Dorothy blinked, her gaze sharpening from its usual dreamy, unfocused state. Sebastian's form of address lingered in the air between them, his words catching her off guard—not in the way one might expect, but in a curious, engaging way. Her uniquely colored eyes, those striking lavender irises with their aqua-blue pupils, locked onto him. What had he just called her? Her gaze, still slightly distant like she was hovering between worlds, narrowed in interest.
Instead of recoiling or reacting defensively, a broad, playful smile spread across her lips. She leaned closer to Sebastian, her posture relaxed, exuding the kind of confidence one only gains through a lifetime of strange encounters.
"You know me, old man?" Dorothy's voice carried an almost mischievous lilt, though her question wasn't really a question. It was more a statement as if she were testing him, pushing the boundary to see how he'd respond.
Sebastian felt a twitch of irritation under his skin at the title. Old man? He wasn't that old. His eyebrows twitched, a reflex he barely managed to suppress. Still, he forced himself to remain calm, a trait he had perfected over the past few days. He nodded stiffly, his face unreadable despite the jab.
Dorothy's curiosity bubbled to the surface, her smile never wavering. "So," she pressed, tilting her head slightly, "how exactly do you know me?"
Before Sebastian could reply, his eyes drifted toward the Grimoire Tower. Children, young and wide-eyed, hurried out of the ancient building. Some of their faces were alight with joy, others marred with disappointment, their tiny hands clutching books of power they were likely too young to fully comprehend. It's about to get busy around here, Sebastian thought, realizing they'd need a quieter spot to talk.
"We should move somewhere more private," he suggested, his voice low but firm, eyes scanning the shifting crowd around them.
Dorothy's eyes glinted with amusement. She didn't seem the least bit uncomfortable with the idea, nodding happily in agreement. Without missing a beat, she jabbed him lightly in the ribs with her elbow and cracked a grin. "Don't try anything, okay? I'm just a kid after all. Besides," her grin widened, "I don't have a thing for old men."
Sebastian stiffened at her crude humor, his exasperation bubbling over. He sighed, long and drawn out, before turning toward her with a cold remark. "I'm a married man, Dorothy. And even if I were looking for something new, I certainly wouldn't settle for a kid."
Dorothy burst into laughter, completely unfazed by his sharp words. "You're pretty funny, old man."
Sebastian rubbed the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath as they started to walk. The path led through the edge of the forest, where the trees created a natural canopy of shade and the air was thick with the earthy smell of damp wood. Dorothy followed a few paces behind, humming softly, the picture of carefree joy.
Sebastian glanced over his shoulder at her, sighing inwardly. Too careless, he thought, shaking his head. "You shouldn't trust strangers so easily," he muttered, his voice barely loud enough for her to hear.
Dorothy only smiled wider, her tune light and airy, as if the concept of danger barely registered to her. The girl exuded a confidence that made Sebastian pause for a moment. Maybe not reckless, he considered, narrowing his eyes in thought. Confident. She's sure that if I did try anything, she could handle it.
As they walked deeper into the forest, Sebastian couldn't help but think of her strange magic. Dream magic was a power few fully understood, and Dorothy, with her drifting manner and otherworldly gaze, seemed perfectly suited for it. It's overpowered, he thought grimly. Strange too. Tabata never really explored her character enough. Even if she's only just gotten her grimoire, I doubt she has Glamour World yet. His eyes narrowed as he mulled over the possibilities. But she probably has a few spells already, ones that could make things… difficult if I tried something.
His thoughts wandered as they trekked along the forest path, leaves rustling overhead in the gentle breeze. Sebastian had a hard time imagining someone becoming a captain with just one overpowered spell. No, she has more than that. She has to. You don't rise to captain without having some tricks up your sleeves.
The forest began to thin out, the trees becoming sparser until they emerged into a rough clearing. Ahead of them, a remote hill stretched up gently, its peak offering a quiet vantage point that overlooked Hage in the distance. The view was peaceful, the faint rustle of the leaves and the distant chirping of birds creating a soothing atmosphere.
