135 - How Could the Villainous Young Master Be a Saintess?

Return to Chapter 135: Half a Loaf of Bread - How Could the Villainous Young Lord be the Saintess? Wenny felt an overwhelming force lift him off the ground, his feet leaving the surface. In what seemed like an instant, he found himself in an unfamiliar location, the surroundings shifting before he could comprehend. "Ouch!" Wenny, clad in heavy armor, fell to the ground but didn't feel any pain. The ground was as soft as a cloud of cotton candy beneath him. Hmm, the floor here even has a pleasant scent, with a mix of citrus and honey. Strangely, there’s a pair of soft pillows here. And why does this scent feel so familiar? Wait, could it be... "Ah! I apologize, Your Highness Mirexia, are you unharmed? I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was on top of you. Are you alright?" Wenny quickly scrambled to get off Mirexia, who he realized he was pinning down, helping her up. "It's fine," Mirexia shook her head. Perhaps thanks to the thickness of her armor, Mirexia felt no discomfort. Indeed. Realizing the urgency of the situation, Mirexia didn't hold any grudge against Wenny. They were separated by clothing and armor, with no direct contact, so she merely looked away wordlessly. "Luckily, Your Highness, you have a protective amulet that transported us back. Otherwise, we would have been in grave danger," Wenny remarked, attempting to shift the awkward silence between them. "We are not yet safe," Mirexia contemplated for a moment, closing her eyes in fatigue and sighing softly. "Ah? But didn't your amulet just transport us away?" Wenny looked around, noticing the chaotic sky, indistinguishable between day and night. This isn’t good; they were still within the Demon God’s domain, unable to escape. "The one-time enchanted pendant only transported us a certain distance. It doesn't have the power to take us back to the territory of the Terrylis continent from the Demon God’s realm," Mirexia explained, sitting up straight. "In other words?" "In other words, we're still within the expanded realm of the Demon God. They'll find us sooner or later," Mirexia leaned against the stone wall, breathing lightly. She needed as much rest as possible to recover her strength. "This is troublesome... Wait, Your Highness Mirexia, when you were fighting them, why didn't I see you use your spirit power?" Wenny asked, noticing a flaw. "They poisoned me, preventing me from using any abilities related to the 'Dragon' spirit and sacred blessings," Mirexia explained, barely lifting her eyelids. "Poison? What kind of poison blocks specific spirits and bloodlines?" Wenny, who had taken half a semester of Alchemic Potion Studies, knew that most alchemic poisons were versatile: lethal, draining energy, or depleting magic. No one would spend decades developing a poison for one individual, with uncertain success. Therefore, most alchemic poisons were versatile and life-threatening. Specific toxins were rare. Moreover, as a descendant of a poisonous immune dragon bloodline, the idea of poison affecting Mirexia seemed as ludicrous as chili getting burned by itself. "Besides, isn't your bloodline immune to poisons?" "They are from the 'Bronze Bloods,' zealots of the 'Desecrated Demon God' Eurnes." "So, the poison affecting you was provided by Eurnes?" Wenny frowned. "This poison, typically, would need to be ingested, or at least enter the bloodstream to be effective." "That's correct," Mirexia said, breath short, her brow beaded with sweat. "This isn't the place to discuss this," Wenny noted the mountain cave above them. "Your Highness, there seems to be a cave there. I’ll take you there to rest." Dispensing with his armor, Wenny hesitated briefly and then squatted, offering his back to Mirexia. She placed her arms around his neck, and he lifted her, carrying her white silk-clad legs on his back as he ascended the mountain. "Sorry, Your Highness, but it's an emergency," Wenny said as he carried her. Truth be told, carrying someone strained his strength, especially with Mirexia’s dragon blood lineage, which meant her weight was not to be overlooked. Despite the urgency, the warmth of Wenny's skin inexplicably made Mirexia blush. It took considerable effort for Wenny to carry Mirexia into the cave, collapsing in a heap, drenched in sweat. Having a hiding place was better than being exposed on a plain. Exhausted, even the young master needed a breather. "How did you end up here?" Once inside, Mirexia regained some composure and her usual poised demeanor. "Me? Well," Wenny sighed near the golden-haired girl’s side. "You might not believe it, but I sniffed my way over, following an awful smell to this group of Demon God pillar followers hosting a barbecue, and found you kidnapped." "Oh, by the way," Wenny recalled, fishing out a small bottle of alchemical potion from his pocket for Mirexia. "Sorry for earlier, Your Highness. I had to act harsh before those hypocrites to maintain my cover." "I don't blame you," Mirexia nodded. "This is a minor healing potion. I know it might not be much for you, but it’s better than nothing; please use it