Chapter 87

“Wait—what if she mistakes me for Groen?”

 

At Roseanne’s remark, Rahar looked at her with an utterly baffled expression.

 

“Even if she does, it won’t matter for you.”

 

“It won’t matter? How so?”

 

“Well, you don’t have…”

 

Roseanne stopped mid-sentence—she had almost said that Rahar had no one to worry about, no lover to get jealous over. If she said that, Rahar would certainly ask why Tearen wasn’t allowed that same excuse, and then her feelings for Tearen would be exposed on the spot.

 

She wasn’t planning to hide it forever, but Rahar already had a poor opinion of Tearen’s history with women. If she admitted she liked him, Rahar would oppose it with his sleeves rolled up, ready to fight.

 

Not that Rahar’s disapproval would stop her, nor was she planning to drop her feelings.

 

But for now, Tearen had no idea about her heart—and even if he vaguely suspected, this was not the right moment to show it. Better to be cautious.

 

“Anyway, you do it.”

 

“Yeah, that’s probably best.”

 

“If it’s Rahar, we can trust you.”

 

“Then it’s settled. He’s doing it.”

 

At Roseanne’s words, Tearen, Enria, and Caldeon all tossed the responsibility of Belona onto Rahar as if on cue.

 

Rahar scrunched his face, dumbfounded.

 

“And what are we doing after that? What if, once she learns the truth, that light-attribute mage goes hysterical from shock?”

 

“I’ll stay with her for the time being.”

 

The moment Enria quietly lifted her hand and said this, three pairs of eyes—Tearen, Rahar, and Roseanne—snapped toward her.

 

“You?” Roseanne asked.

 

Enria nodded once. Roseanne immediately argued there were plenty of people in the Grand Duke’s castle; Enria didn’t need to watch Belona herself.

 

“But she has almost no memory, and she doesn’t seem capable of normal reasoning. Leaving her to the servants feels… wrong.”

 

“If you don’t like giving her to the servants, you can leave her to the priestesses. There are a lot of priestesses here helping to heal the injured spirits.”

 

“But they’re busy healing spirits.”

 

Roseanne went silent, humming thoughtfully.

 

She clearly didn’t like the idea of Enria tending to Belona.

 

“Lady Silri has fully recovered, and I don’t have anything else that needs my attention urgently. I think it’s best if I stay with her. And… I want to.”

 

Since Enria was this firm, Roseanne couldn’t dismiss her outright and gave a reluctant nod.

 

“Fine. But be careful. She might not seem like she’ll hurt you, but we don’t know when she could snap.”

 

The way Belona had clung to Caldeon’s light attribute like a vine—and how unstable she’d seemed whenever Groen was mentioned—made the warning reasonable.

 

When Enria nodded, Roseanne turned to Rahar, who was still standing there blankly.

 

“What are you doing? Go tell her.”

 

“Huh? Oh—yeah.”

 

Pushed from all sides, Rahar finally went off to tell Belona about Groen.

 

Roseanne watched him disappear, then turned to Enria.

 

“But we should watch her state for the rest of today, right?”

 

“In case the shock makes her do something unpredictable?”

 

Enria had been thinking the same thing. Belona had mistaken Caldeon for Groen earlier—who knew what she’d do once she learned the truth?

 

If she broke down screaming that it wasn’t real, Enria alone wouldn’t be able to handle it.

 

“Exactly. Since she mistook Caldeon for Groen, we really don’t know. Better to be cautious.”

 

Enria nodded.

 

“Yeah. I think so too.”

 

She watched Rahar’s retreating back and prayed Belona wouldn’t take the truth too hard.

 

 

***

 

 

Rahar studied Belona’s expression, face slightly stiff.

 

He had said everything, choosing each word with care—yet the girl sitting across from him on the sofa didn’t show the slightest crack. Not even a flicker.

 

He was starting to suspect she hadn’t understood a single thing.

 

“Um… Miss Belona?”

 

“You heard him properly, human?”

 

The moment Rahar addressed Belona, Silri—sitting beside her—spoke first.

 

He looked at Silri, then back at Belona.

 

Belona just stared at the air with a blank, hollow expression.

 

“Human, you didn’t suddenly go deaf, did you?”

 

“No. I heard it.”

