Chapter 37: Whose Child Is It?

Sophia’s footsteps paused for just a moment before she resumed, step by step, moving closer to Tulia.

A strange scene unfolded.

The one charging up a lethal spell was, instead, being forced back by someone completely unarmed. Step by step, Tulia retreated, until her back pressed against the cold corner of the wall, leaving her nowhere to go.

“If you come any closer, I’ll do it!” Tulia’s voice was already tinged with tears. Deep down, she neither dared nor wanted to truly hurt Sophia. She was only relying on her last shred of verbal threat to force Sophia to stop.

Yet, Sophia paid no heed to the Ice Spike that was just within arm’s reach.

She simply gazed quietly into Tulia’s eyes, those eyes swirling with countless emotions—regret, loss, and a sense of relief, as if a weight had finally been lifted…

“If hurting me can make you feel better…”

She spoke softly, reaching out to gently grasp Tulia’s Ice Spike, which hovered right in front of her chest.

“…If hurting me will make you forgive me…”

Holding the blade that could so easily pierce her heart, she continued forward, until the two were face-to-face once again, so close their toes nearly touched.

Tulia looked at her, at those eyes filled with pain and affection. Yet, the hand controlling the Ice Spike trembled uncontrollably, unable to move even a fraction closer.

Sophia slowly opened her arms and gently embraced Tulia, whose whole body was shaking.

It was just a simple, gentle hug, with no other movement.

That hug was the final straw that broke the camel’s back.

The forced anger and stubbornness on Tulia’s face instantly crumbled.

Her whole body seemed drained of all strength, collapsing into limpness.

The Magic Inscription in her palm silently faded away, and the sharp Ice Spikes melted into a puddle, sliding down Sophia’s lapel.

Her hands, too, fell limply to her sides.

In the darkness of the entryway, only Tulia’s suppressed, faint sobs remained.

Sophia simply held her quietly, saying nothing, making no further move.

She could feel the body in her arms, rigid and resistant at first, then drained and limp, and now trembling slightly.

After a long time, the sound of sobbing gradually faded.

Tulia broke free from her embrace, roughly wiping her face with her sleeve. Her eyes were red as she turned away, refusing to look at her.

Sophia watched her stubborn expression. The joy of recovering something once lost softened the jealousy she’d felt at first.

She reached out, wanting to touch her again, but after thinking for a moment, paused mid-air. In the end, she only spoke with a sighing, hoarse tone:

“The floor’s cold. Come on, get up.”

She bent down, carefully helping Tulia—still slumped on the ground—to her feet.

Tulia’s rear still hurt, and as she stood, her face twisted in pain. The whole movement was awkward and pitiable.

Supporting her, Sophia led her through the entryway into the pitch-black living room.

With a casual snap of her fingers—

“Pa.”

The next instant, the ornate Mana Crystal chandelier on the ceiling awakened as if by invisible command, casting a gentle, bright light and illuminating the entire room.

Tulia squinted, her eyes stung by the sudden brightness.

Sophia settled her onto the soft Sofa, then walked straight to a storage cabinet in the corner of the living room.

She showed no hesitation toward the unfamiliar environment, moving as if she’d returned to her own home.

She deftly opened the Third Drawer, taking out a tin of exquisitely packaged Red Tea leaves and a clean Tea Set.

Her actions were smooth as flowing water—boiling water, warming the cups, brewing the tea.

Very soon, a steaming cup of Red Tea, rich with fragrance, was placed before Tulia.

Tulia looked at the clear, amber Red Tea in front of her, then at Sophia. Her recently soothed thoughts fell once again into chaos.

That tin of Red Tea was something she’d only bought from the Market yesterday. She’d found the flavor pleasant and had carelessly stuffed it into that rarely used drawer.

How…how did she know?

“You… How did you know where I kept my tea leaves?” Tulia finally couldn’t hold back and blurted out her confusion.

Sophia picked up her own cup, blew on it gently, then glanced up with a look as calm as if she were saying, “Nice weather today.”