Sebastian paused for a moment, taking it all in. The light breeze brushed against his face, and for a second, he allowed himself to enjoy the serenity of the place. Dorothy, for once, remained quiet behind him, though her usual light-hearted energy hadn't faded.
That brief moment of peace was broken when Dorothy, in her usual manner, disrupted the silence.
Dorothy's gaze, though light and whimsical as always, held a hint of determination as she asked once more, her voice a touch more pointed, "What do you know about me?"
Sebastian met her eyes, his own expression unreadable but calm. "I know you're a witch from the Witch's Forest," he began, "one with dream magic, who somehow escaped to the Clover Kingdom."
For a brief moment, Dorothy blinked, her chipper expression faltering just slightly as the weight of his words sank in. But just as quickly, her smile returned, bright and carefree as always. "Oh? So, you do know something," she said lightly, as if it were the most casual revelation in the world. "But you didn't bring me all the way out here just to tell me things I already know. You had something you wanted to ask me, right?"
Sebastian nodded, ready to speak, but before he could utter a word, Dorothy wagged her finger in front of his face, cutting him off mid-breath. Her teasing smile never wavered.
"Before you ask anything, isn't it polite to introduce yourself first?" she said, the playfulness in her tone unmistakable.
Sebastian's mouth clamped shut as he realized she was right. He had been so focused on their conversation, he'd completely bypassed the most basic courtesy. With a soft sigh, he reached up and lowered the hood that had shadowed his features. His silver hair, slicked back neatly, caught the fading sunlight as his face came fully into view.
Dorothy blinked at him, her expression unreadable for a moment. Then, after what felt like an eternity, she simply shrugged and said, "Huh. Nice hair, I guess."
Sebastian felt a moment of awkwardness settle between them. Nice hair? That's all she had to say? He realized quickly that she might not know what silver hair symbolized here in the Clover Kingdom—likely because she had just arrived, and the intricacies of noble appearances hadn't yet made their way into her mind.
Clearing his throat to regain his composure, Sebastian gave a formal nod. "My name is Sebastian Silva," he said, his voice firm but not without a trace of humility. "Patriarch of the royal family House Silva of the Clover Kingdom."
This time, Dorothy's eyes widened in genuine surprise. For the first time, her playful, breezy demeanor cracked, and her childish shock spilled out. "You're royalty?" she blurted, clearly trying to process the information. Awkwardly, she started to move toward him, as if to bow or offer some form of reverence, but Sebastian quickly raised a hand, stopping her mid-action.
"Please," he said, his voice carrying a note of self-deprecation. "No need for that." His lips curled into a soft chuckle, though the sound lacked any real joy. "I'm from a far-removed branch of the family. I married into the main line, so in truth, I'm royal in name only." He shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. "I probably don't carry a single drop of royal blood in my veins."
Dorothy paused, watching him, and for once, her usual teasing smile seemed absent. She opened her mouth, but Sebastian wasn't done.
"My mana reserves," he added, almost mockingly, "are about as impressive as an average noble's. I'm considered the shame of House Silva, probably its weakest patriarch in history."
Dorothy blinked, clearly unsure how to react. Her lavender irises darted from side to side as if searching for the right response. Then, in an uncharacteristically awkward motion, she cleared her throat and stepped forward. She patted his shoulder in an attempt at consolation, though she had to stand on her tiptoes to reach him properly.
Sebastian stared down at her, feeling a strange mix of emotions as he watched this little girl, barely reaching his chest, attempting to comfort him in their first meeting. Her small hand awkwardly patted his shoulder, as if she wasn't entirely sure how to offer sympathy. The whole scene felt absurd. Yet, somehow, the absurdity made it endearing.
He let out a soft, dry chuckle. "You're… an odd one, Dorothy," he murmured, shaking his head slightly.
Dorothy grinned up at him, her playful nature resurfacing. "Takes one to know one, old man," she replied cheerfully, dropping back down onto her heels with a satisfied look.
