A Journey Unwanted N Chapter 202 - 195: To me from the present

Chapter 202: Chapter 195: To

from the present

[Galadriel: Capital City]

The Festival of Octavia raged on with unrelenting vigor, the city’s grand avenues pulsing with life, the air thick with laughter, song, and the rich aroma of roasted ats and sweet confections. Strears of violet and gold danced in the wind, strung between towering buildings. The devotion was evident in the details.

Despite the grandeur, Mikoto moved through the festivities with an air of detachnt, his appearance a contrast against the bright, jubilant world around him. His helt obscured his expression, but the weight in his steps, the way his fingers drumd idly against his forearm, showed his disinterest.

At the very least, the overwhelming density of people ant he was no longer the center of attention. No longer did prying eyes linger on his darkened figure; no longer did whispers follow his every step. He was just another shadow among many—and he preferred it that way.

Yet even as he walked, his thoughts were adrift, lost in the sea of mories.

And so a reminder of what was lost

("Oh, right. It’s my birthday tomorrow, huh.") The realization struck him with an almost indifferent weight. He hadn’t even registered it until now.

His birthday was always a quiet affair—by choice. He never cared for grandeur, never wanted excessive celebration. Yet, his mother and little sister never once let him wake up alone on that day.

They always burst into his room without hesitation, carrying his favorite chocolate cake, voices filled with so much warmth and excitent that it was impossible not to be swept up in it. His mother would ruffle his hair with an affectionate grin, his sister would shove a wrapped gift into his hands—always sothing thoughtful, sothing that proved just how well they knew him.

Those mories were small, ordinary, but they were his. They were enough.

But now...

("It’s going to be my first without them.")

A hollow feeling stirred deep in his chest, a weight that settled at the pit of his stomach. It felt... distant, yet oppressive, like a storm brewing far beyond the horizon, its winds just barely beginning to brush against his skin.

Did it feel this way because of the ’phase’?

That was another problem entirely.

Mikoto stopped in his tracks, leaning against a nearby wall, arms folding across his chest. His thoughts swirled, tangled in uncertainty. The’ phase’. The inevitable transformation he would undergo upon turning sixteen.

Telluris had tried to explain it, but even she couldn’t fully articulate the true extent of it.

It would bring out all his bottled-up emotions, all the repressed negativity, all the resentnt, in a violent burst.

He would change. That much was certain.

But how much?

Would he still be himself?

Would he still want to return ho?

Would he still care about his path, his purpose, his goals?

Too many questions, and no answers.

At the very least, one thing remained clear—his disgust for that sli of an Ancestor and Selwyn.

He clenched his small fists, the alloy of his gauntlets groaning under the pressure.

("At the very least, I want to help Lyra and Guinevere.")

He wasn’t doing this for himself.

He didn’t care about so grand reward.

He didn’t care about self-satisfaction.

He just wanted to help—because he could.

"Let’s hope I can follow through," he murmured under his breath. As he prepared to depart, his gaze swept across the crowd, picking out familiar figures among the sea of unknown faces.

Agatha, her expression unreadable as she silently observed the festivities, her dull eyes betraying a glimr of interest. Her brother trailed slightly behind her—there was distance between them still, but they were trying. That was sothing.

Mirabella and her sisters, with Juliana guiding little Valerie, who was practically vibrating with excitent, her small fra darting from one stall to the next with boundless energy. Astrid watched them fondly, a warm smile on her lips.

Victoria and Gwendolyn, the elder sister carefully leading the shy girl through the crowd, pointing out the wonders of the festival with gentle enthusiasm.

Fiona, her unmistakable pink hair making her impossible to miss. She stood at the center of a magic contest, her arms crossed, a proud smirk on her face as an audience applauded her prowess. The confidence radiating from her was palpable.

His friends. People he had grown close with in his ti within this new world. People he would push away co tomorrow.

One face, however, was noticeably absent.

Of course, Lucinda was nowhere to be found.

