I Am The Game's Villain Chapter 841: Gathering in the Veyra’s Forum Crown Terrace [4]

"Miranda, huh," Rodolf mumbled, a smirk spreading across his face as he looked rather openly toward the dark green haired beauty.

"What is with that disgusting smile?" Cylien asked, immediately reaching up to pull at Rodolf’s cheeks.

"Oi, stop that," Rodolf muttered, swatting lightly at her hand before lowering his voice. "I recognized her, you know. From the game."

"Really?" Cylien glanced toward Miranda with a more curious expression.

She had never played the games as obsessively as Rodolf had. Perhaps she had seen Miranda’s character before and simply forgotten, or perhaps she had never paid much attention to that part of the story. Rodolf, however, had spent far more time with the first game than most of them. There was no chance he could mistake Miranda’s features.

"What about the girl beside Miranda?" John asked, looking toward Gisla. "Do you recognize her?"

Rodolf studied the auburn haired princess for a few seconds, then shook his head.

"Nope."

John let out a quiet scoff.

"What did I even expect from you?"

Compared to Rodolf, Eric seemed incredibly useful when it came to recognizing faces and remembering information from the games.

"Want to fight?" Rodolf immediately snapped.

"No," John replied without even turning toward him.

His attention had already moved to the remaining figures entering behind Miranda and Gisla. Loid was there, looking as familiar as ever. Beside him stood a younger man in his mid teens with the same dark green hair as Miranda, though his features were softer and more delicate than Loid’s. He resembled Miranda much more strongly, while Loid had inherited the harsher, more intimidating appearance of Draven Stormilda.

Joyca.

John frowned slightly as he saw him standing on his own feet. The last time John had heard anything about Joyca, the young man had been confined to a wheelchair after the incident that injured him. Yet now he appeared recovered, at least enough to walk without assistance. His posture was still somewhat careful, but there was no doubt that he had regained far more strength than before.

"Hey, Myra."

The first person to react to Miranda’s arrival was Amael. He raised his hand toward her, his amber eyes brightening with a warmth that did not often show itself so openly.

Miranda blinked in surprise when she spotted him. Then her calm face softened into a genuine smile, and she began walking toward him without hesitation.

Kleines noticed the moment between them and smiled knowingly. He gently patted Alea’s hand.

"We should give them the seats," he said.

Alea nodded, and the two of them rose from their places, moving to the row behind so Miranda could sit next to Amael.

"My Lord, my Lady," Miranda said quickly, giving them a stiff and respectful greeting.

"There is no need for that," Kleines replied with a warm chuckle. "You can call us Uncle and Aunt. You know you are family."

Alea smiled as well, reaching out to gently pat Miranda’s hair.

"You are family," she repeated with quiet affection.

Miranda’s expression softened at their words.

"Thank you," she said warmly.

She then took the vacant seat beside Amael. Few people made him as comfortable as Miranda did. During the difficult time after Amael’s rebirth, when he had been overwhelmed by the return of memories and the crushing psychological shock that followed, Miranda’s presence had helped steady him more than she likely realized.

She had been one of the faces he remembered most clearly.

After being sent to Celesta, Amael had spent a significant part of his life around her. When the memories of his former existence returned, so did those sixteen years of life. The most recent and vivid parts of those memories were tied to Celesta, and Miranda held an important place among them. She was familiar in a way few others could understand.

"How can you be so late when you actually live here, Myra?" Amael asked with a small smile.

"Hey, I am not late," Miranda replied, laughing softly. "You are simply too early."

Amael smiled back, then looked at her more carefully. His gaze lingered over her white robe dress, the way the fine material fell gracefully around her, and the elegant way she had arranged her hair.

"You look very beautiful, by the way."

Miranda’s eyes widened just slightly. A delicate blush rose to her cheeks as she looked away.

"Oh... thank you."

