Click.
The sound of a key entering a lock echoed in the quiet twilight.
Celia opened the door to her residence and stepped inside, her head bowed.
Inside the living room, Aurora and Isha had already returned from their classes.
They were engrossed in studying the new magical theories their mentors had taught them.
Isha had been about to greet Celia, but upon noticing her low spirits, her hand froze mid-wave.
Aurora, too, paused her research.
Her golden eyes were fixed on Celia, unmoving.
Yet, at this moment, Celia had no desire to meet their gaze. She silently bypassed the living room, walked straight upstairs, retrieved her nightgown, and headed to the shower.
Twisting the shower knob, warm droplets cascaded from above, wetting her hair and every inch of her skin.
She closed her eyes, listening to the water patter against the tiles, and let out a soft sigh.
Normally, a shower would wash away the day’s fatigue, leaving her feeling refreshed and comfortable. Now, she only felt a profound sense of vexation.
She no longer knew how to face herself, nor how to face Dorothy.
After washing, she dried herself and changed into her nightgown, returning to her room alone.
Her communicator displayed numerous messages, from Lena, Anna, and Silverbloom.
A flicker of impulse urged her to open them, but she ultimately lowered her hand, tossing the communicator aside.
Recalling the memories from her dream, she touched the butterfly birthmark on the back of her neck, then let out a bitter laugh.
Beyond the shock of Silverbloom being her mother, there was the brutal shattering of her own aspirations.
If her suspicions were correct, her other mother, Sophia, might be the Demon Queen.
The opulent bedchamber and the magical prowess capable of deceiving Dorothy seemed to corroborate this.
This meant she was not a pure human, but a hybrid of human and demon.
And such a person, she, had actually wished to become a human hero, to slay her own mother?
Celia clutched the pillow in her arms, overwhelmed by a deep sense of confusion.
Time quietly slipped away amidst her sorrowful thoughts. The moon hung high in the sky; it was already late into the night.
Though her eyes were closed, sleep remained elusive.
Just then, her door unexpectedly opened. Celia hastily lifted her gaze.
Upon realizing it was Aurora, a small pang of disappointment struck her, quickly transforming into mild bewilderment.
“Aurora, it’s so late. Aren’t you asleep yet?”
“Aren’t you?” Aurora countered, then stepped closer to Celia.
She sat down beside her without ceremony. “You look dreadful. What happened?”
“…Nothing.”
“Tell me. Keeping things buried in your heart will never solve them.”
Celia buried her head in the pillow, still unwilling to confide in Aurora. After a moment of quiet waiting, Aurora shook her head resignedly.
“It’s about your parents, isn’t it?”
“How did you know?”
Her thoughts exposed so abruptly, Celia clutched the pillow even tighter.
“Having spent so much time with you, I naturally know what makes you unlike yourself.”
In the six months they had known each other, Aurora had long since discerned the young woman’s personality and understood the unspoken wounds she carried deep within her heart.
Celia appeared to be a strong and mature girl, yet peeling back her facade would reveal that her strength and maturity were mere disguises.
Loneliness and vulnerability were her true essence.
Listening to Aurora’s words, and reflecting on her usual attentiveness, Celia leaned back against the headboard, curled her legs, and said with envy, “Aurora… I wish I were as understanding as you.”
“What’s wrong? Did you do something you regret?”
After a brief silence, Celia nodded, unburdening the thoughts weighing on her heart. “I lost my temper with Senior Silverbloom and said some foolish things. Now that I’ve calmed down, I regret it a little…”
“But my mind is so muddled right now. I don’t know how to face her, or my own origins. I don’t even know what I should do with my future anymore.”
As she spoke, her voice grew softer and softer. The once proud noble young lady now resembled a discarded kitten, pathetic and helpless.
Aurora’s eyebrows subtly arched. She twirled a strand of hair around her finger, asking with feigned nonchalance, “Is Senior Silverbloom a friend of your birth parents? Or, is she your mother?”
Celia’s face registered surprise at the question.
She could understand Aurora guessing her thoughts, given their half-year acquaintance and mutual understanding.
But for Aurora to know of Senior Silverbloom’s connection to her parents—that, she couldn’t comprehend.
Could Senior Silverbloom have told her?
“Don’t look at me like that. Anyone can see the nature of Senior Silverbloom’s relationship with us. And for her to risk discovery by the Council to reveal her identity and become our instructor, simply liking her juniors isn’t a sufficient reason.”
Aurora wiggled her index finger from side to side as she explained.
Upon hearing her explanation, however, Celia felt a profound sense of bewilderment from the depths of her being.
She understood that Aurora was right, yet she couldn’t help but murmur, “Really?”
Aurora sighed.
“Have you forgotten? She lived under an assumed name in Vidona for so many years. No one knew of her existence until you arrived; only then did she change her mind.”
“She began to teach us as the Silverbloom Sword Princess, was forced to interact with old friends, and now even has to worry about being captured by the Council for interrogation. Can’t you see all of this?”
These words made Celia’s delicate body tremble, and a tide of guilt surged within her.
The memories from her dream told her that Senior Silverbloom and Sophia maintained a marital relationship. If Senior Silverbloom were caught by the Council and they extracted such information, the mere thought of the consequences sent chills down her spine.
The Council would show no mercy to a hero implicated with demons.
Yet, despite this, Senior Silverbloom still chose to expose herself to become her instructor, guiding her on the path to becoming a hero. And she, in turn, had hurled those hateful words at her…
Deep indentations appeared on the pillow she clutched in her arms. She lowered her head, silent.
“Now it seems she must be your birth mother, correct?”
Aurora had seen through Celia’s thoughts, and thus surmised the true relationship between Dorothy and Celia. This also explained Dorothy’s evident favoritism towards Celia.
“Yes, she is my birth mother,” Celia admitted.
After all, they were true mother and daughter.