What, exactly, did Montef mean to her?
Luciana Oxis Theodore de Montef asked herself that question.
"Montef? A noble house?"
A once-proud aristocrat—who had once knelt humbly before her father, begging for money to repay his debts—had snarled those words when the guards threw him out like trash.
"Heh. It's nothing but a nouveau riche family."
Lucy still remembered it clearly.
Her father hadn't said a word—only gave a contemptuous snort and turned to take her inside.
But she could feel it:
The scorching anger in his palm as he gripped her hand.
The cane in his other hand tightening until it gave a sound like a dying man's wail.
Montef… is it really "nouveau riche"?
The child she'd been asked her father.
And asked herself.
"Montef?"
Her tutor, Ms. Isabella, had hesitated, then smiled with a careful softness.
"Mm… a teacher really shouldn't comment. After all, I'm paid by your father."
"People soften when they take someone's money, and they tame their tongue when they eat someone's food."
"But if I had to say something…"
"It feels like your father is… someone who's mastered jazz, yet is desperately trying to force his way into the ranks of classical pianists."
Lucy remembered the day Isabella said it—only after Lucy had begged, only after she'd worn formal dress and played piano until she collapsed.
The quiet practice room soon filled again with music and Isabella's gentle instruction.
Yet while her fingers played a symphony that could move hearts, her own heart was swaying in a storm.
Montef… an ugly duckling that can transform?
Or a gray swan that never truly belonged?
She didn't ask her teacher.
She only questioned herself again.
"Montef?! Why?! Why?!"
"We're experienced workers!"
"Our families rely on these wages to survive!"
"We have relatives to feed!"
"We didn't do anything wrong—so why are we being fired?!"
She remembered that, too.
After her father acquired a factory, every worker inside—people who had scraped by there—was dismissed.
They gathered together in what they called a "protest," but it felt more like the whimpering howl of stray dogs kicked in the ribs, tearing their wounds open in public just to prove they were bleeding.
Montef was a name drenched in coldness—ruthless, indifferent, ambitious.
The result was exactly what you'd expect:
The workers got nothing.
They could only accept reality.
And her father watched it all in silence, eyes showing… satisfaction.
Deep inside, Lucy felt sympathy.
And sadness.
As she grew older, she felt it more and more:
The name Montef grew louder every day.
Every teacher who instructed her—no matter how smooth-tongued they were—seemed to become a puppet, a mute, if they didn't first say "Montef."
"Miss Montef! You're a genius! No one has ever tamed a fierce horse so quickly!"
"Miss Montef! You're worthy of that great surname! Even the dance masters of old, if resurrected from their graves, would be ashamed beneath your brilliance and crawl back into their coffins!"
"Miss Montef! Another nearly perfect paper! Only that great person—and a tiny few comparable—might surpass you!"
"Miss Montef! …"
"Miss Montef!! …"
"Miss Montef!!! …"
Montef. Montef—Montef!!!
Why?
Why did these people insist on attributing her effort—her sweat, her pain, her tears—to that surname?
As if without it, Lucy wasn't worthy of praise.
Wasn't worthy of admiration.
Montef—to her—wasn't something to be proud of.
It was a shackle.
She was like a prisoner dancing in chains.
And the audience below didn't care about her dance.
They didn't care about the blood and red welts where the shackles ground into her skin.
They were only intoxicated—truly or pretending to be—
Straining their ears for the clink of restraints.
Cheering the sparks from gold-on-gold collisions.
Frowning whenever the bitter sigh in her throat disrupted the rhythm and "beauty" of those chains.
And yet…
Lucy didn't only feel pain.
She also knew—
Without those chains, perhaps she would have been an ordinary girl lost in the crowd.
She also knew—
Her father truly was calculating and ambitious, his thirst for power and money endless.
But he wasn't incapable of love.
If anything…
Everything he did was for her.
That disgraced noble's insult had enraged him—not because he was humiliated—
But because his daughter, Luciana Oxis Theodore de Montef, carried that same name.
He could not bear for her to be insulted.
So he would never accept her becoming a Hollow Investigator.
Even though her Ether aptitude tested well…
That path was too far from the road he'd arranged for her.
Over and over he told her how dangerous it was.
Even—briefly—setting aside his gentleness,
He used the most vicious words time and life had given him to scold and curse his daughter.
