Aile’s Shadowed Past and a Fragile Promise

“Ellie, I want to hear about your mother.”

That night, as if to touch her wound, Mingqian took the initiative to ask the girl questions.

In order to resolve the girl’s deep inner trauma before he leaves.

With the aim of healing the girl’s deepest wounds before his own inevitable departure.

The very act of engagement was crucial; if Aile were ever to stand on her own, she had no choice but to confront and accept her past.

Only then could she truly step into a brighter future.

Aile sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes shimmering, a nascent tearful glint within their depths.

The hearth fire cast a warm glow upon the girl’s striking golden hair.

Mingqian’s voice offered a strange comfort, yet his words carried an undeniable cruelty.

“My… my mother…”

A flicker of pain crossed her features.

“Yes, anything at all. Please, tell me.”

“I understand.”

Aile couldn’t fathom the significance Mingqian found in these questions, but the overwhelming urge to obey him, to avoid any hint of disappointment, consumed her thoughts.

Though she addressed Mingqian as ‘teacher,’ she perceived him more as her master, fearing that any disobedience might lead to his abandonment.

Under Mingqian’s intricate gaze, the girl meekly began her tale.

It was a story Mingqian knew well, yet this was an entirely different facet of it.

From her earliest recollections, she had seemingly been born into a “happy” family. The quotation marks were hers, for she herself couldn’t quite grasp the true meaning of happiness.

Nevertheless, they had been a harmonious family of three, until one fateful day.

Signs of her nascent magical abilities began to manifest.

On that particular day, Aile had inadvertently soiled her clothes and, dreading a scolding, had retreated to her room to weep in solitude.

Yet, a miracle unfolded at that very moment: after a sudden flash of light, her clothes were pristine, as if brand new.

With boundless excitement, she recounted the event to her father.

What she received in return, however, was her father’s terrified gaze, his lips trembling uncontrollably.

He seized Aile, casting her out of the house, roaring for her never to return.

Her mother attempted to intervene, only to inadvertently wound her father with a burst of magic.

“…Go. I won’t report you. Just go.”

Even after all these years, she could still vividly recall the resolute despair in her father’s eyes that day.

Driven from their home, her mother took her hand, and their life of wandering began.

Life on the road was harsh, and hunger became a frequent companion.

Yet, despite their destitution, her mother consistently ensured Aile received the largest portions of food and the finest clothes they could acquire.

Initially, compassionate strangers often offered aid, but with the empire’s strict new laws concerning “witches,” everyone began to distance themselves, shunning them entirely.

The empire, founded upon a bedrock of draconian laws, left its citizens struggling merely for self-preservation. What surplus of strength could they possibly spare for others?

Thus, they were forced to wander, striving to secure their own survival. For Aile, however, those initial memories remained relatively pleasant, especially when contrasted with the harrowing three years that followed.

Until that day arrived.

“It’s them. Both mother and daughter are witches.”

They were begging from passersby on the slum streets as they always did, yet the atmosphere that day felt undeniably different.

Her father was fawningly speaking to a distinguished man.

Aile would never forget the servile expression plastered across her father’s face as she watched him betray her.

The man made a slight gesture, and the guards surged towards them.

Her mother pulled her behind her, speaking urgently.

“Run, quickly! Run! Live.”

That was the last utterance she ever heard from her mother. She stumbled blindly into the depths of the alley, and just as she was about to round a corner, as if compelled by fate, she glanced back.

A stark white blade plunged into her mother’s chest, and crimson bloomed forth.

Just like that, her mother drew her last breath.

She gazed intensely at the man’s face, a visage she vowed never to forget for the rest of her life.

From that day forward, Aile embarked on a solitary life of wandering.

Beaten, scolded, and relentlessly pursued by avaricious individuals, she had no recourse but to keep fleeing.

She simply couldn’t comprehend.

What grievous wrong had she and her mother committed?

Did she truly deserve such cruel treatment?

Yet, the empire’s laws remained immutable; capturing a witch promised tangible monetary rewards.