on your wounds." "You need it more than I do," Mirexia refused, not accepting the potion. "My Spirit is sealed; even if useful, it’s pointless for me now." "I'm not injured that badly. You have suffered more," Wenny insisted. "No need to be polite. Keep it; I’m fine," Mirexia repeated, pushing the potion away. Defeated, Wenny studied the calm expression on Mirexia's face and sighed. In the gloomy cave, silence enveloped them once more. "You should have left earlier," Mirexia finally spoke, resting with her eyes closed. "If I left, wouldn’t Your Highness be afraid, all alone?" Wenny shot back. "One of us escaping is better than none. Once you're out, you could alert the instructors to what’s happening here," Mirexia pondered. "But you're my princess. Leaving you here would be worrying. If something happened to you before I returned, the king might have my hide," Wenny said, half-jokingly. "Moreover, didn’t Your Highness say that this extended Demon God realm, created on Terrylis, is unstable and won’t last long? Leaving you might cause regret if you can’t hold out for help." Gazing at the chaotic sky, Wenny noted, "Have you noticed that the time in this Demon God realm flows differently than on Terrylis? I might not even get help before they recapture you several times." "Instead, why don’t we work together to delay the time until the realm dissipates?" "I am of royal blood; it is my duty to protect you and the people," Mirexia said, a flicker of emotion briefly passing through her eyes before she returned to her composure. "Your Highness Mirexia, you..." Wenny hesitated, seeing the change in her demeanor. "What is it?" Mirexia asked, sensing the complex and reserved look in Wenny's eyes, unsure of his intent. "Nothing," Wenny shook his head. Silence settled once more, the wait becoming an excruciating ordeal by the moment. For Mirexia, knowing she wasn't alone in the cave comforted her; alone, listening to the wind sweep through, uncertainty hanging over her would have been pure torment. Indeed, as Wenny said, she might not have managed alone. But their hideout posed not just mental, but physical challenges: thirst and hunger gnawed at them. Unfortunately, Wenny hadn't brought any provisions on his patrol, and Mirexia lost her pack during the battle. Time passed. "Are you hungry? I have a piece of bread you can eat," Mirexia offered, extending a small, sesame-topped white bread to Wenny. "Your Highness, aren't you hungry?" "I'm not," she replied stoically, as if truly unaffected by hunger. But her stomach disagreed, growling in protest, and Mirexia turned away in embarrassment. Suppressing a chuckle, Wenny maintained a serious demeanor. "It's alright, Your Highness, you should eat. I'm not hungry." "You haven't eaten in half a day." "Neither have you," Wenny countered. "I'm not hungry," Mirexia insisted stubbornly. "Mirexia," Wenny sighed deeply, his gaze softening as it rested on her. "Yes?" "You don't always have to do this," Wenny said, his eyes holding an emotion Mirexia couldn't quite decipher. "Do what?" "Mirexia," he called her name without formalities, and for reasons unknown, it sounded familiar to her, rendering her momentarily speechless. "I've always known you to be a good person," Wenny continued. "You're kind, brave, diligent, talented, and responsible, always taking everything upon yourself, handling everything personally." "You’re outstanding, doing more than enough. Since the king declared you the future queen of Kamela, you haven't taken a break, always working, studying, training, leaving only sleep as your respite." "What I mean is, Mirexia, you've been incredible and done your utmost. You don't need to always push yourself to the brink and hurt yourself, alright?" The gentle light highlighting the blue-haired young man's tender expression made the world seem distant. Hearing those words, Mirexia felt her heart skip. Her vision slightly blurred as it settled on the blue-haired youth before her. "Sometimes, it's okay to lean on others, isn't it?" Wenny unconsciously held her hand, smiling at her. "I might be troublesome, but as I once said, I'm here with you." The warmth from his hand left Mirexia stunned, triggering a flood of memories. "So, how about we share it? Half each?" Wenny suggested, only holding her hand for a moment before breaking the bread into two. "Just like old times." Like before? "Mirexia, Mirexia, I've got some delicious cookies here, I'll share half with you!" The garden sunrise played over a boy and girl at play, their laughter buried in time, with only wilting flowers as witnesses. It felt like an old, yellowed photograph restored, the hard-to-recall past filled with new vigor, vividly bringing back those bygone days. The blue-haired young man before her had bridged the gap in her faded memories, reviving faces she struggled to remember. They were childhood friends, playmates, best friends — they always had been. Accepting the offered half bread, just like the girl accepting half a cookie from the boy in their youth, Mirexia felt the old bond: a symbol of past friendship, present adversity, and burgeoning, unspoken feelings.