Chapter 42: A Sea of ​​Hatred and a Sky of Love

At night, Anna lit the campfire.

Lydia was no stranger to starting fires.

By the time Anna took the prepared tinder out of her backpack, Lydia had already gathered fallen leaves for kindling.

It wasn’t difficult, and when Anna kindled the fire, Lydia was ready with the firewood.

In the autumn woods, there was never a shortage of dry branches and fallen leaves.

Crackle—wood swiftly turned black in the flames, sending out sharp pops.

Anna poked the wood with a thick stick. In the firelight, her gaze was tired and profound.

What was she thinking about?

Perhaps she was recalling that failed expedition.

Perhaps she was savoring the tenderness inside the cabin.

Perhaps, deep in her heart, she was seeking redemption from someone.

Lydia leaned her back against the rough tree trunk, curling her arms and legs into her embrace.

The tongues of flame licked over her shadow, spreading warmth to her cold limbs.

She looked at Anna through the flickering light.

Such a beautiful profile.

Her features were well-defined, her lines smooth, lashes fluttering like butterfly wings, eyes dyed amber by the firelight, as if preserving the memory of a long-gone era.

A beauty that made one want to crush her to pieces.

If she didn’t know Anna was the sinner, perhaps Lydia would have tried to draw closer to her.

If.

There were no ifs.

Some words, once spoken, left no path of return.

“Sister.”

She decided to call her that, for now.

Lydia unobtrusively shifted a little closer to Anna.

“Hmm?”

Anna lay on her back, silver hair spreading out on the ground.

Because of her posture, a glimpse of her slender, pale waist was visible, and on it, the rose-red Mark was particularly striking.

Lydia saw it clearly.

She couldn’t help but reach out her finger, wanting to touch that spot of rose-red identical to her own.

Her fingertip felt a soft, warm touch—that was Anna’s lower abdomen.

Her fingertip gently traced the Mark, and Anna neither stopped her nor flinched away.

She simply allowed that slender finger to touch her most secret place.

“You’re the second person to see this Mark.”

Anna gently pressed down the corner of her clothes, covering the vulnerability that had been revealed by chance.

“The first was… that young lady?”

“You mean Ophelia?”

Anna knew whom she meant, so she nodded.

Ophelia.

Lydia had heard the name before—the heiress of the North, the magic academy prodigy from the royal capital… and notorious for her temperament.

“So she’s that Ophelia, after all.”

Of all her reputations, what lingered in Lydia’s mind was the image of an awkward young lady.

“You’ve met her?”

“Yes.”

Lydia tossed the twig in her hand into the fire.

“Are you lovers? Sister.”

Lydia stretched out her limbs, wanting to immerse herself in this rare moment of relaxation.

Only at night could she unseal all her feelings—be it love or hate.

Now, she could afford to be a little willful.

“Yes. But, she’s also my master.”

Anna pointed at her own lower abdomen, and Lydia nodded to show she understood.

“It must have hurt.”

Lydia wasn’t sure why she wanted to ask that.

“Mm. It hurt a lot, back then.”

Back then.

Lydia fell silent, and so did Anna.

Both tacitly avoided the topic.

That past—neither of them wanted to face it.

So, saying nothing was for the best.

Silence, and more silence.

Cicadas sang, the fire burned, trees swayed.

Anna grabbed a handful of loose soil and, with a hint of frustration, threw it into the fire.

Lydia glanced up at her, hand gripping the Sword Scabbard.

Still, neither spoke.

“I’ll keep watch tonight. Get some rest.”

Anna tossed out this remark without preamble. She didn’t wait for Lydia’s reply, but stood up and walked toward a nearby hill.

She sat atop the slope, holding her sword, like a lonely stone statue.

Lydia leaned against the tree, gazing off at the distant mountains.

At night, the distant mountains looked like a vast black curtain.

It pressed down on Lydia, making it hard to breathe.

She closed her eyes, but the image of the rose-red Mark branded on Anna’s abdomen would not fade.

What had she been thinking when that slave Mark was branded on her?

Was it as humiliating as her own experience?

No, that wasn’t it.

She was driven by survival—Anna had brought it upon herself.

Yes, it had to be so.

Lydia thought of her mother. Just before leaping from the tower, her mother had held her as always.

Back then, she thought it was just another ordinary afternoon.

But the next moment, her mother resolutely let go, soaring into the blue sky like a bird.

Their once-warm home was reduced to ashes.

If only Father were here.

He was strict, but he could bear the weight of the whole family.

No, not just that—under his rule, both the people and the Soldiers trusted him. He shouldered the burdens of countless families.

Then, that towering figure fell on the expedition. The warriors who managed to escape said it had been a Conspiracy.

Countless heroes perished in that Conspiracy. No one knew who the true mastermind was.

Afterward, the Surviving Warriors fled back to the capital.

Lydia had heard of the one who caused the expedition’s failure—

Right now, sitting where her gaze ended, that silver-haired girl.

Suddenly, Lydia realized that “sister” was actually her peer.

How old was she? Eighteen? Nineteen?

She looked young, too.

Her back was slender, but she had fighting skills and experience far beyond her years.

Could that sister, who would protect a newly-met burden like herself… really be the root of all this suffering?

For a moment, Lydia wavered.

She got up and quietly approached Anna.

She slid her arms under Anna’s, encircling her in a hug.

Anna turned her head; those thin shoulders trembled for an instant.

Lydia wanted so badly to kiss her then.

But Anna turned her face aside.

It was a silent refusal.

In an instant, Lydia’s heart plummeted.

She let go, allowing Anna to slip from her embrace.

The Cedar Scent in Anna’s hair was, without a doubt, a rejection.

It seemed to say wordlessly that she belonged to another.

Don’t cross the line—for everyone’s sake.

That’s what she seemed to say.

“So… I still hate you, sister.”

Lydia turned away, lost, pressing her back to Anna’s.

“Hate… There’s no such thing as hatred without reason.”

Anna’s voice was soft, just loud enough for Lydia to hear faintly.

“Why not? See how the moon hangs high, yet shines only on others… don’t you hate that?”

Lydia groped about on the hilltop, but found nothing.

Anna’s hand avoided hers.

Lydia looked up at the moon, choking up bit by bit.

Tonight’s moon was beautiful, its light falling on Lydia, icy and clear.

Hatred pressed on her heart, cold as a stone under the moonlight.

They both fell silent again—but not for lack of words.

Lydia still had so much to say. She knew Anna would listen, yet perhaps silence was best now.

Because Anna would remain silent, just as she always evaded Lydia’s touch.

Lydia didn’t want to ask for rejection.

So, just like their relationship—neither warm nor cold, neither near nor far—that was for the best.

This way, they could still lean back to back and wait for dawn together.

They could still stand side by side, entrust each other with their backs, walk the same road.

This was enough.