Chapter 29

Alto stands alone, pouring a small vial of star condensate into a container—fuel prep for Lily’s car. Kalt XVIII approaches from behind, unsure but composed.

Kalt XVIII
Alto…
May I ask something… personal?

Alto 
(doesn’t turn)
If it’s about the star fuel, you’ll need gloves next time. That stuff stings.

Kalt XVIII
No… not that.
Back when Lily introduced herself… she said you’re her father.
But… that you weren’t always… her father.
You were—before she turned five—her mother.
Is that… true?

Alto doesn’t move for a long moment. Then he sets the container down. Turns slowly, his face unreadable, but his voice calm.

Alto 
Yeah.
I transitioned.

Kalt XVIII
(still curious, not judgmental)
Why?

Silence again. Not heavy—just full. Alto exhales, arms crossed.

Alto 
Because who I was… wasn’t who I am.
It took time. Took pain.
But I knew—deep in my arcana, in the marrow of every star I’d ever summoned—
I wasn’t meant to live as someone else’s version of me.
I was meant to be Alto.

Kalt nods slowly, thinking.

Kalt XVIII
Was it difficult?

Alto 
(extremely direct)
Yes.
The universe doesn’t always move kindly. Even if you’ve helped shape it.
But Shizuku… never once looked at me with doubt.
He held me through every collapse, every scar.
Lily… she was so young. But even then, she never asked why. She just smiled.
She said, “Papa's always been strong.”

Kalt looks away briefly, clearly overwhelmed by the simplicity of the answer.

Kalt XVIII
You make it sound like the hardest truth became the easiest peace.

Alto 
(chuckles softly)
It kind of did.
When you’ve lived millions of years…
Being true to yourself should be the least complicated thing.

Kalt gives a slow nod, still digesting. He looks back at Alto.

Kalt XVIII
Thank you… for telling me.
I didn’t mean disrespect.

Alto 
And you didn’t give any.
It’s good to ask. It’s better to learn.
We’re all fragments trying to make sense of the mirror.
Just... don’t call me "formerly anything," alright?
I’m Alto. Just Alto.

Kalt XVIII
(smiles lightly)
Understood, Alto.

They both stand silently under the drifting starfields beyond the glass. In a universe of endless identities, this moment is anchored in something real.