The package contains Gavrill’s uniform: a three-piece navy suit with a golden tie and a pair of black oxfords, and a durable coat designed for urban environments. The suit feels too expensive to bend his arms in. He tries wearing it without creasing the fabric. It takes a long time — long enough for his two children to knock on his door: Hrodwyn who stared in confusion, and Hygd who brimmed in awe.

By then, Gavrill still had not worn the entire uniform — he had forgotten how to tie a tie. He could count the number of times he has done it in his life on his hands, with all but one count being for court hearings. So Hygd gets to work. She pulls her father out into the living room and opens a YouTube tutorial. Time passes. Hrodwyn’s and Hygd’s fussing grows louder without them coming any closer to their goal. Their commotion annoys Merethel enough for him to bring out his own tie for a snarky demonstration. Soon, all three siblings end up circling their father for final touches: fitting the golden tie, tightening the vest, and smoothening the suit as Gavrill stands stiff like a Christmas tree.

When they’ve finished, Hygd steps back to look at her father like a panel judge. She watches Hrodwyn attach the final piece: Helvetia’s lapel pin bearing a cross in a shield. Hrodwyn steps back to join their sister. Gavrill remains frozen in place.

“I feel so embarrassed.”

“Why?” Hygd grins. “You look cool!”

“Do I?” he looks at his other two children with an uncertain but small smile. My daughter called me cool.

“You look… expensive. Very expensive,” Hrodwyn gazes at the suit’s double vents, the trousers cut to the curve of Gavrill’s legs, and the hand-stitched buttons. “How much did this cost, daa?”

“More than the suit I rented for my own wedding, that’s for sure,” he grumbles. In a clearer tone, “I don’t know. The company covered it. But what looks wrong?”

“You don’t look comfortable in it. It shows.”

“When was the last time you combed your hair?” Merethel adds. “Or got a haircut?”

Gavrill grimaces. “I didn’t need to touch a comb or cut my hair back there. I only trimmed it now and then. Is it that bad?”

Merethel is quick. “Yes.”

Hygd punches his arm.

“It’s not that bad,” Hrodwyn taps their chin, “but if you did something to your hair, you can look more professional.”

“Oh! Wait, daa, sit, sit,” Hygd drags her father to the couch and forces him to sit. She crawls behind him, kneels, and gently combs through his lightly greying hair with her fingers. A spare yellow hair tie comes off her wrist. She bunches his hair together. “Too tight?”

He shakes his head. “What are you doing?”

“Tying a bun,” she does so expertly with a quick twist, then jumps off the couch to look at him. She grins at the team effort. “Daa! You look like a thousand bucks! Here, here.”

She grabs her father’s hand, which squeezes hers in return, and leads him into the siblings’ bedroom. Hrodwyn and Merethel follow behind. She turns on the lights and pulls him in front of the chipped mirror mounted on the wardrobe door. “What do you think, daa?”

Gavrill stares at his reflection. His smile dissolves. He doesn’t recognise himself. He only recognises Agent Hrothgar, Helvetia’s newly hired murderer, wrapped in a gallant lie of navy blue as he stands in the bedroom of children.

Hygd smiles brightly. “So..?”

Hrodwyn notices his stare. “What’s wrong, daa?”

If he doesn’t recognise himself, will his children recognise him? After a job that hails bullets and shrapnels at his body and his mind, after he returns too splintered to shield them from the truth, will they recognise him as their father? He can try to convince them. He can try to be the best father he can be to erase the decade when he wasn’t. He can try to pretend that he’ll never leave them again, that he’ll always be there for them, that he’ll cut himself wrapping his splinters to hold them tight and never let them shatter into pieces again—

Gavrill looks away from his reflection. His eyes drift to his children.

“You need to know about my job. Can we talk?”

Gavrill sits on Merethel’s bed, next to Hrodwyn’s and Hygd’s bunk bed. He pats his side. The siblings, surprised by his directness, move to sit next to him.

He twiddles his thumbs. “This job I have, it’s... dangerous. The company is even more dangerous. They have a lot of power, a lot of money,” he tugs at his three-piece suit. “They were able to pay my bail and hire me out of, well, you know, in exchange for my… skills. And I—” he hesitates, “I can’t leave unless…”

“You die,” Hrodwyn states.

Gavrill pauses, then nods. Their delivery stings.

The room falls silent. Hygd curls into a ball. Merethel tries masking his nerves.

“Ah, well, it’s like, uh, working for the military then, right? There’s always a high chance of death, and it’s a risk some people with families take.”

Gavrill’s voice is soft, defeated. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. It’s… whatever,” Merethel looks away. “It’s not like you’ve never been gone before.”

Gavrill winces and opens his mouth. Hrodwyn interrupts him. “Don’t apologise. You had no choice and you did what you had to do. They were never going to reopen your case. There will never be another option for you besides this one.”

Gavrill hates how he sees himself in his child’s placid eyes.

“What should we know about the job?” Hrodwyn continues. “What do we have to do?”

“I’ll be here until the company calls me. Whatever they tell me to do, no matter how dangerous, I must follow. The company also has enemies. Keep the blinds closed, don’t let strangers in, never enter the house when someone’s watching, and always tell each other where you are, hmm?” he raises his phone. “If something’s wrong, call me or Auntie. Don’t let anyone in the house. You still have Auntie’s phone number, yes?”

The children nod.

“Good. And lastly,” he voice softens and he wraps his arms around his children, “don’t worry about me. I will always do my best to come home to you. I may get hurt, but I will always come home. Okay? My fight is to go back home to you, no matter what.”

He pulls them in closer. The cracks between them remain but in this moment, the family is whole.

“I am here now. And I swear by my last dying breath, I will never, ever, let anything take us apart again.”

Hygd picks her head up from her tucked knees. “Promise?”

Gavrill hooks his pinky with all his children’s and smiles. He cuts himself with his words and hopes it never heals.

“I promise.”