Chapter 10: “A Mother’s Eyes”

Money is a funny thing. When you have it, you never think about it. When you don’t, it becomes your god, your jailer, and your abusive ex all rolled into one.

Right now, I was broke enough to sell my soul for a piece of dry bread. Which is why I stood in front of a food stall, holding a handful of copper coins that jingled like the sound of humiliation.

“One skewer,” I said to the vendor.

He glanced at the coins. Then at me. Then back at the coins like they’d personally offended him.

“That’ll buy you… air,” he said flatly.

I sighed. “Can I get it half-cooked, then? Maybe just wave the meat in front of the fire for a second?”

Before I could spiral into more sarcasm, a hand appeared—gloved in crimson leather, veins of gold stitched across the knuckles. She dropped a silver coin on the counter. It made a sound like authority and nostalgia combined.

“Two skewers,” she said.

The vendor’s scowl melted like butter. “Of course, Lady Thalira!”

I froze.

Of course.

Her.

The woman in red armor. The walking wildfire from yesterday. The former queen who rode off like a storm.

She stood beside me now, posture regal, hair cascading like a blood sunset. And then—because the universe hates me—she looked at me and smiled. Soft. Familiar.

“Eat, Little Kira,” she said.

Everything inside me went silent.

Little… Kira?

The words didn’t just hit—they detonated something buried in my chest.

I blinked. “What did you just call me?”

Her smile deepened, and for a second, the Flame Queen wasn’t there. Just a woman. A memory.

“I wondered if you’d remember,” she said, voice low enough to wrap around me like smoke.

I didn’t. Not fully. But pieces started fitting together—the warmth in her eyes yesterday, the way her hand had brushed mine when she gave me the skewer. The faint scent of ash and herbs I’d smelled before, years ago, on nights when the world felt too heavy for a child to carry.

The orphanage fire.

The nights after.

The voice that whispered: “Sleep, Kira. You’re safe now.”

That was her.

“You…” My throat tightened. “You were—”

“Your guardian,” she finished for me. “After the orphanage burned, you had no one. So I took you in. For a while.”

I stared. The memories weren’t perfect, but they existed now. A small, soot-stained boy clinging to a woman’s armored hand. Her carrying me on her hip like I was something precious. Feeding me when I refused to eat. The soft hum of an old lullaby.

And then she was gone.

I never knew why.

Maybe she thought I’d forgotten.

Maybe she hoped I had.

“Why didn’t you ever come back?” My voice cracked more than I liked.

She looked away for the first time. Her jaw tightened. “Because I wasn’t allowed to.”

The words hung there like ash in the wind.

Allowed? By who? The temples? The Hero Party council? Rein?

Questions itched, but her eyes stopped me from asking. They weren’t cold. They weren’t distant. They were heavy. Like carrying fire for too long and learning it burns no matter what.

“Eat,” she said again, gently pressing the skewer into my hand.

I took it. Because what else could I do?

The first bite tasted like guilt.

---

Later, we sat on a low stone wall outside the market. The sun was sinking, bleeding red across the horizon. People passed us by—laughing, haggling, living lives that didn’t involve divine curses or serpentine soulmates.

“You’ve grown stronger,” she said, studying me like a puzzle with missing pieces.

“Stronger than when I was eight? Yeah, I’d hope so.”

Her lips curved. “Still sharp-tongued.”

“Still bossy.”

Her laugh was soft this time. It hit me harder than I expected.

I hated that it did.

“She smells like home,” Seras murmured in my mind, tail coiling lazily around my boot. “Be careful, Kira.”

“Yeah,” I whispered back. “I think that’s the problem.”

---

As the last light faded, Thalira stood. Her armor caught the glow, and for a second, she looked almost… divine. Not in the goddess sense. In the way a person becomes something larger than life in your memory, and then suddenly stands in front of you, real and warm and impossible.

She rested a hand on my head briefly, fingers threading through my hair like she used to when I had nightmares.

“You were always mine to protect,” she said softly. “Even if the world didn’t want me to.”

And then she walked away, crimson cloak trailing like fire across the dusk.

---

[System Notification: Emotional Resonance Achieved!]

> Candidate: Thalira Reinhold

Affinity Route: Unlocked

Title Gained: The Boy She Couldn’t Save

Passive Boost: +10 Charm (Mature Women)

Memory Core Fragment: 1/3

System Note:

“Looks like Mommy still cares~”

I stared at the glowing text and wanted to throw myself into the nearest ravine.