Chapter 122: Eileen!

Rain fell on Flora, one drop after another. The patter was dense—so dense that the sound was continuous, never breaking, so dense that it felt like ten drops landed on her every second.

Flora felt her body adjust to the temperature. Maybe it was because she had been walking for a long time, or maybe because her mind was occupied with other things, so she didn’t feel as cold anymore.

Flora walked very slowly. She took a step, then half a second later took the next step. There wasn’t a single person on the street. The houses on both sides had their lights off; nothing could be seen.

Only occasionally, when she passed a house with a lantern hanging by the door, the dim light shone through the rain, blurry and hazy, illuminating the falling drops and a small patch of wet cobblestone on the ground.

She stepped through that light and then back into the darkness.

There was water underfoot, making a faint splashing sound with each step—so soft it was like a dragonfly skimming the surface, audible only to Flora herself.

But there really was only her on the road. Even if the sound were louder, no one would hear it. Ha ha.

Flora didn’t know where she was going. She just aimlessly wandered, enjoying the night wind as it stirred her heavy hair and the delicate skin of her arms, feeling the countless raindrops caress her.

It was quite comfortable.

Flora turned a corner and entered a narrow alley.

Both sides were lined with low walls. Some wall tops even had grass growing on them, and the rain beat the small blades down. The alley seemed very deep. It was pitch-black, and the end was invisible.

A feeling of gloom, dullness, and chaos…

Submerging herself in it was truly comfortable.

Flora didn’t go deep into the alley. She only took a few steps inside and then stopped. After standing for a while, she turned back and returned to the main road.

The rain had lightened a little.

The originally dense raindrops had become much sparser. The sound of falling drops now had pauses between them, as if the world’s uproar had entered a “calm period” after its climax.

She lifted her head and walked a few steps with her eyes closed.

Raindrops landed on her eyelids. They seemed to have grown slightly larger, gently falling on her lids and lashes, tickling. She raised a hand and wiped them away, then opened her eyes and continued walking.

Her mind was a mess.

When that group of people said “we can’t go on living,” the look in their eyes… that wasn’t a lie.

It was real fear, real despair, real desperation.

She had seen that look before.

She had seen it in the mirror.

***

A few months ago, standing in that familiar room, looking into the mirror, her eyes had been exactly the same. Later, in the demon race’s castle, when she realized she hadn’t escaped—her eyes were like that too.

Even though she hadn’t looked in a mirror then, that must have been the expression.

Ha ha.

Flora smiled, then her expression flattened again as she started to think.

What would happen after she let those people go? Would they go back to the demon race? Would they truly stop stealing? Or would they just move somewhere else and continue?

She really didn’t know.

Flora sighed again.

Now that she thought about it, was letting them go the right choice?

Then she smiled again, but this time the curve of her lips was smaller.

What use was thinking about that? The decision was already made.

Better to think about something fun.

The flustered, bewildered, and confused looks on those people’s faces when they were caught—so funny.

And the one she had hauled down from upstairs, the one who stumbled down rubbing his eyes, who at first had no idea something had happened downstairs and was still leisurely thinking he had succeeded, ha ha.

And the “ow-woo” he let out when he fell—she really couldn’t hold it in.

Flora laughed.

She hadn’t noticed it at the time, but now that she thought about it, it was indeed hilarious.

Five grown men, caught by a young girl.

If word got out, they’d be laughed to death in the Thieves’ Realm.

Though Flora’s laugh was a bit intense, she quickly reined it in.

She continued walking, passing one street, then another. Soaked by the rain, she looked at these houses—some familiar, some not very familiar.

This feeling was hard to describe.

Both nostalgic and calm.

She started thinking about Eileen and the others again. Remembering the look on Eileen’s face when they met at the cemetery during the day. Remembering Kaan’s slightly shy face when he said “thank you.”

Remembering Father. Remembering things from the past. Remembering those things that could never return.

Flora sighed again.

Just as Flora was still savoring those memories, a scream suddenly cut through the rainy night.

It didn’t sound very loud. It seemed to come from a distance. The voice sounded like it had been strained to its limit, but it was short—cut off as soon as it began, as if someone had covered the speaker’s mouth.

Flora was startled, her eyes snapping open.

That direction. That voice.

The south side of town. Eileen’s house was over there, and the voice sounded a lot like Eileen’s.

She broke into a sprint.

She was already soaked through. At that moment, she knew nothing except that she was running very fast—fast enough to take flight.

Rainwater splashed up, wetting her legs, wetting her skirt. Though she was already drenched, she still felt the cold, felt the sting.

Her breathing grew heavy. Every few steps, she gasped for air.

Her heart pounded heavily, slamming against her chest with each beat, causing a sharp ache.

Don’t let it be her.

Don’t let it be her.

Don’t let it be her.

She chanted in her mind, faster and faster.

But… how could it not be her?

That direction, that voice, the resemblance.

And the instant tension in that cry.

Flora ran faster, turning one corner, then another.

Ahead was Eileen’s house.

She rushed over and saw a figure on the ground.

Small, curled up in the yard, trembling faintly without stop.

Flora reached her side. Her legs gave out, and she fell directly to her knees.

Her knees slammed into the wet soil. It hurt badly, but she didn’t care.

She looked down at the person.

It was Eileen.

Eileen lay on the ground, soaked through. There was a gash on her forehead; blood was still flowing out, trickling down her cheek, past her nose and the corner of her mouth, finally falling from her neck onto the ground.

Blood mixed with rainwater, staining her collar a dark red. The red spread over a large area, a shocking sight.

Mud and blood were mixed together on her arms. She didn’t know if there were other wounds elsewhere.

Eileen’s face was terrifyingly pale—not a hint of color.

Her lips were also white, a ghastly white, half-parted from weakness.

Flora crouched there, her hand reaching out, hovering in midair.

She could feel it. Eileen was still breathing.

But…

Her fingers were trembling, uncontrollably.

She tried to clench them into a fist, but her whole arm shook along with it.

“Eileen…”

She called out, her voice very soft—soft as if afraid to wake someone, or as if raising it would cause the person before her to shatter completely.

“Eileen…”

She called again, her voice still very soft.

Eileen’s eyelids moved. It looked very slow, very laborious.

Then she opened her eyes, but they were vacant, empty.

She stared at Flora for two seconds, as if it took great effort to see clearly who was in front of her.

Then her lips moved.

“Miss… Flora…”