Sebastian sighed. This girl…
The air between them shifted as Sebastian decided to change the course of their conversation. His gaze lingered on Dorothy's carefree expression, and with a measured tone, he spoke. "I'd like to invite you to join the Silver Eagles."
Dorothy blinked at him, her amusement clearly piqued. The thought of her—a free-spirited witch from the forest—joining the ranks of the Clover Kingdom's Magic Knights seemed to catch her off guard. She tilted her head, lavender eyes twinkling mischievously as she asked, "Why would you think I'd want to be a magic knight in the first place?"
Sebastian held her gaze, pausing for a moment before he answered. His voice, usually calculated and reserved, took on a new weight. "Honestly," he began, "I was probably going to lie to you. Manipulate you, even." His admission came easily, but there was a rawness to it, a sincerity that hadn't been present before. "But recently, I've come to admire someone. They've shown me that path—the one I was about to take—wasn't the right one."
Dorothy's smile widened, though there was curiosity behind it. She leaned forward just slightly. "Only a bit more forthright?" she teased, though there was genuine interest in her voice.
Sebastian nodded, his expression growing serious. He locked eyes with her, searching her face as if gauging her reaction before he spoke. "Like your mother, I can see the future. Somewhat."
Dorothy's playful expression faltered. Her smile faded as her brow furrowed, and for the first time, she averted her gaze, looking down at the ground. She muttered, her voice quieter now, "Didn't expect that."
Sebastian observed her reaction, noting the shift in her demeanor. She wasn't pleased—if anything, the revelation had triggered something deeper. He could feel the discomfort radiating from her. So, this is a sore subject, he thought. "You don't seem happy to hear that," he said gently, though his words hung heavily in the air.
Dorothy sighed, her eyes drifting upwards to the open sky. The playful energy she usually exuded seemed to dissipate as she spoke, her voice soft but tinged with something bittersweet. "If you know my mother, and you can see the future… then you should know I'm not exactly fond of soothsayers."
Sebastian nodded, understanding the layers of pain beneath her words. He didn't push her or ask for more than she was willing to give. "I haven't divined the image myself," he said, his voice quieter now, more thoughtful. "But I can imagine the weight of it, and the pain it's caused you."
Dorothy let out a soft sigh, one that seemed far too heavy for someone her age. It was the kind of sigh that spoke of weariness—of carrying burdens that didn't belong to a child. She chuckled then, but the sound was hollow, lacking the carefree lightness that usually accompanied her laughter.
There was a silence between them, not uncomfortable, but reflective, as if both were carefully navigating a conversation that had stumbled into uncharted emotional territory. For a brief moment, Dorothy let her guard down, showing a side of herself that was rarely seen.
Dorothy's voice trembled slightly, though she tried to keep her tone steady as she spoke. "I hate oracles. Prophecies." She took a slow breath before continuing, the weight of her words heavy with resentment. "They're what turned my mother into the vain, hollow person she is today."
Sebastian remained silent, listening closely as Dorothy continued. Her normally bright eyes were shadowed, reflecting a deeper pain than her usual carefree attitude ever hinted at. "The Witch Queen," she began, her voice softening, "used to be different. The elder witches told me stories when I was a child—about how she was loving, protective of all of us. A guardian of the Witch's Forest, full of compassion."
Dorothy paused, blinking against the memories of stories she had long stopped believing in. "But now," she sighed, "she's changed. That ability to pry into the future has hollowed her out. She's not even a person anymore, just… cold-hearted logic, always calculating, always reasoning." Her lips twisted into something that might have been a smile, though it held no joy. "She lost the one thing that makes us human. Her sight blinded her to reality, made her think that everything—every choice, every decision—has to be calculated, weighed by cause and effect."
Her voice lowered, and her words became darker as she spoke of her sister, the one she had never met. "She even locked away one of my little sisters in a birdcage," Dorothy said bitterly, "just so she could awaken some kind of fate magic. So she could become the next queen."
Dorothy let out a hollow laugh, though it was clear there was no humor behind it. "I don't know if I should be jealous that one of my siblings got so much of her undivided attention, or thankful that I didn't catch her eye like that."
