Chapter 106
Thick smoke billowed through the air, carrying with it the searing heat of the flames. Behind Wakako, Saburo slowly stood up.
Even after being shot by the gun, with his chest and abdomen a bloody mess, his white robe soaked in red, he still stood there, smiling as if nothing had happened. His voice, though soft, called her name.
“Wakako.”
The two black-clad men struggled desperately, but were no match for her. With a single kick, they flew across the room, collapsing just shy of falling over the edge, their bodies crumpling in a spot where the fire hadn’t yet reached. It was unclear if they were still alive.
Wakako turned around slowly, very slowly. “Where are the leaves?” she asked, while scanning with her eyes.
She had known all along that the person before her couldn’t be killed, so there was no point wasting energy on prolonged combat. She just needed to get what she came for.
Saburo took his time, smiling as he patted something hanging from his waist. “Come and take them.”
Her gaze fell on the pouches hanging on his waist. Though the white robes were nearly completely black, the pouches remained pristine.
The person who had infiltrated the treasury had used specially made soft pouches to carry away the leaves without damaging them.
Without a word, Wakako lunged forward, reaching for the pouch. But Saburo made an unexpected move.
—He held a short blade to his own neck.
His strength posed no real threat to Wakako. Even if he killed himself on the spot, it wouldn’t stop her, so she didn’t hesitate.
Saburo’s smile grew increasingly strange.
Just before Wakako could grasp the pouch, he slashed his own throat with all his might. The blade cut through his neck, and hot blood sprayed out, splattering across Wakako’s face and head.
What was he doing? Wasn’t he supposed to be invincible? And even if he could die, why take his own life?
Wakako realized something was wrong, but when she turned to avoid the blood, it was too late. The blood dripped onto her lips, and some of it inevitably made its way into her mouth, its bitter taste spreading across her tongue, making her want to vomit.
She spat repeatedly, but a few drops had already slipped down her throat and into her stomach.
Saburo’s once white robes were now entirely unrecognizable, stained with black soot and red blood. He had clearly fallen, but now, slowly, he stood up again.
He clutched his throat, his voice broken and hoarse, yet still filled with laughter. The sound was eerie, as he spoke between gasps: “Tell me, Wakako, how does my blood taste compared to Miki’s?”
Wakako’s body reacted violently. She gagged and choked, clutching her throat, trying desperately to expel the blood she had swallowed. But it was futile. It had already merged with her body, like a drop of water in the ocean, impossible to remove.
Inside her, the part of her that belonged to the Saint began to rebel against the foreign substance.
It was as if two forces were waging war inside her, both refusing to yield, each trying to drive the other out.
Wakako’s heart began to panic, not from the physical conflict within her body.
But because the strength she had prided herself on since childhood was draining away at an alarming rate. She began losing sensation in her limbs, involuntarily going limp, finally collapsing from exhaustion.
Saburo took a small step forward, looking down at her from above.
His throat continued to bleed, the blood dripping from his fingers onto her lips.
“You are a very loyal servant, Wakako,” Saburo whispered. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you. I just want to ask you one thing…”
“Why are you so loyal to Miki?”
“Just because she’s the Saint?”
Wakako lacked the strength to respond. Her eyelids grew heavy, and her vision began to blur. The sound of the fire crackling in the background was slowly approaching, but Saburo’s voice cut through the noise, ringing clearly in her mind.
“You’ve been with Miki for many years, but are you certain you truly know her?”
“Did you know that you’re not really an orphan?”
Each word echoed in Wakako’s ears.
“How could the Saionji clan not thoroughly investigate those serving the Saint? The day you arrived, they had already uncovered your past before coming to the estate.”
“You weren’t born on the streets, Wakako. You have parents, and they’re still alive, living in a town not far from Mios. They didn’t abandon you. You were kidnapped by bad people and taken from them.”
“Miki knows all this. She even took it upon herself to meet them personally.”
“Are you surprised? So much has happened without your knowledge. Your entire family was sworn to secrecy, never to breathe a word to you. Who do you think gave that order?”
“And here’s something else you might not know. Your parents had another daughter after you. She’s ten years younger.”
“Your sister is quite lively, just like you. And she’s just as strong.”
