s report.

Inside, the mansion was enormous, old but well-kept and modernized. The central spiral staircase was beautiful, the antique furniture carefully preserved. They led him to the library, where they were eating snacks. The twins guided him to a long sofa, each sitting at one end. Margaret was smiling too much—no trace of the sad, oppressed woman. Kaius thought maybe he had gone too far with the spell.

Ethan spoke with him, the twins told iconic jokes, and Kaius laughed with them. He asked permission to readthe books in that place. Margaret said yes, that was what they were for. He began searching for something to read: poetry, history, fantasy from the past century. Everything seemed normal until something caught his attention.

It was a thin leather-bound book. He picked it up and smelled it—something familiar. That leather he could never forget. But it couldn’t be. That diary was supposed to be hidden in the country house.

It had a strap that kept it closed. When he opened it, he saw the handwriting of the man he called father. On the first page it read: Property of Elias Lindverg.

He stared at it for a few seconds, then turned toward Margaret.

—“Mrs. Margaret, where did you get this diary?”

He flipped through it, hoping it wasn’t the diary he thought it was. But it was. The story was far more different than he had believed.

Margaret replied simply:

—“It belonged to my ancestor. Why, dear?”

She spoke with simplicity, watching the boy’s distressed face.

Kaius continued to leaf through the diary until he reached the part that confirmed his suspicion. His father had written it. And this diary was the key to opening the hidden crypt where the stone and the tomb of the woman he loved were kept.

There were poems, drawings, even letters he had never been able to send. And worst of all, his father’s true feelings toward his children.

Kaius had to invent an excuse.

—“Because, madam, this is one of the lost Lindverg diaries. The diary of our ancestor, Elias Lindverg.”