Chapter 50 : Home, But They’re Gone

As Tifna predicted, they reached Starlight City late at night.

The streets were bathed in silver moonlight. The carriage wheels rumbled over the cobblestones, the sound sharp in the silence. Occasionally, a loose stone made the carriage jolt, reminding Milly of bumpy country roads from her childhood.

The ride itself was novel—she’d never been in a horse-drawn carriage before.

But after a full day of it? Agony.

If only there were teleportation arrays. This was a fantasy world—why couldn’t they just zap around?

She had no memory of how Stacy had moved her—once unconscious, the other time, fast asleep.

Peeking out the window, she saw the houses thinning. They were leaving the city center.

Inside, Tifna rested with her eyes closed. Idis was already snoring softly. Milly remained curled in the corner, swaying with each bump.

The carriage continued its silent journey until Tifna opened her eyes.

“We’re here.”

The carriage slowed. When it stopped, Milly was the first one out.

The jarring ride had left her stiff. She needed to stretch. In the dark, with few people around, no one would see her face.

Tifna followed her out. A yawning Idis pushed open the carriage window.

“Why are we stopping? I thought we were going to my place for a bath.”

Tifna gestured to the wooden house before them. “Not today. I want to get home early.”

“Aww…” Idis pouted, knowing what Tifna really meant to check.

“Well, at least let Milly come with me! My bathhouse is amazing, I promise you won’t want to leave!”

If it weren’t for Idis’s earlier antics, Milly might have been tempted. But now… she had a good idea of what “amazing” meant.

“No, thanks. I’ll stick with Tifna.”

She hid behind Tifna, her refusal written all over her face.

Rejected, Idis sighed. “Fine, fine. I’ll go soak by myself.”

The carriage rolled on, carrying Idis away. The other two had split off upon entering the city.

After watching the carriage disappear, Tifna opened the fence gate and led Milly into a small garden. Unknown flowers bloomed in the dark, their scent faint on the night breeze.

At the door, Tifna reached out—then hesitated.

Again and again, she reached, then pulled back. Finally, steeling herself, she pushed the door open.

Complete darkness inside.

For the first time, Milly saw raw sorrow on Tifna’s face. It vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by her usual calm.

Tifna fumbled for the oil lamp by the door. As light filled the room, Milly looked around.

Simple, but warm. Landscape paintings on the walls. A small wooden table in the corner, holding a vase of withered flowers.

They went upstairs to another room. Tifna paused again, then opened the door.

The scent of pine filled the air—so different from Stacy’s cold, iron cages.

“The guest room isn’t ready. You can stay in my brother’s room tonight.”

Huh?

The room was neat, tidy. A sheathed longsword hung on the wall.

This was the Sword Saint’s room? No training dummies, no weapon racks. It looked… normal.

“This was my brother’s,” Tifna’s voice came from the doorway, her gaze fixed on the sword. “He… hasn’t been back in a long time.”

“He’s the Sword Saint. A hero like that probably already finished his mission and is on his way back.”

Tifna managed a weak smile—so different from the capable captain she’d been.

“Rest for a bit. I’ll go get you some things.” The door closed behind her.

Milly sat on the edge of the bed. It was high—or maybe she was just too small. Her feet dangled, unable to touch the floor.

She stared at the ceiling, feeling out of place. Another day in a new world. What would tomorrow bring?

As she gazed out the window at the moon, the door opened again. Tifna walked in, carrying a fresh set of bedding.

“I aired these out half a month ago. The nightgown might be a bit big, but it’ll have to do.”

On top of the blankets was a simple white nightgown.

“The bath is ready. Downstairs. Go ahead.”

This time, she left the door open.

Milly took the nightgown and left the room. From the room next door—presumably Tifna’s—she could hear sounds of rummaging.

Best not to eavesdrop. Tifna had prepared a bath for her; she shouldn’t let it get cold.

She found the bathroom downstairs. The tub was full of hot, steaming water.

She struggled out of the dress—it was surprisingly difficult. In the mirror, steam obscured the sensitive parts of her reflection.

She unwrapped the bandages on her arm—the scrapes Tifna had mentioned were gone. Smooth, unblemished skin. The other wounds?

She checked her stomach—also healed. Was it the medicine? Or her own regeneration?

No time to think. She jumped into the tub, splashing water everywhere.

The warmth enveloped her, seeping into every pore. The exhaustion of the past days melted away. She hummed a contented tune.

The hot bath was perfect.

Except for one thing.

The thorn sigil on her collarbone suddenly emerged, pulsing with a sharp, tingling pain.