“Wouldn’t you like to meet her?”
Wakako used all her remaining strength to curl her fingers, clutching her throat to squeeze out a few words: “You’re lying…”
Was she supposed to believe everything he said?
“With the way things are now, I could easily kill you and win this trial, but instead, I’m telling you all this… Wakako, I’m a servant of God, blessed by them. I don’t lie.”
Saburo’s voice was soft, almost like a whisper in a dream.
“And besides, if you really didn’t believe me, then why are you trembling?”
“Is it because deep down, you know the truth—that your master, Miki, is capable of doing something like this?”
Stop… Stop talking…
It felt as though every drop of blood in her body had been split in two, with the divine powers inside her fighting each other mercilessly. Wakako’s body ached as though it was being torn apart. Even under Miki’s training, she had never experienced such pain. She didn’t have the strength to argue, let alone fight back.
Yet, in her mind, dreamlike images started to surface…
…
A small, quiet town with few passersby, nowhere near as bustling as Jinxin or the capital. A few small shops, simple and unassuming, their owners content, living peaceful lives.
Among them was the butcher’s shop, the most eye-catching of all, as the couple who owned it could be seen slaughtering pigs daily to sell fresh meat to the townsfolk.
But on that day, they weren’t at their usual spot. Instead, they stood in their home, flustered and unsure of what to do as unexpected visitors arrived.
Judging by their clothing, these visitors were of a status far beyond what ordinary folk could ever hope to interact with. Even the town head, whom they had always regarded as a person of great importance, was fawning at the back, laughing nervously.
One noble asked: “What are your names, how old are you, do you have other family members?”
The butcher couple answered nervously, explaining everything in detail, daring not hide anything.
“Just one daughter?”
“Yes… we had another before.”
“What happened to her?”
At the mention of their lost child, both their expressions dimmed. “She was kidnapped when she was very young. We searched for five years… but never found her. That’s when we had our second daughter.”
“Where did you search?”
After they answered, the noble frowned, “You only searched nearby towns? Why didn’t you go to the capital?”
“My lady doesn’t know…”
The wife held back tears, seemingly gathering immense courage to recall the past, answering softly:
“We considered selling everything to search for our daughter, but… we couldn’t get in. Entering the capital requires travel documents. We’re just common folk, at most we could ask relatives and friends for help… but they couldn’t get the proper papers either.”
The noble was momentarily speechless.
What seemed so easy to someone of their rank was, for these parents, an insurmountable obstacle.
“Do you remember any distinguishing features of your daughter?”
“She was only five years old… just a normal little girl, like any other. If there’s anything, I’d say she was unusually strong for her age. She helped us butcher pigs and sheep without any trouble.”
Talking about their lost daughter brought the couple to tears.
The noble was about to ask more when an unexpected voice came from behind: “What was her name?”
“…My lady.” The noble turned back in surprise, saying something. Others blocked the couple’s view, deliberately preventing them from seeing the person behind.
The couple suddenly realized these “nobles” were merely servants of someone even higher in status.
After a while, that clear voice spoke again: “What name did you give her?”
“We’re uneducated and never gave her a formal name. We thought we’d save up and pay someone in the city to give her one when she grew up… But when she was little, we just called her by her nickname, ‘Xiao Hua,’ because she loved picking flowers.”
…
What was said afterward, Wakako couldn’t hear clearly.
She only saw those people leaving the butcher’s home, the carriage tightly covered, showing just a glimpse of white skirts.
She saw fifteen-year-old Miki softly repeating those two words.
“Xiao Hua.”
What kind of flower? Wildflowers? The kind of white daisies that bloom along the roadside?
Wakako desperately wanted to ask, but she couldn’t speak.
The pain in her head only intensified, splitting her skull with the force of her conflicting thoughts.
“If you don’t believe me, go ask Miki yourself, your mistress. Ask if she knows about your birth parents… ask why she didn’t tell you, hiding it all these years?”
“The reason is actually quite simple.”
“Your mistress is selfish… she wanted to be the only one in your eyes. Not even parents were allowed.”
Translation note:
Wakako’s parents called her Xiao Hua (小花) or Little Flower