Driven by such incentives, even those with good intentions would merely offer her scraps of food, urging her to continue on her way.

As she roamed the city utterly alone, what force sustained her will?

Perhaps it was merely her mother’s final words.

Perhaps it was the burning hatred for the man who had murdered her mother.

And so, she continued her wandering, clutching onto the faint hope that one day she might find salvation. Three arduous years she spent in ceaseless flight.

When she stumbled upon discarded scraps at a street corner, a flicker of genuine joy would escape her lips.

When children, disgusted by her squalor, ganged up to beat her, she would weep tears of helpless frustration.

Ultimately, however, subsisting on scavenged scraps was never enough to truly fill her stomach.

As her body slowly matured, she was compelled to seek out more substantial sustenance.

She attempted to find work, but no one dared employ a “girl” with such an ambiguous past.

No one was willing to shoulder such a risk.

She was left with no choice but to continue her nomadic existence, bathing in the rain, scouring sewers for water, and even strangling live rats for sustenance.

Occasionally, she would find herself staring blankly at the windows of a roadside bakery.

She had never tasted food so visually appealing, so redolent with enticing aromas.

Girls her age, clad in beautiful dresses, strolled through the streets, hand-in-hand with their mothers.

On several occasions, when caught, her desperate struggles were met with brutal kicks, heavy blows, and even being strung up and beaten.

She had come to utterly despise this world.

She confessed to Mingqian that her hatred wasn’t for the world itself, but for her own powerlessness, her inability to resist those who tormented her.

Compared to dead rats, perhaps cockroaches were even more palatable…

“Aile, stop.”

Mingqian gently interrupted her narrative.

“You are truly remarkable, and you have endured so much. I apologize; I shouldn’t have asked you to recount this.”

He hesitantly stroked Aile’s head, his expression troubled, then met her surprisingly mischievous gaze.

“Teacher, please comfort me.”

She still didn’t fully grasp why Mingqian had suddenly inquired about her past.

Even now, she occasionally awoke from nightmares, the recurring image being the face of the man who had murdered her mother.

Yet, everything she had gained here far surpassed those lingering horrors.

If possible, she longed for Mingqian to simply caress her head and gently embrace her.

However, being unaccustomed to such overt displays of affection, she could only express her yearning in this manner.

In the most straightforward way she knew.

Mingqian offered a wry smile as he gently stroked her hair.

Still, Aile felt it wasn’t enough; the solace she received now seemed disproportionate to the profound losses of her past.

“Teacher, please promise me that you will never let Aile leave your side.”

Aile had no desire to leave Mingqian; she craved more of this newfound tenderness and warmth.

If she could remain here, then letting go of her hatred for that man would be a small price to pay, so long as she could live forever by Mingqian’s side.

“I promise you.”

“I won’t abandon you, not until… the day you choose to abandon me.”

“Truly? You truly won’t?”

“Yes, I promise you.”

Aile broke into a radiant smile, brushing her hair against Mingqian’s palm in a gesture of affection.

Yet, Aile remained blissfully unaware of the true implication of his words.

[Aile’s past fills you with profound sorrow, yet you understand, with chilling clarity, that all of it was your doing.]

[Three years prior, that was when you had first simulated yourself into this world.]

[Betrayal, begging, relentless pursuit, and ceaseless bullying—Aile had endured torments far exceeding anything you could have imagined. It was almost inconceivable how one so young could have borne such an unending barrage of suffering.]

[She yearned to harbor goodwill towards this world, but the world itself refused to permit it.]

[You began to ponder: what if you were to truly raise Aile into a defenseless lamb, stripping her of all her claws and teeth…]

[Undoubtedly, that would be a catastrophic outcome.]

[In this wretched, dog-eat-dog world, only the strong truly survive.]

[You resolved to cultivate the girl into someone capable of standing defiant against all odds.]

[Your resolve to fake your death solidified. If she must hate, then let her hatred be directed at you.]

[If she required a motive to live, then let her goal be to slay you.]

[Gradually, time advanced to the day of Aile’s fifteenth birthday.]