Perhaps she shouldn’t have withdrawn her hand?
Briefly conflicted, Beacai ultimately chose not to pull her hand away. Instead, she gently stroked Lily’s head, listening to the child’s delightful giggle.
A gentle warmth bloomed within Beacai’s heart, and a soft smile unconsciously graced her lips. For her, this warm feeling was a sensation she had never experienced in her waking life.
‘Lily… wasn’t afraid of her? Could it be that…’
“Do you like me?” she asked.
“Of course I do!” Lily giggled, then turned to Isis. “Besides Mama, I like Big Sister the most! Oh, and this Big Sister, I like her too!”
Beacai’s breath hitched faintly, her eyes brimming with delighted surprise.
Unlike others, this elven girl harbored no wariness or fear, even after receiving her help; she had simply taken a liking to Beacai.
Her innocent kindness allowed Beacai to finally understand the feeling of being cherished, much like the sweet, blissful sensation she’d once experienced in a dream, where Isis saw her as a daughter—a feeling she yearned to relive perpetually.
This was the very sentiment she had always sought. If it came from her mother, it would be even more perfect.
She cast a fleeting, silent glance at the smiling Isis, then quickly lowered her gaze, idly turning the windmill in her hands. Her mind drifted, envisioning herself being loved by Isis.
‘That happiness would surely far surpass my current joy.’
With two more soft breaths, the windmill spun hypnotically, a blur of motion. Beacai remained seated on the sofa, gazing blankly at the spinning toy, her mind lost in visions of the future.
Isis, too, witnessed Beacai in such a daze for the very first time. When she settled into stillness, the so-called Evil God was merely an ordinary young woman, appearing as fragile as if in need of protection.
The night outside the window deepened, and the evening chill seeped through the panes, drifting into the living room. Despite the warm glow of the lamps, Isis found herself rubbing her arms, seeking a little more warmth.
Without her magic, she was no different from any ordinary person. She was susceptible to colds if she caught a chill, having endured that misery enough times during her eighteen years with Nona.
She had no desire to experience it again in the days to come.
Taking a sip of the hot tea Philomena had prepared for her, Isis had, in fact, intended to leave after Beacai had healed her ailment, yet she had never quite found a suitable excuse to do so.
Until, quite suddenly, something clicked in her mind.
“The opera…”
Isis murmured softly, only now recalling the true purpose of their journey to Praire City: to witness the performance of the Crimson Moon Opera Troupe.
She glanced out the window, and upon seeing the deepening darkness of the night, Isis’s brow furrowed, knowing the opera must have already been well underway. Beacai, hearing Isis’s soft murmur, immediately rose to her feet.
‘Perhaps there was still time to make it to the opera house!’
Seizing Isis’s wrist, Beacai pulled her up from the sofa. Isis understood her intent, offering no resistance, and simply turned back to Philomena and Lily, bidding them farewell.
“We still have to go see the opera, so we won’t disturb you!”
“Eh? Your Eminence, please take care…”
Before Philomena could even try to detain them, Isis and Beacai vanished from her sight. Lily blinked in confusion, completely uncomprehending.
The once bustling living room fell silent once more. The dim, warm light stretched their shadows long across the floor. Philomena stared blankly in the direction they had departed.
Only after a long moment did she slowly sink back onto the sofa. Beacai had arrived in a hurry and departed just as swiftly. She had saved Philomena’s life, yet had demanded nothing in return—nothing of equal value to a life.
‘An Evil God, indeed? Could she truly be one?’
‘And that elf… Isis. How was it that she could accompany Her Eminence Beacai? And if Philomena wasn’t mistaken, Her Eminence Beacai sometimes even listened to her?’
A myriad of questions swirled within Philomena’s mind, leaving her utterly bewildered. Yet, none of these questions truly mattered.
What mattered most was that she could now be there to watch Lily grow up. Both Beacai and Isis were her benefactors.
****
Meanwhile, having departed Philomena’s home, Beacai released Isis, then, amidst Isis’s startled gasp, swept her into a bridal carry.
Crimson wings unfurled behind Beacai, and she ascended into the sky, carrying Isis aloft. From that vantage point, she gazed down upon the sleepless city, eventually spotting the opera house and descending directly towards it.
The guards at the main entrance of the opera house had barely registered what occurred when a sudden gust of wind swept past them, tossing their uniforms into disarray.
They exchanged bewildered glances, but, seeing no one enter the opera house, they simply dismissed it as a chilly night breeze, paying it no further mind.
Upon reaching the entrance to the opera’s grand hall, Beacai gently set Isis down. The hall’s massive doors were tightly shut, but from outside, Isis could clearly hear the performance unfolding within.
The opera had indeed begun, yet, thankfully, it had not concluded, leaving them time to enjoy the remaining acts.
Isis had intended to quietly push open the door, present their tickets, and discreetly find their reserved seats. Her hand had barely touched the grand door when, in the next instant, Beacai forcefully flung it open.
Boom—!
A resounding bang echoed through the hall, and in that moment, countless gazes converged on the doorway. Even the performers on stage faltered, momentarily stunned.
“Good, it’s not over yet,” Beacai remarked, then, completely disregarding their stunned stares, she seized Isis’s wrist and led her to search for their reserved seats. Isis’s lips twitched, feeling a wave of acute embarrassment on Beacai’s behalf.
In a venue like an opera house, maintaining decorum and quiet was essential; it was basic etiquette. They weren’t attending as deities, and thus, they ought to adhere to these rules.
Isis had initially intended to lecture Beacai on these very principles, but after a moment’s reconsideration, she chose against it.
Aside from the Crimson Moon Opera Troupe, everyone else in the hall were Beacai’s devout followers. If Beacai were to reveal her true identity, these people wouldn’t merely open the doors for her; they wouldn’t even watch the opera.
They would abandon everything to prostrate themselves in worship. Etiquette, after all, was built upon a foundation of equality, and gods and their believers were inherently unequal.
This wasn’t solely Beacai’s perspective, but the prevailing belief among most deities. There was no need for her to lecture Beacai over such a trivial matter, especially since she wasn’t Beacai’s elder.
The tickets Beacai’s subordinates had secured were for two seats in the very center of the grand hall; this offered the absolute best vantage point for the opera. Numerous eyes had followed their progress to these seats, only subtly dispersing once they had settled in.
Evidently, some of these gazes belonged to the high-ranking officials of Praire. Their profound reverence was palpable, even to Isis.