SBTMK Chapter 26

When she came back to herself, she was already outside the palace.

Flora had forgotten, apparently, that she'd been agonizing over anything at all, because the moment they reached the plaza, her eyes lit up.

The scenery was more dazzling than she'd vaguely imagined, and she couldn't help but stare, entranced.

The narrow alleys, where people rarely went and even the light barely reached, gave off a certain damp, uneasy air—but the central street of the plaza was vivid and full of life.

Flora took in the shops selling food, the salons selling dresses, the general stores, all of it.

Haenkan was an empire that boasted a history over a thousand years long.

And traces of that long history remained scattered throughout the plaza, giving it a quality that was refined and quietly aged, both at once.

The massive fountain standing at the center of the plaza in particular was as beautiful as looking at a work of art.

The three-tiered fountain had hand-carved human figures worked into each level.

Apparently, they depicted the emperors and empresses once revered before the fountain was built, along with the beast-war that had broken out when the god Arzeka had descended.

What had once been intricate carving had grown blunted with age, but even so, there was something about the fountain's strange mystique—worn smooth by long years—that she couldn't tear her eyes from.

The stream of water falling faintly from high above caught the sunlight and glittered, looking almost fresh and alive.

Something she'd vaguely thought she wanted to see once before she died was right in front of her, and she couldn't hold back the swell of feeling.

"They also call it the Blood Fountain."

She'd been completely absorbed in the fountain's grand presence when Simen's voice came from behind.

If he hadn't spoken, Flora probably would have let the time slip away entirely, standing there in front of the fountain.

"What's this?"

"A snack."

He was holding out a treat made of fruit set in hardened sugar. It had a glossy sheen to it, and looked quite tempting.

Flora took it, still dazed, and looked at Simen.

He shifted his gaze to the fountain.

"They used to execute criminals in this plaza, apparently."

"…"

"Their blood would spray all the way to the fountain, so on execution days, the water would turn red."

"…"

"People still say that the souls of the executed linger here, and that if you put your hand in the water, misfortune will come find you. Not that there's any real basis for it, of course."

Flora, taking in this fact she hadn't known, bit into the snack Simen had handed her.

The sugar coating on the outside was crisp, and the fruit inside burst with juice, cool and refreshing, every time she bit down.

At the sweetness melting instantly on her tongue, Flora looked away from the fountain and down at the treat instead.

"Is it good?"

Watching her stare intently at the candy, then take another bite, then stare again, Simen huffed a short laugh.

"Yes. It's a strange flavor."

"…"

"But when did you go and buy this?"

"While you were busy losing yourself to the fountain."

Flora bit down on her lower lip.

Simen had probably meant it as a joke, but it felt, somehow, like she'd made a mistake.

"From now on, you have to come get me whenever you go anywhere."

She said it with a look of firm resolve.

Noticing that Flora's face had clouded over a little, Simen studied her expression closely.

'What could she have not liked?'

As he sat there, quietly trying to work out the reason, her small mouth moved again.

"Even with knights watching all around, none of them could react as fast as I could, right beside you. I did want to come see the capital, that's why I followed you out here… but I was worried something might happen. That's all."

"…"

"So you have to stay right by my side. Understand?"

Worried. Had she just said worried?

Simen looked briefly stunned before he nodded.

A strange thrill, arriving late, seemed to run through his whole body. It felt less like pain and more like a jolt of pure exhilaration.

'I don't know why it feels this good, hearing that she said it out of worry for me.'

Simen reached out and stroked Flora's hair.

Reaching for her seemed to have become something of a habit for him by now, but he found he didn't mind.

The feeling of her star-bright hair slipping between his fingers always warmed some corner of his chest.

This wasn't a feeling he was permitted to have—but it wasn't one he could easily shake off, either.

Simen smiled, a little bitterly.

"I'd like to make you one of my own knights. If only Erne would agree, I'd have brought you into the Imperial Guard already. Shame."

"…"

"Flora. I know you're worried about me, but we came out to have fun today, so—let go of the worry, just a little. All right?"

At Simen's gently chiding tone, Flora bit down on her lower lip.

The nagging feeling that something had gotten tangled up wrong kept surfacing, but with Simen saying it like this, there was nothing she could do.

And that look. That distantly glowing, wistful look in his eyes—that was the real problem.

"Fine."

In the end, Flora had no choice but to concede a step.

'That expression should be against the rules. This ridiculous handsome-man tactic. There's no winning against it, no matter what.'

