My Family in the Novel? Chapter 211: Mother

As Isabella settled into the chair, her gaze nervously locked onto before she cautiously took a seat on the bed.

I proceeded to inscribe a protective rune on my door, ensuring our conversation remained private. Grabbing a spare chair, I placed it in my corridor, positioning it to face her.

As we both took our seats, our eyes were now in direct alignnt.

"What did you want to talk about…?" she inquired, her tone betraying a hint of anxiety.

Despite my prior assurances that my intent was simply to ask questions, her nervous deanor suggested a reluctance to reveal the truth.

Anticipating potential evasiveness, I decided to cut to the chase; there was no point in skirting around the issue.

I slowly removed the blindfold that obscured her vision, and though she seed to twitch in response, she managed to maintain her composure.

As the black fabric slipped away, her captivating eyes were exposed. Although the light of sight had departed, the pink hue emanating from them conveyed a sense of life and vitality.

Observing her eyes, a subtle nervousness crept over .

Despite her blindness, it was evident she wasn't exactly fixating on my face, yet her heightened perception allowed her to adjust, attempting to align her gaze with mine.

"Isabella, what exactly can those eyes of yours see?" I asked.

She twitched as she looked at .

From the very mont I removed her blindfold and made contact with those eyes of hers, I sensed that sothing was amiss.

Her divinity of love had evidently caused a change in her eye color, and direct eye contact seed to fully activate her charm powers.

However, there was an additional elent in those eyes that left one feeling exposed.

This suspicion gained further validation back in the temple when her attempts to charm failed. She claid to have seen my mother.

The connection ran deep within my soul, to a degree that only deities and beings of a divine level should be able to perceive. Yet, here was Isabella, a re mortal, who sohow managed to witness it.

I couldn't fathom the precise chanism that allowed her completely blind eyes to achieve such a feat—to witness my connection with my mother and erge unscathed. This unexpected revelation left intrigued and wary.

Isabella, though not an entirely new encounter for , presented a unique challenge. In the past, others who could perceive my connection with my mother t a grim fate—they all perished.

'They died'

This realization heightened my curiosity and wariness, making the impending conversation with Isabella all the more crucial.

This was one of the reasons as to why I was quite lenient with my punishnt for her… clearly there was sothing more to her than ets the eye.

As we sat facing each other, the atmosphere in the room shifted. With the black blindfold removed, Isabella's eyes revealed an otherworldly pink hue.

It was a srizing sight, especially considering her lack of sight.

The depth in her gaze hinted at sothing far beyond the physical realm, a quality that defied explanation.

Those who had gazed upon my mother had their souls sucked dry, minds broken - that was the toll of witnessing a being so divine that even gods questioned their own existence.

My mother existed outside the known boundaries of godhood, dwelling in realms beyond the comprehension of mortal minds.

Isabella, however, sat before , seemingly unhard. It was a perplexing contradiction. My mother's re presence was enough to shatter minds, yet Isabella appeared alive and well.

The thought nagged at , challenging the very essence of what I knew about the nature of such encounters.

My mother, a being that transcended gods, made them question their own divinity. She existed beyond the confines of the cosmos, a force to be reckoned with.

The idea that she could be faced directly by a mortal, even one designated as an apostle, was confounding.

Yes, Apostles and blessed ones were granted so degree of resilience especially if they were loved by their gods, but the underlying mortal essence remained unchanged.

Even if Isabella was an apostle, the fact remained - she was mortal.

I couldn't shake the conviction that my own connection to my mother played a role in her resilience. The very act of perceiving my mother's presence had the potential to be lethal for anyone, myself included.

If I didn't have a single form of connection to mother.

'My mind would practically implode, unable to contain the overwhelming force that was my mother'

Yet, as I observed Isabella, it beca apparent that she wasn't just surviving the encounter; she was sohow seeing beyond the limits of normal perception.

