Suddenly, Count Turun, claiming to be my father, pulled me into a hug.

As the party involved, I couldn’t quite grasp how to react to this absurd situation.

‘Father? No… What kind of nonsense is this all of a sudden?’

The first thought that came to mind was whether this man was just messing with me.

But it made no sense for him, of all people, to address me as his son while I was a captured spy waiting for punishment; there was really no merit in such a twisted game unless he was truly some kind of special pervert.

‘If that’s the case… then what he’s saying now must be true…’

In the original story, Count Turun had no son.

He had been mentioned a few times but was practically stated to be dead, with only tales of his daughters, who were mages, brought up.

He had always been worried about having an heir to continue his lineage.

And of course, the connection between Santana, who was just background noise, and the supporting character Count Turun was never shown in the work.

Just one thing.

Excluding their last names…

‘Wait a minute… both Turun and I share the last name Andreas, right?’

Honestly, until now, I had been led to believe that Andreas was merely the name of a fallen noble family…

To be exact, a once-decent noble family that had collapsed near Milano.

But I never imagined that this would refer to the House Andreas in Bohemia, not Milano.

“I’ve searched high and low for you over the past 11 years, but to no avail! Yet God has not been indifferent! At such a pivotal time… here you stand before me again…”

Count Turun, tears streaming down his face as he held me, seemed earnest.

From the way he spoke, it appeared that this was not just some prank or a plot.

In the original tale, Santana turned out to be Count Turun’s long-lost son.

‘Shit… No way… Is this real? Is Santana really Count Turun’s son? But why the hell was he crawling all the way to Milano to be a paladin for 11 years?’

Count Turun was a key figure in the Heretic Forces.

If he had a child, it would make sense for them to be involved in the Heretic Forces.

Yet, the Santana I knew was just a paladin in Milano, nothing more and nothing less, and had shown a decidedly negative attitude toward heretics based on his past actions.

Of course, after I replaced him, Santana had become a loose character who didn’t care much about heretics.

Regardless of the actual truth, I had to make a choice as the character Santana.

‘Even if Santana was really Count Turun’s son, that’s their concern… I have to make a cold, hard judgment on the situation. Should I accept this fact, or deny it?’

11 years is more than enough time for so much to change.

In terms of age, it’s like having run away during my early to mid-teens only to return as an adult.

There were bound to be significant changes in appearance, demeanor, and even memories.

Still, the way Count Turun recognized me as his son, just because our names matched and we bore a resemblance, seemed rather unnatural unless it was merely a paternal instinct.

So, if I denied that I was Turun’s child, there was, surprisingly, a chance it could work.

And most importantly, I needed to get out of here quickly to avoid getting entangled in the upcoming war with the Emperor, which, in the long run, was the correct answer.

However… this was only if my companions and I could safely survive here.

If I were to speak up and claim that I wasn’t Count Turun’s son, and somehow that was accepted, where we’d end up would most likely not be the Dragona Empire but the afterlife.

There was no reason for Count Turun to show any leniency toward a guy pretending to be his son and playing the role of a spy for the Church.

Falling into the afterlife without dreams or hopes was nothing compared to rolling in a dung heap in this world.

Although this would mean I’d be completely shackled to Bohemia, the answer had already been set in stone.

In the end, the only conclusion I could reach here was one.

“…It’s been a while… Father…”

“Yes… my son. Really… I’m so thankful. To see you return like this, grown and safe… I have no regrets left.”

A reunion between father and son that would never happen in the original story.

Even though the son in question was not the original but had a different mind inside his head, for survival, I had no other choice.

Thus, Count Turun, holding me even tighter, spoke in a voice soaked with emotion.

Hearing that voice of ‘Father,’ I couldn’t help but let out a heavy sigh inside.

Whether it was fortune or misfortune was unclear,

But ultimately, I was lamenting my pathetic fate, finding it impossible to escape this unnecessarily grand hell…

‘…Why is there still no news? Did something happen already…?’

Kaeros, with a worried expression, was just staring at the prison door.

In this moment, her heart was filled only with concern for Santana.

‘It shouldn’t have gone wrong… If anything were to happen to him, I would… I would…’

The anxious feeling that crossed over into a sense of longing was not merely concern for a simple companion.

Since becoming a Paladin, she had been there to witness Santana firsthand,

Especially during the last few months, which had been tumultuous; throughout their journey, Santana had become someone incredibly important to Kaeros, beyond just an ordinary companion or friend.

Someone with a sense of freedom unbound by rules or conventions,

And someone who knew what the most important values were.

Moreover, he had extraordinary abilities, solving problems in ways she never imagined possible.

Watching him, Kaeros naturally began to fall for him,

And now, Santana had become an essential presence in her life, someone she could not do without.

‘Could it really be that this is how it ends?… No… No, it can’t… Not when I haven’t even told him yet…’

With that ominous thought in mind, Kaeros desperately gripped the rosary on her wrist, raising her voice in a fervent prayer.

‘Oh… Heavenly Father… Holy Mother… Great Saint Magdalena, orchestrator of the world… Please hear the prayers of this fragile daughter… Protect the noble one who serves your will… I implore you, safeguard him from the wicked hands of those heretics…’

So, with all her heart, Kaeros prayed with her hands joined together.

Even though there would be no response or indication of one, at least in this moment,

She was able to calm the anxious feelings that had started to rise within her.

“Ha…”

With a heavy sigh, she turned her gaze once more to the prison door.

At that moment, her eyes unexpectedly fell upon Santana’s other ‘woman’ sitting beside her.

A woman who seemed to be in an almost identical situation…

Polena, in contrast, merely wore a calm expression, showing no signs of worry at all.

As if there were no need to be concerned about the current situation, and that everything would be fine with just a little time.

With some questions and a twinge of dissatisfaction about that,

Kaeros asked the red-haired maid before her in a somewhat stiff voice.

“Do you have some special reason to remain calm in a situation like this?”

“Hmm… Not really? Who knows?”

“…This isn’t the time for jokes. What are you going to do if something really happens to Santana?”

“What’s the point? Worrying won’t change anything, will it? Don’t you think?”

“…”

Once again, rendered speechless by Polena’s sharp words, Kaeros found herself at a loss for words.

Watching her, Polena smiled, leaned back against the wall of the prison, and spoke leisurely.

“Right now, just trust the Master. Just like you’ve always done.”

“Hmm…”

Though Polena’s words weren’t particularly comforting, they were very realistic.

Thus, although reluctant to accept, Kaeros decided to trust Santana, at least for now, and wait quietly.

At that moment…

“!”

Suddenly, soldiers approached.

They carefully opened the prison door and, upon seeing the two, said in respectful tones,

“Please follow us.”