Seraphina took a step forward. Her voice rose sharply, choked with tears and fury she could no longer contain.
“Look at me and tell me! Blackstone Outpost—that was you! Ailinuo’s coming-of-age banquet—you were there too! And that slave in the arena just now—you tampered with him, didn’t you?! Answer me!”
“You said you didn’t want to solve the border conflict with violence anymore, yet you still went! You said you hated the scheming and hypocrisy at banquets, yet you still went! And this time?! What excuse did you use this time?!”
Movira’s brows drew together slightly; she opened her mouth as if to explain, but the grief-stricken Seraphina gave her no chance.
“Protection? Is it protection again?!” Seraphina’s emotions finally burst. The tears that had been clinging to her lashes spilled over, yet she stubbornly refused to wipe them away.
“Yes, I know you’re protecting me, afraid I’ll get hurt, afraid something will happen to me… but the way you do it is practically surveillance! Movira!!”
She flung her arms outward, thin fingers bursting from the ragged cloak to point at the window—at this chaotic city.
“At first I didn’t care about the Demon Realm, but now I want to understand this land. I want to see the good and the bad with my own eyes! I want to do something with my own strength, even if I crash into walls, even if I die in the attempt! Not live inside the utopia you wove with your power! I am not your porcelain doll!”
Movira listened in silence. Pain and exhaustion suddenly surfaced in her eyes. She watched Seraphina’s agitated tears, watched the genuine anguish and despair that were all too real.
Any words of comfort she might have offered now felt utterly hollow.
“Every single time! Every time I think I’ve gained even a sliver of freedom, I discover your shadow is everywhere! This isn’t protection! Your love is too heavy—it’s suffocating me… Do you understand?!”
After a long silence, Movira finally spoke, voice low with helpless sorrow, almost hoarse. “So… staying by my side causes you this much pain, Seraphina?”
“Being with me truly feels so… suffocating to you?” She took one small step forward, wanting—as always—to close the distance.
But Seraphina’s despairing gaze alone pinned her in place.
“I just… cannot bear even the slightest risk of losing you. This land is far more—”
“Enough!” Seraphina cut her off sharply. “Don’t try to scare me with that! Why won’t you ever believe in me—believe that I can face danger, that I won’t be broken! Instead of locking me at your side like this! If this is what you call protection, then I would rather—”
“Silence!” Movira’s voice suddenly carried a rare edge of severity, stopping the wounding words before they could leave Seraphina’s mouth.
Movira… was afraid. Afraid she would say something irreparable, something that would shatter them completely.
“Why won’t you let me finish!! Was it you who sent Lina to my side?! Was it you who forbade me from even being normal friends with Ailinuo?!”
Movira could bear it no longer. In a blink she stood before Seraphina, leaving only an afterimage.
Cold, trembling fingers gently touched Seraphina’s forehead.
“You need to calm down, my love,” Movira whispered beside her ear, voice laced with pain. “And… let me calm down too.”
Powerful yet tender magic surged like warm tides, instantly enveloping Seraphina’s raging emotions and pulling her consciousness away from reality.
“Mmph…” Seraphina raised a hand to push Movira away, but all the anger and grievance dissolved into irresistible drowsiness. Her body went limp and toppled forward.
Movira caught her at once, cradling her securely. She looked down at the sleeping face still streaked with tears, gently wiping them away with a fingertip—eyes filled with complex tenderness, love, and the sting of those piercing words.
She lifted Seraphina into her arms. Without glancing at Lina, she spoke softly. “Tell that Shadow… and Duke Dekrian. You will stay here for now, protected by knights from the Demon King’s Castle.”
“Return only after my personal guard has razed this place to the ground. It won’t take long.”
With that, she stepped into the re-forming shadow and vanished completely, taking Seraphina with her.
…
Seraphina’s consciousness drifted in deep ocean darkness. The first thing she felt upon waking was the softness beneath her and the familiar incense in the air.
In an instant every memory flooded back—Asma’s chaos, the quarrel with Movira…
She jerked her eyes open. The scene before her was achingly familiar… and nauseatingly so.
She was back here again…
The door opened. Movira appeared in the doorway carrying a steaming cup that smelled of medicinal herbs, walking slowly toward her.
“Awake?” Her voice had returned to its usual gentleness, as though the earlier clash had never happened.
“How do you feel? Drink your medicine first.”
Seraphina struck the offered cup away. It shattered against the carpet, leaving a dark stain.
“Don’t touch me!” Her voice was hoarse, still cold. “Movira, drop the act! What exactly am I to you? I don’t want to be controlled by you anymore!”
Movira stared at the stain on the carpet. The light in her eyes dimmed, but her tone remained soft. “Seraphina, stop being wilful, all right? You need rest and recovery. You mustn’t work yourself into such a state again. Between us… there are indeed some differences.”
“Differences?!” Seraphina laughed bitterly, forcing herself upright. Humiliation burned in her eyes. “Is this what you call differences? This is control!”
The more she spoke, the more agitated she became; an unnatural flush rose on her pale cheeks.
“Every day at your side I can’t breathe! I remember telling you—if your so-called love is this suffocating, then I would rather—”
Seraphina’s gaze flashed with desperate resolve. She lunged for the small, sharp letter-opener on the bedside cabinet—an ornamental blade.
“I would rather die right in front of you! My greatest regret is that I didn’t die on the battlefield back then!”
She pressed the cold tip to her own throat. The metal made her tremble slightly. “Give me real freedom—freedom without your surveillance… or else—”
Movira’s pupils contracted. Any hope of talking calmly vanished, replaced by overwhelming pressure so heavy the very light in the room seemed to dim.
“Put the knife down! I indulge you, but not so you can threaten me with self-harm!”
Seraphina said nothing. A thin line of blood already beaded beneath the blade…
“Very… well!” Movira had had enough. “My beloved Seraphina, it seems I have been far too gentle with you.”
In one step she was upon her—too fast for Seraphina to react. The little knife clattered to the floor.
Seraphina cried out in shock, trying to shove Movira away, but her wrists were caught easily. Her entire body was pulled inescapably into Movira’s embrace.
“Let me go! Movira—what are you doing?!”
“What am I doing? Exactly this.” Movira leaned down until her lips brushed Seraphina’s ear, voice carrying a cruel tenderness. “Haven’t you always wondered what it would truly feel like… after becoming completely a woman?”
“Today I will personally… teach you.”
“No… please… Movira, don’t do this…”
Seraphina felt cool air kiss her skin and began to shake uncontrollably. Tears surged forth once more.
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