(A/N: A portion of this chap was missing, so I had to delete this and re-upload it)
...
(3rd Person POV)
"You disappoint me, Reina," the voice echoed like a knife plunging straight into her heart.
Wilhelm stared down at his granddaughter, his face twisted with a mix of rage and hatred. Without hesitation, he slapped her across the face.
Reina stumbled slightly, frozen in disbelief. The sharp sting on her cheek grew into a searing pain that spread across her skin. Her eyes widened. Her voice caught in her throat. She couldn't believe it—her grandfather had struck her. She could hardly breathe as the weight of his fury sank in.
Tears threatened to spill from her eyes, but she held them back, if only for a moment.
"You monster! You dared to steal your own grandmother's blessing! You robbed her of it! You killed her—my Theresia!" Wilhelm's voice trembled with grief and fury. "You filthy demon spawn!"
Each word struck Reina harder than any physical blow. Her knees felt weak, her vision blurred, but she stood silently as her world crumbled.
She turned her head, searching desperately for a single supportive glance—any sign of comfort. But all she saw were cold, accusing stares. Disappointment filled every face around her, as though the entire world had agreed to reject her.
Her lips parted slightly, but no words came. She looked down at the ground, unable to meet anyone's eyes. Her shoulders sagged. Her body trembled. Her gaze had lost its light.
"Never show your face to me again," Wilhelm said with finality in his voice. Without looking back, he turned and walked away, leaving her behind like discarded garbage.
Her legs gave out beneath her. She collapsed to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably. Her cries echoed in the silence, but no one listened. No one cared. Her pain was dismissed. Her pleas were ignored.
She had been accused of stealing Theresia's Blessing during the fight against the White Whale. No trial. No evidence. Just blame.
From that day onward, her bond with her family crumbled beyond repair.
…
"You… you defeated me. So easily." Heinkel's voice trembled in disbelief as he stared up at her, overwhelmed by the ease with which he had been overpowered.
Reina didn't reply immediately. She simply nodded. She had done something she once believed was impossible. She had defeated her father, the man she had always looked up to—despite everything.
She looked at him with wide eyes, silently hoping for recognition, for praise. But instead, his eyes narrowed with fury, and his lips twisted into a hateful snarl.
"You… monster."
Her body froze. For a moment, she thought she had misheard. Her mind refused to accept those words.
She looked at him again, desperately trying to read his expression—searching for a hint of pride, of love. But all she saw was contempt. Pure, bitter hatred.
She took a step back, trembling, her chest tightening with panic.
"W-Why?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. Her heart couldn't take his expression. It was unbearable.
"Why you ask? WHY DO YOU ASK, YOU FILTHY MONSTER?!" he screamed, his voice exploding in the small training hall. The echo of his rage made her flinch. Her eyes filled with tears as they began streaming down her face.
He raised his hand and slapped her across the face.
But this time, it was different.
She didn't move an inch. His hand recoiled from the impact, pain flashing across his face. It was his palm that had been injured, not hers.
"You… You monster!" he growled. "You took what was supposed to be mine! That blessing—it should have come to me! It was my right! Because of you, my mother died! Because of you, my wife is in a coma! Who knows what kind of curse you've brought into our family?!"
Each accusation was a dagger plunged into her heart. Each insult crushed her soul a little more.
"I-I'm sorry... I'm so sorry. Please forgive me... Please..." she begged, her voice shaking, her sobs growing louder. She repeated her plea over and over like a broken prayer, but her words only enraged him further.
He reeked of alcohol, his breath heavy and sour. In his drunken state, his temper had no leash.
He grabbed her by the hair, yanking her down and began striking her again. And again. And again.
His palm started bleeding from the effort, but he didn't stop.
To Reina, the physical pain meant nothing. What truly hurt was the rejection. The betrayal. The hatred in his eyes.
He held up his trembling hand, blood dripping from it, and shoved it in her face.
"See this? See what you did?! You hurt me! You're nothing but a freak of nature! A monster! I regret that you're my daughter!"
He spat on her. His saliva stung her skin and filled her nose with the sharp stench of alcohol.
And then, just like that, he stormed away, leaving her sprawled on the floor in silence. Her body trembled. Her face stung—not from pain, but from humiliation. His words rang in her ears over and over, a chorus of condemnation.
