Chapter 196: The Truth
Wina stepped out of her room after putting Ava to sleep, carrying little Arion in her arms. Aldwin was still with Della in their room.
What she heard next was, without a doubt, the wildest conversation she’d ever walked into.
"I saw it clearly—the face of a Mistwalker," Ares declared dramatically. "That thing had no mouth, no nose, just eyes."
The young dragon continued, "And I also saw how the Mistfiend commanded the Mistwalkers and Mistwights. The idea to form a staircase from their own bodies—that was its order. It’s not a mindless monster. It can think, like us."
"W-what are you talking about?" Wina asked, shivering at the image of such creatures.
Before fear could take root, Gara quickly explained everything in detail, hoping to keep her calm.
"For hundreds of years," Wina murmured, "no one has ever entered the mist and come back as themself. No one’s ever been able to create a safe space inside it either."
"I know, Mom. I don’t really understand my Talent either," Gara admitted, voice small, unsure how to explain something even he didn’t grasp fully.
Wina placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Your mother and father were strong, Gara. It’s no surprise they had a child with a Talent as remarkable as yours. If they were here—I’m sure they’d be so proud of you."
Gara turned toward the only woman he’d ever called Mom in this world. "What about you, Mom? Are you proud of me?"
"Of course, son. I’m very proud of you." Her gaze softened with warmth. "It’s just a shame I can’t help you study your Talent more deeply. But maybe we can ask someone who understands this kind of power better."
"Who?"
"Captain Tristan," Madha suggested.
Right!
Without wasting time, Gara activated the ring and called his godfather. It took a moment before a familiar voice came through—slightly breathless.
"Gara? What’s wrong? Did something happen to you all?"
"We’re fine, Uncle," Gara quickly reassured him. "I just wanted to ask something. Are you busy?"
"Good. I’m glad you’re safe. No, I’m not busy—I was out in public just now, but I’ve stepped somewhere private. What do you need to ask?"
Gara explained everything they’d discovered about his Dimensional Space—the mist, the monsters, and the road.
"Space-type Bloodlines aren’t common," Tristan replied after a moment. "I’ve never met anyone with a Space Bloodline like yours. But I know someone who might—someone familiar with Space-type Liners."
"Who, Uncle?"
"The Vice Principal of Gyakarta Academy—a vampire named Agus Soren."
"A vampire?" Gara frowned. "You know him? Can I trust him with this secret? My Space Bloodline is also where the triplets are hidden."
"I know he’s a man of integrity. He doesn’t take sides between races. But..."
Everyone fell silent, waiting for him to continue.
"...he’s not easy to meet. Oh—wait! His grandson is enrolling at the academy this year. If you’re accepted through the direct admission route, you’ll likely end up in Class S—alongside him."
"Soren..." Gara recalled the annoying assistant professor who had bragged about a certain Soren during their last visit.
"Yes," Tristan confirmed. "You can ask the grandson to introduce you to Agus Soren."
Gara went quiet. If that young vampire was really as privileged and talented as everyone said, then he was probably also... difficult.
Madha’s expression showed he was thinking the exact same thing.
But then their eyes shifted to Ares. Hopefully, this Soren person was more like Ares than the arrogant Dragon Prince.
"Alright, Uncle. I’ll try to find out more once I enter the academy," Gara replied.
"Oh, right—Gara," Tristan suddenly changed the topic, "this Langga Alterian who gave you that offering... are you close to him?"
The abrupt question drew confused looks from everyone in the room.
"No, Uncle. Why?" Gara asked, though a bad feeling began to crawl up his spine. He could tell Tristan was starting to suspect something.
"It’s nothing, Gara," Tristan said, letting the matter drop.
The conversation returned to the Dimensional Space and the Mist Monsters, as if that strange question about Langga had never been asked.
Yet even that night, Gara couldn’t shake his unease. He was certain Tristan knew something.
And if his godfather already knew, it was only a matter of time before he asked for the truth. Gara spent the evening rehearsing what he could possibly say when that moment came.
Sure enough, later that night, the ring glowed again. Tristan reached out, asking Gara to find a private place to talk.
Inside the lab, Gara’s heart thudded hard against his chest—like a child caught doing something wrong.
"Gara," Tristan began, his tone calm but heavy, "I looked into the devil who supposedly entered Falopo Town last year."
"A-and?" Gara asked, voice small.
"There was no devil."
"Really?" Gara exhaled softly, the relief slipping through his tone.
"There was no confirmed devil," Tristan corrected, "but there was someone suspected of being one."
Gara’s heartbeat quickened again. If Tristan had investigated, then he must already know.
"Just one person, Gara. Only one was suspected. And he stayed at the same inn as you—right across from your room. You really didn’t know?"
This time, Tristan’s voice carried the weight of a father gently asking his child to be honest.
It cut deep and made Gara feel guilty.
Gara wanted to deny it—
Langga Alterian was a bastard in his eyes. No trace of him should ever lead back to the triplets.
If anyone else knew—no matter how much Gara trusted them—it was a risk.
People didn’t always follow what he wanted. Sometimes, even those with good intentions made choices that ruined everything.
Gara couldn’t allow that.
But lying was pointless now. Tristan already knew.
"...You already know everything, don’t you, Uncle?" Gara finally asked, resignation in his voice.
"So it’s true," Tristan said gently, "Langga Alterian... is the biological father of the triplets?"
"Yes," Gara admitted quietly. "But I don’t want him to know about them."
"Gara, listen to me," Tristan said, voice calm but firm.
He went on to explain everything he’d uncovered—
How Langga had been drugged by his fiancée with an aphrodisiac.
How he’d been engaged several times before, yet every one of those engagements failed.
How the Alterian House was struggling to bear an heir.
"As far as I know, Langga’s never been the type to chase women. He’s not like most devils. Maybe it’s because he was raised by Duchess Alterian. Given the state of his House now, the Duchess must gladly accept you and the triplets."
"Uncle, I already have Madha!" Gara’s voice rose, trembling with emotion. "We’re engaged—and I’m pregnant! I can raise the triplets on my own. I don’t need Langga or the Alterians."
...