She raised her hand to her forehead and began massaging it, trying to ease the headache pounding in her head—almost as if her brain refused to comprehend what had just been said. Then, amid her daze, she suddenly spoke, as though remembering something:
"This reminds me… When you stammered in front of the Korlin brothers, you were about to say 'my spaceship,' right?"
His eyebrows shot up in surprise, as if she had caught him off guard with her ability to pick up the smallest details. Then he said, impressed:
"I can't believe you noticed that! Your perception is frighteningly sharp!"
She simply shrugged, replying dismissively:
"I hear that a lot."
Silence returned between them. During that pause, Emilia came to a realization that slowly tore at her heart—something she had never considered before. She had believed she was the one with the right and reason in this conversation, but after hearing everything, she realized she had been mistaken. She felt ashamed of herself. While he had been going through all of this, she had been preoccupied with studying the design of his clothes. Embarrassed, she lowered her head and said quietly:
"I'm sorry… I'm sorry I couldn't offer more help."
"Please don't say that. Who knows what would've happened to me in town if you hadn't shown me such kindness? You've helped me more than you realize… and I'm ashamed I can't repay you any time soon."
He spoke with sincerity in his voice. Emilia watched his expression, seeing the truth reflected in his eyes, in his tone, in the way he spoke—as if wanting to assure her that she had done more than she knew. A gentle warmth bloomed in her heart, but she said nothing. She simply exhaled with a soft smile, silently accepting his gratitude.
There was no doubt in her mind that any father, regardless of circumstances, would never hesitate to do whatever it took, to seize any opportunity—no matter how perilous—to save a family member. She fully understood that the man sitting before her was going through a harsh trial, a critical moment that left no room for delay or safe alternatives.
And yet, she found herself unable to accept the idea. She was determined to try again—to convince him to choose a less dangerous way to raise the money he so desperately needed. A thought crossed her mind: what if she gave him all her savings? But she quickly realized two things—she didn't have enough, and even if she gave him everything she had, he wouldn't accept it.
Confusion surrounded her like an invisible hand gripping her head, pushing her into a spiral of thought that led nowhere. Faced with this helplessness that had drained all her energy, she leaned her exhausted body back into the chair, as if finally accepting a bitter truth. Then she spoke, her voice quiet, carrying the unmistakable tone of surrender:
"I really don't know how I can help you in this situation. I can't stop you from doing what you want—it's not my place. And I don't have any other solutions to get you the money you need quickly."
At that moment, a familiar scene replayed before her eyes. How many times had she felt this way before? That instant when one realizes there's no use in trying, that prolonged contemplation won't yield a magical solution to a dilemma that surpasses the bounds of comprehension and action—no, it transcends the limits of her entire world.
It was then that she understood she had reached the farthest point a child like her could bear in terms of responsibility. She finally allowed herself a moment of retreat and vulnerability—a feeling that lightened the weight on her shoulders. She let out a sigh and then lifted her gaze toward the ceiling, as though seeking an answer in the void, before whispering, more to herself than to him:
"So... there are other worlds, far away… among the stars."
At last, she smiled—then chuckled gently, a mix of childlike joy and wonder at discovering something new. She continued:
"It sounds like a fantasy story that defies logic… but I… want to enter it."
Ace smiled as well, as if her words stirred a buried memory within him. Then he said, with a voice tinged with self-mocking irony:
"Well, that's exactly how I felt when I first saw everything new around here. When I first heard about magic and mysterious forces and all that. To be honest, I didn't believe any of it until I saw it with my own eyes. And I wouldn't blame you if you didn't believe me either."
Emilia slowly shook her head, then looked at him with a different expression—a look of understanding that hadn't been there moments ago. She spoke in a calm yet assured tone:
"I believe you completely! And now I understand why you're in such a hurry to make money however you can. But Master Ace, don't let your urgency be the reason for your downfall. Fighting a monster of that strength is a grave risk. If you don't survive…, how will you save your daughter?"
"I'll prioritize my life above all. I'll make that clear to everyone, even if they all call me a coward for fleeing battle. What do you think? Is that enough to ease your worry?"
Emilia remained silent for a moment, as though weighing his words. Then she let out a soft sigh and said:
"Honestly, compared to fighting that monster, the idea of you entering the annual tournament sounds safer and more reasonable… But I doubt you're the kind of person willing to waste time waiting."
She then raised her eyebrows and asked curiously:
"And why do you want to go to the capital specifically?"
"I heard that a few months ago, a strange metallic object—almost like a metal bird—was seen flying over the road to the capital, and it was captured. Rumors say it's an ancient weapon… I think I might know what it is, even though it's hard for me to believe. I want to go and investigate it. Besides, in any country, the capital is the best place to search for what one needs. I might find what I need there to repair my spacecraft and continue traveling."
