CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: FORGIVENESS

“NO—!”

Luna’s eyes flew open as she bolted upright, a sharp cry tearing from her throat. Her chest heaved violently as she clawed at the blanket beneath her hands, breath ragged, heart slamming against her ribs as if trying to escape her body. Cold sweat drenched her skin, her nightgown clinging uncomfortably as the remnants of the nightmare still echoed in her ears.

Fire. Steel.

Screams.

For several long seconds, Luna could do nothing but tremble. Slowly, she curled inward, pulling her knees to her chest and burying her face between them. Her shoulders shook as silent tears slipped down her cheeks, soaking into the fabric. She pressed her forehead against her knees, grounding herself in the pressure, counting each uneven breath until the panic dulled to a faint ache.

It was just a dream. Just a horrible, vivid dream.

Gradually, her breathing began to steady. The tightness in her chest loosened, inch by inch, and the icy fear receded from her limbs. When she finally leaned back, exhausted, she braced herself for cold stone… damp earth… the sting of pain —

—and froze.

Soft. Warm. Cotton.

Luna blinked.

She pushed herself upright again, eyes darting around in disbelief. She lay on a plush mattress layered with finely stitched wool blankets. Sunlight filtered gently through sheer curtains, casting warm patterns across the room. Her torn attire was gone, replaced with a clean white gown that smelled faintly of herbs. Bandages wrapped her arms and legs neatly, but beneath them, her body felt… whole.

No burning pain. No stiffness.

No agony.

Luna’s fingers trembled as she flexed them.

“I’m glad to see you’re finally awake, Lady Luna.”

The gentle voice came from the doorway.

Luna turned to see a graceful woman standing there, only a few years older than herself, dressed in flowing Eastern robes of muted crimson and ivory. Her long black hair was tied into a high ponytail, secured with a single red lily hairpin. There was strength in her posture — quiet, assured — and an elegance that felt effortless.

For a moment, Luna simply stared.

“Is something the matter, Lady Luna?”

Realising herself, Luna flushed deeply and scratched the back of her head.

“I—I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to stare. I just—” She faltered, then blurted, “You’re very beautiful.”

The woman’s lips curved into a warm smile. “You’re too kind. But I assure you, my beauty is modest compared to Lady Suzumi or Lady Hiira.” She inclined her head slightly. “I’m merely a servant of this household. My name is Milla.”

“A servant…?” Luna echoed, blinking.

“You are in the residence of the White Wolf Clan,” Milla continued calmly. “Our Lord and his men found you gravely wounded and brought you here. You were fortunate to survive.”

“The White Wolf Clan?” Luna repeated faintly. "The… White Wolf Clan?”

Milla nodded.

Luna swallowed hard.

Her family loathed the Clan. Her father and brother spoke of them with thinly veiled disdain, and the rumours whispered behind palace doors were always dark — ruthless warriors, blood-soaked hands, uncontrollable beasts. Once, she had asked Guy why their family hated them so fiercely.

His answer had been cold. Final.

She never asked again.

And yet… they had saved her.

Milla watched her carefully, as if understanding the storm of thoughts behind her silence. “If you’re feeling well enough, may I suggest a warm bath? It would help ease the tension in your body. Afterwards, perhaps a meal.”

Luna hesitated, then lifted her bandaged arm sheepishly. “If… if it’s not too much trouble.”

Milla chuckled softly and stepped closer, gently unwrapping the bandages. “You’ve healed remarkably well.”

“How long have I been asleep?” Luna asked quietly.

“Two days.”

The final wrapping slipped free.

Luna gasped.

There wasn’t a single scar.

“Incredible…” she breathed. “Your healer must be extraordinary. Who is he?”

Milla’s eyes softened. “Perhaps, once you’ve bathed and changed, you can meet them over lunch.”

“Yes, please!” Luna said brightly — too brightly — relief rushing through her like a wave.

Later, freshly bathed and dressed in a flowing robe of soft pink and ivory, Luna was escorted through the mansion’s sunlit halls. Her fingers fidgeted nervously with the fabric as her heart fluttered with each step.

The Lord of the White Wolf Clan.

She’d heard the whispers, rumours and stories about him.

The servant knocked once.

“Enter.”

Luna stepped inside.

The dining room was bathed in natural light. At the head of the long table sat a man whose presence alone seemed to alter the air around him. Sleeveless black attire framed his broad shoulders, and when his deep violet eyes lifted to meet hers, they held a sharp, unreadable intensity.