 

Belona shook her head. Her eyes still drifted aimlessly.

 

“Did you actually understand what Rahar just told you?”

 

“…Understand?”

 

Belona finally moved her gaze and looked at Silri.

 

“Yes. What he just told you.”

 

“…Ah.”

 

She turned her head back to Rahar.

 

The moment their eyes met, she asked: “So where is Groen now?”

 

Rahar’s face hardened.

 

He had been so careful. Painfully careful. And she hadn’t understood a single part of it.

 

If Silri hadn’t pointed it out, he would’ve assumed Belona understood and moved on.

 

Rahar praised himself for stopping Silri from leaving earlier.

 

‘This is bad. I explained it clearly, and she still didn’t get it.’

 

He had no idea how to make her remember that Groen had died—lost his soul—right before her eyes.

 

Not that he wanted her to relive that horror. He just needed her to grasp the present reality.

 

“Seems like that half-missing soul of hers filters out anything it doesn’t want to hear.”

 

Silri folded her arms, visibly annoyed.

 

“I’ll explain it properly, so open your ears and brain, human.”

 

“Where is Groen?” Belona asked Silri with a clear, innocent expression.

 

A strange tension crackled between the two. Rahar could only roll his eyes helplessly.

 

“He’s not anywhere.”

 

“……”

 

“He’s dead. Your brain probably knows that already.”

 

“Where is Groen now?”

 

Belona turned back to Rahar like a broken record.

 

Yes—she really was filtering it out.

 

“Silri’s right. Groen is already dead.”

 

“Where. Is. He?” she insisted, pressing on the word where.

 

“He’s dead. You saw it. He died right in front of you. And it was pretty horri—”

 

“Silri.”

 

Rahar cut her off quickly, startled at her bluntness.

 

Silri sighed, exasperated.

 

“You can see her state. If you sugarcoat anything, she’ll stay stuck like this. Her brain refuses any more trauma. If you tiptoe around it, she’ll keep rejecting the truth.”

 

“……”

 

Rahar looked at Belona.

 

She stared back at him with an empty, emotionless face.

 

He watched her a moment, then made up his mind.

 

“Belona.”

 

“……”

 

“Groen is gone.”

 

“Where is he?”

 

“His soul was eaten. By a black mage.”

 

He had avoided mentioning the cause of death—but if he didn’t, they would just loop forever.

 

“…Black mage…” Belona murmured.

 

“Yes. Pahomel. The black mage who killed the Tower Master and disguised himself as him.”

 

Belona’s eyes shot wide open.

 

“The Tower Master…”

 

Her face alternated between pale blue and ghost-white as fragments of memory finally surfaced.

 

Rahar swallowed dryly and continued.

 

“The black mage disguised as Pahomel deceived Groen for a long time. Because of that, Groen was caught and lost his soul.”

 

“……!”

 

“And you, Miss Belona—you had half your soul eaten by a spirit who sided with the black mage. That’s probably why you can’t remember Groen’s death.”

 

“AaAAAH! AAH! AAAAAAH!”

 

Suddenly Belona clapped her hands over her ears and screamed—an unhinged, soul-splitting shriek.

 

She folded in on herself, wailing as if begging the nightmare to end.

 

Servants rushed in first, panicked. Then Enria, Caldeon, Roseanne, and Tearen burst in.

 

They froze at the sight of Belona crouched beneath the sofa, screaming with enough force to tear her throat.

 

Given the circumstances, none of them found the sound unbearable. They had feared this—feared she might break completely once she realized the truth.

 

Enria’s nose stung watching Belona’s denial and anguish.

 

Roseanne clasped her hands tightly to her chest, her face full of sorrow.

 

Snap.

 

Silri flicked her fingers, summoning a whirlwind.

 

The vortex swept across the room and swallowed Belona whole.

 

Instantly, her screams vanished.

 

Enria stared at the tornado, glimpsing Belona’s curled-up form within.

 

“She’s going to be like this for a while. Let’s lock her in until she calms down.”

 

A sound-mute wind. No sound escaped the swirling air.

 

“Just in case she loses control and uses light magic, you should leave,” Silri told Caldeon. Light was deadly to his black mana—him remaining would only be dangerous.

 

Caldeon clicked his tongue softly.

 

“Enria. You should come with me.”