"Now that is embarrassing," Loid said from nearby, grimacing as he watched his sister blush. "I never thought I would see Miranda react like that."

"Then go away if it embarrasses you so much," Miranda retorted, waving a hand at him in dismissal.

Loid rolled his eyes. "Gladly."

Joyca looked uncertain for a moment, caught between sitting beside his older sister or following his brother. However, when he saw Gisla heading toward another row with her brother and Loid, he quickly followed them. The four settled farther away, leaving Amael and Miranda a little more privacy.

"I see you still have a wonderful relationship with your brothers," Amael said lightly, glancing toward Loid.

He remembered his own relationship with Loid well, and it had never been particularly pleasant. Even as children, the two of them had struggled to get along.

"We are siblings," Miranda replied with an amused smile. "That is how it is supposed to be. You did not have a very good relationship with any of the boys when you were young either, Edward."

The moment the name left her mouth, Amael stiffened.

It was subtle. His shoulders tensed, and the warmth in his expression faded for the briefest instant. Yet Miranda noticed immediately. Her eyes widened as she realized what she had said.

She reached for his hand at once.

"I mean Amael," she corrected herself, her voice filled with regret. "I am sorry. I did not mean to call you that."

For Amael, the name Edward carried too much pain. It was not merely another name from another life. It was tied to Oryanna’s death, to the person he had become afterward, and to the choices he had made while drowning in guilt and grief. The cruelty, the rejections, and the ugliness of that period all seemed bound to the name Edward, like a wound that reopened whenever someone spoke it aloud.

There were precious memories connected to that past as well. Memories of people he loved and moments he never wanted to forget. But Amael had chosen to use his true name from now on. He wanted to move forward as Amael, not remain trapped in the shadow of the person he had once been and loathed.

"You are okay?" Miranda asked quietly, worry clear across her face as she kept hold of his hand. "I am sorry..."

Amael shook his head quickly.

"No, no... you should not be sorry," he said, his voice quieter than before. "I should be the one apologizing. After everything..."

His words trailed away. The warmth that had returned to his face faded again, replaced by a restrained anguish. For a brief moment, his fingers tightened around Miranda’s hand as old memories pressed against him.

"Hey."

Miranda moved before he could retreat further into himself. She reached up with both hands and gently held his cheeks, turning his face toward her until his amber eyes met hers.

"It is in the past," she said softly. "I do not care anymore. Nobody cares anymore. What matters is who you are now, Amael."

Amael looked at her in silence.

The sincerity in Miranda’s expression made it impossible for him to look away. She did not see him as the person he hated remembering. She did not see him as someone defined forever by grief, guilt, and the mistakes born from them. She saw Amael, the person sitting beside her now.

Slowly, he nodded.

"Yeah... you are right," he said. A faint smile appeared, still fragile but genuine.

"Thank you."

His hand closed around hers again, this time with quiet gratitude rather than fear.

"You have always been by my side, Myra," he continued. "Thank you for that."

"Do you perhaps need a private room?"

Christina’s voice suddenly cut through the tender moment from the seat on Amael’s right.

Amael and Miranda both froze.

Miranda’s cheeks turned red at once. She pulled her hand away from Amael’s as though she had only just realized everyone could see them.

"Oh, s-sorry, Christina!" She said, flustered.

"It is fine," Christina replied with a smirk.

That simple answer only made Miranda more embarrassed. Amael looked away as well, scratching his cheeks. Christina watched them both with growing amusement, clearly enjoying the reaction she had caused.

Then her teasing expression softened into a warm smile.

She was happy.

For a long time, Amael had carried far too much pain alone. He had been trapped between memories that did not entirely belong to this life and the guilt that followed him wherever he went. Watching him sit beside Miranda, smile naturally, and allow someone to hold his hand without fear made Christina’s heart feel lighter.

Her little brother deserved to live his life properly.

He deserved to laugh, to love, and to find happiness without always looking back at the darkness behind him.