Luna’s breath caught. She had expected someone fierce.

She hadn’t expected someone this breathtaking.

***

Shinji Karou rubbed his reddened eyes for what felt like the tenth time that morning, nose itching unpleasantly. A cold — because of course it had to be today.

To his left sat Milla Karou, mistress of the household, his maternal cousin, and one of the few people immune to his authority.

“Oh my,” Milla said lightly. “Looks like someone caught a dreadful cold.”

“Shut up,” Shinji muttered, downing his tea in one gulp.

“How does it taste?”

“Bitter. Like you.”

She pinched his cheek without mercy.

“Let go—!”

Knock. Knock.

Shinji straightened instantly, clearing his throat. “Enter.”

The guest arrived.

Luna bowed quickly. “I-It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lord Shinji Karou. I am Luna Heartlets of Luyas.”

He gestured for her to sit. She chose the seat opposite him, posture rigid as servants brought in the meal.

Conversation was sparse. Luna gathered her courage.

“If I may… I wish to thank you for saving my life.”

Shinji nodded once. “You’re welcome.” He motioned to Milla. “You’ve met her. She’s the doctor who treated you.”

Luna stared openly. “She’s the healer?”

“Oh?” Milla arched her brow. “Did you expect bloodstained hands?”

“I—no! I mean—thank you!” Luna bowed quickly, cheeks burning.

Dessert arrived. Shinji watched her quietly.

“Do you know where you are?” he asked.

“This is the White Wolf Clan’s territory.”

“Correct. No one enters without clearance.” His voice lowered. “After everything you survived… how are you still smiling?”

The question struck deeper than intended.

Milla hissed beneath her breath and tugged his sleeve.

Shinji sighed. “Tell me what happened in Luyas.”

Silence.

“…A war,” Luna whispered. “My father betrayed us all.”

She told them everything.

When Luna finished, the room fell into a heavy silence.

Milla was the first to move. She straightened gently and offered Luna a reassuring smile, placing a hand over hers.

“No worries, dear. Someone very important is waiting to see you,” she said softly. “I think you’ll be glad.”

Luna blinked, wiping her cheeks. “S-Someone…?”

“Yes.” Milla squeezed her hand once. “Go on. Take your time.”

A guard was summoned. Luna composed herself, took a steadying breath, and followed the escort out of the room, the soft click of the door echoing behind her.

Only then did Milla turn back to Shinji.

“Well?” she asked quietly.

Shinji exhaled, the weight he’d been holding settled visibly on his shoulders. “We’re out of time,” he said flatly. “If the Spirits have reached Eden, then Luyas is in far worse shape than we feared.”

Milla’s expression darkened. “I spoke with Mistress Hiira earlier. They’re holding things together for now. The Black Raven Clan has also offered aid.”

“Hn.” Shinji scoffed faintly. “That show-off Toya.”

“Jealous?” Milla teased lightly, though her eyes remained sharp. “He’s a father now. Had a daughter recently.”

Shinji choked on his tea. “Toya? A father?!”

“I sent congratulations,” she said calmly. “And a gift. On your behalf.”

“Hn.” Shinji checked the clock, already shifting into command mode. “We leave at first light.”

He rose from his seat. “Thanks for the hospitality, Milla. It’s been a while since we last met.”

“Oh hush,” she replied, waving him off. “That’s what family’s for.”

As Shinji turned away, Milla’s thoughts drifted back to the moment they had arrived — soaked, exhausted, and bloodied. For a heartbeat, she had feared the worst. But Shinji had quickly assured her it wasn’t an attack. Instead, he’d asked her to treat the unconscious girl… and the young man escorted by other Clan members.

Her eyes had narrowed when she’d seen him.

Kazuo.

She remembered him well — the trouble he’d caused during the last Clan New Year celebration still vivid in her mind. Still, she had welcomed them all without hesitation.

As Shinji headed toward his quarters, Milla brushed his arm lightly.

“You know,” she said sweetly, “if you really want to repay me… there’s a pair of earrings in Eden I’ve been eyeing. Quite expensive.”

Shinji snorted, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he continued down the hall.

***

The wide field stretched beneath an open sky, grass rippling gently in the breeze.

Two figures faced one another in ready stances.

Kazuo twirled the chain of his sickle lazily around his wrist, shoulders loose, posture casual — far too casual for someone about to be attacked.

Across from him, Mika stood with twin blades drawn, feet planted firmly against the earth. Her breathing was steady. Focused.

