Chapter 195 - The Price of Being a Mother
Katherine Evenhart:
It was morning, and I was in the kitchen, preparing sothing to take to Nathan. A part of still didn’t feel comfortable sending him back to the academy. At the castle, I always had him nearby. Even though my duties there were ti-consuming, I could still see him during my breaks.
Would the academy accept a summoner professor of the plant elent?
I let out a small laugh at the thought, but my mind soon returned to the events of the past few days.
"I’ll cut off the head of the wretch who ordered his kidnapping..." I muttered angrily, slicing through so fruit.
"It's been a while since I’ve put you to use, hasn't it, my girl?" I said, placing my hand on my mana gem to communicate with my Soul Golem. I felt the creature stir within, as if responding to my call.
I made a promise when I lost my husband: I swore I’d never be a soldier again. I didn’t want to drag Nathan into that kind of life. But my trauma and weakness put my baby in danger... more than once.
I rember when he was just five years old. My son was so small, and we lived in a simple ho in the village. One day, trouble knocked on our door and forced us into this noble life, where I had to tell him about his family.
Now, ten years have passed, and it feels like I'm reliving that nightmare.
Staring at the fruit, I started cutting it with a surge of anger, but soon stopped, trying to calm myself down.
I’ve already lost my husband… and now, I almost lost my son.
I dropped what I was doing and ran to the bathroom, locking the door behind . My heart was racing, sweat was dripping down my face, and my hands were trembling uncontrollably.
I almost lost my son… I almost lost my Nathan… Why do these things keep happening to ?
First, I lost my father, then my mother… then my first love… and now… it could be my son.
I had to sit on the bathroom floor to steady myself. The truth is, I've never forgiven myself. One of the last conversations I had with my husband was a fight, begging him to abandon the war and co ho with . And shortly after that, ca the news of his death.
No one understands the burden of realizing that the last day you spent with the person you loved… you didn’t love them enough. You didn’t tell them how much they ant to you. You didn’t express how much you cherished them.
This regret haunts to this day.
Why didn’t I give you one more hug? Why didn’t I give you one more smile? Why didn’t I tell you one more ti that I love you?
I lived in bitterness, and that pain consud so much that, during my pregnancy, I fell ill. I almost lost my son because of that bitterness. It’s yet another regret I carry within . I bla myself for being weak at that mont, unable to care for my child.
When I was young, I was cold to others, soone who didn’t value her own life. It was this feeling, this lack of purpose, that led to beco a soldier. But no one told that having a child erases all that arrogance. No one told that being a mother brings an overwhelming fear, a fear of losing your child so intense that just the thought of sothing happening to them makes a part of you die a little each ti.
“No one told that having a child ans experiencing the greatest joy in life while also carrying the risk of the greatest pain if sothing happens.”
I wiped away the tears that rolled down my face as I thought about the injuries I had seen on my boy's body.
"I'm sorry, Nathan... It’s my fault. Over the years, your mother has grown weak. I argue with you because the fear of sothing happening to you is unbearable... I'm sorry for being this way. I’m so afraid of losing the one person who keeps grounded in this world. If it hadn’t been for seeing your face and hearing your cry when you were born… I would’ve surrendered to death at that mont. It was you who kept alive… and it’s you who still keeps alive."
Nathan Evenhart:
That night, I was feeling a bit better. I could move and walk, as long as I avoided sudden movents. Cylla had insisted on healing , but I knew how exhausted she was. Even so, she healed a little before I continued my recovery with the healing potion, a miraculous redy in this world.
The potion had two thods of use: the fast one, where the liquid was poured directly onto the wound, and the slow one, which involved ingesting it. Though slower, this thod was effective for healing internal injuries and bones.
My mother was feeling sentintal and didn’t want to leave my side all afternoon. She changed my bandages and insisted on feeding . I gave in to her demands, allowing her to take care of , knowing that she loved more than anything in this world, and I loved her just as deeply.
As we were having dinner, Martha erged from the basent where the assassin was being held. Her uniform was stained with blood splatters. As soon as my mother saw her, she imdiately called her over.
"What did you find out? Is it what we suspected?" my mother asked, a nervous edge to her voice.
Martha shook her head. "At no point did the assassin ntion the Special Eyes. I tried various thods to extract whether he knew about this information. Curiously, it turns out that the one who hired him was another assassin."
We exchanged surprised glances.
"Wait, the contractor they were planning to deliver to was another assassin?" I murmured, analyzing the information.
Martha nodded.
"What else?" my mother pressed.
"In short, they used those two to kidnap the young master and didn’t know anything beyond that. The other contractor, from what I gathered, is also a mage-assassin, at the sa power level as those two, and he’s the one with the main information."
Damn... If those two were already extrely strong, now I’d have to deal with a third mage-assassin of that caliber? I was fortunate to have fought them before they took to their hideout. Facing three mage-assassins of that level at once would’ve been complicated.
"Most likely, this third assassin has direct contact with the one who ordered the young master’s death. Hiring an assassin to kill a high-ranking noble is not sothing done through interdiaries. I can say that this assassin was hired knowing he had an interdiary team, fragnting the identity of the true client so that only one of them would know."
We all pondered over the information.
"So, there’s another guy out there who wants Nate dead?" Chloe asked.
"Yes… and his na is Quinn. That’s the identity of the third assassin," Martha replied.
But just the first na doesn’t help… it’s practically useless.
My mother was lost in thought.
"We have to find out who this noble contractor is and make him pay! The worst part is, we still don’t know if it’s because of his eyes," my mother said.
She was right.
If the hired assassin used two others to capture , the real motive behind my death remains unclear. Maybe the third assassin intended to take my eyes without the team knowing. Or perhaps the contractor wanted to kill directly, using this third assassin to ensure the job was done without arousing suspicion, only to collect my eyes afterward.
Countless possibilities ran through my mind.
These special eyes are both a blessing and a curse. They’ve beco objects of desire over ti, and the worst part is that the human royal family covets them above all else.
"And what about the nas they gave us? Was it as we suspected?" I asked.
Martha nodded.
"They were their real nas… they’re real assassins. And Ricardo even had a tooth with a ssaging stone engraved with his na," she said.
I rubbed my temples.
They’re trained killers, not just re rcenaries...
Professional assassins followed a certain rule, almost like a trademark: they always revealed their true first na to the contractor and, especially, to the target. It was both a signature and a grim reminder. You’d know exactly who was responsible for your death, and the assassin would bear the risk of having his identity exposed if he failed, leaving you alive. For the assassin, revealing his na was a symbol of unwavering confidence in his skills. A true assassin never considered the possibility of failure. He would pursue his target to the end, no matter the cost.
"I managed to find out the price offered for the young master’s death," Martha suddenly said, catching our attention.
"How much?" my mother asked.
"35,000 gold coins."
We exchanged shocked looks, stunned by the absurd amount.
"35,000…" my mother murmured, disbelief evident in her voice.
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