That night, Reina Van Astrea lost the last piece of her family that she had been clinging to.
…
Years went by.
But the distance between her and her family only grew. The once-vibrant connection that tied her to the Astrea bloodline had withered completely. Wilhelm's scorn and Heinkel's hatred poisoned everyone else's perception of her.
They whispered that Theresia had died because of her.
They whispered that Lounna had fallen into a cursed sleep because of her.
The rumors spread like wildfire. And no one tried to stop them.
The maids in the mansion began speaking behind her back, muttering insults under their breath, snickering when they thought she couldn't hear them.
But she always could.
Thanks to the many Blessings she had been granted, she knew everything they said. Every cruel comment. Every quiet insult. Every jealous sneer.
And it tore her apart.
'Please... Someone... save me,' she often thought. 'I'm just a girl... just a girl... why must I carry all this?'
She bore burdens far too heavy for someone her age. The responsibilities dumped on her were never hers to begin with.
But despite the pain, despite the isolation, she kept moving forward.
In time, she became the strongest Sword Saint in the Astrea family's long history. A child favored by the world itself. Od Laguna, the very will of the planet, had granted her countless Divine Protections.
And yet, all of it felt hollow.
She had achieved what no one else could. But it didn't matter.
Because in the end... she was still alone.
She was a Sword Saint, yes.
But the girl named Reina Van Astrea had died long ago.
Her eyes always held a calm politeness, her posture carried grace, and her speech was perfect.
But it was all a carefully crafted mask—one designed to hide the broken, grieving soul beneath it.
She didn't have any friends. In the original timeline, due to Reinhardt being male and having a different personality shaped by a specific Divine Protection, he had managed to retain his charm and social skill. Because of that, he was able to connect with Felix and Julius, earning their respect and even friendship.
But Reina was a woman. And in a society like theirs, where knightly bonds were still built heavily around camaraderie and shared values shaped by gender and tradition, Felix and Julius—being male—never took the initiative to approach her. They didn't intend to be cruel or dismissive, but they never made the effort either. She remained distant in their eyes, not for who she was, but for what she represented.
Eventually, even they labeled her a monster.
Not out of malice, perhaps. But it still hurt.
Reina possessed a Divine Protection that granted her healing capabilities far surpassing those of Felix Argyle. Her combat prowess dwarfed Julius' in one-on-one matches. She overwhelmed them both. Her skills weren't just good—they were terrifying.
And so, the distance between them was never bridged.
Over time, that gap solidified into a wall. One Reina couldn't climb.
Thus, she became the sad girl known as Reina—the one who was respected, but never truly seen. People admired her, yes, but only because she was the Sword Saint. Not because of the person she was. Not because they cared.
No one loved her for the girl beneath the title.
She was acknowledged solely for being the Kingdom's strongest knight, the blade that acted on behalf of others—whether those actions were noble or cruel.
…
Today, she was on patrol. It was supposed to be her off-day, but she had volunteered nonetheless. She always did.
People didn't love her. They loved the Sword Saint. The image. The symbol. The Divine Protection.
The girl named Reina Van Astrea—she was largely unknown. And to the few who thought they knew her, she was despised.
No one loved Reina.
But despite the pain, the loneliness, and the weight of that realization, she pressed forward. Because if nothing else, she wanted to ensure that her grandmother's legacy—Theresia Van Astrea's—would never be tainted.
So she trained. She worked. She served.
She tried to be the perfect knight.
And that's why she was on patrol, even now.
Her expression was stoic, composed to perfection. She walked the capital's streets with silent grace. No one dared approach her. Conversations died in her presence. Why would they speak to her?
They feared her. Admired her from afar—but only as the Sword Saint.
Every day is the same, she thought, her eyes scanning the dull streets with mechanical precision. Her mind was already drifting when she noticed something—someone—lying on the stone road ahead.
A boy. He had black hair and tattered clothing. In his hand, he held a pouch—glowing faintly with the radiance of Holy Coins. He muttered to himself, seemingly unaware of his surroundings.
"…dying… again… gotta get stronger…"
'Hm?', Her gaze narrowed. 'Is he in trouble?'
Without hesitation, she approached him.