She laughed again, but this time it was bitter, almost defeated. "After I awakened my magic, the Witch Queen took an interest in me. Dream magic, after all, is unheard of—even in the Witch Forest, where people have the strangest magic attributes because of the exposure to the grand magic zone." Dorothy's voice became softer, more reflective. "But that interest didn't last long. After some prophecy about that sister, I wasn't her favorite anymore."
Sebastian's brow furrowed as he listened, piecing together the fragments of Dorothy's painful past. "Vanessa Enoteca," he said quietly.
Dorothy nodded grimly, confirming his guess. "Yeah, that's her." Her voice was distant now, like she was speaking more to herself than to him. "Vanessa may have been the only one physically trapped in a cage, but it felt like we were all living a life designed by the Witch Queen. Puppets, all of us, moving to her strings."
She paused, her fists clenching at her sides. "I couldn't stand it anymore. I had to leave. I had to risk everything to escape."
Then, in a sudden burst of frustration, she let out a sharp laugh, running her hand through her hair as she turned to Sebastian. "Do you know what the most frustrating thing is?"
Sebastian's voice was soft, almost tender. "What?" he asked, sensing the emotion behind her question.
A few tears pricked at Dorothy's eyes as she fought to keep her voice steady. "The security golems that guard the Witch Forest—they didn't even react to me. Not when I tried to sneak away. They didn't care that I was leaving." Her voice cracked, and she blinked hard, trying to stop the tears from falling. "That was when I realized… even my choice to escape, even that was orchestrated and foreseen by her. She didn't care if I stayed or left. I wasn't her masterpiece anymore, so what did it matter?"
This time, she couldn't stop the tears. They spilled over, quietly tracing her cheeks as the bitterness and anger she had held in for so long finally surfaced. The pain of knowing her mother's indifference—of realizing that her rebellion, her desperate need to break free, had been just another part of the Witch Queen's design—cut deeper than any wound.
Sebastian sighed softly, his expression somber. Without a word, he reached into his satchel and pulled out a small bundle of napkins. He handed them to her, his gesture gentle, knowing words wouldn't be enough right now.
Dorothy took them quietly, dabbing at her eyes, her earlier bravado gone. She wiped away the tears, but her hands trembled slightly, her emotions still raw and exposed. For once, there were no jokes, no teasing remarks—just a vulnerable girl, trying to hold herself together in the face of a lifetime of pain.
Sebastian watched Dorothy closely as she dabbed at her tears, and inwardly, he couldn't help but lament. This… this was nothing like the Dorothy Unsworth he was familiar with from stories, from the anime. That Dorothy was always joyful, or sleepy—a carefree spirit, radiating a light-hearted innocence. But the girl standing before him now, with trembling hands and red-rimmed eyes, carried a weight that no child should ever have to bear.
She gave him a weak smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "You're here for Glamour World, aren't you?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Sebastian raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by the sudden mention of the spell. He hadn't expected her to bring it up so directly, especially after all she had just shared. He nodded somberly, unsure of where this conversation was headed.
Instead of explaining, Dorothy tilted her head slightly, her expression distant. "Does this have anything to do with She-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named?" she asked.
The moment the words left her lips, Sebastian stiffened. His entire body tensed, his breath hitching for a second. How could she possibly know? He took a step forward, careful to keep his tone gentle. "How… how do you know about that?" he asked, his voice low but tinged with concern. He didn't want to frighten her, not after everything she had just opened up about.
Dorothy gave him a weak, almost resigned smile. "Thanks to my beloved mother," she said, her voice laced with a bitter irony. She didn't need to elaborate for Sebastian to understand—her mother, the Witch Queen, had foreseen it, as she had foreseen everything else in Dorothy's life.
Dorothy's expression darkened as she continued, recounting a prophecy her mother had given her when she first awakened her magic. "She told me that one day I'd be able to visualize a dream into reality," Dorothy explained, her tone detached, as if she were repeating something she had heard a thousand times. "That I'd be able to imagine a world—my own world—where I'd reign supreme."
