Too Late
The verification of the Tears of Serene was simpler than expected. The old appraiser placed the gem in his palm and closed his eyes. As mana touched it and the spell activated, a thin blue light spread out. The appraiser opened his eyes in surprise, then immediately bowed at the waist.
"It's genuine."
That was it. The servant who had been leaning crookedly against the door until moments ago bowed his head in a fluster. The middle-aged man standing nearby cleared his throat awkwardly and stepped aside to yield the spot.
"Well done."
The words came from the mouth that had regarded Leona like a bug just moments before. Someone quickly brought out a fresh teacup. A seat that no one would have dared hope for earlier, lavish treatment that had been dismissed as unnecessary.
"I knew you'd pull it off."
"Even if it was late, I knew you'd come back in the end."
Leona quietly scanned their faces. Words like that had once been so desperately craved. The moment she'd dreamed of. But hearing them now felt strangely hollow, like a corner of her heart had emptied out.
"Truly impressive."
"Blood can't lie, after all."
"A promise is a promise. We'll add your name to the family register."
Leona lifted her teacup without a word. The tea was deeply aromatic, the cup finest craftsmanship. Yet the taste lingering in her mouth was bitterly astringent.
As a child, it had all seemed dazzling. The sunlight filtering through glass windows, silver cutlery, languid speech and impeccable etiquette. Everything felt like it belonged to a distant world, far removed from her own.
But now, every single thing before her eyes seemed shallow. All form, no substance. Their courtesy masked subtle contempt; congratulations dripped with sticky jealousy. Pleasant smiles barely concealed blatant displeasure.
Leona slowly turned her gaze. Her half-siblings were there. As a child, even they had seemed impressive. Just for sharing the family name, growing up in the same house, sitting at the head table as if it were natural.
Now they looked utterly ridiculous. Swords at their waists that had never tasted a drop of blood—mere ornaments. Their words lacked any backbone, their petty hearts gleaming in their eyes like rats'.
What the hell was I ever admiring about them?
In that moment, a small laugh escaped her for no reason.
- That family's so great, right?
The face that had said it so casually in the cave, amid the darkness. Leona unconsciously clenched her fingertips. She was just reaching for her cup as someone urged her to drink before it cooled.
Splash.
A small sound, and the cup tilted. Hot tea splashed onto the end of Leona's sleeve. The room's air froze in an instant.
The one holding the teapot was a child. A young boy, maybe thirteen. Skinny wrists, baby fat still clinging to his cheeks. His face drained white as he flung himself to the floor, bowing.
"S-sorry!"
Leona glanced down at her damp sleeve. It was nothing.
"It's fine."
She meant to brush it off curtly. But then—
Crack.
A chillingly sharp slap echoed. It was Leona's half-brother at the end of the head table—Kasian, the family heir. He'd struck the boy.
The child crumpled to the floor without even a scream. His small body went rigid. Forcing back tears, only his bruised lips trembled faintly.
Kasian dusted off his palm as if it were nothing.
"Let it slide, and he'll pick up bad habits."
His voice was soft.
"You have to correct these things right away."
The boy stood there, not even clutching his cheek, blinking hard to hold back tears. That pitiful sight burned into her mind. Small, terrified, desperately pretending it was nothing.
Someone kept overlapping in her vision.
Leona's fingertips tightened.
Kasian glanced her way, then said casually,
"You'll have to get used to it now, too."
Leona didn't respond. Kasian looked down at the boy, then added nonchalantly,
"He dared make a mistake with you."
He reached toward Leona naturally.
"These things need fixing on the spot."
Kasian grabbed Leona's wrist, forcing her fingers into a fist one by one.
Low and leisurely.
"Like this."
"And this."
As the words fell, childhood memories overlapped. Herself, standing silent. Her mother bowing and apologizing in her place. And Ria's face, lingering in her mind until moments ago.
- I really had fun.
Leona slowly opened her eyes and looked at Kasian.
"I'm part of the family now, right?"
Kasian's lip curled ever so slightly, like he was granting some grand favor.
"Yeah."
At that answer, Leona twisted her lips without hesitation.
Her fist flew first.
Thud.
Kasian's head snapped back. A chair toppled with a crash. The drawing room froze as if doused in ice water. No one so much as breathed.
Leona drew a slow breath. She knew exactly what she'd done. Strangely, though, there wasn't a shred of regret. If anything, her striking hand felt liberating, light as if it could float away.
Kasian wiped blood from his mouth, glaring with crimson eyes.
"You crazy bitch."
Leona said nothing. She just grinned.
Kasian staggered to his feet.
"Do you know what you've just done?"
Leona slowly unclenched her fist.
"I know."
A suffocating silence.
