Chapter 75
If Wakako hadn’t checked repeatedly beforehand to confirm that the person in front of her wasn’t wearing a disguise, she might have really thought the Saint was pretending to be Miki to deceive her. Otherwise, how could someone undergo such a drastic change in personality all of a sudden, even to the point of…
…saying the exact same things as Miki, even calling her “Little Waka”?
Although it hadn’t been long since she last heard that nickname, hearing it again now felt like a lifetime ago.
Wakako silently reached out and roughly pulled the veil off Miki’s head, no longer holding back. She looked at that face—it was still Miki’s, with no signs of disguise.
“Who told you I like being dominated?” Even slightly drunk, she was still a powerful mercenary. With little effort, she pulled Miki to the edge of the bed, forcing her to meet her gaze.
Miki lowered her head, then raised her eyelashes with a charming smile, her demeanor full of vulnerability.
In the residence prepared by the Huo clan for guests, there were snacks laid out. She nonchalantly stood up, picked up a small piece of pastry from the table, and slowly savored it.
“If you want to dominate me, Senior, that’s fine too.”
“…” Wakako was speechless. In a deep voice, she said, “Get out.”
She knew Miki couldn’t stay here any longer, otherwise things would get out of control.
In her eyes, Miki was becoming more and more like the Saint.
Miki sighed, “Senior’s just using me and tossing me aside… Fine, I’ll go sit outside.”
Now that the cold season had passed, there were a few seats set outside the courtyard. Sitting there to enjoy the spring scenery wasn’t too boring.
As she spoke, Miki actually got up and left without further delay, leaving Wakako lying weakly on the couch, her gaze empty, lost in thought.
Her mind drifted back to her childhood — those days spent begging on the streets. Sometimes, she’d spot scraps of food near the vendors’ stalls. They were never clean, but that didn’t matter. She had to claw her way to them, fighting off others just as desperate. She’d lost count of how many scuffles she’d been in just for a bite to eat.
Some nobles with twisted tastes enjoyed watching the lower class fight desperately for a bite to eat. They’d toss food in front of Wakako and the other street kids, then sit back and watch them brawl over it like it was some kind of show.
The cruelest ones didn’t stop there. They’d sneer and tell them to crawl on the ground and eat like dogs.
Wakako had done it before. She’d crawled on all fours, head down, biting into dirty scraps like a starving stray. Back then, at seven or eight years old, she didn’t even know what humiliation was. All she knew was the ache in her belly. Why did it have to be this way? Why was this the only way to stop the hunger?
To this day, she couldn’t forget those faceless people watching her miserable state, showing crazed, gleeful smiles, whispering among themselves—probably mocking her, but she was too far to hear.
When Young Master Kiyoshi deliberately knocked the pastries onto the ground and told the Saionji cousin to pick them up, Wakako remembered her own thin and small self from the past.
She couldn’t feel physical pain, but she thought that the pain in her heart wouldn’t be much less than physical suffering when it flared up.
When Young Master Kiyoshi’s whip landed on her later, the seven-year-old Wakako had no way to defend herself. But the fourteen-year-old Wakako could knock him down with a single punch.
When she ripped the whip from Young Master Kiyoshi’s hand, she wasn’t thinking. It was pure instinct — a raw, uncontrollable need to reclaim everything that had been stolen from her. By the time she came to her senses, all she could see was blood. The image seared itself into her mind, one she knew she’d never forget.
That was why she despised banquets. She despised the hollow smiles of hypocritical nobles even more. But most of all, she despised her own inability to stay in control.
It took a while for Wakako to steady herself. Once she did, a new resolve took hold. She had to find Miki. She needed to set things straight. From the start, they both knew this marriage had its reasons. Miki had no right to start saying strange things now.
But as soon as she stepped out the door, Miki wasn’t in the courtyard.
Looking around, she found a figure in red half-leaning by the doorway, chatting with a servant outside.
Miki had slipped her veil back on, but it did little to hide the playful curve of her smile. She seemed to be caught up in an amusing conversation. Whether by chance or intention, her hand landed lightly on the servant’s shoulder, a gesture so casual it almost felt deliberate.
The young servant couldn’t handle such teasing and immediately blushed deeply.
Wakako had never noticed how much Miki’s figure resembled the Saint. When she first met Miki, her figure was well-proportioned—the way a mercenary should be.
Perhaps after losing her child and falling ill, she had lost much weight. Now, wrapped in thick layers of clothing, her silhouette bore an uncanny resemblance to the slender, cloaked figure of the Saint.
The only difference was that the Saint always wore pure white robes, while Miki was in vibrant red.
Originally, red and white were distinct, but now they seemed to blend before Wakako’s eyes, ultimately becoming an indistinct color.
Watching Miki flirting with the servant, her figure gradually overlapped with the figure in her memories. Wakako didn’t know why, but she found this scene irritating. Perhaps it reminded her of the time Miki specifically came to the Kitagawa estate to choose a servant…
The servant Wakako who had initially served her was replaced by Senryu, and now there was a new person replacing Senryu. Would Miki smile at everyone? Would she give everyone names she liked?