At first, Dorothy had dismissed it, chalking it up to another one of her mother's cold predictions. But as the years went by, and she found herself growing sleepier by the day, she realized the truth. "I started to doze off all the time," she said softly, "and I'd daydream. In those dreams, I began building that world, piece by piece, bit by bit. I didn't even realize it at first." Her voice faltered, and she let out a shaky breath. "Still… I held onto the hope that maybe this time, just once, she was wrong."
Sebastian's heart ached as he listened to her. The pain in her voice was palpable, the frustration of a child whose entire life had been written for her. Dorothy's shoulders slumped as she reached into her cloak and pulled out her grimoire. She held it awkwardly in her hand, almost like it was something she couldn't bring herself to fully accept. "I never opened it," she confessed, staring at the pink cover. "I was too scared to see what was inside."
She didn't need to open it, though. The moment she touched it, their souls had bonded. Her grimoire had floated in front of her, flipping through its pages on its own until it stopped at one that made her heart sink. "It showed me the world I'd been dreaming about," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Glamour World."
The name itself tasted bitter on her tongue. She looked at Sebastian, her eyes filled with a deep sadness. "She predicted the name perfectly, of course," she added with a hollow laugh, "because that's what she does. She always knows."
Sebastian could feel the weight of her words pressing down on him. He didn't know how to respond—not at first. What could he say to a girl whose entire life had been mapped out, predicted, and orchestrated by someone else? A girl who had been read like a book, her every future achievement already written in stone? He could only imagine how suffocating that must have been for someone so young, someone who should be able to make her own choices, walk her own path.
Gently, Sebastian placed a hand on her shoulder, offering a brief moment of comfort. He hesitated for a second, not wanting to press her further, but he needed to know. "Dorothy," he began softly, "how did you know about the devil?"
Dorothy's gaze dropped to the ground, her eyes still rimmed with tears. Her hands trembled slightly as she answered, her voice barely audible. "Before I left the forest… my mother left me with one final fortune." She swallowed hard, trying to hold herself together. "She said I'd have some… connection to that devil. That someday, someone would come looking for me, asking for my help to oppose She-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named."
As she spoke, her tears began to flow again, but this time, they weren't out of anger or frustration. They were tears of helplessness, of knowing that her fate had been sealed before she even had the chance to decide for herself. Sebastian sighed softly, his heart heavy with sympathy. Without a word, he reached into his satchel and pulled out another napkin.
Dorothy took it, her hand brushing his as she softly dabbed at her eyes. The silence between them was thick with unspoken understanding—a shared sense of sorrow, of helplessness in the face of a future that had already been decided.
Sebastian stood still, his expression indifferent, but inside, a storm of emotions brewed. His calm exterior belied the turmoil within. The Witch Queen foresaw me, he thought, the realization settling like a stone in his gut. It wasn't just her, though. This world was filled with individuals who could peer into the future. The Witch Queen. Dryad. Lucius. Even Julius, to a lesser extent. And then, there was Ryuya Ryudo—literally omniscient.
How had he not realized this sooner? How could I have been so foolish? He cursed himself inwardly, his chest tightening with each thought. All this time, he had moved through the world as if he were some protagonist in a novel—transmigrated into the body of a nobody, destined for greatness. But now, a chilling thought crept into his mind. What if all of these people—these prophets—had already seen his arrival? What if his existence, his journey, wasn't a twist of fate but something long foretold?
His skin prickled with cold sweat. Lucius… The name echoed in his mind. If the Witch Queen had foreseen him, then Lucius, with his grand foresight, must have too. Lucius already knows. The thought sent a wave of cold fear through his body, making his pulse quicken.
But if Lucius knew, then why had he been allowed to undo so much of Vanica's and Megicula's work? Why has he been able to save Acier Silva—a pivotal moment that could alter the course of the future? Unless… unless Acier's existence didn't matter in the grand scheme of Lucius' plans. Maybe she wasn't a key figure, or perhaps her presence didn't really change the timeline in a significant way. Or—Sebastian's stomach twisted at the thought—maybe Lucius truly doesn't know.