"It's just a little family squabble anyway."
Leona added with a mocking lilt.
"Exile's the worst they can do, right?"
Kasian opened his mouth, but in the end, said nothing.
Leona snorted.
"Do whatever."
She turned and left those words behind.
Strangely, no regrets.
* * *
Leona never once looked back. A beastly roar erupted from Kasian behind her. She felt someone hesitate, starting to chase, but it wasn't worth her attention.
Familiar corridors, familiar stairs, railings and windows she'd once craned her neck to see. The place she'd wanted her whole life. Yet oddly, her steps weren't heavy.
No regret for what she'd done.
The place she'd hung her neck for her whole life. Yet her steps were feather-light.
She'd thought losing her goal would hollow her out. Thought lingering regrets would snag her ankles. Instead, it felt like a blocked breath had cleared refreshingly.
It was ridiculous. Leaving the family felt hundreds of times better than the moment she'd been accepted.
Leona glanced down at her hand unconsciously. The fist that had struck Kasian still stung. Sharper than the pain was another sensation.
- I really had fun.
The words resurfaced. A lie. She'd cut them off so coldly, even the blue afterimage on her tongue. She couldn't shake it.
Not a lie.
Leona scowled. The family's trash all wore the same repulsive smiles. Glib words over sewer hearts, fake kindness drunk on superiority.
But Ria. That girl. She just smiled. Bright when happy, obvious when not. She schemed, sure, but never hid her guts in shadows.
Strangely, from the moment she'd arrived at the family estate until now, only those few days rolling around outside stood out vividly.
Searching rock crevices. Nights slurping tasteless soup to the end. Panting footsteps struggling to keep up. A face chattering casually about her past.
Leona's pace quickened noticeably. Ria would still be there—she'd told her to wait obediently.
Leona fiddled with the orb in her pocket. Hadn't returned it yet. Contract wasn't over.
What would I say when she got back? I had no intention of letting her go after handing over the orb. She was burdensome baggage, sure, but useful enough. We’d cleared traps together, mapped the path, secured the Tears of Serene.
I could offer a deal. Form a permanent party.
Leona swallowed an irritated breath, her lips pressed thin. Did she have to say it that plainly? No, but she had to say something. The girl would just leave, dumbly assuming the contract was over.
But blurting out "let's travel together" felt too obvious.
Leona furrowed her brow, agonizing over the opening line. Verification's complete. Too stiff.
Return the orb first? That felt like a final goodbye.
...The contract’s over, but if you want, I could stick around?
Too out of character. Ugh, damn it.
Leona bit her nail briefly before dropping her hand. The mere fact that she was agonizing over this felt alien. It was easier to fight a pack of monsters than to pick the right words; she never imagined language could choke her like this.
The faster she walked, the more anxious she grew. What if she’s already asleep? No, she wouldn't sleep that early. What if she’s mad at me...? No, she said she had fun. She meant it.
Asking and answering herself a hundred times over left her mouth tasting like ash. She didn't realize she’d arrived until she was standing at her door.
Leona stopped, inches away. The night had deepened. A heavy, dead silence seeped from the door cracks and window frames.
Her quick steps had halted, but her hand felt impossibly heavy. She hovered for a heartbeat, then settled her hand cautiously on the knob. What to say first? Verification's done. ...No. You were kind of useful, so... Worse.
Leona drew a short, sharp breath. Again. Why agonize over this garbage? She’d never cared about reactions before. She did what she wanted and cut down what annoyed her. Dealing with people was supposed to be simpler than swinging a sword.
Not this time. Opening a single door tensed her more than drawing steel against a deadly foe.
Leona closed her eyes, then snapped them open. Fine. Just go in and say it straight.
Her hand pressed the latch. The door swung open to a freezing, absolute silence.
"I’m back."
No reply. Leona froze on the threshold. The room was dark. The fire was dead; only cold moonlight pooled thinly on the floor through the cracks in the shutters.
A chair lay toppled. A cup—one that should have been on the table—lay shattered in shards. Her bag was half-open, upended, fabric scraps trailing across the floor like a wounded thing.
Then she saw the floor. Deep, desperate scratch marks. Black smears on the wall. And below them, dried, crimson bloodstains.
A single sheet of paper sat on the table. A blood-smeared letter. Beside it, a handful of silver hair lay scattered pathetically.
It hadn't been cut. It had been torn out savagely by a strong hand, like a beast ripping through prey—a tangled, matted mess of locks.
Leona said nothing. She picked up the bloodied paper. The sound of the crumpled sheet unfolding rustled loudly in the hollow room.
This time, you were late.
I'm taking the child.
Leona stared at the words, her expression frozen.
Crumple—
The letter balled into nothingness in her fist.