Chapter 76: Echoes of Resolve

Fine, I admit— during that wild horse gallop earlier, I was actually terrified.

Kritiya’s riding skills weren’t exactly masterful to begin with.

Looking back now, in that hairpin frenzy, managing to whisk Nolan safe from the encirclement— it almost forces one to believe luck truly exists in this world.

Suppressing my hammering heart, I glanced behind.

The warhorse we’d commandeered lay pitifully slumped in roadside muck, whinnying in agony.

This rugged, pathless woodland wasn’t terrain for chargers.

Moments ago, the poor beast had stepped into a hidden mire; at the stumble’s brink, my quick reflex yanked Nolan from the saddle, sparing us crushed beneath.

Nolan sat askew in the sodden ground, clothes mud-splattered.

He seemed yet to fully process the whirlwind of events, merely staring blankly at the sorry scene.

I pushed to my feet, knees still quivering faint, then seized his wrist firm.

“Quick— move. Not time to rest yet.”

“Wait, Tiya.”

I’d meant to haul Nolan onward, but sudden— he gripped my wrist in turn.

The boy gulped air ragged, chest heaving wild, eyes locked unyielding on mine.

“I saw it…… What you snatched from Claire— what is that thing?”

“Th-That……”

I faltered tongue-tied.

Right— that hexagonal crystal Claire brandished as threat, I knew exactly what it was.

I slowly unfurled my clenched left fist.

The milk-white gem rested serene in my palm, exuding soft, warm golden halo— like a tiny lantern in this dim wood.

Back then— Kritiya perched on the station’s roof, peeking through a slim gap, finally unable to hold back, giving her position away to Sera’s notice.

The instant she spied Claire drawing that crystal, she could no longer restrain— exposing herself, caught by Sera.

Claire, still so young, clueless to its origins— likely saw it as some rare stone?

Naturally, she could clutch and tote it casual; by the time she gained memory, Sera had long served at her side, among the duke’s castle maids and nannies.

But I, and Kritiya, remembered clear— Mother’s days alive.

We both recalled vivid— Mother’s time among us.

I loathed calling Duke Airandil “Father.”

Yet even as this lingering soul, I’d gaze on her— the duke’s second wife, Kritiya and Claire’s birth mother— with eyes reserved for Mother.

The duchy servants and retainers all hailed her respectfully: Lady Adelaise.

This lovely stone, rumor held, was Lady Adelaise’s dowry from her home.

Said to hold some wondrous protective power.

Truth be told, I knew little of Mother’s lineage— only that daily, she neither wielded blade nor wielded spell or holy light; just an utterly ordinary woman.

But I remembered clear: at vital occasions in life, she’d always wear it careful in an ornate glass locket pendant— nestled at her throat.

“Tiya……

Your face looks awful.”

Nolan’s voice yanked me from surging recollections.

“I know now’s no time to pry deep— but us doing this, what’s the difference from leaping into the firepit?”

I drew deep breath, chill air flooding lungs— yet failing to quell the inner churn.

I met his eyes; confusion etched his face.

Perhaps……

A trace of veiled reproach too?

That made sense; he’d done naught wrong— pure innocent dragged into my storm.

Naturally, he couldn’t grasp my imperative.

“I had to take it.”

No further explanation; I merely repeated, arm straining to lift him from the dirt.

Yet such curt reply plainly dissatisfied.

I felt resistance from below, heavy as rooted boulder.

He budged not, merely fixing those bright eyes on me, stubborn awaiting true answer.

“Fine, fine……

I get you’re upset,”

I muttered irked, dodging his direct stare, feigning focus on the warm-glow gem cradled in palm.

Beyond its light— truth was, I scarce knew its other uses.

But in that moment, I’d never felt so keenly Claire’s plight.

What a joke— offering it as tribute to the emperor?

What was this?

Had the duchy sunk so low, hawking the late duchess’s dowry to keep face?

Absurd to the core!

I hadn’t realized— an irrepressible indignation now plainly wrote on my face.

Perhaps even I missed it: I gazed down on the boy before me with near-stranger’s mien, oppressive air.

My grip tightened insistent, nigh dragging his shoulder— yet he yielded not as wished, refusing to rise.

“Fine, suit yourself!

Think you’re still some kid who can flop and sulk?”