“Before you came home, I’d already looked through this entire house. From the Basement Wine Cellar to the Attic Storage Room, I saw everything.”

In other words, it wasn’t just the tea—she knew all about the stash of money hidden under the bed, which outfit was worn the most in the wardrobe, everything.

This sense of calm, revealing such absolute control, made the newly calmed Tulia break out in a cold sweat.

An ordinary person might have been frightened by someone knowing all their secrets, but what Tulia felt was a violated, pouting anger.

“You… Who gave you the right to go through my stuff!”

She bristled like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.

She forgot the insurmountable gap in strength between them, forgot how she’d been pinned helplessly against the door moments ago.

Now, she was just an indignant homeowner, her house “searched” by a stranger.

Her tear-streaked little face flushed with anger, cheeks puffed out, glaring at Sophia with a kind of adorable, entirely unthreatening indignation.

“This is my house! Did I give you permission to barge in? This is breaking and entering! I’ll go report you to the City Guards!”

Looking at this little wildcat flaring up—yet still cute and harmless—Sophia’s heart, once frozen by jealousy and anger, suddenly melted.

She watched her, watched those blue eyes shining even brighter with anger, those cheeks puffed like an angry little hamster…

Over forty years.

She really… hadn’t changed a bit.

The corners of Sophia’s mouth curled up uncontrollably into a faint, yet genuinely doting smile.

“All right.” Sophia set down her teacup, replying gently,

“Go ahead and report me.”

Her tone was as light as a cloud.

Tulia’s puffed-up, kittenish anger was instantly doused, as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over her head.

She’d just been trying to act tough anyway; the threat was utterly empty.

After all.

Report her? How?

Tell the Empire’s City Guards that a famous Noerstein Family heir had broken into her home—a “widow” who’d fled from the Kingdom and whose identity was sensitive?

Never mind whether the Empire’s officials would antagonize such an influential figure for a mere “refugee” like her.

It was just as likely they’d try to curry favor with Sophia by having the City Guards drag her, a “Kingdom refugee,” into the dungeon for “tea”—that is, to interrogate her about her so-called “real” reason for coming to the Empire.

Tulia instantly lost all her momentum.

Like a pricked balloon, she collapsed limply back onto the Sofa, clutching a pillow and burying her face in it, stewing in silent frustration.

Seeing her transform from bristling kitten to ostrich hiding away, the smile on Sophia’s lips deepened.

She took up her teacup and took an elegant sip before leisurely speaking up,

“About that daughter of yours… What’s the story?”

Tulia’s body tensed instantly.

She lifted her head from the pillow and stared at Sophia warily. “What are you trying to do? I’m warning you, don’t you dare lay a hand on her!”

“I don’t want anything.”

Sophia’s tone was as calm as ever, but even she failed to notice the hint of bitterness in her voice. “I’m just… curious, is all.”

She paused, her voice dropping a little, as if speaking to herself: “I thought… after you left me, you’d find some ordinary man, get married, have kids…”

“That’s none of your business!” Tulia immediately cut her off.

“Is it?” Sophia lifted her gaze, staring at her, eyes seeming to pierce her very soul. “Then tell me, who is that man? Is he dead? When did he die? Where is he buried?”

A barrage of questions made Tulia’s mind go blank.

That “man” was someone she’d made up on the spot, just to get a city permit! Where was she supposed to find Sophia a grave for him?

“W-why should I tell you!” Tulia stammered defiantly.

“Because I haven’t found any trace of a second adult in this house of yours.” Sophia set down her teacup, leaning forward ever so slightly, and a subtle but undeniable pressure filled the air. “No men’s clothes, no men’s things, not even a single photo together.”

Her eyes drifted to Tulia’s flat belly.

“And, most importantly…”

Sophia’s voice dropped even lower, carrying a bewitching undertone and an air of absolute certainty.

“…Your body is just as it was forty years ago. Aside from me, there’s never been anyone else… who’s touched you.”

At those words, Tulia’s cheeks turned crimson.

She wanted to retort instinctively, but found herself unable to utter a single word.