Flanya walked the road to Tuomen, her steps a bit lighter than usual.
She herself hadn’t noticed this change.
Three days ago, when she walked this road, she was still lost.
She didn’t know what she should do, didn’t know what future she had left, living every day in anxiety, like a drowning person, struggling desperately but grasping at nothing.
But now it was different.
Now she had direction.
That Demon Lord—
She recalled that black mist that made one’s soul tremble, that almost perfect transformation disguise, that sword that came alive in his hands.
His power was beyond doubt.
Just from their first meeting, he had seen through the problems with her swordsmanship.
Just from one demonstration, he had shown her another possibility.
Flanya took a deep breath, the corner of her mouth unconsciously curving upward.
As long as she followed his teachings, she would surely regain her fifth-rank strength.
No… perhaps more than just regaining it.
She might become even stronger.
Strong enough to make everyone look at her with new eyes.
Make those who once looked down on her regret it.
Make Father…
Her footsteps paused.
Make Father… willing to look at her once more.
Without realizing it, the banquet hall doors were already before her eyes.
Flanya straightened her skirt and pushed the door open.
The long table was already set with exquisite tableware, candlelight dancing on the silver, casting a warm halo.
Someone was already seated at the table.
A slender figure sat perfectly upright, that doll-like pretty face devoid of any expression, calm, deathly still, like a bottomless clear spring.
Light green hair hung neatly at her shoulders, the same color as Flanya’s.
Those golden eyes were lowered, gazing at the plate before her, as if there were something there worth studying, until she heard the movement at the door and turned her head.
Flannie.
Her little sister.
Flanya’s footsteps paused for a moment at the doorway.
Ever since she lost her power, they had gradually drifted apart, until now, they were like two strangers who had never known each other.
She had tried to communicate and connect, to maintain the relationship between them, but what she got in return was the other’s silent gaze.
Those cold, clear eyes would only look at her, as if to say “Are you finished?”
Yet in Flanya’s memory, the Flannie of their childhood had not been like this.
Although she had been quiet since childhood and had shown little expression, she would follow behind Flanya, watching her quietly with those golden eyes.
When Flanya told various interesting stories and experiences, she would listen entranced.
Back then, when Flannie looked at her, there was a light in her eyes.
When she mastered new magic, she would gently nod and clap.
But now…
An invisible and pitifully thick barrier had formed between them.
Flanya lowered her eyelashes and walked to her seat.
“Father didn’t come tonight.”
Just as she sat down, Flannie’s voice came from the other end.
Her voice was very light, very faint, like an outsider uninvolved, conveying a notice to Flanya.
No greeting.
No pleasantries.
Just a statement.
Flanya nodded.
“Mm.”
And then, there was nothing else.
The banquet hall fell into silence.
Then there was only the sound of tableware gently clinking and the faint sounds of chewing.
Flanya kept her head down, silently cutting the meat on her plate.
She could feel her sister’s gaze occasionally falling on her, but only for an instant before moving away.
Shorter than before.
Fainter than before.
She wanted to say something.
Wanted to ask how her sister’s day had been.
Wanted to ask if her magic practice was going smoothly.
Wanted to ask her…
But when the words reached her lips, she couldn’t say anything.
Because every time she spoke, facing her sister’s gaze, it reminded her of what she currently was.
A waste who couldn’t even use magic.
…An incompetent older sister.
One who had once been trusted by her little sister, but was now even weaker than her…
So she could only remain silent.
Silently eating.
Silently listening to the clinking of tableware.
Silently feeling that awkward atmosphere, like a thin layer of ice, stretching between them.
Who knows how much time passed.
Flanya finally finished the food on her plate.
She set down her knife and fork, and was about to rise—
From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed her sister across the table setting down her utensils in sync.
Flannie picked up her napkin, elegantly wiped the corner of her mouth, then rose.
She didn’t look at Flanya.
Just quietly turned and walked toward the door.
Her figure was slender and straight, her steps steady, without a single unnecessary movement.
From beginning to end, she didn’t look back or spare her another glance.
Flanya watched that figure disappear through the doorway, an indescribable loneliness surging in her heart, unconsciously tightening her fists.
In the end, she took a deep breath, rose, and left the banquet hall.
Back in her room, she pushed open the door.
The room was empty, with only candlelight flickering.
Obviously, the Demon Lord had already left.
Flanya stood at the doorway, looking at the window she had left open before departing, gazing at the heavy night outside.
Unlike the loneliness she felt watching Flannie leave, Flanya now felt more eager instead.
Although Xing Yue had already gone, she knew the lord had gone outside to wait for her.
Tomorrow, she would see him again.
Tomorrow, she could formally begin her studies.
Waiting for tomorrow to begin—
Everything would get better!
She pulled back her thoughts, her gaze falling on a table in the room.
There lay the sword she had taken out today.
Flanya walked over, impatiently picking up the sword, recalling the lord’s teachings.
[From today on, hold it while you sleep every night.]
[Talk to it.]
[Wipe the sword for it.]
[Treat it as a living thing, not a piece of iron.]
Flanya held the sword, silent for nine seconds.
Then—
Flanya laughed, that laughter carrying a hint of indescribable obsession.
She became calm, and a certain inexplicable light began burning in her eyes.
“Hehe~ hehehe~”
“Big treasure sword~ did you miss me~”
She held the sword with both hands, raising it before her eyes, staring intently at the cold blade up close.
Her slender fingers began to slowly caress from bottom to top, her gaze gradually becoming serious.
“Tonight let’s properly cultivate our feelings first~”
“Although it’s the first time, I’ll do my best~”
The candlelight flickered, reflecting Flanya’s face, serious to the point of being almost eerie, and the sword held in her hands, gleaming with a faint cold light in the candlelight.
If anyone saw this scene right now, they would surely suspect this Eldest Princess had gone mad.
But Flanya didn’t think so.
She only felt that she was earnestly building a connection with her sword, following the lord’s instructions.
Very earnestly.
One could even call it—
Devout.
“Now then~”
“Before resting, let me wipe you down properly first~”
“My future partner~”