Alcohol always carries some special meaning.
Even though Rita barely understood the culture of drinking at the table, she knew that in relationships like hers and Cecilia’s—superior and subordinate—there was almost never alcohol at meals, unless it was some formal occasion.
But late at night, the two of them were drinking together—how was this situation looking so off?
Though Rita was reluctant to use that word to describe what was happening, she couldn’t help but think it.
Ambiguous.
It would be one thing if she and Miss Rabbit were ambiguous, but the other party was the illustrious Fourth Princess.
Why should she be ambiguous with Rita?
Something was definitely wrong!
“Come on, no need to be so reserved.”
Rita was lost in her overthinking when she saw Cecilia raise her cup in a toast, then bring it to her lips for a small sip, her brows furrowing slightly afterward.
Was the wine bad?
Rita wondered but lifted her own cup to take a sip, the taste she had just sampled spreading warmly down her throat.
“Rita.”
Before Cecilia spoke, she always liked to say her name first, but this time, the way she said it made Rita even more nervous.
Rita had been conditioned by Cecilia’s habit and would always say “Lady Cecilia” first before nervously replying.
“Lady Cecilia, I’m here.”
“Do you have something you want to say to me?” Cecilia sipped from her cup again.
“Um………”
Rita thought for a moment but felt it was better to confess everything herself than have the other person expose her secret.
Though, the secret had probably already been exposed just now!
“I feel like I’m too weak, so I asked Momoka to help me with special training.”
Cecilia was silent for a few seconds, then asked a question Rita had answered just a few days ago.
“You’re not really weak. Why are you in such a hurry to do this?”
A few days earlier.
“You’re not weak, so why ask me for help?” Momoka sat cross-legged in the tent, her face still flushed from drinking.
“Because I think my swordsmanship is too poor. If I keep going like this, I won’t make it.” Rita had no reason to hide this from Momoka, whom she had asked for help.
“That’s true. Compared to Promy, your swordsmanship is barely there—just holding your sword in the right place but no real technique at all.” Momoka recalled for a moment, then nodded. “But swordsmanship isn’t what you’re best at, right? It wasn’t swordsmanship that Master Dong Xuelian taught you either.”
“Who’s Master Dong Xuelian?” Rita was momentarily stunned.
“You said it yourself—a traveler who came to your village and taught you boxing.”
Right, she had even made up this whole story for herself.
“A well-trained body must be matched with a finely honed weapon to unleash its full combat power. Having just the body isn’t enough,” Rita said earnestly.
“If you say that, Johnson is going to get angry,” Momoka joked.
Rita ignored the jab and continued, “The problem now is that I only know how to fight using instinct, with no technique.
I only have a chance to win if my opponent is weaker or loses their advantage.
But if two people have similar physical abilities, I’m the one who will lose.”
After hearing this, Momoka thought for a while longer, then slapped her palm. “Exactly! I kept wondering how you manage to move so fast—every time I throw a punch, you’re always a step ahead. If you’re relying purely on instinct, then it makes sense!”
“So… can I do it?”
“Then let’s start. I also need an opponent of equal strength to reflect on what I still lack.”
“That’s right. With daytime missions, there’s no time for this, so I have to find a place to train late at night,” Rita explained the whole situation.
“Even if you train, did you consider how draining it is to do so at this hour? If there’s a night raid and you’re exhausted, how will you protect me? Do you have the ability to protect yourself? Have you thought about how fatigue will affect travel during the day?”
Rita had considered these things, but time was truly running out.
What Valfis had told her before, she hadn’t shared with Cecilia but never forgot.
Behind this assessment lay a great danger.
Rita didn’t know if it targeted her or Cecilia, but either way, it would not be small.
At the very least, it wouldn’t be any smaller than the danger brought by that black-haired succubus.
She couldn’t even defeat the succubus; how could she face an even greater crisis?
