“Please wait, Miss Witch!”
Beatrice didn’t answer a word—she simply grabbed Aurora’s hand and walked straight out of the reception room.
No matter how persistently the people behind them chased, she didn’t so much as glance back.
The captain of the guard followed behind, offering increasingly higher sums of money as compensation, but nothing he said made her slow her steps in the slightest.
Eventually, realizing he had failed to persuade her, he left in frustration.
Aurora, trailing behind, remained silent. She looked at Beatrice’s figure ahead of her. Although she couldn’t see her face, she could feel her anger just from the force with which she was holding her wrist.
A chilly breeze swept past, ruffling their hair. The silent atmosphere between them clashed starkly with the noise of the crowd around them, creating a palpable awkwardness.
After a long while, Aurora finally spoke.
“This country… doesn’t seem as good as I imagined…”
The figure in front of her still didn’t respond. Just as she thought the silence would drag on, a calm voice broke through.
“Aurora, what kind of country do you want to live in?”
“Me?”
Faced with such a question, Aurora lowered her gaze in thought, then answered softly:
“I want to live in a country where no one cries because of war. I want to live in a country where I can watch fireflies at night without worry. I want to live in a country where everyone respects each other…”
After voicing her hopes, she lifted her eyes and waited for Beatrice’s judgment on what she knew were unrealistic dreams.
“Impossible to achieve.”
The calm reply was, as always, ruthlessly blunt.
Aurora couldn’t help but wonder—if she were like the heroine in a storybook, uttering those words to Beatrice with her dying breath after a tragic battle, would Beatrice still coldly say, “Impossible to achieve”?
“Hehe, I know, actually. I’m not so naive that I can’t tell reality from fantasy.”
“Then what about you, Beatrice? What kind of country do you want to live in someday?”
After asking, Aurora perked up and listened carefully. She was genuinely curious what kind of place someone like Beatrice—who disliked socializing and dreaded troublesome things—would want to settle in.
“I…”
She paused for a moment before continuing.
“I want to live in a country where Aurora exists. That’s all I need.”
“I-Is that so…”
The unexpected answer made Aurora feel a little shy. If that was the kind of response Beatrice gave, then maybe she should’ve added something like ‘I want to live together with Beatrice’ to her own answer earlier too.
But adding it now felt a little too late. Still, with the warm atmosphere lingering between them, she felt she ought to say something to keep it going.
“It’ll come true…”
As she said this, she tightened her grip on Beatrice’s hand. Her once-soft voice grew firmer with determination.
“Wherever Beatrice goes, I’ll go.”
“What if I die?”
“Eh?”
The heavy question caught Aurora off guard. She didn’t know how to respond for a moment, then reflexively blurted out:
“Then I’ll die with you!”
“Is that so.”
Beatrice’s response was flat, but Aurora could sense a faint hint of happiness in her tone. That meant her answer had been just right.
After walking a little further, the two arrived at an inn.
Their first impression of the town had been good, but after speaking with the captain of the guards, their favorability dropped significantly—especially for Beatrice.
Now, all she wanted was to get through the day quickly and leave first thing the next morning to avoid getting bothered by those guards again.
“Eh? You’re going to rest already?”
“But we haven’t even played or done anything yet.”
“Tired. Sleep.”
Beatrice always slept well—especially when she was hugging Aurora. Every time, she needed close to twenty hours of sleep.
And whenever she slept with Aurora, she’d always end up rubbing against her, intentionally or not, tickling her and making her a bit uncomfortable.
She pulled Aurora into the inn, but there was no sign of the innkeeper.
Aurora tried calling out a few times, but no one answered.
“Maybe they went out?”
“No telling when they’ll be back.”
“Then we switch.”
Beatrice didn’t like waiting, so she immediately decided to find another inn. Just as she was about to leave, a loud bang-clatter came from the attic.
“Wait a sec!”
Thud.
“Oww!”
Something green rolled down from the attic with a wail and landed right in front of the two of them before going completely still.
“Are you okay?!”
Aurora wanted to go over and check on the green-haired girl, but just as she stepped forward, she was pulled back.
Beatrice stood in front of the girl, gave her a nudge on the head with her black boot, and said coldly, “If you’re dead, just say so.”
“Dead people don’t talk.”
The girl on the floor suddenly spoke. She pushed herself up and slowly stood.
There was a piece of gauze on the right side of her cheek, and the rest of her body was covered in bruises—probably from that fall. As she smiled at the two of them, it was clear that one of her teeth had been knocked out as well.
“What a pitiful girl…”
Aurora muttered reflexively, and then, realizing she’d spoken out loud, she quickly covered her mouth in panic.
“Are you the owner?”
Beatrice asked with the same emotionless tone, her face still carrying that eternally annoyed expression.
“Me? I’m not the owner.”
“Heh.”
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