Chapter 129
What if Miki Died? Part 3
Lin Lin’s hand was unusually cold, not the hand of someone who trained daily as a mercenary. When her fingertips lightly grazed Wakako’s neck, Wakako felt as if she had plunged into an ice cave, nearly shivering from head to toe.
She didn’t understand why Lin Lin was suddenly so interested in her betrothal necklace.
Hadn’t Lin Lin been present when the Queen bestowed it? Why was she acting as if she were seeing it for the first time?
“Do you… really like it?” Lin Lin asked.
“What?” Wakako was confused.
Lin Lin repeated, “Do… you… really like it?” Her speech was slow, her voice hoarse. “You wear… it so close… to your heart.”
Wakako assumed she was questioning why Wakako still wore the necklace after rejecting Miki. After a moment of silence, she replied, “It was a gift from the Queen.”
Even though mercenaries held a higher status compared to other subjects, they still served the Queen. Disrespecting a gift from the queen was out of the question.
Lin Lin tilted her head slightly. Her fingers remained wrapped around the necklace, perhaps imagining it, but the grip seemed to tighten, the silver nearly embedding into skin. “Queen?” she echoed, “Master?”
“Are you speaking of serving another master?”
Wakako’s breath caught as she finally sensed something amiss. If she didn’t act soon, she might suffocate. She sat up abruptly. “What’s wrong with you, Lin Lin?”
The sound of her junior’s name seemed to break a spell. That strange look in Lin Lin’s eyes vanished instantly. She stared down blankly, seemingly confused about why she held her senior’s necklace.
As if she’d forgotten something…
“Oh no!” Lin Lin glanced out the window at the sky and suddenly realized she was going to miss training. “I have to go. You should rest some more.”
She hurried away.
Even in her usual unperceptive state, Wakako knew something was wrong. But after several sleepless nights, exhaustion overcame her once again, and she drifted into deep slumber.
—
In the study, Ruijun paced anxiously. “Still no sign of her?”
“Not yet.” Hua Yumu bowed his head respectfully, noting his queen’s disappointed expression. “It’s not that they aren’t searching diligently. The mudslide was massive, and finding the Saint’s body is like looking for a needle in a haystack…”
“Even your tracking skills haven’t helped?”
“I apologize.” He bowed, expressing his helplessness. “It’s just…”
Ruijun sighed heavily. “Enough.”
She sank into her chair, her composure slipping with worry. “I’m not blaming you. But… these heavenly omens, what do they mean?”
“Perhaps it was just an accident.”
Ruijun fell silent, then: “No.”
Her instincts told her that it signaled something of immense importance was about to happen. But with the Saint gone, they’d lost their bridge to the divine and couldn’t discern the will of God.
The Saint’s body couldn’t have been lost so easily. Similar accidents had been recorded in historical texts, but never had a Saint’s body gone missing.
“Miki…” Ruijun murmured the departed Saint’s name, trying to divine her old friend’s intentions. “Could it be that your spirit still lingers in this world, seeking to accomplish something?”
As she spoke, a book suddenly fell from the shelf, drawing both their attention.
Hua Yumu retrieved it for the queen.
“I didn’t know you had a collection of waka poetry here,” he said, replacing it.
Ruijun hesitated. “I…”
In her youth, she had loved reading poetry, but waka’s intricate and delicate expressions weren’t her favorite. Miki, however, had collected numerous volumes of it…
Wait, Miki…
Ruijun’s expression changed as an impossible thought struck her.
Could it be?
She asked Hua Yumu, “Where is Wakako?”
“She’s been a bit down lately, so I gave her a few days off,” he replied, not understanding the sudden inquiry about Wakako, assuming it was concern for a subordinate. “She should be resting in her quarters now.”
He asked, “Do you have any orders?”
Ruijun narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. After a moment, she decided not to raise any alarms just yet. “Have the others keep an eye on Wakako. Encourage her to stay indoors for the next few days.”
“Understood,” Hua Yumu nodded.
“If anyone comes looking for her, don’t stop them.”
This order was strange, but he was used to executing the queen’s commands without question. He simply said, “Understood.”
But Wakako had no friends outside the squad. Who would come looking for her?
Her fiancée perhaps?
***
The rain had continued for days without stopping, making it the gloomiest summer in Mios’s history.
Strangely, the usually healthy Wakako had fallen ill.
It was odd – as a child, she’d eaten discarded scraps and developed an iron constitution. Yet now a simple weather change had given her a cold, most unusual.
Lin Lin asked Wakako, “Should we call a doctor? Get you some medicine?”
