"Where's the princess? Where's the princess? Where's the princess?" In the narrow corridor, Loranhir grabbed Shatina, "Shatina, do you know any divination spells? Quickly give so information about how the princess is doing!"
"I'm not good at that stuff," Shatina said. "The more any mage studies divination magic, the clearer they understand one truth."
"What truth?"
"The only revelation we can get from divination magic is that you can't get any revelation from divination magic."
"What nonsense are you talking about?"
"Sorry, I can't help but speak in flowery language when I'm nervous." Shatina scratched her head.
While the two were whispering, suddenly a voice filled with thirst from the undead interrupted their conversation.
"Humans, living humans..."
"Finally permitted to feed on humans..."
"Delicious fresh at..."
"Thirsty..."
Loranhir looked up and saw a group of dark figures suddenly standing at the end of the corridor. They silently surrounded them, whispering among themselves, all wearing identical black clothes with identical pale faces. Their path forward was completely blocked.
Loranhir looked around - the Vampire Spawn all had the sa expression, as if thirsty for centuries, their eyes glowing red.
Undead creatures like Elaphia?
In this situation, should she try calling the holy knights?
When it ca to dealing with dark creatures, these brutes whose minds were filled with nothing but the Holy Light were obviously experts.
Anyway, given her current reputation with the holy knight faction, gathering a team from the Judgnt Knight Order would be effortless.
"Hey, you're blocking the way." Soone spoke from behind.
"Oh, sorry."
Loranhir instinctively made way for this person, only to realize upon closer look that Liulan had appeared behind her at so point, occasionally murmuring strange phrases in so ancient language.
Loranhir couldn't understand any of it, but snake-like characters gradually ford a sentence in her mind, and suddenly she understood.
—Patuna.
"Well, quite obedient." Liulan nodded, not intending to waste ti here. For her, finding Patuna was the important matter.
She slowly looked up at the Vampire Spawn before her, made no other movent, and simply walked silently toward the thralls.
"Wait, there are..." Loranhir instinctively warned. The next mont, coldness pierced through like hundreds of small knives.
A shivering cold wind blew past, forcing Loranhir to close her eyes.
"Patuna, found you." Loranhir heard Liulan murmur.
When she opened her eyes again, Liulan had disappeared, and before her stood countless ice sculptures.
The sound of ice cracking. A low rumble.
Countless fragnts rolled down, revealing cloud-like gray-white dust.
"...Can I learn this?" Loranhir muttered.
○
"You will die."
Patunasankus delivered his verdict on Elaphia.
Whether for better or worse, Elaphia would die—as a thrall, this was already an established fact.
No choice but to follow this path to the end, using self-deceptive ways to try and encourage myself, so as not to completely sink into despair.
What a pitiful and pathetic creature.
There's always a familiar sense of worry about her.
Even so, Patunasankus felt no urge to help the other.
Evil dragons always emphasize equivalent exchange—she truly didn't feel she owed Elaphia anything, nor Loranhir, nor Shatina, nor anyone else she knew.
Not the slightest debt.
"Such a bother. Leave if you want, what does it matter to ."
Patunasankus's hair gradually faded in color, the amber eyes of the Black Death as cold and detached as ever.
She reached out and removed the gemstone necklace Loranhir had given her. If anything, it was they who owed her.
Subconsciously, Patunasankus wished those people and matters could peel away like her old scales.
Freed from their burdens, she would beco light and smooth, returning to her usual state of solitude—guarding it, enjoying it, with occasional gaps filled by mories.
But Patunasankus always felt that the person she wanted to et, whether encountered early or late, whether they parted intermittently, would eventually co before her at the right ti.
Perfectly tid, as long as she kept moving forward, continuing this journey aningless to an evil dragon.
An unreasonable feeling.
This contradictory sensation had always lingered in her heart with a troubling yet sweet flavor, leaving Patunasankus hesitant about it.
Fallen leaves carried ssages from the wind; dried leaves accumulated on the path were crushed underfoot. Sensing a familiar presence, Patunasankus turned around.
"So you are here, Patuna." Liulan appeared unpredictably behind Patunasankus.
Sigh.
Patunasankus responded wearily—what was bound to co had arrived, but she really didn't want to see this fellow Liulan.
"How did you know I was here?"
"Where is she?" Liulan glanced around, deflecting the topic. She couldn't very well admit she'd been using tracking spells all along to pinpoint Patunasankus's location.
Originally finding nothing, just monts ago, sohow, she'd suddenly located her friend's position.
As if so disguise had been removed.
Looking left and right, Liulan still couldn't find any trace of the counterfeit, nor detect the other's scent. She clearly believed Patunasankus had hidden her away.
"What 'she'?" Patunasankus asked knowingly.
"Your counterfeit," Liulan said bluntly. "Where have you hidden her?"