Miki was just about to say something when a firm hand seized her arm. Without a word, Wakako tugged her back into the room, shutting out the bewildered young servant who stood frozen at the doorway, left to wonder what was going on between the two ladies.
Wakako’s grip was tight, leaving a noticeable red mark on Miki’s wrist.
“What’s wrong, Senior?” Miki asked softly. “I was just talking to the servant, why are you acting upset?”
She tilted her head slightly, “Don’t forget we’re here to put on a show today. If they start thinking we’re not getting along, all our effort will be for nothing.”
Wakako stared intently at her, her eyes slightly red.
After a long silence, she asked, “Are you willing to let me treat you as Miki?”
“Yes.”
Miki let out a small “Oh?” and smiled, “Why the sudden change of heart, Senior? Could it be that you’re jealous because you saw me talking to that servant?”
Wakako didn’t answer the question, instead asking, “Why are you willing to let me treat you as someone else?”
Although she had never been treated as a substitute for someone else, she imagined it must be a very painful feeling.
But Miki narrowed her eyes and said lazily, “Why else? Haven’t I always admired you, Senior? As long as I can be close to you, I don’t care about the rest.”
“Even if it’s only temporary pleasure?”
“Of course.”
Miki’s fingertips once again touched the back of Wakako’s hand, slowly sliding as she sighed, “So, Senior, do you want to…”
She actually had a lot of improper things to say, none of which a noble lady should utter. If the etiquette teachers heard them, their faces would surely turn pale.
She wanted to ask Wakako whether she wanted to be dominated by her or to dominate her. What kind of domination did she like? In what position? Did she prefer being dominated by Miki or by the Saint? Was there any difference?
But before she could finish her sentence, she was pulled into a tight embrace, leaving even Miki momentarily stunned.
Wakako hugged her tightly.
Wakako was slightly taller, so Miki’s head was tilted down just enough for her chin to rest on Wakako’s shoulder.
Wakako used a lot of strength, almost as if wanting to merge Miki into her very being. Fortunately, Miki was wearing thick clothes today, so she wasn’t hurt.
“Miki,” she murmured, “I really wanted to hug you like this… but I couldn’t.”
The Saint was so delicate, how could she withstand such force? Even the slightest exertion would probably leave bruises all over her body. Moreover, Miki had such a controlling personality. Although she never explicitly forbade it, she probably wouldn’t like Wakako taking the dominant position like this.
Whenever they embraced, it was always Miki who initiated, enveloping Wakako in a gentle embrace filled with the scent of cherries.
But Wakako really wanted to try this, she had wanted to for a long time.
She wanted to see if her shoulders were strong enough for Miki to lean on.
Now it seemed they were.
The embrace lasted for a long time. Miki remained silent for a while, as if unable to comprehend. Finally, she asked, “You’re treating me as her, and you just want to hug me once?”
Should she be called stupid or what?
If it were someone else, like those frivolous and unrestrained nobles, they would probably have already gone to bed and made love, regardless of who the other person was.
Wakako said seriously, still not lifting her head, “Yes.”
Her arms tightened even more.
“For a moment, I really thought it was her disguised as you to trick me… She’s always like this, taking advantage of her intelligence to tease me. She wouldn’t be satisfied until she saw me break down. I’m always foolish and clueless in front of her, unable to understand anything, just letting her toy with me.”
Miki paused, “Only someone with a mean streak would do such a thing.”
“Miki is bad, but also very good,” Wakako buried her head lower and said.
“You don’t get angry at her?”
“I do, but after a while, I forget,” she said.
“Forget?” Miki couldn’t help but ask, “The Saint abandoned you and stayed in the enemy kingdom for five whole years… You can forget that? After you learned that she was still alive, have you never resented her?”
Wakako shook her head again. “No, just regret.”
“Regret what?”
“Five years ago, I thought she was gone. Back when I first became a mercenary, I was a mess — always unfocused, lost in a haze. To stay on the squad, I had to force myself to train the moment I woke up, pushing my body to its limits just to drown out the thoughts of Miki, even if only for a little while.”
“Regret that you worked so hard back then?”
“No…” Wakako spoke slowly, as if she knew the answer was foolish, “Regret not thinking about her more.”
Miki remained silent.
Wakako showed a smile that no one could see, her dimples round and deep.
“If I had known she was still alive and that we would meet again in the future, I would have thought about her every day during training. That’s a whole five years wasted…”
Five years—exactly 1,826 days.
How many more times could she have thought about Miki?
Such a regret.
Miki didn’t say anything more. She simply listened quietly as Wakako murmured by her ear—all about Miki. From time to time, Wakako even let out small laughs, innocent as a child.
Miki’s favorite foods, the poems she liked to read, every little interesting or uninteresting thing about her…
Even though memorizing books used to be so difficult, she remembered these things as if they were her own treasures, reciting them effortlessly.
Miki’s delicate hands tightened but eventually loosened.
Silently, Miki said, “Fool.”
There was no one in the world more foolish than Wakako.
They stayed like that for who knows how long until a Huo clan servant came knocking, and they released each other as if waking from a dream.
Wakako noticed that there seemed to be traces of tears at the corners of Miki’s eyes, but she wasn’t sure if she was seeing things.