"Excuse me, sir. Are you in trouble?" she asked, stopping just a step away.
The boy jolted slightly and turned toward her. His eyes met hers briefly—then widened—and a light blush formed on his cheeks before he awkwardly looked away, coughing.
'Did he just blush?', she thought, a faint flicker of something unfamiliar sparking in her eyes.
"Sorry, miss. I was just lost in my thoughts," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. Then his gaze returned to her, searching her face. "And you are…?"
"Reina. My name is Reina, and I am a knight," she replied calmly. From his unusual accent and features, she could tell he wasn't a native of Lugunica. So she kept her introduction simple.
"Oh. So, Miss Reina—how may I help you?" he asked, cheeks still a bit pink.
"I found you muttering about dying… If you're in any kind of trouble, I would like to assist you. As a knight, it's my duty to help those in need."
As she spoke, one of her Divine Protections activated instinctively, sensing his mental state. She suppressed the magic quickly, not wanting to alarm him.
"Help? Me?" he repeated, looking conflicted. His eyes scanned hers for a moment, as if weighing her sincerity. Then he sighed.
"I won't lie… I do need help," he said, nodding slowly. Her heart lifted slightly, prepared to offer her assistance.
"But… I refuse your help," he added, catching her off guard.
Her eyes narrowed, puzzled. "Why?"
It was rare—no, almost unheard of—for someone to reject her help. Her rank, her abilities, her status—people either begged for her assistance or accepted it without hesitation. But this boy had refused. So casually.
"I mean… how could I ask a girl like you to get involved in something dangerous?" he said with a weak laugh. "Right now, I'm at peace. But if I drag you into my problems, I won't be able to forgive myself. I can't risk putting a cute girl like you in danger."
He froze the moment the words left his mouth, face turning crimson.
She blinked, genuinely stunned.
'Did… did he just call me cute?'
He didn't know her. He didn't realize she was the Sword Saint. He didn't know about her Divine Protections, or the accusations, or the fear that followed her name.
'He didn't call me a monster…'
Something warm bloomed in her chest, just for a moment.
But it was quickly doused by reality.
'Of course he doesn't know who I am… If he did, he would fear me like the rest. He'd call me a monster too…'
Still, she found herself wanting to speak with him a little longer.
"What is your name?" she asked, her tone softer now. Her eyes, despite the calm exterior, gleamed with quiet curiosity.
"I… I can't give you my real name. I apologize—really, I do," he said quickly, scratching his head.
Her heart sank slightly. But then he added, "But you can call me Zero."
Reina nodded slowly. "Zero… So, Sir Zero—"
She froze mid-sentence.
She felt a hand on her head. A warmth, light and unfamiliar. Her eyes widened slightly.
He was patting her.
She looked up at him. He looked just as surprised as she was, his hand still awkwardly resting atop her hair.
'What is this…? Why does my heart feel like it's racing?'
His hand began to move away, but she instinctively grabbed it—then quickly let go as she realized what she had done.
"I-I apologize. I don't know what came over me," he said, clearly flustered.
"Why?" she asked, her voice suddenly cold. "Why did you do that?"
He stiffened. Is she angry? he wondered. He half-expected her to strike him down right then and there.
But instead of a lie, he gave her the truth.
"Well… you're really cute. And I could tell you were sad. So… I just did it," he said, bracing for her reaction, half-prepared to die and regress again.
"I… I'm cute?" Reina repeated, her voice quiet, her eyes wide and unsure.
'He really didn't call me a monster…' A strange, fragile joy stirred inside her.
But it didn't last.
'He doesn't know… If he knew who I was—what I've done—what people say about me… he'd never look at me like that. He'd be scared. He'd hate me.'
She was the Sword Saint. The girl accused of stealing her grandmother's Blessing. The one blamed for Theresia's death. The one whispered about behind closed doors.
Of course he didn't know.
"Anyway," Subaru said, scratching his cheek, "I should get going. Thank you for offering to help, Miss Reina… But this is something I have to face on my own."
And just like that, he turned and began walking away.
Reina watched him go, her lips parted slightly, unsure of what she was feeling.
Zero…
For the first time in years, someone had touched her head without fear. Without obligation. Without disgust.
To be continued..