Her gaze, though not directed at , penetrated deep within, as if she glimpsed sothing hidden within the recesses of my being.

Anticipation hung in the air as I awaited Isabella's response. It was clear that she remained uneasy about the unfolding conversation, her nerves palpable.

She pondered my question, and though I sensed her understanding, a certain tension lingered in the room.

Staring directly into her eyes, I noticed a peculiar occurrence. Amidst her dazed expression, sothing peculiar unfolded.

The vibrant pink hues that had initially captivated began to fade, dissipating with each passing mont, revealing the natural color of her eyes – a soft shade of brown.

'What's going on?'

Had the goddess of love rescinded her blessing? What could possibly explain this sudden change?

A surreal transformation transpired before my eyes. The whites of her eyes turned an inky black, while delicate veins glowed with an ethereal purple.

A startled thump echoed in my chest as a realization dawned upon – could it be?

In an instant, Isabella's deanor shifted.

The nervousness that had etched her face transford into warmth, and an indescribable sensation enveloped .

Before I could comprehend what was happening, I found myself wrapped in a tight embrace.

The physical form might have been different, but the familiarity of the embrace, the warmth, and the gentleness were unmistakable – a privilege reserved only for .

"I missed you, Ian," a voice, though different, echoed the sentint. The realization hit like a tidal wave, and a single word escaped my lips in disbelief.

"Mother…?"

…..

As the saintess started walking away, Isabella felt a wave of relief washing over her. The current situation wasn't ideal for initiating a conversation.

The pain coursing through her body, coupled with the overwhelming guilt, sha, and embarrassnt in the hero's presence, made every mont unbearable.

All she wanted was to escape this situation imdiately.

After whatever had transpired between her and the hero in his bed, she couldn't shake the feeling that he harbored a deep resentnt towards her.

The reasons behind his animosity remained a mystery, but the physical pain she felt served as a tangible manifestation of his displeasure.

The heavy weight of his disapproval made it difficult to even consider attempting a aningful conversation.

As the saintess took her leave, the hero followed closely behind. There was a fleeting sense of relief at the prospect of escaping the imdiate tension.

However, as he passed by, his hands brushed against hers, sending an unexpected jolt through Isabella's body. In that mont, words seed to seep into her mind, clear and unmistakable: "Co to my room later."

Though the hero's lips remained sealed, the ssage was delivered directly to her consciousness.

The realization hit Isabella like a bolt of lightning – telepathy?

Could the hero truly possess such a magical ability?

As she grappled with this newfound revelation, she found herself nodding slowly in response, silently acknowledging the unspoken invitation.

The hero, seemingly satisfied with her compliance, continued on his path, following the saintess into the distance.

….

Arriving at the hero's room, Isabella felt a wave of nervousness washing over her.

Despite having healed herself after their recent encounter, a lingering sense of dread and tension remained.

She knew that she had committed an act that was undeniably unforgivable in the hero's eyes.

As she stood outside the door, Isabella couldn't help but wonder about the hero's thoughts.

What was he deciding to do with her? Grateful that the matter hadn't been brought up to the pope or expanded upon, she couldn't shake the feeling that consequences lood on the horizon.

It was unlikely that an apostle would go unpunished after attempting to harm the hero.

Her actions were a tangled web of transgressions.

Not only had she tried to inflict harm, but she had also attempted to charm and mind control him, all driven by a goal she was so blindly committed to that even she couldn't fathom its true nature.

It all stemd from one fleeting glimpse of the being residing within Adrian.

There was an inexplicable sense of temptation, a desire to witness that mysterious entity once again….

Taking a deep breath, Isabella hesitated before knocking on the hero's door. The weight of her own actions pressed heavily on her conscience as she waited for a response, uncertain about what awaited her on the other side.

Looking to the side, Isabella sensed the presence of the saintess in the room next door. A cautious awareness settled within her; she couldn't risk using her own divinity for self-defense, fearing the saintess's imdiate notice.