Being a spawn of Octavia, she was probably hounded relentlessly by devotees, nobility, and starstruck commoners alike. It made sense for her to keep her distance. Mikoto exhaled sharply, pushing off the wall.

There was nothing to be done.

He turned to walk away—

A familiar voice

"Mikoto?"

His body halted.

He turned his head slightly to the source, already recognizing the familiar tone.

Lucinda.

Her long, snowy-white hair fell down her back, her red eyes locking onto him with a glint of curiosity and sothing else—sothing softer, sothing unspoken. Clad in her silver armor, she was a contrast to the dark, ominous figure he cut beside her.

Her smile was strained, her movents slightly hesitant.

"Lucinda," he greeted, his voice neutral. His head tilted slightly. "...Still riled up from what happened a few days ago? I heard an Ancestor ca and started trouble." He knew it was Aelfric, of course. But that detail hardly mattered.

At the re ntion of the event, Lucinda stiffened. "Yeah..."

Her expression darkened for a mont, her thoughts drifting back to the brutality she had witnessed. The hatred in Aelfric’s eyes. The rciless way he killed a defenseless woman. Were it not for Victoria deciphering his thod than many more victims would have followed.

She shook her head, dispelling the lingering mory. "But how are you finding the celebrations so far?"

"It’s fine," Mikoto muttered, cupping the chin of his helt absentmindedly. "Telluris was pretty excited about it," he added. "She dragged

around like an excited child, taking part in every activity there was."

Lucinda’s brows furrowed slightly. "Telluris?" she echoed, clearly unfamiliar with the na.

"Ah. Right. You don’t know her," he noted, snorting lightly.

Before she could probe further, Lucinda sighed, glancing at the crowd once more. "To be honest, I contemplated not stepping out at all today..." Her voice trailed off.

"And?"

"...I’m regretting that I did."

Mikoto followed her line of sight.

Even now, dozens of people stared at her, murmuring in hushed awe, pointing as if she were so divine marvel they had been blessed to witness.

He exhaled through his nose. "Your fault for paying attention. Co on."

Before she could react, he grabbed her wrist.

Her entire face lit up red in an instant.

Then—

The world vanished.

And suddenly—

They were sowhere far quieter.

Away from prying eyes.

The countless gazing eyes, the overwhelming presence of the crowd, the suffocating weight of their whispered awe—all of it was gone. The raucous laughter and revelry of the festival beca a distant murmur, swallowed by an overwhelming calm. The cobbled streets, the towering statues, the banners of violet and gold—all had vanished, replaced by sothing far quieter.

They now stood upon soft grassy terrain, the ground cool beneath their feet. Before them, a gentle river flowed, its surface shimring under the afternoon sun, reflecting the sky in glistening ripples. A stone bridge arched overhead, casting a long shadow upon the water.

Teleportation magic.

Lucinda imdiately recognized it.

It had been instantaneous, without even a flicker of warning—one mont, she was drowning in the relentless adoration of strangers, and the next, she was here, away from it all.

She exhaled, letting the tension in her shoulders ease. ("He’s so quick with it. I didn’t even feel a shift.")

Mikoto, standing beside her, exuded the sa indifferent he always did. With a single gauntleted hand resting on his hip, he turned his gaze toward her. "There. Better now, no? No more prying eyes at least," he stated plainly.

There was sothing in the simplicity of his words that struck her—so casual, so effortless, and yet, undeniably thoughtful.

For a long mont, she rely gazed at him.

The tension in her chest, the lingering unease of being watched like a relic of divinity, it all unraveled in an instant.

Her lips curved into a beautiful, grateful smile. "Thanks," she murmured, voice softer than before, "it’s what I needed. I barely ever have the courage to run away."

It was a quiet admission, yet a truthful one. She rarely ever allowed herself the luxury of escape. Duty bound her. Expectations anchored her. And even if she despised the constant stares, the relentless reverence, she always endured it—because it was simply how things were.

But Mikoto?

He had no hesitation.

No hesitation in simply taking her away from it all.

("I suppose... that’s just the kind of person he is.")