Or worse—maybe I'm being led into a trap.
Sebastian's mind raced, his thoughts spiraling deeper and deeper into the unknown. But then, in the midst of his panic, he caught himself. He shook his head slightly, clearing the fog of fear that threatened to overwhelm him. It changes nothing. So what if Lucius knew? It didn't alter his mission. He still needed to save Acier, regardless of who was watching or plotting behind the scenes. He couldn't afford to let these thoughts paralyze him, to make him second-guess every step he took. If he allowed fear to rule him, he would spend his life superstitious and on guard, too afraid to act.
And by the time he gathered the courage to do something, it might already be too late.
No. He had to continue doing what he was doing. Carefully, cautiously, but he couldn't stop. He had to stay the course, just as he always had. After all, the only one who certainly knows of my existence is Ryuya Ryudo, the holder of the Tengentsu. Lucius, for all his foresight, wasn't truly all-seeing. He had already proven that when he failed to account for Asta's existence—an anomaly that had altered the timeline in unexpected ways. Asta's existence had made Noelle, Yuno, Mereoleona, and so many others stronger, and changed their paths. And yet, Lucius hadn't seen it coming.
If Asta's presence was an unknown variable, a flaw, a bug, an error, then maybe—just maybe—Sebastian could be one too. The Witch Queen had foretold someone would seek Dorothy's help, but that didn't mean she had divined his identity. There was still some hope that he remained a shadow in their visions.
A voice suddenly snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts. "Hey, are you alright?" Dorothy asked, her tone concerned, her lavender and aqua eyes focused on him.
Sebastian blinked, shaken from his internal debate. He took a steadying breath, calming the whirlwind of thoughts in his mind. He nodded slowly, trying to ease the tension in his body. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice steadier than he felt. "I'm fine."
Sebastian stood silently for a moment, his eyes steady as he finally spoke, "You're right. I need your help to block that devil's detection... so I can cure and uncurse my wife and son."
Dorothy's gaze softened, and she gave him a small nod. "I see," she replied, her tone thoughtful. But then, with a curious tilt of her head, she added, "But if all you need is my help, you could've just asked for that. Why do you want me to join your squad?"
Sebastian paused, his mouth slightly open, words slow to form as he gathered his thoughts. "Because... your dream magic has the potential to be the strongest," he said, his voice steady. "And you... you're someone destined for great things. I want someone strong like you around, not just for this little battle, but to share in my family's burden."
Dorothy blinked, letting his words sink in. For a moment, her usually lively expression faded into something more contemplative. "You saw that in my future?" she asked quietly, her tone laced with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.
Sebastian nodded. He wasn't lying; he had seen it. He just hadn't seen the whole picture.
Dorothy let out a soft chuckle, though there was a weight behind it. "So, because you came to recruit me yourself... it means in the timeline you saw, I never joined the Silver Eagles, right? That's why you're trying to change fate?"
Sebastian dipped his head slightly, acknowledging her observation. He wasn't about to deny it.
Her eyes narrowed just slightly, her curiosity growing. "What kind of person was I, then? In that timeline?"
Sebastian shifted his weight. "I don't know what squad you initially joined," he admitted, his voice a bit quieter now, "but I do know you worked hard. You climbed the ranks, earned enough merits, and grew stronger until you started your own squad. You became a captain."
A smile touched Dorothy's lips, her eyes twinkling with something warmer, more personal. "And what was the name of that squad?" she asked, her tone light but genuine.
"The Coral Peacocks," Sebastian said without hesitation.
Dorothy smiled wider, clearly pleased with the name. "Sounds fitting," she said with a chuckle. "The color choice does seem like me."
She hesitated for a moment, then asked, "What sort of people were in my squad? Anyone I know?"
Sebastian furrowed his brow, trying to pull those vague memories from the deepest recesses of his mind. "I don't remember everything clearly," he said slowly, "but I do recall your Vice Captain. It was my nephew—Kirsch."
