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Chapter 12
At this point, there was no need for further words. When Aris arrived at the airship, the people of Rashvalen didn’t say a word and hurriedly shoved him inside. They feared that he might change his mind, so they locked him up inside the airship first.
Their intentions were so obvious that Aris simply sat down in the seat, buckled his safety belt, and looked as though he had resigned himself to everything. Paulo and Shio sat on either side of him, and Mirea sat across. No matter how you looked at it, it felt like he was being taken away to prevent any chance of escape.
As soon as everyone sat down, Layla started the airship. The sound of the engine roared in their ears. While fastening his seatbelt, Paulo spoke to Aris.
“Don’t worry about the Frost Order. If it gets out that they were publicly hunting ‘Derkade,’ they’ll be in trouble, so they’ll stay quiet about your movements for now. Plus, they agreed to help relocate the villagers.”
It seemed they had used the situation to threaten and negotiate thoroughly. Aris leisurely leaned his arm against the back of his head and asked,
“So now I’m just going to be dragged to meet Chairman Sephiros?”
“This airship can’t cross the Sea of Seven Stars, so we’ll transfer through the Aina branch first,” Layla replied.
“We left the truck behind. It’s useless now, practically a wreck. Told the villagers they could fix it up and use it if they wanted,” she added.
“I see.”
Feeling the others’ gazes focused on him, except for Layla who was piloting, Aris slowly yawned.
“Well, since I’m not going anywhere at this point, you can all relax… I’m going to sleep.”
Exhaustion truly overwhelmed him, and Aris slowly blinked before closing his eyes. Just before his eyes shut, he faintly saw the Forest of Beasts covered in a golden glow of enchantment.
“Sleep well.”
Mirea whispered. Aris didn’t actually fall asleep, but it had been a long time since someone had wished him good night.
Part 2: The Rashvalen Association
A harbinger of the world’s end has appeared.
Born in the form of a human, fear the black wings that stretch toward the sky.
With every beat of those wings, the world inches closer to its doom.
In the year 2989 of the Tena calendar, the 48th Saintess received the whispers of the Frost Goddess and conveyed them to humanity.
Mirea pinched her nose and drank the liquid from a brown bottle with a grimace. Though she swallowed it quickly to minimize the time it touched her tongue, the vile stench rose up from her stomach through her throat. She clamped her hand over her mouth to suppress the urge to vomit. Though she managed to settle her stomach, the stench lingered in her mouth, and she smacked her lips in disgust.
“Doctor Laramid, couldn’t you at least improve the taste?”
“It’s called a fatigue recovery tonic, but it’s basically a life-shortening potion. I made it taste bad on purpose so people don’t drink too much. No more than two bottles a day,”
Laramid scolded while treating the gunshot wound on Mirea’s arm. Laramid was a young dragon, around 400 years old. He had dark skin and long black dreadlocks tied into a ponytail. Unlike humans, he had long ears, and embedded in his forehead was a gleaming ruby-like dragon pearl, the same crimson color as his eyes.
“Come on. This place is full of people living on borrowed time anyway. Besides, the problem isn’t that I can’t have another bottle. The problem is it kills my appetite—I can’t even eat real food after drinking this stuff.”
Mirea blew into her hand to check her breath. Her expression soured again as if she were going to be sick.
“You were lucky it was just a graze. Still, it’s a miracle you came back alive.”
Laramid tightly wrapped the bandage, smacked her scarred arm, and Mirea wiggled her fingers. Drops of water still clung to her hair, dripping from her freshly washed head.
“They say if you seek death, you live, and if you seek life, you die.”
“Who told you that nonsense?”
“Sephiros did.”
“Ugh, Sephiros always teaches the weirdest things.”
Grumbling, Laramid handed her a packet of medicine.
“Just take your meds and come back tomorrow for a new dressing.”
“I think I can manage this much on my own.”
“Just come.”
“Okay.”
Seeing Laramid’s face darken, Mirea obediently agreed. She stood up, using the towel around her neck to finish drying her hair.
