Selasier (02) 035 - Chains of Womanhood in the North Are Not Easily Broken
Selasier could confidently claim that she knew this better than anyone: in the North, the chains called "woman" were not easily cast off.
"Your voice needs to be softer, miss."
"Always act demurely. Good men prefer fragile women."
"You have no talent for swordsmanship. Even armor would be too much for that body of yours."
"..."
Woman, woman, woman. That damned "woman." Was there no place for a woman even to stand in the North?
And yet she was the eldest daughter of the Hiatt Grand Duke family, who had ruled the North.
"Memorize it all by tonight and pass the inspection." Her brother, doted on by the family, dumped a pile of etiquette books in front of her.
"Tch. Cover your hair or something. It's ominous."
It was frightening. Her brother, her father, the weight of the family.
She felt like she'd be cast out if she rebelled even a little. There were many nights when she crammed through those endless etiquette books, sobbing quietly. In that vast mansion, she had no allies.
"Take care, sister..."
Her younger sister, the only other woman in the family, had already resigned herself. At an age when she still had so many dreams, her sister had married early into a marquis family with a guaranteed future. Watching that... hadn't felt good at all.
It was around the time her coming-of-age ceremony approached, she thought. That was surely when her brother, with whom she had been somewhat close, dragged away the maid they'd been friendly with.
"Miss! Where are you taking her?"
When she asked, her brother replied: Just prepare to pick a suitable man at your coming-of-age ceremony.
Was it because it was the first affection she'd ever felt? She had to put in considerable effort just to track down the maid who was dragged away like that. The maid had been sold as a slave to some noble family. That was probably when it happened—something inside Selasier reached its limit.
For the first time, she resisted. She threw aside the studies she hated, screamed until her throat was hoarse instead of speaking softly, and staked her life on magic rather than the sword.
She caused such chaos within the mansion that she had to bear the aftermath alone. Her father's favoritism grew worse, and her brother even tried to rip out her hair.
It didn't matter. She underwent her coming-of-age ceremony without the family's support and fled straight into high society.
When she mastered 2nd Hierarchy magic on her own, tears flowed again. But it was fine. She believed those tears held a different meaning.
Day by day, like that. The mansion was full of enemies. Family members, father's men, Torun's people.
With no "her people" at all, she stood before Torun. She feared what would happen if that trash became family head. Fortunately, many in the family professed neutrality. She knew it wasn't true neutrality but biding their time for opportunity—yet it didn't matter. She needed people she could discard at will, too.
Anyone not like Makbel or Craderus, who had been with her from the start, couldn't be trusted. Her heart's walls had long been sealed shut.
She didn't tell her father about Torun's deeds. She wasn't sure if he knew, but that uncertainty terrified her even more. What if—and truly, what if—her father knew and turned a blind eye?
She lacked the courage to stay sane in that case. She didn't dare hope for the convenient scenario where she denounced Torun and her enraged father deposed him.
Instead, she simply worked hard. But if hard work alone made everything possible, if such dreamy delusions were reality, then perhaps she wouldn't have sealed off her heart's walls.
"Haa... haa..."
The burning heat on her cheek. She remembered the knight she'd trusted enough to assign as her guard ambushing her in the night. That was her first time killing with magic.
It became the turning point. Everyone who had contact with Torun or spoke to him turned their backs—or aimed at her.
Torun's face was serene by day, but nights felt like walking through living hell. Sleep dwindled. She began suspecting everything. The walls around her heart grew ever more solid.
Those she gave her heart to left. That trust turned into weapons aimed at her. She felt like she was going mad. Extreme anxiety and suspicion made her feel like she was losing her mind.
Day by day, like that. As faces vanished from the council chamber, her own lost expression. Instead, she donned a mask.
The mask proved quite effective, even allowing her to deceive herself. It wasn't betrayal she suffered, but her betraying them. Not hurt, but regret over lost power.
Thanks to her old etiquette training, she could adorn the mask beautifully. With a soft, gentle voice. An elegant yet graceful posture. A shy, faint smile.
The mask was another self she created. A "me" who could wander beyond the walls of her heart.
After crafting the mask, she no longer got hurt. Sometimes she confused which was the real "me"... but she thought it didn't matter much.
Betrayal happened to the "me" outside the walls. Hurt, too. The beautiful masked "me" wasn't really her anyway.
She thought it was fine. As long as the "me" inside the walls stayed unhurt.
To check if the mask was on properly, she'd tap her chin with her index finger. It became habit; soon, just feeling the muscle shape told her.
Before long, she'd forgotten how to make a real smile.
She met a strange boy. It started when her father rarely assigned her a task: guests from the Rakatus family were coming, so let them pass roughly.
What business did a family from the southeast of the empire have in the North? Her head was full of civil war worries, so she accepted.
