Chapter 53: When The Rain Was Just A Rain [1]
Inside the academy infirmary.
The hologram screen flickered above, broadcasting the chaos from the Red Line stronghold flames bursting across the ruins, Kael weaving between fire and lightning as Radger loomed ahead.
Lucia sat at the edge of the cot, clutching her worn-out white bunny. One stitched ear dangled limply as her eyes fixed on the screen.
"…Dad," she said softly. "Did I make a mistake?"
Azmat seated near the window, arms crossed. He glanced at the broadcast, then turned to her.
"You did."
Lucia lowered her eyes. She knew he'd say that. Still, hearing it hurt.
"I'm so stupid."
"You are," he replied without pause.
She didn't flinch. Her hand only clutched the bunny tighter.
"I just… I thought if I trained them… if I followed how Kael taught Arthur— we'd grow closer. Like maybe he'd see I was trying."
She exhaled slowly, voice unsteady.
"I thought it would help him. Help us."
Her eyes lifted again toward the broadcast. The screen now showed the map.
"And that…" she hesitated, then spoke quieter, "I just couldn't stand that he chose Valeheart. I didn't understand it."
A bitter laugh escaped her.
"Maybe I still don't."
Her fingers curled into the plush fabric of the bunny.
"Maybe I hated that he was caring for someone I used to despise."
There was a pause. The low hum of the infirmary monitors filled the silence.
Then Azmat spoke.
"He is your fiancé, Lucia."
His tone wasn't cruel. It was simply fact
Lucia didn't respond.
Azmat leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees.
"You think feelings are enough?" he asked. "That guilt, or jealousy, or loyalty alone will bring him back to you?"
Lucia's fingers tightened around the bunny again.
"I trained them hard because I thought that's what he'd want," she muttered.
Azmat's eyes didn't waver.
"You trained them like they were weapons," he said. "But Kael's learning to care about the hands holding those blades."
Lucia looked up slowly, stunned by the gentleness beneath the edge of his voice.
Azmat folded his arms behind his back.
"If you want to stay part of his life," he said, "stop clinging to who he used to be."
He glanced at her, just briefly.
"Start paying attention to who he is now."
As Azmat's final words left his mouth, the white curtain rustled.
A pale hand slipped through, then gently pulled it aside.
Evelyne stepped in, dressed in her formal black uniform, gold trim lining her collar, quiet authority in every step.
Azmat rose at once, bowing his head.
"My Lady. Greetings."
Evelyne offered a slight nod. "Apologies for interrupting, Azmat."
He picked up his black suitcase and bowed again.
"I'll leave you two to speak."
"Thank you."
He exited without another word, the quiet difference of one who now served beneath her.
Evelyne stepped closer and pulled a nearby chair. placing it beside the bed. She sat, her posture straight but not cold.
Her eyes drifted to the worn-out bunny clutched in Lucia's arms.
"So… you're still clinging to that bunny," Evelyne said, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
Lucia let out a soft, bitter breath of a laugh. "You gave it to me. When we were kids."
"Of course I did," Evelyne replied. Her gaze flicked toward the curtain, then back to Lucia. "I was the future leader of Valery, after all."
Lucia didn't respond at first. Her fingers brushed over the bunny's ear, its fabric fraying from years of quiet comfort.
"…You always said that," she murmured.
Evelyne's smile stayed, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.
"I did. I screamed it at every child within ten meters."
Neither brought up what followed — the day Evelyne learned Kael had been chosen heir… and the years later, when he handed it back.
But for a moment, they sat quietly, the weight of that unspoken history shared between them.
"So, how are you feeling, Lucia?"
"I'm feeling better," Lucia replied, shifting slightly as she flexed her fingers. "The healer said I'll be back to normal in two to three weeks."
"That's great," Evelyne said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small book. She turned it over in her hands before offering it.
Lucia glanced at the book, then up at her. "What's this?"
"My novel," Evelyne said. "I started rewriting one of the stories I used to like. The old copy's long gone… so I did it from memory."
Lucia blinked, taking the book with careful hands. "You're writing again?"
"Only when I get a little time," Evelyne said, brushing her thumb along the edge of the chair. "It's not perfect. But it's mine."
Lucia opened it and read the lines on the first page, her voice a little quieter now:
I'll be the hero with the clearest eye in the world
not the most beautiful.
One that sees pain and still chooses mercy.
One that sees power and still bows to the weak.
I once dreamed of saving everyone.
Now I dream of saving one… and starting there.
She lingered on the words, then looked back up. "You remembered all that?"
"Enough of it," Evelyne said. "The rest I made better."
"I used to write too," Lucia murmured.
Evelyne raised an eyebrow. "Don't lie to me. You always tried to play with toys whenever you had free time."
Lucia couldn't help but laugh, a quiet genuine sound.
She flipped through a few more pages of the book, then glanced up, hesitant.
"…You've been watching?"
Evelyne nodded. "Every second."
Lucia let out a slow breath. "He looks… different."
"He is," Evelyne said simply. "We both know it."
Lucia hesitated, fingers brushing the corner of a page. "He's not the Kael I knew."
Evelyne's smile was faint. Not bitter. Just honest.
"Was he ever?"
Lucia blinked, but didn't answer.
Evelyne's voice softened.
"Whatever he is now… you can still be part of it. But not if you're chasing a shadow."
Lucia gave the smallest nod.
"…I'll try."
———
Outside the curtain, another bed monitor beeped steadily. Beyond the private space of Lucia and Evelyne, another mother waited.
Aranel sat beside her son, her posture upright but tired. One hand rested gently on Edric's, whose chest rose and fell beneath the layers of healing patches.
Her other hand clutched a cup of cooling tea. Forgotten.
The hologram display hovered faintly above the far wall the broadcast flickering with flashes of fire and lightning.
Aranel didn't blink.
She had already sent her letter. Already placed her hope into words and trusted them into his hands.
Now, she only watched not as a mother expecting miracles, but as someone who had already given everything she could. There was nothing more to say.
Her son believed in Kael.
So she would, too.
Even now, as the battlefield raged across the projection and the machines breathed for her boy, Aranel remained still beside him.
The tea grew cold.
But her faith didn't.