The Heroine is My Stepsister, and I'm her Final Boss-Chapter 45: A Push

Atlas still stood frozen, confusion rippling through him like a storm. His small hands shook as he gripped his mother's arm, giving it a gentle shake in an attempt to wake her.

"Mother?... Mother..." he called out softly, his voice trembling with desperation.

[Notification]

A sudden jolt surged through Atlas's senses, and the familiar buzz of his system roared back to life. For a fleeting moment, he had feared it was gone forever—lost within the labyrinthine illusion—but no. It had simply paused after revealing Bela's secrets, only to return now that she lay unconscious before him.

'Did she...?' Atlas questioned silently, his thoughts spiraling into chaos. "Mothe—"

Before he could finish, the world around him warped violently, ripping him from the throne room and depositing him unceremoniously onto soft grass. Blinking against the sudden brightness, Atlas scrambled to his feet, brushing dirt from his palms.

"...what the fuck?" he muttered under his breath, glaring at the sprawling garden surrounding him. ".....Save someone? Save who?"

[Notification]

He checked his stats instinctively, relief washing over him when he saw the accumulation of points and skills still intact. He wasn't stripped bare—not yet.

[You encountered a being before time, before the MC. Congratulations, you gained 250 points.]

"...a being before time? Mother?" Atlas whispered, his mind racing. He tried recalling the fragments of information about Bela that had poured into his consciousness earlier. Her origins, her transformation—they were all there, just beyond reach.

[World Understanding Activated.]

[Searching... Bela.]

[Error!! Error!! Error!!]

"What...? I was sure it gave me access a moment ago. What the fuck happened?!"

Atlas clawed at his temples, trying to grasp the memories that had flooded his mind—visions within visions, collapsing like a house of cards.

'She wasn't human. She became human. But from what?'

[Error...]

[Error...]

"GOD DAMMIT!" Atlas roared, slamming his fist into the nearest tree. Bark splintered beneath his knuckles, but the pain barely registered compared to the frustration boiling inside him. "It's right there! I feel it! On the tip of my fucking tongue, but I can't taste it!"

Ripping off his tie, he hurled it to the ground, pacing furiously. Another question clawed at his mind: Why was he dressed so formally? Turning back toward the castle, he noticed the faint hum of piano music drifting through open windows. Silhouettes danced across the walls, their laughter mingling with the melody.

Atlas stepped inside, navigating the crowded halls where nobles mingled and gossiped. Despite his childlike stature, they parted for him without hesitation, bowing low as if pulled by invisible strings.

"It's the prince..."

"It surely is, isn't he quite the cutie?"

"Such flare of authority coming from the child. Blood really tells huh."

[Prince's Aura activated]

Atlas ignored their murmurs, scanning the room for any sign of his mother. He walked near the balcony, hoping to find her there, But instead of finding her, his gaze landed on a figure huddled alone on the balcony. Soft purple hair caught his attention immediately—it was Claire, weeping quietly in the corner.

"...Claire?" Atlas called out, approaching cautiously.

She flinched, hurriedly wiping away her tears before turning to face him. "...Prince Atlas. I'm...I'm sorry you have to see me this way," she stammered, her voice laced with shame.

Atlas frowned, stepping closer. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"Nothing of trouble, Your Highness. Just...just..." Her words faltered, trailing off into silence.

"Just what?" Atlas pressed, his tone sharp enough to cut glass. "Tell me! I'll wipe this entire party if someone has wronged you. I owe you atleast that much."

Her purple eyes widened in surprise, disbelief flickering across her features. This prince—a royal heir—cared for someone like her? An outcast deemed useless by everyone else?

"....it's. It's okay. Those words are comfort enough," she whispered, her tears finally subsiding.

Atlas didn't know if this illusion could fabricate something so real—these shifting memories of the past, each revelation more brutal than the last. He'd never seen Claire sad, let alone weeping. Her confidence had always been a mountain, unshakable, casting shadows over everyone and everything in its path.

'She looks much thinner than I imagined,' he thought, studying her fragile frame. 'She should be in her early twenties now. What happened in the past to turn this shy, innocent girl into the "Serpent of Wealth" everyone whispered about?'

