Chapter 127
What if Miki Died? Part 1
The servant placed the silver engagement necklace around Wakako’s neck as others looked on with envy. But she herself was tense, almost wanting to take it off the very next moment.
The masters in front of her understood the look in her eyes and all shook their heads slightly, signaling her to endure for now.
How could she refuse the Queen’s special marriage arrangement for her eligible subjects in front of everyone? Any objections should be raised privately.
Moreover, today was a royal banquet. If she openly refused, it would be seen as disrespectful, bringing dishonor to the royal family.
Wakako understood the reasoning, and soon other officials came to congratulate her: “Congratulations, Lady Kitagawa.”
“I’ve witnessed that lady’s grace myself—you two are well-matched.”
The words of congratulation fell on her ears, but what should have been a joyous occasion only deepened her melancholy.
Being unmarried at twenty-three was considered quite late in their kingdom. Now that she was an official member of the mercenary corps, starting a family was only natural.
What reason did she have to refuse…
“By the way, what was the name of your fiancée? Miki? What an elegant name.”
Suddenly, those familiar words made Wakako’s eyes go wide. She lost her composure and stepped forward, grabbing the speaker’s sleeve. “What did you say?”
The man was a civil official and couldn’t withstand her sudden tug; he nearly stumbled, saved only by others who quickly steadied him.
Carol had been watching Wakako’s strange behavior and quickly stepped in to smooth things over. “She’s just too excited about her engagement and accidentally used too much strength. Please don’t take offense.”
No one dared to offend a mercenary, so the official had to consider himself unlucky, quietly rubbing his reddened wrist.
Lady Kitagawa sure is strong!
Wakako stared intently at him: “Please repeat what you just said.”
“I said…” the official responded, bewildered, “the other lady, your fiancée, is named Miki.”
Miki.
How long had it been since she’d heard that name? The very sound made her heart skip a beat.
Hua Yumu squeezed through the crowd, and others made way for the captain.
He was one of the few who knew about the past. Glancing at Wakako, he said softly: “Miki. ‘Mi’ as in future, ‘ki’ as in chronicle.”
Like awakening from a dream.
Wakako suddenly understood—it was just the same pronunciation, written with entirely different characters.
Of course—who else would be worthy of such a noble name meaning “divine wine”?
She stared blankly at the floor, though there was nothing there to see.
Five years had passed since news of the Saint’s death.
Wakako couldn’t remember how she’d rushed back to the capital in such disarray. The hillside outside the city was packed with people, countless citizens kneeling before the grave, offering laments for the Saint’s passing.
How could she be dead?
Wakako couldn’t bring herself to believe it was real.
The Saint, always dressed in white, cold and distant to outsiders, and also her master of many years—how could she die?
Until she saw Miki’s body, Wakako didn’t believe it. She pushed through the crowd, ignoring others’ strange looks.
She saw Miki’s pale face, her eyes closed peacefully as if sleeping in the coffin.
The coffin was closed, and shovelfuls of earth buried it deep within the mountain.
The cries of the people echoed for miles. Wakako stood among them, unable to make a sound.
Five years…
They say time heals all wounds, that even the deepest pain fades with time.
But Wakako seemed trapped in the dusk of the day the High Priestess was buried, unable to descend the mountain.
Perhaps it wasn’t just Miki’s body that was buried, but also her once-beating heart.
***
“What’s wrong? Not fully awake yet?”
The Second Daughter of the Kitagawa clan waved her hand in front of Wakako’s face. “Did you hear what I just said?”
Only then did Wakako return to her senses and gestured for her to repeat.
“I said, your fiancée—Lady Miki admires you deeply and specially asked me to arrange a meeting between you two.” The Second Daughter spoke slowly. “But since we’re family, your opinion comes first.”
“…My opinion?”
“Yes.” The Second Daughter sighed, covering her face with a fan. “Lady Miki is waiting outside. If you’re unwilling, I’ll have someone escort her back.”
She hinted gently, persuading her step by step: “I know the past is a difficult hurdle to overcome, but… if that lady knew in the afterlife, she would surely wish for your happiness.”
“…Happiness?”
“She wouldn’t bear to see you alone.”
Wakako lowered her head and after a moment said, “Please let her in.”
At that moment, an unspeakable dark thought arose in her heart. Miki had the same name as her—could they perhaps also look somewhat alike?
In this life, would she ever have a chance to see that person again?
Even just once…
The moment Miki stepped into the hall in her red robe, the hope in Wakako’s eyes instantly dimmed as she realized how foolish her earlier thought had been.
Miki and Miki were entirely different people.
Don’t be stupid—how could anyone be like Miki?
Wakako could see that the girl before her clearly had feelings for her. Her manner was graceful yet contained a hint of shyness, her eyes only daring to steal glances.
When Miki softly called her “senior,” she even blushed slightly.
Wakako didn’t dare meet her gaze, afraid she would involuntarily compare the two.
…Miki would never steal glances at her; she would openly call her name in front of everyone.