Like a slavemaster holding thorns—
Lashing scars into the slave's body
While his own hands bled from the same thorns.
She could have lived safely.
So why throw her beautiful life into a deadly profession?
Why resist?
Why refuse to listen?
Why fight again and again?!
Why…
…did she have to be so much like him?
He had once run away from home for ten years—
Through storms, through hardship, through bitterness.
The innocence and softness left his face.
Even the hopeful glow he carried when he fled had worn away.
He met the person destined for him.
He gained the treasure he valued most in his life.
And to protect wife and child, he became unrecognizable—
Leaving only a heart.
A heart full of ambition.
And a heart full of love.
When he looked at his daughter, he saw himself.
If he were still that boy who stormed out in rage—
He would have lifted his daughter high onto his shoulders, laughed, ruffled her hair,
And sung praises of her rebellious spirit.
But he wasn't that boy anymore.
He had seen the darkness of the world.
He had tasted the world's bitterness.
He no longer had the will to rebel.
Instead, he became the role his own parents once played.
He would not praise her—at least not in front of Lucy herself—
Because he knew exactly how much pain and failure a bird endures before it ever earns the right to soar in a blue sky.
He understood:
His daughter had not truly seen the world's shadow yet.
She was still a princess in an ivory tower.
Longing for freedom.
Believing she had the strength to weather storms and reach rainbows.
He didn't doubt her.
But he would ache for her.
He couldn't bear to watch her become "an adult" only after suffering what other children never had to suffer.
He would cry over her scars.
So he wouldn't let her go out—
Unless she proved herself.
Proved she could protect herself.
Otherwise, he would rather be a villain forever.
But he never imagined…
His daughter would escape his grasp through a kidnapping.
And he never imagined…
That kidnapping would be filled with accidents.
"Cough—hey, you people!" Lucy snapped hoarsely. "Couldn't you be gentler?!"
"Employer," one of the thugs replied, "this is acting. If we don't make it real, how can your father be convinced?"
"Even we small-time goons know how terrifying that man is."
"…Fair," Lucy muttered. "Cough. Still—who would've thought… I'd have to use this to get out from under Father's control."
"By the way… where are we?"
"Employer, we're in an abandoned warehouse in the Outer Ring."
"You understand—in New Eridu proper, your father's reach is abnormal."
"Only the Outer Ring can keep him from catching up."
Lucy lifted her head.
A dim ceiling webbed with cobwebs.
A rotten chair that creaked if she moved.
Air packed with dust so thick it scraped her throat until she could hardly breathe.
Above her, a lamp with a greenish shade swayed gently.
Its weak yellow light was like a dying old man rolling over in bed.
Staring at it, Lucy felt a sudden impulse—
Doubt.
Could she adapt?
Had she made the wrong decision?
Should she give up now and return to that birdcage that held her?
She craved flight.
But she didn't know how to win the air of freedom.
She was used to chains.
Yet the first time the shackles stayed off this long…
She began to fear losing what she'd wanted.
"I…"
And at the very moment Lucy's heart was locked in that struggle—
Out in the Outer Ring, Chiya, who had just finished a day of free medical work, was driving in sheer panic—
A motorcycle specially modified for him by Caesar, Bernice, Lighter, and the others.
Riding with him was the fiercely loyal Xugaiya.
Behind them, Caesar followed on her own bike, scratching her head awkwardly.
"Wha—? Caesar, Lighter, Piper! You lied to me!"
"You said it was 'normal speed'!"
"Is this even a real motorcycle?!"
"Doctor Chiya!" someone shouted. "We ground our teeth modifying this! It's not exactly normal, but it's durable!"
"And you pressed the wrong button!"
"The yellow one is acceleration! The red one is—"
"Got it!" Chiya yelled. "Red is the brake, right?! I'm pressing it!"
He pressed red.
A violent flame blasted from the exhaust like Bernice's fuel drink—aggressive and explosive.
And the Sons of Calydon modified bike surged faster—harder—more insanely—
"CAAAAAE-SAAAAAAR—!!!"
"…Uh," Caesar yelled back, "red is Bernice's jet mode! Black is the brake!"
"Don't worry! The bike's got shock absorption!"
"And a protective shell made just for you—so don't wor—DOCTOR!"
"You took the wrong road!"
"I HAD NO CHOICE—!!!"
Everyone knew this:
Like the frog boiled in warm water, people can't adapt to sudden acceleration.