He stepped closer, his heart aching at her pitiful state. It wasn't pity—it was something deeper, an unspoken bond forged by blood and circumstance. Gently, he took her hand in his, tightening his grip until she felt the strength coursing through him—strength that didn't belong to a child.

"No need for formalities," Atlas said firmly, his voice cutting through the haze of despair surrounding her. "In hindsight, you are my aunt. A close member of the royal family. Cousin of my father, King Henry."

Claire blinked, startled by both the physical pressure of his grip and the weight of his words. Words that didn't belong to a child. Words that carried authority far beyond his years. Words

"Don't forget that you are 'Von.' I hope you understand it well," Atlas declared, his golden eyes blazing with conviction.

Claire swallowed hard, her trembling fingers steadying under his firm hold. For the first time in what felt like forever, she felt...uplifted. As if the mountain of shame pressing down on her shoulders had shifted slightly, allowing her to breathe again.

"...okay, I will try...I will..." she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

"There is no try...or later. There is only now, God, you are not like this, you should not be like this at all." Atlas interrupted sharply, his tone leaving no room for hesitation. "I don't know if you see it or not, but I do. Clearly. It's only a matter of time before others see it too."

Claire fell silent, her mind racing as his words echoed within her. His grip remained firm, grounding her even as his words threatened to unravel everything she believed about herself. Could she truly rise above? above these manipulative nobels? her cursed siblings, Could she shed the label of uselessness her siblings—and perhaps even she herself—had branded her with?

"...I understand," she finally murmured, meeting his burning gaze. In that moment, something inside her clicked into place. If a mere child could carry such fire, such certainty, why couldn't she? Why couldn't 'she' claim her rightful place among the stars, if not the stars, she should atleast reach what the prince whole heartly belives that she can reach.

"...Now I feel a bit pathetic, crying over self-pity," Claire admitted, straightening her spine. "You're right, Your Highness. I am also a 'Von.' I will start acting like one as well."

Atlas released her hand, nodding once in approval. Claire mirrored his gesture, her posture already shifting. She turned toward the party, her chest puffed out, her shoulders relaxed. Though her shadow still bore traces of her earlier despair, her steps were lighter, more confident.

But before fully rejoining the crowd, she hesitated. Turning back, she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek—a fleeting touch that left behind a faint lipstick mark.

"...thank you, Prince," she whispered, her voice laced with gratitude. Then, without another word, she walked away, commanding attention with every step. Nobles gravitated toward her, drawn by the sudden aura of confidence radiating from her presence.

Atlas raised a hand to his cheek, feeling the lingering warmth of her kiss. He watched her navigate the room, captivating everyone around her. Even in his standards, she was undeniably beautiful—the only barrier to her brilliance being her own doubt.

"...hmmmm...I don't think anyone else needs saving here now," he muttered, a smirk tugging at his lips. But before he could dwell further, dizziness washed over him once more, pulling him into another warped dream.

"Not again..."

Dreame after dream, illusions after illusions, As time passed, Atlas grew accustomed to navigating these fragmented memories. He no longer relied solely on his World Understanding skills; experience had sharpened his instincts, allowing him to piece together glimpses of the past without external aid. Yet each return to the illusion brought new revelations—and new absences.

His mother, Bela, was gone. Not merely absent from specific events but erased entirely, as though her avatar had been deleted after their last encounter. Try as he might, he couldn't find her anywhere. Her influence lingered in his recollections, but her presence was conspicuously missing.

'What the hell happened?' Atlas wondered, frustration simmering beneath his calm exterior. His mother's cryptic message echoed in his mind: "Save someone."

"...who do I need to save?" he growled aloud, pacing beneath the moonlit sky. "Sansa? Kury? Henry? or Isabella?.....huh, That bitch is beyond saving. She deserves execution, not redemption. What was Father thinking, shaming the royal name like that? And who's the bastard she's screwing around with...what was his name, Henderson?"

His gaze drifted across the garden, searching for answers in the silver glow of the moon. That's when he saw it—a blur of blue hair nestled amidst the flowers. Lara. Sleeping soundly on a pillow in the middle of the garden, oblivious to the chaos swirling around her.

"...what the fuck?"