Nor would she blush so easily. She would simply watch Wakako’s flustered reactions with a calm amusement, a knowing flush rising on her own cheeks only afterward.
Miki was not the Saint, and the Saint wasn’t Miki.
Miki was dead, and no one would ever be like her.
Wakako felt her chest about to split open with pain. Faced with Miki’s innocent eyes, she couldn’t take it anymore. Almost rudely, she grabbed the other’s sleeve and led her to the Kitagawa clan’s courtyard.
Miki didn’t understand her sudden behavior. Immersed in her own thoughts, a blush spread across her cheeks as she softly called, “Senior…”
Wakako released her hand and slowly closed her eyes.
She said wearily: “I cannot marry you.”
Like cold water dumped over her head, all Miki’s fantasies shattered. She asked, stunned: “Why?”
“I… have already pledged myself to someone.”
Miki was disappointed and surprised: “Then why haven’t you married her yet?”
Those words were light, but to Wakako they weighed thousands of pounds. It took her a very, very long time to speak.
“…She’s gone.”
After a long while, Miki let out a soft “Ah.”
“How long has it been?”
Wakako turned away, not letting her see her expression.
She roughly wiped her wet eyes and said hoarsely: “Five years. But I still can’t forget her. Maybe I never will.”
“So I can’t marry you. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”
“I’m sorry.”
After a while, footsteps approached from behind. Wakako thought Miki would surely leave, but instead she walked toward her and gently patted her shoulder.
As if to comfort her.
“Senior…” she heard Miki say, “Thank you for being honest with me. I want you to know that I don’t mind.”
Tears still clinging to her lashes, Wakako looked up in surprise.
“You’ve remembered her for so long—you must be a very devoted person. As it happens, I am too.”
Speaking thus, Miki’s eyes were full of determination.
“I’ve admired you since the Rose War. My feelings have never changed… So, Senior, would you give me a chance?”
“I won’t force you to forget her; I just want to try getting to know you… Maybe you’ll come to like me.”
“Even if it seems impossible, I want to try.”
“Is that okay, Senior Wakako?”
Those eyes were honest and bright, vaguely reminding Wakako of herself back when she was at the Saionji estate.
Once upon a time, when she understood nothing, feared nothing, she had foolishly told Miki: “I want to take you away.”
Back then, she had only meant sneaking Miki out disguised as a servant to play in the streets.
But her noble master had actually wanted to run away with her.
A dream that ended in tragedy.
Looking into those eyes, the words of refusal were on her lips, but Wakako couldn’t speak them. She only moved her lips slightly.
And silently accepted Miki’s words.
***
Miki was also a well-trained mercenary who knew how to persist in anything, including loving someone.
Different squads usually kept to themselves on the training grounds, but Miki would often venture into Alpha Squad’s territory.
She wouldn’t interrupt their training, but would bring homemade treats, generously sharing them with everyone.
Though the Jin Clan had declined among the nobility, they still maintained some traditions, particularly in matters of food.
Thus, Miki’s snacks quickly won over the heart of Lin Lin. She happily devoured them every day, not forgetting to sing Miki’s praises to Wakako.
“Sister Miki is so good to you, bringing snacks every day, but why don’t you ever eat them?”
Wakako was wiping her weapon and didn’t look up. “You can have them.”
This suited Lin Lin perfectly. She pulled all the snacks toward herself, patting her stomach contentedly while asking curiously: “Do you not like Sister Miki?”
“Children shouldn’t meddle in such things.”
“Come on! She’s your fiancée. Why are you so cold to her?”
Wakako couldn’t explain it.
Miki was undoubtedly an excellent Omega—beautiful, of noble birth, a mercenary, and kind-hearted.
But Wakako couldn’t summon any feelings.
Thinking of how persistent Miki had been, Wakako finally felt some sympathy. “Lin Lin,” she called, “save one piece for me.”
At least she could try it and thank Miki in person next time.
Lin Lin agreed, intending to place the plate back on the table, but somehow, it slipped from her grasp, shattering on the floor.
“Oh no.” She hurriedly began cleaning up, frustrated. “My hands are usually so steady! What happened… I’m so sorry.”
The sound of breaking porcelain startled Wakako.
She frowned and turned around, but the first thing she saw was the paper spread out on the table.
Lin Lin had been studying there earlier. The page was covered in her messy handwriting.
Among the childish scrawl, two words in the corner stood out.
The ink was still wet, the strokes neat and beautiful, yet written with such force they nearly tore through the paper.
—Not allowed.
Looking closer, the final strokes weren’t written well, as if trembling with anger.
Wakako stared at those two words for a long while.
Lin Lin had only recently learned to write—could she have written this?
—Not allowed…
Wakako thought she heard a faint voice, but it was too distant to make out clearly.
Perhaps it was just her imagination.
—Not allowed to eat anything given by other women, not even a bite…
—Not allowed…
—I said not allowed… Wakako, don’t you understand?