“No need.” Wakako’s voice was slightly hoarse, but she could tell it wasn’t serious. “I’ll be fine in a few days.”
“Alright, then get some rest. Sleep and sweat it out – you’ll recover faster.”
Wakako nodded in agreement.
That day, the palace was hosting a banquet for some occasion. Everyone else had attended, leaving her alone in the mercenaries’ quarters. With nothing to do, she turned in early.
Half-asleep, she thought she heard knocking at the door.
Three gentle taps, perfectly spaced, like noble etiquette.
Who would visit her at this hour? Groggy, Wakako got out of bed and opened the door, only to find no one there. Outside, the relentless rain continued to pour.
Perhaps she’d imagined it.
She returned to bed, but soon found it increasingly hard to breathe, as if someone were lightly pressing on her throat. The pressure wasn’t enough to choke her, but it was certainly unsettling.
“Cough…” Wakako’s face flushed as she instinctively touched her neck.
The engagement necklace felt so tight. Maybe she should remove it.
But no matter how she tried, she couldn’t find the clasp. What was going on?
Perhaps it was imagination, but Wakako suddenly caught the scent of cherries.
She’d only known one person with that scent. After five years apart, she couldn’t be sure if it was the same.
No… it seemed different.
Miki’s pheromones had been like ripe cherries on the tree, fragrant and sweet. Bite into one, and the juice would fill your mouth with flavor.
But this scent was like rain-soaked cherries, the sweetness diluted by the earthy smell of wet soil. Inhaling deeply, all she sensed was an endless dampness.
It was as if something had traveled along the rain-soaked paths of the night to reach her.
Looking down, Wakako noticed her undergarments were damp. Where had the moisture come from? Hadn’t she dried off after her bath?
What was this presence that wouldn’t leave her?
Please stop squeezing at my throat…
Soon, Wakako caught her own sunflower scent. She hadn’t taken her suppressants recently, and desire struck unexpectedly. Before she could react, her clothes were soaked through.
A mist seemed to cloud her vision; she couldn’t see anything clearly.
Her Alpha instincts urged her to find someone to mark, but her reaching hands passed through empty air, falling helplessly.
From far away came faint moans, familiar yet strange, falling beside her ear, calling her name in a seductive voice, “Wakako…”
A cold touch met her feverish skin.
Creeping steadily deeper inside her.
The necklace tightened further, forcing her to tilt her head back.
She heard a cold laugh. “Who is your fiancée?”
Her mind was too foggy to process what was happening. In a daze, she responded mechanically: “Miki.”
The name sounded identical to “Miki” in pronunciation, making it impossible to distinguish between the two.
“Which one?” the voice asked again.
“Is it the master you swore to serve for life?”
“Or that imitation?”
So cold – Wakako had never felt such an icy sensation—penetrating deep, yet igniting every inch of her skin with a burning heat.
She stammered, “It’s… Miki, the mercenary.”
The next moment, Wakako’s face stung from a slap.
It burned intensely; she could almost feel the reddening imprint of fingers on her skin.
The next strike landed on her chest, where Miki had once loved to strike with flower stems. Though nothing was visible before her, she could still smell the scent of roses seemed to materialize out of thin air.
“Slap…”
An invisible, thorny stem struck heavily across her mouth.
The pain was so intense that tears sprang to Wakako’s eyes. And those cold fingers continued to…
Uncontrollable moans echoed in the empty room. Even though she was alone, Wakako felt another presence.
Someone familiar.
Had she always been this sensitive to pain? No.
There was only one person who could make her feel like this.
But that person was buried on a hillside five years ago… How could she…
How could it be her…
Wakako’s fevered mind couldn’t distinguish dream from reality. Operating on instinct alone, she whispered that name: “Miki.”
“My Lady Saint…” She closed her eyes, desperately repeating every title she could remember, “Lady of the Saionji Clan, Ninth Daughter… Master…”
A delicate, bell-like laugh seemed to ring in her ears.
When she opened her eyes again, Wakako finally noticed what she’d missed earlier. When she’d gotten up to open the door, a trail of wet footprints had silently made their way through the crack.
She saw a face more beautiful than summer flowers, pressed close to her own.
But the skin was pale as snow, devoid of life.
It was Miki, drenched from the rain.
“Wakako.”
Her right hand inside Wakako, her left hand tugging on the engagement necklace, forcing Wakako’s head back.
Miki still wore the white robes of the Saint, but her once vibrant eyes were now still, like a deep, ancient well. Her entire being was cold, like ice frozen for a thousand years.
“While I was gone…”
“What have you been doing?”
She maintained her pale smile as she spoke.