Dorothy chuckled again, this time with a playful glint in her eye. "Kirsch, huh? Seems like we've got some kind of spiritual connection," she joked.
Sebastian shook his head lightly, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite the tension. "No connection," he said with a light sigh. "I have no relation to my sister-in-law or her children, beyond being her sister's husband. My connection to them is through my wife... and nothing more."
Dorothy paused, her gaze lingering on him for a moment longer. Inwardly, she felt an odd sense of relief. He's not trying to manipulate me, she thought, grateful that he wasn't shameless enough to use familial ties to sway her.
Dorothy's expression softened as she stared off into the distance, her voice quiet when she spoke again. "Recently," she began, "I've been feeling more and more concerned about that sister of mine... the one I've never met. I keep thinking that one day, when I'm strong enough, I'll go back to the Witch Forest, bust her out of that cage, grab her hand, and drag her out of that bleak place so she can taste freedom too."
Her words were laced with determination, but as she finished, a sense of vulnerability crept into her tone. She turned her lavender gaze back toward Sebastian, her eyes filled with hope. "Did I succeed in doing that... in the future you saw?"
Sebastian hesitated, shaking his head slowly. "I don't know if you ever did," he replied, his voice tinged with regret. "It's possible that by the time you were strong enough, it was already too late, or maybe... you simply forgot."
A pit of dread formed in Dorothy's stomach, her lips parting slightly as her breath caught. Her hopeful expression crumbled, replaced by a wave of anxiety. She looked up at Sebastian, silently questioning, silently hoping.
Realizing his mistake, Sebastian quickly clarified, "No, no—it wasn't that. I should have explained better. Someone else beat you to it. Vanessa was freed before you could act."
Dorothy exhaled a deep sigh of relief, her body visibly relaxing. "Who?" she asked, a hint of curiosity in her voice.
"A foreigner to the Clover Kingdom, just like you," Sebastian explained. "Though he came from a much farther place. In the future, he'll be a fellow captain and colleague of yours. He'll have his own squad, and Vanessa... she joined it."
A fond smile crept across Dorothy's face, thinking of Vanessa finding her freedom. But then, just as quickly, that smile faded, replaced by a wave of disgust and disappointment directed inward. She had been relieved, but part of her felt she had failed. Why wasn't it me? she thought bitterly. Even after knowing the truth...
Sebastian, picking up on her shift in demeanor, offered some reassurance. "The Dorothy I knew from that timeline... she wasn't exactly you," he said softly. "She was sleepy and chipper, sure, but that was it. She didn't carry the same trauma or emotional weight that you do. Maybe I just didn't see enough of her to realize it... or maybe, you really were different."
Dorothy remained quiet for a moment, absorbing his words. Eventually, she admitted, "That's definitely a possibility."
Sebastian's thoughts wandered for a moment as he looked at the young witch standing before him. This world's version of Dorothy is nothing like the one I remember from Black Clover, he thought, feeling the weight of his realization. These characters—they're real now. They have complex, deeper stories, and many of them carry pain and trauma that the main story never even hinted at. Like Dorothy... I never knew any of this about her.
Dorothy, sensing his introspection, gazed up at him. "I guess we're all more complicated than the surface shows," she said softly, her voice carrying a depth that spoke to both their shared understanding.
Dorothy's smile lingered, but a hint of curiosity laced her expression. "So... how did it all go for me?" she asked, her tone soft but eager for an answer. "How did I end up in that timeline?"
Sebastian glanced at her, thinking over the events he had glimpsed. "The kingdom was threatened many times," he began, his voice measured. "There were battles, wars, and conflicts that pushed everyone to their limits. You, along with the captains and the other Magic Knights, worked together to overcome those threats. But it wasn't just about fighting; it was about the bonds you built along the way."
He paused, recalling one particularly vivid moment. "In the final grand conflict I foresaw, the Witch Queen—your mother—had changed. After being bested by Vanessa, who had mastered the threads of fate, she was no longer the cold, calculating woman you remember. She was... different. She had grown, softened in a way, after realizing Vanessa's strength and what it meant to her."