“Alright, Princess,” Kazuo called, flashing a grin. “Let’s see if all that brutal training of yours was worth Shinji’s misery.”

She didn’t respond. She only shifted her stance.

“Oi. That’s cold. At least glare at me first.”

Too late. Mika lunged.

Kazuo barely had time to react before her blade whistled past his cheek, the edge grazing skin. A thin line of blood welled instantly.

“—Shit!”

The chain snapped forward as Kazuo launched his sickle, forcing her back. Metal rang as their weapons collided, sparks flashing briefly between them. Mika spun away, boots skimming the grass as she widened the distance — then vanished.

Kazuo’s eyes widened. “What the—?”

Mika reappeared behind him.

He twisted just in time, blocking her strike with the pole of his sickle. The impact rattled his arms. Mika didn’t relent. Her strikes came fast — precise, merciless — each blow driving him back another step.

Damn it. All that brutal training really did pay off.

Kazuo rolled aside as a blade sliced through the space where his head had been a heartbeat earlier. He snapped the chain forward again, this time catching her calf mid-motion. With a sharp tug, he yanked hard.

Mika hit the ground with a grunt.

Kazuo smirked, breathing hard. “Giving up already?”

She struggled — and for a moment, he felt it. Resistance. Weight.

Then the pull reversed.

“O-Oi, Mika—!”

He was yanked forward violently, barely managing to release the sickle before her blade slammed into the tree behind him, biting deep into bark inches from his skull.

Kazuo froze. Slowly, he peeked out from behind his raised arm.

“Mika…?” he called.

She stood there, chest heaving, sweat dripping down her brow. Her grip on the blade was tight — too tight.

And her eyes — They glowed.

Not brightly. Not wildly. But with something sharp. Predatory.

Kazuo shivered. That look…

If anything ever happens to that jade bracelet… Run. Shinji’s voice echoed in his memory, cold and absolute.

“Mika,” he said carefully.

The glow flickered. Then dimmed.

Mika blinked, confusion crossing her face as awareness returned. “Kazuo? Are you hurt?” Her voice softened instantly. “I—sorry. I got carried away.”

Kazuo exhaled slowly. “Jeez,” he muttered, forcing a grin. “When you said ‘let off some steam,’ I didn’t think you meant attempted murder.”

Mika’s eyes widened. “I didn’t—! Are you seriously hurt?” She rushed over, dropping to her knees beside him, hands hovering uncertainly as she checked him for wounds.

Without warning, Kazuo grabbed her wrist and pulled her forward. She landed on his lap with a soft yelp, hands braced against his chest.

“Admit it,” he said with a smirk. “You’re jealous I flirt with other girls. You want me all to yourself, huh?”

Mika blinked. Then she laughed. The sound startled him — light, unguarded.

Kazuo grinned immediately, victory clear on his face. “You nearly killed me, and you’re laughing,” he said dramatically. “Heartless.”

Mika laughed harder.

Kazuo flopped onto his back in the grass, pulling her down with him. Mika rested her head against his chest, the cool breeze brushing past them, the field quiet once more.

“You’ve gotten strong,” he murmured after a while. “Shinji’s methods might be insane… but they worked.”

Mika smiled faintly. She had grown stronger.

Faster. Deadlier.

And that scared her. Despite everything, the idea of killing — truly killing — still weighed on her. She wanted the strength to protect… not to lose herself to it.

They lay in silence until Kazuo broke it.

“So,” he said lightly, “why didn’t you join Shinji for lunch? Y’know. With that guest of his.”

Mika nodded.

“Isn’t she your best friend?” he asked. “Guy said you two were close.”

She didn’t answer.

Kazuo noticed the slight pout but didn’t push. He waited.

“I’m scared,” Mika whispered at last. “I’m terrified that if I see Luna again… she’ll reject me.”

Her voice wavered. She buried her face against his chest, trembling. “I can handle rejection from strangers. But from you guys…”

Kazuo’s grin faded. He wrapped his arms around her without a word, rubbing her back gently.

“I don’t think she hates you,” he said quietly once her breathing steadied.

Mika looked up.

“I don’t know the whole story. But from what Guy told me?” He shrugged. “Sounds like jealousy. You’ve got what she wishes she had — resilience.” He tapped her nose. “People thought you’d break. Instead, you became someone’s Chosen Apprentice. You’ve made it, Mika. That’s worth envying.”

