Chapter 43 : How Could I Ever Think That?

“Did it burn you? Water—Idis, hand me the canteen.”

Idis fumbled with the water bag. Milly shook her head.

Tifna set it down, gently patting Milly’s back. “Slow down… there’s plenty. Eat as much as you want.”

But Milly clutched the meat in her mouth, tears dripping onto the morsel. As they flowed endlessly, she shoved the salty, tear-soaked venison deeper, chewing like a starving animal.

The second bite was fiercer—her sharp little fang slicing her lower lip. Blood mixed with juice, sliding down her throat. The iron taste made reality sharper.

This wasn’t Stacy’s dancing meat.
Not writhing, eye-covered fungi.
Not bread worse than bark.

This was real meat.
The flavor of life exploded on her tongue.
Pain from the burn. Salt from her tears.
A wave of sensation crashing through every nerve.

She gnawed like she wanted to vomit up every ounce of despair she’d ever swallowed—the rot forced down her throat, the unimaginable horrors fed to her, and above all—the endless torment at Stacy’s hands. Now, it all surged out in hot, silent tears.

For the first time… Milly felt alive.

“Slow down… slow down…”

After Milly swallowed the last bite, Tifna handed her the water again. Watching the white-haired girl gulp it down without dignity, Tifna clenched her fist.

She’d doubted Milly before.

Now, she only wanted to say sorry.

What kind of hell had this girl endured during her captivity? A simple piece of deer meat shouldn’t reduce someone to sobs.

Tifna ached to pull Milly into her arms.

In those dark days… what unspeakable suffering had she survived?

The camp fell silent—only firewood crackling, and Milly’s quiet sobs echoing.

Stacy watched the live feed—Milly’s glistening tears reflected in her crimson eyes.

After long silence, she suddenly bit her lip—hard.

The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth.

Back to the screen—Tifna was cutting another piece, offering it to Milly.

Her palm stung.

She looked down—fingernails buried deep into her flesh.

“I gave you better things…” She released her hand, staring at the red seeping out.

How long had it been since she’d seen her own blood?

“Just cheap venison… and you love it this much?”

This greed—this hunger—was something she’d never seen.

Every meal she prepared for Milly—rejected. Even if eaten, immediately vomited.

Her cooking wasn’t that bad, was it?

When the scene shifted—Tifna carrying a drowsy Milly back to the tent—Stacy stood abruptly.

Her nails dug into her chest—deep.

She didn’t understand the turmoil inside.

Was it rage? Her possession being taken—her need to reclaim it?

No… beneath that—something else.

Something like… fear of loss?

No.

How could I have such a ridiculous thought?

“Absurd.” She laughed—hoarse, broken.

New servants knelt before her throne, trembling.

Stacy’s chaotic magic spilled uncontrollably—but within its storm, there was a tremor they’d never felt before.

She shut off the feed.

Sat back on her throne.

And the moment she did—

The throne shattered.

“Tch…”

She bit her lip again, pressing a hand to her chest—forcing her breath to steady.

“Stacy… remember your goal. Only one purpose. Everything else… you don’t need…”

“Captain, is she settled?”

Tifna tucked Milly into the tent, covering her with the blanket before stepping out.

“Mm.”

As she quietly explained Milly’s ordeal, the team’s expressions darkened. By the end, one even gripped his weapon.

“Slavery’s been banned for years. How dare they still operate?”

“Joseph, keep it down!”

Idis pointed at the tent—Milly had just fallen asleep.

“I’m just angry! And if the captain’s right—what if someone high up is involved?”

Tifna frowned, chin on her palm.

She’d never heard “Stacy” before—likely a fake name.

But a mark so powerful it injured Idis? The caster had to be far stronger.

Magicians of that level were either state-trained or recruited. None should slip through the cracks.

So—only possibility: someone in power was behind it.

And lately… she’d heard rumors. Dark whispers. But as a child, her family shielded her. She knew only fragments.

Still—she’d sworn an oath.

She would expose the culprit.

“They’re the prime suspect.”

Silence followed.

If mere traffickers—they could fight.

But high-ranking officials? Most lacked Tifna’s noble backing.

“If it is someone powerful… what will you do, Captain?”

Tifna stared at the fire. Then drew her sword—slamming it into the earth.

“The first tenet of House Luminess: When the Judgment Sword falls—no regard for the scepter, only the sin.”

As the words rang out, her vision blurred.

Echoes of a loved one’s voice:

“Tifna… our family has wielded the Empire’s Judgment Sword for generations. No matter their status—when law is broken, we judge the crime, not the crown.”

Perhaps now—she would truly live those words.

All eyes turned to her—

But no one noticed Milly, awake inside the tent, peering through a gap.

Sweat soaked her back.

It’s over.

She’d lied to escape scrutiny.

Never imagined Tifna would take it this seriously.

The venison churned in her stomach—a burning reminder.

She’d tasted kindness.

And now… she’d tasted the poison of lies.

If the truth came out… how could she face Tifna then?