"Here."

Simen held out his hand. Flora looked up at him, puzzled.

"Take it. You said not to go off anywhere alone, didn't you?"

"…"

"Gotta hold me tight and keep watch. Wouldn't want to go and lose me now."

At the absurdity of it, Flora ended up letting out a short laugh and took his hand.

Her fingertips and her heart both tingled at once.

She snuck a glance up at Simen, walking along looking pleased with himself.

Simen moved through the dark, narrow alleys as though he knew them well, without any hesitation.

Every time she caught the faint stir of a presence squirming somewhere in the light-starved streets, Flora found herself tensing without meaning to.

Simen told her not to worry about it, but there was clearly no way she could manage that.

He stopped in front of a small shop tucked deep in an alley.

"It's the House of Prophecy. Word among the nobles is that it's quite accurate."

The worn building bore the marks of long years.

The flame in the lantern hanging over the entrance flickered as though it might go out at any moment.

However she looked at it, the place only gave off an eerie, gloomy air—nothing about it felt particularly good.

"I stopped by here once, and the owner recognized my face right off and refused to tell me anything. So let's get a reading on you instead!"

"I'm not interested in prophecies or fortune-telling, Simen. And I don't believe in it, either."

Flora answered him listlessly, her attention entirely fixed on scanning for anything suspicious nearby, even as his voice stayed light and cheerful.

That was only natural, given they'd left the crowded central street behind and gone into the alleys—her guard had gone up sharply as a matter of course.

"Good thing you don't believe in it. Believing in this stuff is how you get into real trouble. It's just for fun."

She suggested they turn back, but contrariness didn't listen.

In the end, she was pulled along and stepped inside the shop.

The interior was just as chilly and shabby as the outside had suggested.

The atmosphere felt like it wouldn't be strange at all for an assassin to leap out at any moment, and Flora pressed herself a step closer to Simen.

Erne and his escort knights hadn't come in with them, so in here, it really was just the two of them.

The ceiling was low, and all manner of strange objects and old books were piled up without any order, giving the space a cramped, stifling feel.

Weaving around the obstacles along a winding path, she saw, at the end of it, a white-haired woman sitting there.

The traces of the years she'd lived through were etched plainly into her face.

"You've come, Your Majesty."

The moment Simen removed his hood, the old woman recognized him at once and spoke in a rasping voice.

"It's been a while, Leva."

"What brings Your Majesty to such a humble place as this?"

"I haven't come today to badger you for my own fortune, so you needn't wear that resolute a face. I only wanted to know something about this woman here."

After a brief silence, the fortune-teller Leva spoke.

"Then please, sit here. The child who usually helps me has stepped out on an errand, so I've nothing fit to offer you. My apologies, Your Majesty."

"Ah, it's fine. We won't be long."

Simen seated Flora in the chair first, then took the seat beside her.

Leva's gaze, which had been fixed on the Emperor, shifted over to Flora.

"May I take your hand, my dear?"

The old woman's eyes, cloudy as a lantern-flame about to go out, held Flora without the slightest wavering.

It felt, somehow, as if she were being seen straight through, and that stirred an unpleasant feeling—but there was also something strangely mysterious about it that made her reluctant to look away.

Flora did as the old woman said and set her hand on the table.

Leva clasped her hand and slowly closed her eyes.

Flora had assumed there would be some kind of trick to it, but she felt none of the trace of magic that lingered around Eden.

Only the sensation of hand meeting hand lingered against her fingertips.

A short moment passed, and then the old woman opened her eyes.

"You've walked a hard road."

Her voice trembled slightly at the end as she spoke, and Flora noticed the old woman's eyes had gone faintly red.

It was as though, in that brief instant, she'd seen the whole of Flora's past laid bare.

Something in that voice—understanding her wounds and her pain completely, sympathizing with them—stirred an odd unease in her.

Hard, if it came down to it, had indeed been a hard life.

There had been the times Ayden's experiments had nearly killed her, more than once. The time she'd been captured on a mission and tortured in a cell. The time a comrade had turned on her. The time a demon-beast had very nearly ended her.

Every day had been a life lived like a game of survival.

"…Everyone's life is hard, in its own way."

Flora gathered her thoughts and answered calmly.

Even setting aside the Cenkan knights who were, even now, still suffering somewhere—every person carried their own hardships and trials.

She knew that, and understood it, and so she never let herself believe that her life alone had been the difficult one.