The room seed to hold secrets, and even if a dire situation arose, deploying her divinity would likely prove futile with Lady Louise nearby.

Sensing the jovial atmosphere emanating from the adjacent room, Isabella resolved to keep a low profile and avoid attracting any unnecessary attention.

To navigate this delicate situation, Isabella gradually loosened the divine energy surrounding her, compressing it as tightly as possible without compromising her abilities.

The need for discretion weighed heavily on her, and she made sure to tread lightly, blending into the shadows of the hallway.

Knocking twice on the hero's door, she strained to hear any response from within. To her surprise, the door swung open on its own accord, inviting her into the room.

Stepping inside, her spiritual perception imdiately identified the person awaiting her – the hero.

The familiar white and black canvas unfolded before her eyes, revealing the depths of the hero's essence.

Despite the unpleasant incident during their last encounter, an unexpected sensation enveloped Isabella. There was a strange yearning, a longing for that profound darkness that resided within the hero.

The inky depths seed to beckon her, and, for so reason, she found herself missing it.

The darkness embraced her differently this ti, distinct from the chilling experience she had felt before.

As she stood in the hero's room, a complex mix of emotions surged within Isabella.

With each passing second, Isabella could feel her heart pounding stronger, its rhythmic beats echoing in her ears.

The proximity to the hero seed to intensify the sensation, a palpable force that she couldn't ignore.

Despite the distracting thump in her chest, she pushed aside her musings, keenly aware of the hero's intense gaze fixated on her.

"I-I ca," she stamred nervously, her words barely audible over the drumming of her heart.

The hero gestured for her to enter, and as she stepped into the room, he spoke with a simple acknowledgnt, "Good job."

"Take a seat; don't worry, I just wish to talk," the hero reassured her, his tone calm and asured. Isabella nodded, understanding the invitation.

As she sought the nearest place to sit, her cane tapped against the floor, guiding her towards the bed.

The aura she sensed closest was there, and so she chose that spot to settle in.

The nervous anticipation within her grew as she waited for the hero to begin their conversation.

Her body seed to heat up, and her voice betrayed signs of stuttering.

For reasons unbeknownst to her, her heart continued to race, each beat echoing a heightened sense of anticipation.

Whatever the hero wished to talk about, Isabella was prepared to answer honestly.

After all, she carried a debt for everything she had done to him, and in this mont, she was determined to be truthful, willing to face the consequences of her actions.

As the hero suddenly reached out to remove her blindfold, Isabella, though nervous, offered no resistance. Curiosity overca her apprehension, and she allowed the unveiling to unfold before her eyes.

Little did she know that this simple act would mark the first mistake of the night.

The mont her bare eyes t Adrian's, an overwhelming transformation swept over her. Darkness enveloped everything, casting a heavy and suffocating atmosphere.

It was as if she had been transported back to a place she inexplicably longed for, yet the reasons remained elusive.

Her head hung low, her gaze fixed on the floor, and her body knelt in submission.

Despite the limited visibility, the familiarity of the surroundings beca apparent – a warmth she recognized, an embrace she sought, and a love she yearned for.

"#####!###@###"

Amidst the indiscernible murmurs of gibberish, there was a strange beauty to the nonsensical words that reached Isabella's ears.

Attempting to lift her head, an unseen force compelled her to look down once more.

She knew, even with the brief glimpse of sight, that before her stood a beautiful woman – the very person she sought inside of Adrian.

The warmth she felt resonated with an inexplicable connection, as if she had returned to a place embedded in the depths of her consciousness.

Then suddenly she felt a warm hug…. And everything beca silent.

"…...Mommy?" Isabella muttered…. As she looked up her mother's gentle face was there.

"Sleep for now my dear Isabella…."

Darkness wrapped around her.

Her body was dragged into a sea of darkness pale hands carrying her with a gentle embrace.