The Promise

Confusion sometimes stems from overexertion—aching limbs, drained spirit, as if the body’s been hollowed out.

Ahem, no…

True confusion arises not from physical discomfort but from a crisis of identity and perception.

As Kant, the Thief Saint who stood at the pinnacle of human speed, even missing an arm, he was never lost.

He knew exactly who he was: Kant, a transmigrator from Earth, a “Crippled One”…

Despite his disability, Kant was never confused. But now, with a healthy body, staring at her reflection, Selina felt an unprecedented bewilderment.

The girl’s celestial beauty and radiant elegance made it hard to face her current self.

The luxurious gown clung to her delicate, youthful frame, her flawless back baring the artistic Sacred Marks.

Everything beautiful seemed to converge on her, yet this very beauty left Kant’s lingering consciousness dazed…

The person in the mirror was undeniably her. Yet every inch of skin, every strand of hair, every detail screamed elven traits.

From appearance to demeanor to the marks on her back, she was increasingly the elven princess, not Kant.

Kant’s image blurred before her eyes, his past slipping further away.

She reached to grasp those memories, but saw only the delicate arm and slender fingers of a girl.

Every detail reminded her: she was no longer a man, nor even human.

She’d struck a deal with the Elven Ancestor God to live as an elven princess for a 2,500-year lifespan—a duration dwarfing her human years.

Selina couldn’t grasp the weight of such a long life, but she knew that over time, Kant’s existence would fade.

One day, she might wake with all her past troubles gone, leaving only the pampered Princess Selina.

She wasn’t dissatisfied with her life—she was simply lost. Her past was drifting away like water slipping through her fingers.

She tried to hold it, but it leaked through, leaving her powerless and desolate.

Noticing Selina’s off mood, Felicia, sensitive to emotions, locked onto her sister’s eyes—windows to the soul—trying to read her heart.

Sharing the same bloodline, Felicia’s empathy flooded her with Selina’s complex emotions.

Her eyes widened, overwhelmed by the torrent of helplessness, nearly drowning in her sister’s emotional quagmire…

Silence fell. Cuibis, sensing the tension, quietly left, the door’s soft close leaving only the sisters.

After a moment, Felicia withdrew her gaze, looking at Selina with complexity, unable to speak.

Her empathy revealed truths: Selina might indeed have recovered her male memories, as suspected.

A human thief turned revered elven princess—an identity shift anyone would find disorienting.

Felicia now understood Selina’s recent avoidance. It wasn’t random but rooted in the reality of facing someone who’d indirectly caused her death. Even Felicia couldn’t calmly face such a truth, especially with their sisterly bond complicating things…

She wanted to pat Selina’s head, as always, to convey her goodwill. But knowing Selina might recall her past, her hand hesitated, retracting slightly.

Even if Felicia didn’t mind Selina’s past theft of the Sacred Fruit, could a memory-restored Selina overlook being killed by her? Felicia gained a sister through the fruit’s unexpected life-giving power, but from Kant’s view?

He only wanted an arm—a normal right arm.

Instead, after death, he was reborn as Selina through the Sacred Fruit, bound by princessly constraints, losing his identity, past, and connections. In others’ memories, Kant was a dead man.

She lived, but in some ways, died five years ago.

Felicia felt ashamed. She’d never deeply considered her sister’s feelings until now, regretting her negligence.

Love isn’t imposed or rigidly defined. True love makes the loved feel its warmth. By that measure, Felicia was a poor sister.

But how to fix it? Console her? With their awkward dynamic, how could she? Let her adjust naturally? That wasn’t elven nature, nor could Felicia stand idly by.

What to do?

Felicia, too, fell into confusion.

Then, a recent conversation with her mother surfaced.

“Felicia, what is family? People bound by blood, or those who stand by you in crisis? In my long life, I’ve learned: family is those who comfort you when you cry, share your burdens when you’re troubled, and offer tea when you’re lost, saying, ‘Don’t fear, we’re here.’”

Her muddled mind cleared, hesitation banished.

Felicia’s gaze steadied on the still-confused girl. She raised her slender arms, embracing Selina’s neck from behind in an intimate hold.

Their bodies pressed close, feeling each other’s warmth and heartbeats. Under the sunlight, Felicia’s golden hair mingled with Selina’s silver.

Selina stiffened, her mind still tangled in confusion. But Felicia’s warm, heartfelt words reached her ears.

“Don’t be afraid, don’t be lost, Selina.”

“Whether you’re Kant, the Thief Saint, or the elven princess, man or girl, human or elf—I don’t care. To me, you’re always Selina. Whether you stay this way or chase your human past, just remember: when you’re lost, turn back. I’ll be waiting, your sister forever, no matter the path. I’ll walk with you to the end.”

“That’s my eternal promise.”