***
Human Realm
Shang Zhao stood before the portal in a daze, lost in thought. Since Yao Yao vanished, his gaze had not shifted, as if by staring hard enough he might draw her small figure back from the dark.
The arena lay empty but for him and Shang Jun. The guards had withdrawn to the far edges, little more than silhouettes against stone. The King and Rong Xi were gone, their last command to the soldiers simple: wait, and report when the girl returned.
Shang Jun crossed the floor and stopped at his father's side. His eyes lingered on the faint ripple still stirring. If he could have followed her, he would have. But all he could do— all either of them could do—was wait.
"Father," he said quietly. "You should rest. I'll keep watch."
There was no answer. Shang Zhao's eyes stayed locked on the light, his body rooted in place.
"I'm sorry," Shang Jun went on. His voice dropped. "If I'd known—if I'd even suspected she meant to summon, or step through—I never would have insisted she stay here."
"This isn't your fault." The answer came fast, sharp, cutting before guilt could take hold. "It was her choice, Jun."
But guilt didn't fade. Shang Jun's jaw tightened, words slipping through anyway. "But—"
"It's not you. None of us could have known," his father pressed, firm.
Shang Jun fell silent, though his frown deepened. Letting go had never come easy to him—part nature, part upbringing.
"It was me." Shang Zhao's words cut in suddenly.
Shang Jun's head lifted, startled. His father's expression was unreadable, his gaze cast somewhere far away.
"I left her alone after her mother died." The words spilled without restraint—so unlike the careful man he had always been. "I told myself it was protection, that I was keeping her safe in the only way I could. But the years passed, and I realized… I no longer knew her at all. Her laughter, her temper, the way she grew... I wasn't there for any of it."
His voice dimmed, but he kept going. "I only understood when you came to me, Jun. When you told me I was caging her under the name of protection. You were right. I wasn't shielding her from the world. I was shielding myself—from fear, from grief. After Leyna, I didn't know how to be her father anymore."
Shang Jun glanced at the guards stationed along the wall. Too far to hear, but caution tugged at him anyway. He stayed silent, letting the man speak.
His father had always been strict, distant—fulfilling the shape of a father, but never the warmth. And it struck Shang Jun now that the little girl who had torn their lives apart might be the only one able to make this man human again.
But another thought followed, colder. Perhaps they had never been a family in the first place. Only a house bound by duty.
"It's not just Yao Yao, isn't it?" The words left Shang Jun before he could stop them. He met his father's eyes—not with anger, but with the ache he had carried for years, breaking loose at last.
Shang Zhao stilled, confusion flickering faintly across his face.
"What about the rest of us?" Shang Jun pressed. "There are three other children in this family. And yet—" He stopped short, the weight in his voice enough to carry the rest. "You never truly knew us."
Shang Zhao's gaze fell. For a moment, the lines of his face looked deeper, older. He had always known, somewhere inside, that this house had never been whole. He had hidden behind his title, buried himself in work, refusing to face the truth that stood in plain sight.
When he spoke, his voice was low, as if he were almost admitting it to himself. "I… suppose I was not a good father. Nor the husband I should have been. I was raised to uphold the Shang name, to serve the kingdom, to marry, to build a family. That was all I knew."
The words faded into silence. Heavy.
"…I was wrong."
He wasn't asking for forgiveness. Only releasing what had weighed on him too long.
"It was only when I saw Leyna again," he said, softer now. "Standing at the portal, forcing it open again and again, her life draining away each time… I couldn't stay blind. I couldn't pretend anymore. All I wanted was to save her."
His hand clenched, then eased open. "And in that moment, I betrayed everything. The family. The name. My duty. I chose her instead."
The confession lingered in the air.
Shang Jun drew in a slow breath. "You raised me with the same hand, Father."
Shang Zhao turned, their gaze locking.
"It was all I ever knew," Jun said, his voice low but unwavering. "This family… that's how it's always been. Ying Ying grew proud, always striving to be the perfect heir. Min Min was obedient, always looking up to you. For a while I thought maybe she was the only normal one—the only one who just wanted attention from you, like any child should. But she never learned how to love… because you never showed her how."
A humorless laugh slipped out. "As for Ying Ying and me—we grew up treating the absence of love as if it was normal."
Shang Jun's eyes returned to the portal. In his mind, he still saw Yao Yao—the quiet girl shut away in that small house, and the one now, sharp-tongued and reckless, hurling herself into danger. She had changed. His father must have seen it too.
"But Yao Yao…" His voice softened. "She reminded me there could still be love in this family. Maybe that's why she's always been different to me. Even when… I hated her."
At last, he turned back. "I can understand you. But that doesn't mean I can forgive you. Betraying the family was wrong. But saving Leyna—was that wrong too? Loving her—was that wrong? If it was, then what does that make Yao Yao?"
The words caught, breaking uneven. "…Is she a mistake?"
His chest shook with a breath before he pushed on. "How could she be? She was the only one who gave me something… even a little comfort, growing up. And if that was wrong, then what counts as right? Who gets to decide that?" His head shook, voice rough. "In the end, it's just choices. That's all it ever is."
For a long moment, Shang Zhao was silent. Then, as if the words had struck deep, he murmured, "…Yes. Nothing more than choices... and the consequences we live with."
His hand lifted, hesitating in midair before settling on his son's head.
Shang Jun stiffened. His eyes widened, composure slipping at the touch. Real warmth—something he had never known from this man—startled him more than any reprimand ever had.
"You've grown well, Jun," Shang Zhao said. His tone was quiet, but it carried the weight of a vow. "I hope I can always be here to make the choices for you, to keep you and the family safe. But if the day comes when I cannot…" His hand pressed gently. "…you will do just fine."
For the first time, the words came not as duty, not as command, but as a father's truth.
***