Chapter 101
With Saburo no longer controlling the law enforcement and patrol guards, it was as if their souls had been pulled from their bodies. They collapsed to the ground.
The pressure on Hua Yumu and Jing Tianyang lessened considerably. After tidying up the remaining situation, they hurried to check on the carriage.
Wakako finally regained control of her body. Blood flowed back to every limbs, her legs and feet tingling with pins and needles. She almost collapsed to her knees, but managed to steady herself just in time.
A large pool of blood flowed from the butterfly knives embedded in Old Chen’s chest, soaking into the wooden floor of the carriage.
“Is he dead?” Hua Yumu frowned, feeling that things couldn’t be this simple.
Wakako’s eyes darkened. “I doubt it’s that easy.”
She leaned forward to check Old Chen’s breath. With daggers piercing his chest, anyone would appear lifeless. She carefully examined the edges of his face and neck but couldn’t find any traces of disguise.
Wakako cut a shallow line on his neck with her blade, finally confirming that it was indeed his real skin.
“I don’t see an Omega’s scent gland. This body really is Old Chen,” she shook her head. “It’s not Saburo.”
The three of them sat outside the carriage, staring at the collapsed soldiers in silence.
If it wasn’t Saburo himself…
That meant not only could he not be killed, but he could also control others on a large scale and even possess other people’s bodies. What a terrifying ability!
Other than a gift from God, they couldn’t think of any other possibility.
“It’s not fair,” Wakako said softly.
“Don’t get discouraged,” Jing Tianyang said, though he too let out a heavy sigh. “We still have the Saint, don’t we? We have to believe in her.”
Miki did have similar abilities, but… they came at the cost of her life force!
Her hair gradually turning white, her eyes losing color, her face pale as death…
Wakako closed her eyes, unwilling to think about it further.
Nearby, Hua Yumu tried again to contact Lin Lin. Fortunately, this time they received a response. The excited voice of their junior sister echoed through their communication stones: “Are you all okay?”
“We’re fine. How about you? Any injuries?”
Lin Lin replied, “The three of us are heading your way now. We’ll be there soon.”
Then her voice hesitated. “But the Saint has passed out. We don’t know when she’ll wake up…”
***
Miki remained unconscious for three full days, showing no signs of waking.
During that time, there were no new instructions regarding the trial, but the group wasn’t idle. Having captured Old Chen’s body—and seized his cargo—eliminating the infiltrators in Jinxin Port became a priority. Especially at such a critical moment, failing to root out the collusion between the upper and lower ranks could be disastrous.
Time was of the essence, and they didn’t have the luxury of returning to the capital to report. They had to settle for sending a letter by carrier pigeon to inform the Queen of the situation.
Subsequently, Hua Yumu, in his capacity as mercenary captain, sought reinforcements from nearby Qiulan City. With the borrowed manpower, they managed to keep Jinxin Port from descending into chaos.
In the room, Muna dipped a towel in hot water, preparing to clean the Saint’s body.
Though she had been caring for the Saint throughout the journey, she had never done anything so delicate before and felt a bit unsure about where to start.
While she was distracted, the towel was taken from her hands by Wakako, who had entered the room unnoticed.
“I’ll do it,” Wakako said.
“How can that be appropriate?” Muna was startled and instinctively refused. “You’re an Alpha. You can’t attend to the Saint so closely.”
Wakako didn’t offer much explanation, “I know how to take care of her.”
Muna looked into her eyes, vaguely recalling rumors she’d heard about Lady Kitagawa being a former servant of the Saionji clan…
The last time the Eagle Kingdom’s forces attacked the Kitagawa Estate, Wakako had risked her life to save the Saint…
In the end, Muna handed the cloth over. “I’ll stand guard outside. Be quick and make sure no one sees you.”
With that, she left the room.
Wakako felt the cooling cloth and dipped it back into the copper basin of hot water. When it was comfortably warm, she began gently wiping Miki’s neck, working her way up.
Miki’s sleeping face was always filled with worry. Whether she was unconscious or merely asleep, her willow-like brows were always furrowed, as though she were having a bad dream.
Wakako gently smoothed them out.
Within moments, they furrowed again.
She tried again, but the result was the same.
So she stopped trying, instead using her fingers to massage the Saint’s temples and other pressure points. Gradually, Miki’s expression seemed to relax ever so slightly.