At last, that string dubbed “patience” snapped clean in me.

I scoffed sharp, flinging his arm irate, whirling to stalk off alone from this suffocating wood.

The instant I turned, the boy’s winded voice chased from behind, like invisible thread binding my step:

“You plan……

To flee alone like this?”

He must’ve seen through something……

The thought pierced like chill needle, sudden and secret, stirring covert turmoil.

I halted abrupt, spinning to face him.

Nolan propped half-up, rising slow.

“I know you have reasons you must— but

Tiya, fleeing blind like this— you okay with that?”

He tilted head up; voice soft, yet clear to my ear.

He absolutely saw through—

I repeated inward, as if to convince self; face darkened unwitting, voice lacing defensive barbs:

“Don’t play mind-reader there, guessing at others’ thoughts.

You know nothing.”

“My thoughts don’t matter,”

His tone surprised calm.

“What matters is you……”

“Me? What’s with me?”

It tumbled near reflex, laced exaggerated sarcasm to mask guilt.

“Ah……

I see— you spinning some yarn in your head again, this world’s loves and hates?

Tell you— the Imperial Opera House should hire you to script for those bored ladies and misses.

Bound to thrill.”

“Even if you say that,”

Nolan’s gaze stayed frank to heart-startle.

“But what I can think of— only things tied to you, Tiya. Rest, I care not.”

“What do you mean?

What’re you even thinking?”

Sudden, nameless heat surged to my cheeks, like scorching spread across face.

“Because all along,”

Nolan’s voice held simple conviction.

“You’ve been that kind of person, Tiya.”

I narrowed eyes, staring tight, hunting any feint or scheme on his face.

“All along”— that Kritiya’s imprint on him?

Heh— thought standing before him was his “Kritiya,” so he could have his way?

“Then what d’you want me to do?”

I eyed Nolan cold.

“Here’s an idea— you say the plan.

What to do, I follow full— see how it ends?”

I stood rooted, watching Nolan mince tiny steps nearer; one hand on chest, he bowed slight, eyes rule-bound with feeling, lifting to meet mine:

“Go back.

No matter what, I’m with you.”

“……

What’s wrong?

Tiya?”

“Go die.”

The words scarce fell— right palm morphed blood-blade, thrusting at the “servant” before.

Swish!

“How’d you spot it?

Or……

Don’t tell me you’re truly ruthless— meaning to strike that boy down hard?”

My long-prepped lethal blow halted firm by sudden hazy holy light.

At blood-blade and white’s verge hissed teeth-grating “ssss,” like cold drop in boiling oil.

The “Nolan” before— pupils shrank slow to slits, like cold-blooded reptile.

“Why lately everyone’s slapping on crab-leg masks, thinking they’ll get soft treatment from me?”

I glared tight— spied, beneath illusion’s veil, that left arm: seeming limp aside, actually cradling the chain-stitched human-skin holy book— the very tome met aboard ship, parted on shore: Galestia!

“Ah……

There it is!

Eyes bloodshot, iris split dual— in this state, your eyes pierce illusions and veils.”

Galestia spoke in Nolan’s timbre, yet laced odd quiver— tone Nolan’d never muster, stirring my instinctive revulsion.

“But— earlier, you weren’t using that trick, right?

How’d you see through?”

“Come on, spill?

You pierced my true form before, yeah?

But now’s different— this disguise draws on the human-skin holy book’s power.

No comparison to prior.”

Here, Galestia shifted to a slightly husky feminine lilt— I guessed, her true voice.

“Too cringey……”

“What?”

“You say stuff like that— don’t you feel ashamed?”

I spat through gritted teeth, channeling full force to fingertips.

Seemed to smell char wafting nostrils; amid fingertip’s searing pain, the light shield ahead began flickering unsteady, trembling.

Crack crack scrape!

Shield’s shatter-instant, Galestia— as if prepped— jerked back, retreating paces swift, then steadying form.

“Tsk tsk— such vicious hand.

You really mean to kill me?”

The fiend, wearing Nolan’s face, flashed a contrived-profound nauseous grin.

I merely stood wordless, watching her— letting fresh blood trickle strand by strand from palm, dripping plip-plop to ground, slowly staining spread.

Truth be told, for an instant— as Galestia said— future heroine or not, I truly wanted her dead.