"…I don't want to answer that," Patunasankus frowned. "Do you have anything else?"
"This is foolish, Patuna, utterly foolish." Ignoring her friend's overt disgust, Liulan spoke these words indignantly.
"I don't understand what you an. Rather than taking ti to see , why not go capture a few more princesses," Patunasankus deliberately distanced herself. "Isn't that your lifelong hobby? Capturing princesses, more princesses, never enough princesses to capture."
"I'm fine, no need for your concern."
For the first ti, fury flickered in Liulan's golden eyes.
She could endure the distance born from conflict and estrangent, but she couldn't stand by and watch her friend sink into self-deception, chasing after counterfeit dreams in a fabricated reality.
"Latifa is dead," Liulan said softly.
Her words were slow yet forceful, like chewing on tough beef tendons—each syllable squeezed through clenched teeth, demanding gradual contemplation.
Patunasankus flinched inwardly, struggling to defend herself. "I don't understand what you an."
"She's dead." Liulan stepped closer to Patunasankus, locking eyes with her intently.
"She isn't."
Patunasankus averted her gaze, evading Liulan's stare. But no matter how she turned her head, those sharp eyes realigned like unerring targets, leaving her no escape.
"She's dead. I'm sorry, but that's the truth." Liulan's stare remained unwavering.
Patunasankus opened her mouth, but no words erged.
"Patuna, I heard—you didn't even attend her funeral. Why? Why?" Liulan's questions fired rapidly, one after another, like a relentless barrage.
"Stop it," Patunasankus murmured weakly.
"You've always liked her, haven't you? I know—you liked her. But she's gone now."
"She isn't! She isn't! She isn't!"
Suddenly, rage boiled within Patunasankus. Her sorrow found another outlet, transforming into agitated grief and indignation.
"You're engaging in sothing utterly aningless. I think you know it—you've always known. You're clever, Patuna," Liulan finally spoke with resignation. "The truth is, you simply refuse to acknowledge it."
In an instant, all of Patunasankus's strength drained away before her very eyes.
Perhaps it was glimpsing the hidden emotions in Liulan's pupils, or perhaps it was the realization that the truth she'd long avoided had been forced into the open—that everything she'd done was insignificant and pointless.
There was no returning to the past. mories could never compare to reality.
The essence preserved in mories could never be reclaid.
Whether venturing out of her nest, pondering what Latifa would do, recalling her appearance, imitating her smile, her dance, her every gesture—none of it held any aning anymore.
No one could bring Latifa back to her.
All that remained seed like an endless succession of aningless days, akin to drowning in drunken stupor.
"...I understand." Patunasankus appeared sorrowful and exhausted, her shoulders slumping as she spoke expressionlessly.
She had had enough.
Patunasankus rembered she once had a different future, but the person she was now felt like a counterfeit version of her forr self.
A replica without an original.
She had always known it deep down. Now, utterly drained, she no longer wished to pretend nothing had happened.
She just wanted to be alone.
"I'm sorry. There were just so things I had to say," Liulan said.
"It's alright. Thank you," Patunasankus replied, her voice so faint it barely crossed her lips. "I'm tired. I need to rest."
She suppressed the trembling in her hands, the pain in her heart stirring once more. Not an acute agony, but the mory of pain.
Patunasankus was not numb—rather, when all she had endured exceeded her capacity to bear it, she instinctively retreated, adopting the stance of an observer, neither sorrowful nor joyful.
She rose calmly, preparing to depart.
"Wait, Patuna, actually I..." Liulan seed to want to say more, but Patunasankus rely turned away. Liulan could only grasp Patunasankus's hand, nearly kneeling.
"Whatever you wish to say, say it five hundred years from now." Patunasankus paid no heed.
Liulan stood alone where she had been left, motionless. An indescribable, suffocating grief spread through her chest, lingering.
"...I really am a fool."
A strained smile curved Liulan's lips.
○
Patunasankus found a secluded corner and sat silently, unaware of how much ti had passed.
She knew Loranhir and Shatina must be searching everywhere for the Princess at this very mont.
How wonderful.
Patunasankus reached up to gently tuck a strand of her long, fine hair behind her ear.
She wanted to join the search too.
But Patunasankus knew she was the forger of that moving figure, a deceiver, a counterfeit.
Thus, she beca the one least able to believe in this story.
It was as if she had preserved a withered flower forever—scentless, colorless, only its rembered form.
Yet Patunasankus truly wished to seek her out again.
But she also knew they would never et again. There would be no dandelions in the sky and wind, no her under the afternoon sun, neither rabbits nor fawns would be her.
Suddenly, she rembered Latifa's face, the touch as vivid as yesterday.
All at once, her vision blurred, the world before her seeming to float in water.
She began to cry.
On that green hill, a girl had once told her:
"The day before yesterday I saw a rabbit, yesterday I saw a deer, and today, I t you."
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