There Is No Lie In This World Chapter 46: The Fire That Burnt Too Bright

The garden shimred with the amber warmth of late afternoon. Trees bowed with blossoms, their petals trembling slightly as if reluctant to fall. Pale gold bathed the courtyard in a light too tender to last. This was the hour Luc once called the world’s only honest ti - when even shadows softened, and lies had not yet found their voice.

Elune walked slowly through the stone path, her robes rustling with the breeze. The air was thick with the scent of orange blossoms and lilacs - fragrance not conjured by spell or artifice, but by ti’s gentle passing. She carried nothing with her. Not even her usual staff. Her hands were empty, and for once, they felt light.

She turned a bend and saw them: beneath a flowering tree, on a slope that caught all the light, sat Luc and Saen.

Luc’s posture was relaxed, for once—not rigid with command, but poised in quiet grace. She sat with her legs crossed, a book open on her lap, though she wasn’t reading it.

Saen was on her knees, elbows deep in a palette of hand-ground pignts. She was staining a paper lantern with bold, uneven strokes of color, singing to herself a tune that drifted in and out of lody.

"You’re early," Saen said, without turning. "I was going to surprise you with your portrait."

"Oh?" Elune approached, smiling. "Am I glowing and radiant?"

"You’re tripping over a root," Saen said, turning the lantern around. The painting was a clumsy caricature - Elune mid-fall, arms out, one shoe flying off. A crooked halo floated above her head.

Elune laughed despite herself. "You’re wicked."

"She’s honest," Luc said.

"And rude."

"I’m half-Zhen," Saen declared proudly. "And half-trouble."

Luc arched a brow. "Only the Zhen part can be fixed."

That drew more laughter. It rose into the tree canopy and tangled with birdsong.

Elune lowered herself to sit beside them. The stone was warm beneath her. "What is this for?"

"A lantern ceremony," Saen said. "Even if we never light them."

"You always start things and never finish."

"Because finishing ans it’s over."

Luc looked toward her with the faintest smile. "Let her start things."

Saen dipped a brush again and painted a stripe of gold across the lantern’s ribs. Her sleeves were rolled up, revealing paint-smudged arms. She was not graceful. She was not magical. But in her ssy, earnest motion, there was sothing utterly captivating.

For a while, they said nothing. The garden had no need of speech. Saen humd under her breath, sotis skipping to a higher note as if testing the limits of her own happiness. Elune stretched out her legs, face tilted to the breeze. Luc closed her eyes - not in weariness, but in suppressed joy that she would never admit.

"Do you think dreams belong to us?" Saen asked suddenly, setting her brush down. "Or do they co from sowhere else, like visitors?"

"That depends on the dream," Elune replied, eyes still closed. She knew much about dreams.

"I think I was dread by soone else," Saen said. "And now I’m trying to stay awake before they stop."

Luc opened her eyes slowly. "That would make you difficult."

"I’d rather be real."

The silence that followed was not heavy - but it was palpable.

Then Saen whispered. She already knew the answer, but the child wanted reassurance.

"You’ll always protect , right?"

Luc did not speak imdiately.

She turned her head slightly, the edges of her gaze unreadable. Elune felt the pause like a small crack running through the stone beneath them.

"...Of course," Luc said.

Elune glanced at her. Luc’s hands were clasped, knuckles pale. Her voice had sounded calm. But Elune noticed she had not smiled.

"If sothing happens," Luc said slowly, "don’t forgive too quickly. Hate , if you must."

Saen tilted her head, puzzled. "You say really strange things sotis, Luc. Why would I hate you? You are my favorite person in the world"

Luc smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

A bell sounded far off from the tower.

"Well, that’s my cue," Saen said brightly. She stood, brushing dust off her knees. "I’ll grab the book you promised. Then we can paint one of you next," she pointed at Elune, "falling into a fountain."

"I do not fall into fountains," Elune said flatly.

"You did last week."

"Slipped. Not fell."

"I’ll make it historically accurate," Saen called as she skipped down the corridor.

Once the girl has disappeared, Luc turned to Elune.

"Could you go prepare the tea?"

"At this hour?"

Luc didn’t say anything. Instead, she placed her palm on Elune’s shoulder and whispered.

"Elune, please rember how she laughed. For ."

Elune blinked. Not quite understanding what her Mistress ant. She didn’t think much of it at the ti. Nothing could possibly happen to Luc, but the angel was obedient and dutiful.

"Yes, Mistress."

With that, Elune walked away to prepare for Luc’s favorite tea, humming the tune that Saen was singing earlier. Such was the infectious charm of the child. A half Roen, a half Zhen. An illegitimate child who had to be hidden away. A danger to the heritage, a fire that could spark a political war. Luc had grown fond of her - too much for her liking.

And she didn’t like what she had to do now either.

From the far hall, Saen’s voice echoed again - playful, innocent, unaware. "Don’t move! I’m coming back!"

Luc lifted her hand slightly, but didn’t wave.

Instead, her lips moved in silence. A soundless phrase. The air shifted.

Like heat rise above a fla, the corridor where Saen had disappeared began to distort. The light folded inward.

"I can’t let you live. But I will let you dream."

Saen saw Luc’s face for the last ti as the black petals swirled and rged, forming a wall. Before she could even scream or cry, she was banished - sealed.

The child whose radiant smile burnt so bright, the child who could soften Luc’s heart.

Now she was frozen in ti, never to return.

Only to be rembered.