Dorothy's brow furrowed slightly at the mention of Vanessa. "What happened to her?"
"She was injured—seriously. In that battle, the Witch Queen used her vitality and life force to heal many of the wounded from Vanessa's squad. It was a sacrifice, an act of redemption. When the battle ended, she asked Vanessa to succeed her as the Witch Queen."
Dorothy's entire body stiffened at that, her smile fading slightly. "And did she?"
Sebastian shook his head. "No. You intervened. You stepped forward, saying that you'd had your fun... and that you would be the Witch Queen instead."
Dorothy blinked, a strange expression crossing her face. For a long moment, she was silent, processing the weight of what Sebastian had told her. Then, with a wry smile, she chuckled softly, but there was no real humor in it. "I guess I had more guilt toward Vanessa than I realized," she muttered, her voice low and pensive. "If I was willing to take over the position of the woman I hated most..."
Her smile faded into something more introspective, almost bitter, as she thought out loud. "I can see why I did it. I'm not proud of it, but... it makes sense." She let out a small, resigned laugh. "Even if it wasn't the ideal situation... I guess it was an acceptable outcome."
Sebastian observed her quietly, recognizing the emotional complexity beneath her words. Dorothy wasn't simply disappointed in herself for taking on the role of Witch Queen; she was grappling with the notion of accepting a fate that tied her to the very person she had spent her life resenting.
The realization that, despite her own trauma, she had stepped into a role meant to redeem her mother in some way—it wasn't just a sense of duty. It was an acknowledgment that life is rarely black and white, and sometimes the paths we take, even ones we despise, serve a greater purpose.
Sebastian could see that in her eyes—the quiet understanding that she had made peace with that reality, no matter how complicated it might be.
Dorothy sighed softly, her lavender eyes looking far away, as if she was seeing that future for herself. "I guess... that's what fate is, huh?"
Dorothy's gaze remained fixed on Sebastian, her eyes sharp and full of curiosity. "So, after everything you've said, why should I change my fate?" she asked, her voice steady. "Why should I abandon the path I've already committed to and join the Silver Eagles? It may not be perfect, but it's the life I've chosen."
Sebastian let out a deep sigh, his expression heavy with thought. "Originally," he admitted, "I was going to lie to you. I was going to trick you into believing I could help you escape your fate—convince you that you could choose your own destiny, free from your mother's control."
Dorothy's eyes narrowed slightly. "I sense a 'but' coming," she said, her tone wary.
He nodded. "But now... I think I want to give you something more."
Dorothy raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Go on."
Sebastian sighed again, searching for the right words. "If it were just about wealth, fame, or status—House Silva could provide you with that a hundred times over. We have more money, influence, and connections than you could ever need. But something tells me you didn't risk your life escaping the Witch Forest and crossing a Grand Magic Zone just to sell yourself for something so shallow."
Dorothy gave a small nod, her expression softening as she listened. "You're right," she whispered, urging him to continue.
"What I sense from you," Sebastian continued, his voice growing more intense, "isn't a desire for power or riches. What I feel is a yearning. A yearning for your sister, a longing for a caring mother, for a peaceful home, for love... for warmth. You want real, deep connections—family, friends, allies you can trust, people who will stand by your side. A reason not to lose yourself in your dreams. You don't want to remain the isolated, independent figure you've had to become."
Dorothy's breath hitched, her eyes wide as his words struck a chord deep inside her. She remained silent, her heart racing, waiting for him to finish.
Sebastian thought back to two days earlier, when he had crumpled a pile of marriage offers aimed at his eldest son. They weren't about love—they were bids for status, wealth, and lineage. He had felt disgusted by them then, but now, an idea bloomed in his mind—an idea that made him smile. Something bold, something audacious.
He looked down at Dorothy, his smile widening as he realized what he was about to say. "Dorothy," he asked, his voice low but clear, "do you want to be a princess?"
The reaction was immediate. Dorothy's eyes widened like saucers, her mouth parting in shock. For the first time in their conversation, he could tell he had truly caught her off guard.