"Grandma, it's okay," Sylene said softly. "It's okay now. I can wear my real hair and eyes. I—"
"You must be Grunhilda."
The unfamiliar voice interrupted gently.
"I owe you my thanks for taking him in when he was alone."
Hilda turned, frowning in confusion at the vampire standing behind her.
A vampire...
Then she looked at Sylene.
The boy nodded.
"This is Sir Melchior," Sylene said softly. "He saved me—from the military and… other things."
His fingers curled slightly at his side.
He'd tell her the rest later.
About the political scheme.
About how close he'd come to a death execution.
For now, that truth stayed unsaid.
Hilda listened in silence.
Then something shifted in her expression.
The confusion faded.
Another understanding dawned instead—slow, unmistakable—
Like a daughter bringing a man home for the first time.
Before Sylene could react, gifts began appearing.
One after another.
Box after box.
Brought out from the automobile's trunk by Lila.
Too many.