Kazuo chuckled. “I’m no noble, but I’ve seen enough. She spent her whole life meeting expectations. Then you — this wild, lower-class anomaly — rise past them all? That’s gotta sting.”

“I… suppose I get it,” Mika murmured.

“Envy’s normal,” Kazuo said simply. “It’s what you do with it that matters. And you?” He smiled softly. “You’ll do the right thing. You always do.”

Then — footsteps.

Standing a few feet away was a figure. Mika’s breath hitched.

“…Luna.”

***

Hands clenched tightly together, Luna Heartlets stood flanked by three guards. Her mocha eyes remained fixed on the ground, guilt written plainly across her face.

One of the guards stepped forward and bowed.

“Your Royal Highness, Sir Kazuo. We are under direct orders from Lord Shinji to watch over Lady Luna, who wishes to see you, Milady. Sir Kazuo, His Lordship has also requested your presence in his private chamber. He asks that you come at once.”

Kazuo raised an eyebrow, arms crossing lazily.

Formal. Way too formal.

Interesting. Everyone in the Clan, from nobles to the lowest-ranked guards — had always spoken to him casually. This wasn’t courtesy. This was irritation wrapped in etiquette.

Kazuo snorted. As if I’d listen this time.

He picked up his chained sickle and turned to the girls, his gaze pausing briefly on Luna. Ordinarily, he would’ve flirted without hesitation.

Today, he let it pass.

A warm hand patted Mika’s shoulder. She turned just in time to see Kazuo flash her a wicked smirk.

“Booooys!” he shouted suddenly. “It’s party time!”

Before anyone could react, he slung an arm around the shoulders of the nearest two guards and began dragging them toward the mansion. The third knight stared in horror before scrambling after them.

“Sir Kazuo! Please wait! We’ve strict orders not to leave the young lady alone with Lady Mika! His Lordship fears she might—”

“They’ll be fine,” Kazuo bellowed, rolling his eyes. “Honestly, your Lord acts more like a mother hen than a general. Worrying over every little thing.”

“I—If you say so, Sir Kazuo…” the guards replied weakly.

Kazuo glanced back. “If anything happens while I’m gone, I’ll take full responsibility. Got it?”

They nodded, reluctant at first until Kazuo grinned and shouted, “Let’s go! Tonight, we drink like gods — and tomorrow, we fight like wolves!”

Moments ago, the guards had been stiff and anxious. Now, they were buzzing at the promise of free alcohol.

Hours later, they would be found sprawled across the kitchen floor, drunk beyond measure — victims of the infamous wrath of the Mistress of the Mansion.

***

Silence settled between the two girls.

Time stretched.

Unable to bear it any longer, Mika stepped forward, her trembling hand reaching out — only for Luna to recoil instinctively. Mika froze, then drew her hand back, sorrow flickering across her face.

Luna clenched her fists. Her head dipped low, nearly a bow. “I…” Her voice shook. “I’ve always been second best. Always… next to you.”

Luna swallowed hard. “The Commandant admired you more than me. Even at the Academy — though I joined first — it was always you. I hated that. I hated you for it.”

Mika said nothing. She listened.

“When you were exiled, I felt relieved. Like I could finally shine.” Luna’s voice cracked. “But the guilt never left. And when the Spirits invaded… everything collapsed. I realised how much I’d taken for granted — safety, comfort, love.”

Luna looked up, eyes red but resolute. “I’m sorry, Mika. For everything.”

Mika stepped forward and pulled her into a tight embrace without hesitation. “I forgave you long ago,” she whispered. “Even when it hurts.”

Luna broke, tears streaming freely as she returned the hug. They held each other until the weight finally lifted — until laughter slipped through the tears.

“I want to go back,” Luna said firmly. “I can’t undo the past, but I won’t run anymore. I want to fight — for survival, for freedom, for our home.”

She looked at Mika. “But I don’t want to go alone.”

“You won’t,” Mika said softly. “I was never alone either. I had people watching my back. And I’ll do the same for you.”

Luna smiled. “Lord Shinji granted my request. I’ll return to Luyas with the reinforcement force. Under the Clan’s protection.”

“Yes,” Mika replied warmly. “Gruff as he is, he has a good heart. And I’m glad you’re standing tall again.”

“I’m doing better now.” Luna smiled, genuine this time. “I met with my brother earlier. He’s still deciding… but he’ll give me his answer tomorrow.”

“That’s fair.”

They walked back toward the mansion together, laughter echoing beneath the fading sky — as if nothing had ever come between them at all.