"You don’t say," Mikoto snorted, shifting his weight slightly. "Well, ain’t no sha in it, I guess—but c’mon, Lucinda, grow a pair."

Lucinda tilted her head at that, her expression subtly puzzled. The way she did it—just slightly off-center, her snow-white hair cascading gently over her shoulder—made the action almost endearing.

"Grow a pair?" she echoed, genuine confusion lacing her voice.

Mikoto sighed, shaking his head. "Nevermind," he waved it off.

She blinked at him, still perplexed, but chose not to press the matter further.

"Anyway," Mikoto continued, shifting the conversation, "why’d you wander around in the first place? Thought you’d hitch up with the others."

Lucinda parted her lips slightly, then hesitated.

Her fingers curled inward, almost as if she were holding sothing back.

"Well... I..." A soft cough, an almost imperceptible pause. "I was looking for you," she admitted at last.

Mikoto raised a brow, though it was hidden beneath his helm. "How co?" he asked.

Lucinda looked away, her gaze shifting toward the river. The way she spoke next was almost too quiet, but her voice still carried to him, clear as day. "It’s just been a while since we last saw each other, is all," she murmured, a tinge of embarrassnt creeping into her tone.

She raised a hand to her lips, coughing lightly as if that would sohow lessen the weight of her words.

Mikoto, unimpressed, gave her a blank stare from beneath his helt. "Uh-huh," he deadpanned. "You missed

that much?"

"Wha—I—!" Lucinda’s reaction was instantaneous. Her entire body tensed, and her face imdiately burned red—a reaction so severe that Mikoto nearly questioned if she was using magic to achieve it. Her lips parted, but no coherent words ca out, only an unintelligible sputtering of syllables as she tried and failed to form a response.

Mikoto chuckled, the sound low and amused.

"Relax," he drawled, "I’m only teasing you."

Lucinda huffed, her expression morphing into a weak glare—though, really, it was far too soft to be considered threatening. "I figured..." she muttered, crossing her arms.

Mikoto, still amused, turned slightly, his voice lowering.

"I know the real reason you’re here."

Lucinda blinked at his sudden shift in tone.

"You wanna confess your love, right?"

A beat of silence.

Then—

Her entire face erupted in color.

The sheer intensity of her reaction was sothing to behold.

She stepped back, utterly flabbergasted, eyes wide as if he had just uttered the most blasphemous statent imaginable.

"I—wha—"

Mikoto snorted.

"Kidding," he added smoothly, his voice laced with mirth.

Lucinda stomped her foot, her embarrassnt turning into flustered indignation.

"T-that isn’t funny!" she whined, her voice an octave higher than usual.

"It’s hilarious," he corrected.

She groaned, running a hand through her hair in exasperation.

"Anyway," Mikoto continued, "you’re here for my divine wisdom, right?"

Lucinda imdiately raised a brow.

"You sound like an old man, talking like that."

"It’s ’cause I’m wise," he retorted without missing a beat.

She rolled her eyes.

Mikoto, however, tilted his head slightly.

"But really," he said, "lay it on . We’re friends, after all. The least I could do is help where needed."

Lucinda paused.

She smiled.

Softly. Genuinely.

It was nice to hear, especially coming from him—from Mikoto, whose words often carried an odd sort of weight, even in their simplicity.

"...Suppose I am a little lost," she admitted at last, chuckling softly. "I’m not sure what it is, but... I just feel lost."

Mikoto studied her for a long mont.

Sothing was bothering her.

Sothing she couldn’t quite put into words.

Without thinking, he flicked her nose.

Lucinda blinked, utterly confused, her red eyes blinking rapidly as if struggling to process what just happened.

His helt hid his childish grin.

"Don’t sweat the small stuff," he said. "Just strive forward, and like I told you—do what you want to do. It’s your life, after all. Only you get to decide what you wanna do, no?"

Curt words. Yet they carried weight all the sa.

Lucinda stared at him.

For a mont, she was silent.

Then—

A small, ethereal smile graced her lips.

"...Thank you, Mikoto," she murmured, voice softer than before. "Thank you for reminding ."