At this rate, whether she ran away from Cecilia or continued living as a Holy Knight, she wouldn’t be able to protect herself.
If anything happened, she could only wait for death.
So Rita grew desperate and had to use every moment to improve her strength—and Momoka was the quickest way to do that.
There were still a few days before they reached their destination.
The greatest danger would likely come then, so every minute before was precious.
As a succubus, Rita didn’t need much sleep, so she could make use of that time.
But under Cecilia’s relentless questioning, Rita couldn’t give a proper answer. “I……”
“It’s good to be motivated, but don’t neglect other things,” Cecilia said, sipping her wine, no longer pressing the matter.
“I understand……” Rita had nothing better to say in this awkward atmosphere.
“But why didn’t you tell me?” Cecilia asked again.
“Because I thought… it was a bit embarrassing to quietly work so hard alone. I don’t want to always be a burden or make people think I’m only relying on……”
“Relying on me?”
Rita nodded silently, stealing a glance at Cecilia’s expression.
“Rita, you’ve come this far without me actually doing anything for you. Although there have been many coincidences and unexpected events, whether it’s the assessment or the actions these past few days, you made it through on your own strength.”
Cecilia took another sip from her cup, then said,
“Recognizing your shortcomings and using them as motivation is good. But to always live under the shadow of failure and enemies—that’s a problem.”
Rita really couldn’t shake it off. Though she hadn’t felt much different these days, whenever she was idle, the image of Valfis calmly breaking the succubus’s neck with a warm smile would flash before her eyes.
Rita feared death and dreaded falling into crisis again. To prevent that, she had to work harder and harder.
But her effort had limits, and she didn’t know where to start. Yet if she did nothing, she would feel like she was wasting time. So lately, Rita had indeed been feeling down.
But she had never and could never tell Cecilia these things—so how did Cecilia know…?
“Rita, are you wondering how I knew all this?”
Cecilia set down her half-empty wine glass and propped her chin in one hand, leaning most of her weight on the table, making it creak.
Her golden hair, damp with sweat and stuck together, slipped through her fingers. Her half-lidded eyes held a mischievous, knowing gleam, and for once, the usually straight line of her lips curved slightly into a smile.
Cecilia reached out, her fingers landing on Rita’s shoulder—the table wasn’t wide, so Cecilia had to press nearly her entire upper body onto it to reach.
Her cool fingertips traced along Rita’s jawline, then rested on her lips, poking them playfully like a kitten toying with a ball of yarn.
Seeing Rita’s surprise at her playing with her lips, Cecilia’s subtly flushed face mixed the shock with even more amusement.
“As the Feeding Master, isn’t it only natural to see what your Little One is thinking?”
Feeding Master? Little One?
These words, slightly insulting but somehow ambiguous in meaning at this moment, left Rita stunned.
Looking at the half-empty beer glass and then at Cecilia sprawled on the table like a puddle of mud, Rita could hardly believe the only conclusion she could draw.
“Lady Cecilia, are you drunk?”
The problem was—it was only half a glass! Low-alcohol beer!
“Maybe,” Cecilia murmured, closing her eyes and lying fully on the table. But her hand still hovered near Rita’s lips, fingers gently rubbing as if playing with a pet.
“Lady Cecilia……”
Rita tried to lift her hand, but it felt uncooperative. Though a small voice in her mind told her this was the perfect moment to ease her hunger, she somehow hesitated.
In the end, she grasped Cecilia’s hand lightly from the back and gently moved it away from her cheek.
“You need to rest, Lady Cecilia.”
“Maybe,” Cecilia replied drowsily, no different from before. The hand she had given Rita now reversed and intertwined her fingers with Rita’s.
Their hands had held each other many times before. Every time they traveled together, Rita would naturally link her arm with Cecilia’s.
But interlacing fingers like this was a first.
Cold, small, yet so ordinary.
Just a hand, Rita thought.
But just that tightly clasped hand felt like an invisible chain, binding Rita right there.