Isis, however, was more interested in the goddess statue beside the stall owner. The sculpture, no bigger than a palm, depicted Beacai’s expression with such lifelike precision that its high price was evident at a glance.
Beacai naturally noticed her gaze. Yet, as her eyes landed on the goddess statue, a faint blush crept across her fair cheeks.
‘With the real Beacai right beside Isis, such a statue was utterly unnecessary,’ she mused.
She quickly redirected her gaze back to the jewelry, then whispered with a hint of longing, “Mama, are you thinking of buying something? I can give you money, you know.”
Her thoughts were somewhat conflicted. She yearned for those beautiful ornaments, but only if they were a gift from her mother.
This way, she would finally be a daughter who had received a present from her mother.
However, Isis didn’t seem to grasp her underlying meaning. She simply shook her head and replied, “No need.”
“…Alright,” Beacai mumbled.
Her voice heavy with disappointment, Beacai lowered her head and, still holding Isis’s hand, led them away from the stall.
****
Evening arrived swiftly. With a soft whoosh, a single firework shot into the sky, bursting open in a kaleidoscope of colors that illuminated the faces of the crowd below, adding another vibrant hue to the lively celebration.
Following that brilliant display, the remaining fireworks began to launch and explode, one after another. For a moment, everyone looked up, their eyes reflecting the myriad lights, making them sparkle like a sea of stars.
Beacai, however, wasn’t watching the grand spectacle. In her hand, she held a sparkler which, once lit, shimmered with a captivating golden light, truly a sight to behold.
She appeared to be seeing such a firework for the first time, gazing down at its burning tip in a daze. Her silver hair, tied back, made her resemble a sheltered noblewoman who had finally found a moment of freedom.
Watching Beacai lost in thought, a smile invariably graced Isis’s lips. That innocent, guileless expression always drew her in, stirring a tender affection within her heart.
Just then, a slurred voice drifted from behind her.
“Your daughter is truly adorable, Isis.”
Turning around, Isis saw Anna, the witch, stumbling towards them. She held an unfinished glass of wine in her hand, and the heavy scent of alcohol clung to her.
“Anna?”
Fearing Anna might fall, Isis quickly extended a hand to steady her. The witch, letting out a hiccup, then leaned into Isis’s embrace.
“Have you been drinking?”
“Just a little bit, maybe. To celebrate making quite a sum today, hehe.”
‘A little bit?’
‘This is hardly ‘a little bit’; she’s completely drunk.’
After a silent grumble, she heard Anna continue, “With such an adorable daughter, how do you manage to resist?”
“Resist what?”
“That rosy, soft face… wouldn’t a kiss feel utterly satisfying? If I had a daughter as cute as her, her cheeks would undoubtedly be covered in my kiss marks by now.”
Prompted by Anna’s words, Isis unconsciously glanced at Beacai again. Perhaps influenced by Anna, she, too, found Beacai’s face soft and delicate, thinking a kiss would indeed feel quite pleasant.
‘But to kiss her?’
‘How could that be? She had never made such an overly intimate gesture even towards Nona, so how could she possibly do it to Beacai?’
“No matter, your daughter is just as cute, so I’m going to kiss her!”
Anna broke free from Isis’s embrace and, without a word, lunged towards Beacai, intending to pull her into a hug and plant a fervent kiss on her cheek.
Yet, for some unknown reason, a flicker of inexplicable irritation shot through Isis. She furrowed her brow and swiftly grabbed Anna’s wrist.
“Anna!”
Caught by surprise, Anna stumbled, losing her footing, and tumbled backward onto the ground. The wine glass in her hand shattered into pieces, staining the earth crimson with its contents.
Beacai, meanwhile, stood by, idly waving her sparkler, utterly bewildered by what had just transpired.
“I should probably take you back to the inn first; you’re drunk.”
“No, no, I’m not drunk! Let me go, I want to kiss her, she’s too adorable!”
Spreading her arms towards Beacai, Anna now resembled a hungry infant craving a beloved doll. Witnessing this, Isis helplessly covered her face, then helped the witch back to her feet.
Despite being an adult herself, in Anna’s presence, Isis felt as if she had to play the role of a mother once more.
She had no idea where Anna lived or how to contact any of her friends. Thus, for safety’s sake, Isis decided to take the nearly unconscious, drunken witch back to her own inn.
****
Leaving the bustling Scented Street, Isis and Beacai returned to their inn. After securing an extra room for Anna and depositing the deeply slumbering witch onto the bed, Isis wiped a bead of sweat from her brow, preparing to take Beacai back to the still-ongoing festivities.
Yet, just as she stepped out of the room, Beacai tugged at her clothes. Before Isis could even turn around, she heard Beacai’s soft, pleading whisper, “Mama, can you kiss me?”
Her body stiffened. Isis knew Beacai had overheard Anna’s earlier words.
A kiss? That was far too intimate. She absolutely wouldn’t do it. Moreover, she had a premonition that if she did, her last vestiges of resistance towards Beacai might vanish completely.
“No.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Isis refused her, leaving no room for negotiation.
Beacai, however, wasn’t so easily deterred. A glint of cunning flashed in her eyes as she feigned a pitiful expression and said, “But Anna said I’m very cute, and she couldn’t help wanting to kiss me. Mama must think so too, right? If it’s Mama, I’ll let you kiss me.”
“And from my observations, kissing is a way for living beings to express affection and liking. Mama doesn’t want to kiss me… is it because you don’t like me?”
‘Yes, that’s right, she *doesn’t* like her!’
In the past, she would have blurted out such a reply without a second thought. But after everything she had experienced with Beacai, she realized that at her core, Beacai was just an ordinary young girl.
Such words might genuinely wound her.
After much deliberation, Isis couldn’t conjure up any words that would refuse Beacai without causing her pain. In her helplessness, she could only shake her head and reiterate, “No.”
Having said that, she lifted her foot, intending to leave. However, Beacai still clung to her clothes. Stumbling, Beacai pulled, and Isis, losing her balance, inadvertently pushed her to the ground.
Isis’s damp lips landed on the smooth forehead of the girl beneath her as she toppled onto Beacai, their posture undeniably intimate. She quickly propped herself up, a hint of embarrassed vexation surfacing in her golden eyes.
She knew Beacai had acted deliberately, yet she couldn’t entirely blame her. Isis herself bore some responsibility for not noticing the small hand clutching her clothes as she walked.