His words seemed to awaken something deep within the girl. Her eyes widened suddenly, as if a buried memory surfaced uninvited. She stared at him for a few seconds before whispering, more to herself than to him:
"A metal bird?"
Ace leaned forward slightly, intrigued by her sudden reaction, and asked cautiously:
"Is something wrong?"
She took a deep breath before replying, as if recalling that moment in vivid detail. Her voice was low but filled with unwavering certainty:
"There was something that looked like a metal bird back then… I was there… when it appeared, and I saw it with my own eyes. Thick black smoke was coming out of it, and it looked like it was falling rather than trying to land."
She paused briefly, then continued in a distant tone:
"But the strangest part… wasn't the metal bird itself, but what happened after. A strange man came out of it… He wore a peculiar helmet that concealed his face, and his clothes were unlike anything I had ever seen. At that moment, he really did seem like… he came from another world."
She paused again, trying to recall the scene more clearly, then added:
"We didn't know where he came from, but he saved us from the bandits who had surrounded the caravan I was in. It took only moments—he was so fast… then, suddenly, he ran off after saving us, shouting 'Tifa, I'm back!' Those were his exact words, as far as I remember. We didn't understand what it all meant, and he vanished quickly, running at an incredible speed. Afterwards, I approached that strange object that looked like a metal bird—it was huge. I wasn't the only one; everyone approached it cautiously. We couldn't get too close, though, because the air around it was scorching hot, and black fumes kept rising from it non-stop. It was like it was breathing—like a dying creature, making strange sounds. It didn't last long before knights from the capital arrived. Maybe the booming sound it made in the sky alerted them. They arrested the bandits… and it seems they took that thing with them to the capital."
Silence followed her words. Ace didn't move. His face froze with an expression she hadn't seen before. It wasn't mere curiosity—it was something deeper, something close to hope mixed with anticipation, as though he had finally found a fragile thread that might lead him off this planet. When he spoke, his voice was low, but charged with a kind of resolve he hadn't even shown when he first heard about magic and supernatural powers:
"Emilia… can you draw it? Anything you remember about it? Any detail, no matter how small?"
Her hand trembled slightly on the table. Then, without a word, she entered her room, retrieved a notebook and a pencil, and sat back down. She began drawing with careful strokes. Each movement of the pencil seemed to reopen a window in her memory, gradually filling in the missing details until the picture was complete. Quietly, she handed him the notebook. For a moment, he didn't reach for it. He only looked at her, then at the page—as if a part of him feared what he was about to see.
But eventually, he took it. The moment his eyes landed on the drawing, his pupils widened in astonishment. He didn't need a second to recognize it. What lay before him wasn't some vague shape or mysterious image—it was something unmistakable, something so familiar it sent a chill down his spine. On that small piece of paper was a drawing of a fighter jet, with a distinctive design he could never mistake. And it wasn't just any fighter jet—it was one built specifically in his homeland.
He couldn't stop himself from diving into a storm of thoughts. How had this aircraft reached such a distant planet? Was it equipped with advanced technology he hadn't known about? Was there a secret project enabling these jets to travel through space? His mind raced, trying to piece together the scattered fragments of the puzzle. He recalled the knights who had taken the craft and then realized something crucial—governments always try to hide secrets and bury truths before they reach the public. It's the same pattern, whether on his planet or this one.
Then Emilia's voice pulled him back from his thoughts. Her tone was quiet but carried a mix of curiosity and concern:
"Do you know what that thing is?"
Her eyes sparkled with anticipation, while her fingers fidgeted nervously along the edge of the table. He looked up at her, and when he spoke, his voice was hoarse, as if he could hardly believe his own words:
"It's… it's called a fighter jet. It's a type of flying vehicle built in my country."
Silence fell for a moment, but inside Ace's mind, there was no peace—only a storm of questions and possibilities. Meanwhile, the girl's eyes widened, awe spreading across her face, as if she were witnessing a miracle. She blinked twice, struggling to grasp an unfamiliar reality, then asked:
"So… did you arrive here using something like that?"
"No."
The answer came swiftly, without the slightest hesitation, as if the question didn't even warrant reflection. Then he added in a calm voice, full of unshakable certainty:
"Those crafts are built for flying in the sky, but not beyond it. They aren't designed for that at all. And I can't find an explanation—or even believe—that one of them made it to this distant planet."
She remained silent for a moment, as though weighing his words, then asked in a quieter voice, full of longing for the truth:
"But… how did you get here?"