*Caius' POV**
The sting of antiseptic barely registered. I had been through worse. Far worse. But the sharp gaze of the man treating me—his steady hands, his composed demeanor—made me uneasy for an entirely different reason.
It wasn't often I met someone who could look at me without fear or disdain. This doctor, however, treated me like I was any other wounded soldier. No awe, no whispers of *fallen hero*, no judgment.
"I expected more damage," the doctor mused, carefully bandaging my side. "You're lucky."
I huffed out a dry chuckle. "Didn't feel lucky when I was dodging his sword."
"You fought well," he admitted, tying off the bandage with precise fingers. "But you hesitated."
I stiffened slightly. "What?"
He met my gaze, his expression unreadable. "Near the end. You had a clean strike, yet you hesitated before delivering the final blow. Why?"
I glanced at Eloise without thinking. She was silent, watching us intently, but there was something different about her. She looked... lost.
I turned back to the doctor. "Does it matter? I won."
"It matters," he said simply. "A warrior who hesitates in battle is a warrior who doubts his path."
I clenched my jaw. *Doubt?* I had spent years clawing my way out of it. And yet—
"I had no reason to kill him," I said finally. "Victory was enough."
The doctor considered my words before nodding. "Mercy is rare in a man of war. Perhaps that's why she trusts you."
I stiffened again. He didn't say Eloise's name, but I knew who he meant.
He continued, "She never took her eyes off you during that duel." He glanced at Eloise briefly before focusing back on my injuries. "She was afraid. But not of you."
I didn't respond.
Because I had already seen it. The way her hands trembled, the way her lips parted in silent prayers while I fought. She wasn't afraid of what I'd become. She was afraid I wouldn't come back.
The doctor finished his work and stepped back. "You should rest. Your body needs time to recover."
"I'll be fine," I muttered, adjusting my position slightly.
His lips curled in mild amusement. "Stubborn. You remind me of someone."
I looked at Eloise again. She hadn't spoken, but her eyes held something I couldn't quite decipher.
The doctor followed my gaze, then let out a thoughtful hum. "Strange," he murmured. "It almost feels like I know her."
Eloise flinched. Just barely. But I caught it.
The air in the room shifted.
I exhaled slowly, my fingers tightening on the fabric of my shirt. There was something here—something I didn't understand.
And for once, Eloise wasn't the one holding all the answers.
———-
Caius' POV**
The room had grown eerily quiet. Eloise still hadn't said a word, her gaze fixed on the doctor as if looking at him too hard might make him disappear.
I wasn't blind—I saw the way her fingers clenched the fabric of her sleeve, how she held her breath every time the doctor spoke. There was something off.
Something *deeply* personal.
I decided to break the silence in the only way I knew how—playfully.
"So," I said, tilting my head toward her, "are you going to introduce me properly, or should I start making wild guesses?"
Eloise blinked and turned to me, startled, like she had forgotten I was even in the room. "What?"
I smirked. "The way you've been staring at him, I was starting to think he was a long-lost lover, but considering the fact that he's old enough to be your father..." I trailed off, raising an eyebrow.
She inhaled sharply, and in that moment, I knew.
I wasn't expecting her to confirm it. It had just been a joke—something to lighten the tension. But the way her face lost its usual color, the way her lips parted in a silent struggle for words...
I had hit something real.
"Wait," I sat up straighter, ignoring the dull ache in my side. "He *is* your father?"
Eloise's mouth opened, then closed. She looked at the doctor again, as if she needed to confirm it herself.
Finally, she whispered, "...Yes."
I stared at her, then at him.
The doctor—her father—showed no outward reaction, his expression calm, unreadable. But there was something in his eyes, something I had missed before. A familiarity. A quiet understanding.
I looked back at Eloise. She looked *shaken.*
Of all the things I expected to hear today, *this* wasn't one of them.
"You wrote him," I murmured, realization settling in. "Just like everything else."
She swallowed hard and gave a small nod.
I exhaled slowly, my mind spinning. This wasn't just a coincidence. This was something deeper.
And from the way Eloise was looking at her father—like she wanted to run to him and collapse into his arms, but also like she was terrified of what that meant—
I knew this was just the beginning.