Others might not know, but Wakako was aware that the Saint extremely particular about cleanliness, usually bathing two or three times a day.
Now that they were traveling, they couldn’t provide such luxuries, so the best she could do was wipe her down with a damp cloth.
Wakako was quite familiar with this task. She changed the cloth several times, finishing before the water cooled, and even changed Miki into fresh clothes.
Normally, such movement would have woken Miki, but she remained deeply asleep.
Her once jet-black hair had now turned half white—glossy and smooth at the top, dry and brittle like straw at the ends.
Wakako had specifically visited the market to buy a bottle of fine hair oil with a calming rose scent. She carefully applied it to the white strands, restoring a temporary shine, though it did little to bring the hair back to life.
“Knock knock.” Muna tapped on the door before entering, carrying several bowls of food. “Wakako, you should feed the Saint a little something.”
She said “I’ve tried feeding her liquid food over the past two days, but she couldn’t swallow anything. If you have a way, please try to get her to eat something. She can’t go on like this, without eating or drinking.”
Muna set the food by the bed and left again.
Wakako picked up a bowl of warm milk custard, scooped a little with a spoon, and brought it to Miki’s lips.
Just as Muna had said, no matter how Wakako manipulated Miki’s cheeks and throat, the custard remained in her mouth, refusing to be swallowed.
Miki’s skin was so delicate that even Wakako’s gentle touch left red marks, making her hesitate to try again.
The custard trickled from the corner of Miki’s mouth, and Wakako gently wiped it away.
She stared at Miki’s face for a long time before whispering, “Even in your sleep, you’re this stubborn?”
In the past, whether taking medicine or food, Miki always refused to feed herself.
Sometimes she would sit in Wakako’s lap, curling up like a cat. Other times she would lie in bed, looking pitiful, refusing to eat until Wakako fed her.
Wakako had once teased, “What, are you going to starve yourself if I don’t feed you?”
She hadn’t expected that to trigger something in Miki. Her lips pressed into a pout as she snapped back, “You can try and see.”
Then she really did stop eating and drinking, her eyes filled only with grievance, as if she had been wronged.
Wakako had no choice—when it came to Miki, the only solution was to coax her.
Stubborn when awake, stubborn when asleep.
After a long pause, Wakako took a spoonful of custard into her own mouth, leaned down, and smoothly transferred it to Miki’s lips.
This time, it went down without any trouble.
Could she even sense who was feeding her while unconscious?
Wakako continued feeding her mouthful by mouthful until the bowl was empty. Perhaps it was just an illusion, but Miki’s cheeks seemed to have gained a faint hint of color after eating.
Before Muna returned to collect the empty bowls, Wakako quickly wiped her own mouth clean and called out to her, “I’ll stay with her tonight. You go and rest.”
Feeding the Saint was one thing, but staying up through the night?
Muna hesitated, gently reminding her, “Wakako, you’re not just an Alpha, you’re also married. Have you forgotten about your wife?”
She was friends with Miki, so naturally, she found it inappropriate. Moreover, it could damage the Saint’s reputation.
If it were an emergency, that would be understandable. But now, with Muna here, there was no need for Wakako to stay.
Her wife.
Her wife wasn’t Miki.
It was the person lying behind her.
But Wakako couldn’t say this. To outsiders who didn’t know the truth, there was an unbridgeable chasm between her and the Saint.
After a long moment, she replied softly, “Alright, I understand. Just give me a moment, and I’ll be out.”
“Make it quick,” Muna didn’t doubt Wakako’s character but feared what others might think. “Don’t stay too long.”
Wakako knelt by the bed, gently tucking Miki’s hand under the blanket.
Summer was approaching, and the weather was turning hot, yet her hand remained bone-chillingly cold, like a piece of ice that refused to melt.
“Miki…” Wakako said softly, “I’ve been thinking about a lot of things, these past few days.”
Like when she was young, she leaned close to her master’s shoulder, breathing in the faint cherry scent that always seemed to calm her restless heart.
Her wrist felt uncomfortable, and she realized she had forgotten to remove the butterfly knives hidden in her sleeves.
Wakako glanced at the small, intricate weapons, then looked at Miki’s face.
She said, “When you wake up, I have something I want to tell you. I…”
Before she could finish, Muna knocked on the door, signaling it was time for her to leave.
Wakako reluctantly rose, taking one last look before stepping outside.
She left one of the butterfly knives by the Saint’s pillow.