“And try to get some IV fluids and proper sleep while you’re at it. Stop relying on my drinks. You’re always pushing yourself too hard. Take care of yourself for once.”
“I’m busy.”
With a lazy gait, Mirea exited the clinic. Faint groans could be heard from beyond the closed door.
“Dry your hair properly! It’s still chilly—you’ll catch a cold! Look at her, pretending not to hear me!”
Laramid clicked his tongue as he cleaned up the treatment area.
Mirea dried her hair with the towel as she walked home, but it wouldn’t dry quickly—it was too thick. She briefly considered chopping it off for convenience.
She currently lived in a dormitory apartment provided to members of the Rashvalen Association. The rent was cheap, and it was right next to headquarters, so many members stayed there. When she reached the 15th floor and stepped off the elevator, she saw two unfamiliar men busily moving things in and out of her room.
Moments later, Mirea realized they were moving her personal belongings out. With a stiff expression, she marched toward the man directing them. He was a familiar face—the apartment manager.
“What is going on here?”
She asked with a firm tone. The manager gave her a cold look.
“I clearly told you—two weeks.”
“Two weeks? What are you talking about?”
Pretending not to know, Mirea triggered the manager’s irritation.
“The eviction notice was given at least three months ago. You’ve overstayed without moving out, and I gave you a final two-week warning. But you clearly had no intention of leaving!”
“So now you’re just moving my stuff? Kicking me out?”
“Yes.”
“Right now? Just like this?!”
Despite Mirea’s near-hysterical voice, the manager continued unfazed.
“I’ve been more than patient! Housing here isn’t cheap, and do you know how many people complain about the lack of dorm rooms? There’s no budget for expansion, so those with alternative housing must move out!”
“Still, you can’t just touch someone else’s stuff without notice! You could’ve told me at least a day in advance!”
“I stopped by yesterday for final confirmation, but you weren’t there.”
As if it was her fault for being away, Mirea snapped.
“You know how busy the combat division is! I wasn’t off vacationing—I was on a mission! I came straight from getting treated for an injury this morning, and you’re doing this now?! If I came any later, I would’ve found all my belongings dumped at the door! Couldn’t you have at least left a notice?!”
“I needed a signature. But we’ll consider your opinion for future notices, Ms. Janester.”
He held out a pen and an eviction confirmation form. Frustrated and exhausted, Mirea shouted hysterically.
“I’m not signing! I won’t!”
“Refusing won’t stop the forced eviction.”
“Do you know who I am? Huh?! I’m Mirea Janester! Huh?!”
“Yes, I know your name. So?”
“If I say something to higher-ups—!”
“They’re the ones who told me to kick you out.”
“Aaaargh!”
Mirea, defeated, snatched the pen and signed with tears in her eyes.
“Traitor! You betrayed me, Sephiros!”
She scrawled her signature across the paper in frustration. After the manager left with his nose in the air, only Mirea’s mountain of luggage remained. Residents carefully pressed themselves against the walls to avoid bumping into it as they passed.
She had nowhere to take her things. With no solution in sight, she gave up, grabbed a cushion, and lay down among her belongings. She was used to sleeping on the floor anyway.
“What is this?”
She looked up to see golden eyes gazing down at her. Her gloom vanished, replaced by a bright smile.
“Libby!”
“You said you were hurt, but your face looks fine. Everything else looks like a disaster though.”
Libiello frowned as he looked at the scattered luggage. His pale platinum hair spilled over his shoulder down to his hips. As he tucked strands behind one ear, revealing chocolate-toned skin, he asked,
“What happened?”
Sitting up, Mirea replied in the most pitiful voice she could muster.
“I got kicked out.”
“Why?”
“They changed the dorm priority policy. I didn’t make the cut.”
“That kind of change doesn’t happen overnight. Didn’t they give you time to pack?”
“Well, they did but…”
“But?”
“I didn’t think they’d actually throw me out. I thought I could stay…”