Near the territory border, a shabby carriage arrived. She'd already heard everything, so she paid little mind.
The boy was playing coachman. He looked too young for his coming-of-age—sharp eyes with a monocle on the left. Indifferent to questions, not rude but genuinely uninterested.
Seemed he was her sole guard. Confident in his skills? The Rakatus family head trusted him.
She was a little envious. What if she had someone she could trust like that?
The boy seemed to trust the Rakatus family, too. His curt replies suggested it. It made her a bit jealous, so she probed with random talk. He dismissed it: nothing to say.
Her fleeting interest seemed to pass like that.
Then unexpected news hit suddenly—and shockingly.
No one in the magic world is ignorant of mental images. Especially for someone pre-coming-of-age, barely trained in magic.
The rumor spreading in high society: the Rakatus lady had awakened her mental image.
She couldn't believe it at first. The girl wasn't renowned from childhood. She appeared out of nowhere, shining brighter than any gem.
The impact lingered long. If she had a mental image, ousting Torun would be easy. Such thoughts led inevitably to one boy's face.
In the North, cold men aren't popular. So everyone tried warm smiles. Perhaps that's why the boy's impassive expression stuck.
Thoughts flowed to the Rakatus lady. The one who came North without prior appearances. The boy guarding her.
From then, she gathered rumors on mental images. Squeezing her nonexistent intel network yielded: the Rakatus lady's mental image resembled Winter Island, with a boy depicted within.
Most dismissed it as delusion, but she couldn't. The Rakatus head assigning one guard. Coming from the southeast to claim Winter Island as mental image.
Conclusion: bring the boy.
If he had something special. If bringing him let her gain a mental image.
She relayed to the Rakatus head hours later.
The boy was odd. Despite seeming oblivious, he was deep-thinking. She never expected him to see through her fabricated lie instantly.
That must be why interest grew. Yes, interest. It should have stopped there.
When the boy, introducing himself as Kalen, saw through her schemes, she was surprised. She'd thought her pretext convincing, but Kalen realized it targeted him from the start.
She liked it inwardly. Like others, self-serving—but unlike them, no hypocrisy or lies. Straightforward. If she couldn't trust, fine.
They made a deal-like promise.
Taking Kalen to dine flustered her. Trash brother took interest. Even father knew him.
Those talking to Torun turned away. A declaration. Torun openly said he'd recruit Kalen. Perfect pretext: father favored eldest son Torun.
Even longtime allies defected. Hard to think Kalen wouldn't. She could barely lift her head. Another wound? Reality she dreaded facing.
But Kalen's words shocked more. Casually rejecting grand duke's heir. Calling her once-loathed eye color pretty.
Father then opened the impenetrable frontline. His following actions still baffled. Too many anomalies at once?
The "me" outside the walls peered through a tiny hole at the inner "me."
Frontline affairs weren't easy, even politely. Tasks aside, more turned while uninvolved.
But odd. Different feel from before. She learned why that night in council.
"Hand that line to me. I'll gladly bear it."
"Trust is built." Reverse scale words. Hearing Makbel's betrayal risk from another's lips made her dizzy, nauseous.
Yet Kalen advised. Dangerous. Likely trap. Trust is built? Her bond with Makbel was already built—longest, strongest. Denying it horrified.
But he said: hand him the line. For her sake, she knew. To save North, personal revenge on Torun—he'd bear that journey.
All firsts. Praising hair/eyes. True bonds built, he'd walk with her.
To her, surrounded by false trust, he offered real. Heart raced that night—first time. Sleepless unlike usual.
Time passed. Isolated on Hiatt Mountain. Realized Kalen's truth when fog enclosed, beasts choked breath.
Kalen, mere nominal guard, protected her. Body breaking. Carried burdensome, useless her.
Lonely. So lonely she couldn't bear. Wanted to ignore with twisted mask excuse.
...Wanted love.
Once crumbling, heart's walls unstoppable. Faced "inner me" never shown.
Tiny girl faced boy. He stayed. Promised true trust, no betrayal. Kept it.
Maybe wanted to give up. Too hard. Too lonely. Blame fog/beasts, inevitable.
Walls long crumbled. Ungrown girl drowning in loneliness saved.
By boy promising no betrayal, protection.
Proved not lie—clearest form. Fog/beasts inescapable? Irrelevant. Not abandoning burden confirmed.
Time accept denied truth. Trust prelude to betrayal—once her truth. Now resolved to hurt again.
Makbel's betrayal certain. Girl bet all on boy.
Selasier cradled Kalen's crumbling body tenderly. Stroked cheek like wounds.
Die to giant monster. Incoming beasts. Fog-trapped death.
Selasier closed eyes, hugged Kalen. Face faint smile. Unlike beautiful mask.
Girl remembered smiling. Last, inky light faded from boy's nape. Eyes shut.