It's like selecting the highest difficulty in a rhythm game, cracking your knuckles, ready to start—
And the game doesn't give you a 3-2-1 warm-up.
It instantly turns on Gatling-gun note spam—
And a row of red MISS flashes across the bottom.
Chiya's smile hadn't even disappeared yet—
When he realized he'd drifted off the intended route.
Ahead was no longer endless yellow sand.
It was… an abandoned warehouse.
He couldn't react in time.
He slapped the black button.
The bike decelerated—but momentum wouldn't vanish.
So he threw the bike sideways, shut his eyes, and waited for impact.
Inside the warehouse, someone frowned.
"Hm? A motorcycle?"
"Otto, go check the door."
"Yeah yeah, I'm going—"
Otto got up, annoyed at being interrupted mid-slacking—
And the moment he reached the big warehouse gate—
A roaring machine slammed through the doors against the light, blasting him off his feet.
He flew into an old shelving unit and hit like a sack of mud—out cold.
Bound to a chair, Lucy snapped out of her hesitation.
She narrowed her eyes and looked toward the shattered doorway.
And when that steel-and-bone beast broke through the gate—
Time seemed to freeze.
Metal fragments bloomed in slow motion, like ice crystals scattering a seven-colored halo.
Lucy saw a boy's emerald eyes shimmer in the sunset.
A tuft of silver cowlick hair like a new moon piercing smoke.
A white coat whipping in the shockwave—like dove wings unfurling.
With him came fresh air.
Distant tumbleweeds.
Boundless desert and wild sand.
Sunlight draped over him.
In the backlight, dust motes drifted through the beam like star-sparks scattered by a god.
Lucy's pupils widened.
The ship of her doubt—adrift—finally reached a harbor.
An anchor dropped.
She didn't need to hesitate anymore.
She didn't need to wander anymore.
The world she yearned for—
The life she yearned for—
Arrived, carried by an unexpected encounter.
While she stared, stunned, Chiya reacted first.
He looked at the "numb" girl tied to the chair and the thugs around her—
Then flung the small creature in his arms forward.
"It's you, Xugaiya!"
"Use the power of martial arts!"
"Defeat these bad guys!"
"Mm-neh! Mm-neh-da!"
(My name is Xugaiya! Prepare to die!)
"Mm-neh! Mm-neh!"
(Black Tiger Steals the Heart!)
"Hmph…"
"Mm-neh!"
(Two Dragons Play with the Pearl!)
"Hmph-hmph…"
"Mm-neh!"
(Scorpion Palm! Melon-Smashing Fist! Praying Mantis Fist! Lotus Drift—!)
"HMPH HMPH HMPH AAAAAAAHHHHHH—!!!"
By the time Caesar arrived, Xugaiya had already stopped.
The kidnappers were asleep like corpses.
Chiya patted the little creature's head and hurried to Lucy.
"Miss, are you alright?"
"Miss? Are you in shock?"
"Mm… your face is so red… your forehead feels hot…"
"Doctor Chiya," Caesar blurted, "was this girl kidnapped?! Damn it! If I'd known, I should've accelerated too!"
"It's alright, Caesar," Chiya said seriously. "Don't blame yourself."
"I'll heal her."
"Wait!" Lucy finally snapped back. "What are you two talking about?!"
"And stop touching a lady's face so casually!"
Lucy tried to whip her head away—
But tied to the chair, she couldn't move freely.
That contrast—her silent, dazed prettiness versus her sharp outburst—
Made Chiya misunderstand.
He thought she'd developed trauma-induced mental illness.
So after "saving" Lucy, he stayed in the Outer Ring for several more days.
Only later did he discover—
Lucy wasn't sick at all.
After her tsundere-style explanation, he finally believed it.
So he didn't press further.
And tsundere Lucy didn't say more either.
In that moment… I saw "freedom."
Join here to read ahead.
In Star Rail, Ultra-Beast Armored — Have I Caught "Equilibrium"? l (Chapter 80)
Uma Musume, But I Only Have Five Years Left to Live (Chapter 80)
Zenless Zone Zero: I'm a Doctor, Not a Bangboo (Chapter 80)
Ben Tennyson Wants to Join the Justice League (Chapter 74)
TYPE-MOON: Redemption Beginning with the Holy Grail War (Chapter20)
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