### Chapter Sixty: Sibling Shenanigans
By the time evening rolled around, Pasifal’s earlier excitement hadn’t faded one bit.
The first hot air balloon made by the Central Workshop successfully took to the skies, but practicality was still a far-off dream, just like that thing called “black powder.”
Pasifal had gathered the best artisans from various fields in the workshop to discuss the purity and ratio concerns his sister had mentioned, as well as the extremely crucial process of turning the powder into granules—changing the world, one explosive at a time!
As they nattered away, dinner time snuck up on them. After the artisans scattered off to their evening tasks, Pasifal found himself alone, furiously scribbling away at his desk, completely forgetting about hunger.
He thought to himself, “I guess I won’t be heading back to the castle for dinner tonight… I’ll just finish up here and deal with the craftsmen outside!”
Just as he settled into his thoughts, the wooden door creaked open with a “squeak.” He looked up instinctively at the sound to see his sister, dressed in a flimsy white pleated dress, snowflakes caught in her hair, stepping in with a round, bulging brown paper bag. Steam seemed to waft out of it as they locked eyes, and she scrunched her nose at him.
“Mom sent me to bring you some food!”
With sprightly little steps, she practically danced to his side and plopped the brown bag on the table. Before Pasifal could react, she snagged a piece of pastry out and exclaimed, “Nut pie! I saw it while passing by and couldn’t resist. Here, have it while it’s warm!”
She took an eager bite, eyes closing in delight, “So good, so sweet…”
Then she plopped down beside him, her mouth full, and mumbled, “What are you working on? Are we heading home together later?”
All the while, her eyes remained glued to the pie, never bothering to glance at him.
Pasifal frowned, “Aren’t you cold dressed like that?”
The pleasant scent of lilacs was wafting off her like some floral perfume.
“Cold? Me? Never!” she waved off casually and then fired back, “By the way, how’s the black powder experiment going? I heard from the hunter that you blew up a pottery jar today?”
“Yeah, we at least got a spark!” Pasifal responded, dropping his quill, excitement lighting up his eyes again. “You know what you said? The wet-to-dry process? We designed a whole set of tools for it. Check this out…”
He launched into a detailed explanation, and they discussed it together for a bit, but mostly, Pasifal was doing the talking while she listened, occasionally tossing in her thoughts like little darts of wisdom. When he finally felt hungry and reached into the brown bag for another pie, he froze—empty!
His sister, however, was eyeing him with the last half of the pie pinched between her fingers. The moment she caught his gaze, in a flash, she shoved the last piece into her mouth.
“…You said you’d only eat one!” Pasifal couldn’t help but roll his eyes.
With her cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk, she squinted at him while chewing, finally managing to spit out, “I’m hungry, too…”
She blinked her innocent eyes innocently at him.
“……Why don’t you just head home and have dinner then?” Pasifal suggested, suppressing the urge to pinch her cheeks.
“Got it, I’ll head home soon.” She nodded obediently.
“So, Mom sends you with food, and you come here and eat up my pies, and now you’re just gonna leave?”
“Yep!” She nodded enthusiastically.
Pasifal sighed, “But that pie was mine!”
“Hey, that was my money!” She grinned cheekily.
…And just like that, Pasifal felt at a loss for words.
As he looked at his sister’s face, a wave of nostalgia hit him hard.
In the two years since he lost her, he’d gone through a world of pain, tears, guilt, and longing.
To escape the harsh, cruel reality, he dove headfirst into the devilish weapon-tech of the Central Workshop, day after day learning under Pagos. Slowly, he found something he actually loved doing.
Now he was an innovator in diabolical weaponry, helping to run the workshop since Pagos had taken to the battlefield during the Royal War, leaving nearly everything under his control.
The problems during wartime weren’t like they used to be, the challenges and difficulties were overwhelming; Pasifal knew all too well just how many mistakes they had to learn from.
Not long ago, when their father returned victorious, Pagos praised him—a rarity! It was practically a first, and despite his reluctance to call Pagos “teacher,” the implication was clear; Pagos had discussed grooming him as the next heir to the empire’s Central Workshop.
Pasifal realized his hard work over the past two years had finally garnered the family’s recognition.
He’d long since said goodbye to the immature self he used to be, and the women from his past had faded away; his focus was strictly on the workshop, diving into the research on new weaponry upgrades. He was finally learning that only passion fuels strength, and unlike his brother, if he couldn’t be like him, he might as well be himself.
In his own way, within his means, he’d protect his beloved family with every ounce of his strength.
He had pledged similar vows beside his sister’s grave more than once, even swearing drunken promises and oaths.
At these moments, he could almost see her sweet face, that beautiful, heartbreaking smile—the epitome of innocence that had buried itself in his heart through these two years.
May the moonlight protect her…
His sister had returned.
Unlike Lafael, Pasifal had received their mother’s letter earlier, informing him of her return and her triumphs in the southern empire, giving him time to prepare his emotions. However, when he saw her standing before him, real and alive, he couldn’t help the tears that threatened to spill.
Yet, through their recent interactions, his emotions slowly chilled.
She hadn’t changed…
Despite everything that had happened, Pepé was still Pepé, nearly the same.
She was still the sweet-toothed, innocent girl he recognized.
“Fine, fine, eat away. What can I do? I can’t fight you,” he grumbled.
A flurry of complex thoughts raced through his mind, but as he spoke, he noticed her eyes widen, “You wanna fight me?!”
“Whoa, no, no! Just joking!” he backpedaled.
“Hmph.”
She didn’t buy his excuse, scrunching her nose in indignation, “Just saying isn’t allowed!”
“…Pepé, let’s go for a walk outside?”
To distract her, Pasifal suggested, “Take me to that pie shop; let’s grab some more to take back for the old man to try too.”
“Great!”
Her eyes lit up, “Then you have to buy me another bag—I’ll save it for later!”
…
Once the siblings exited the shop, each carrying a hefty bag of pies, the sky was nearly dark.
The satisfied Pepé clutched her massive bag, too big for her face, with one hand while the other struggled to snag yet another pie as they walked. Pasifal trailed behind, quietly watching her.
Snow mixed with floating ash fell slowly from the sky, some dusting the paper bag, some landing on her pie. Pasifal quickly tucked the bag tighter and warned her, “Stop eating, stop! Ash is getting on it!”
In the commotion, while she was about to take a bite, he snatched the half-eaten pie from her. “It’s dirty! Toss it out; we’ll have it when we get home.”
Just then, some not-so-great memories flooded his mind, and Pasifal instinctively raised his hand to shield his face.
“Wait a second, don’t do anything—”
Except the imagined punch never came.
He waited, breath held, and when he finally peeked through his fingers, he saw his sister’s smiling face. She stood there with her bag, a cute little package of sunshine, looking comfy, but for some reason, in that moment, Pasifal felt his sister shouldn’t be displaying such a calm smile.
“Daring to snatch food from my hands.”
She remarked, “I’ll remember this grudge, Pasifal. You better watch yourself.”
With a look that resembled a mild threat, she scrunched her nose again and, after expressing her displeasure, turned, skipping ahead, sprightly as ever. Pasifal stood rooted, watching her walk away…
For that brief moment, he thought, maybe she didn’t care about the pies at all.
