CHAPTER 153
Side Story 2: The Times I Wasn't With You
“She’s not by the well or in the stable either!”
“She must have slipped out of the manor.”
Camille and Roxy burst through the door of their father Jonathan’s laboratory.
Jonathan’s face twisted with anger, turning crimson.
Outside the cracked, old window, the sun was nearing its zenith.
It would soon be time for the market to open in the village. Today’s market was a special event where merchants from the southeastern region gathered to showcase their specialties.
For Jonathan, who had long been dismissed as a quack healer, today was also a crucial day.
He had meticulously prepared to prove the healing powers of the DelSaincre family to the local nobility and influential figures.
Jonathan’s gaze fixated on the small cage in the corner of the lab.
The animal, which should have been lying there groaning in pain, was gone.
The lamb whose leg he had broken just the day before in the forest was missing.
As was Arabelle, who should have returned from the fields late this morning.
“She must’ve taken the lamb to the back mountain again.”
“She even stole the medicine bottles from the shelf! Just wait until we catch her.”
Camille, aged ten, and Roxy, aged seven, growled, baring their teeth like vicious hunting dogs.
The girls, who resembled their father, spoke about their sister with the ferocity of wolves.
Jonathan reached for the riding crop hanging on the wall. The tendons on the back of his hand bulged as he gripped it.
Today was the day he had planned to finally showcase the power everyone had mocked.
It was just a ruse, of course.
He had taken a newborn lamb from its mother in the forest and brought it back, breaking its front leg.
The lamb, severely injured and unable to nurse from its mother, was near death.
Jonathan had planned to bring the lamb back to life in front of the market crowd.
Of course, he intended to use the herbs Kisha had made.
The plan was to use the poisonous herbs Kisha had secretly prepared to temporarily stop the lamb’s pulse and heart, making it appear dead.
Then, he would use the herbal concoction she had made to bring the lamb back to consciousness.
The lamb would die a few hours later from the poison, but that wouldn’t be Jonathan’s concern.
He had sacrificed more than ten wild animals and stolen pets from the village in preparation for this day.
Many had died without even opening their eyes because he hadn’t yet perfected the herb ratios.
But this time, he had finally figured out the correct ratio to bring the lamb back, even if just for a moment.
They had practiced it many times. When Jonathan stroked the lamb’s head and belly with both hands, Camille was supposed to secretly slip the herbal juice into the lamb’s mouth.
Roxy was to cause a commotion in front of Camille to distract the crowd.
This wasn’t a scam. The healing power that had been passed down through his family would eventually manifest in him and his daughters. This wasn’t a lie.
Jonathan ground his teeth, justifying the scam he had planned for today.
The DelSaincre family, once known as the “Great Healers,” had once been trusted by the Imperial Court.
But over time, the DelSaincre bloodline had started to abuse their God-given blessing.
As a result of their greed, the family lost their healing powers, and Jonathan was no exception.
He boasted that the dormant healing power would eventually emerge, but the truth was that they survived on the money Kisha earned from gathering and preparing herbs.
Even the castle servants looked down on him, and he lived a pitiful life, leeching off his brother-in-law, Baron Kander.
He was consumed by gambling and alcohol, doing little more than making empty boasts.
“Once the children grow and their healing powers manifest, we can combine our strengths. It’s only a matter of time before we reclaim our family’s honor as the Empire’s top healers!”
Everyone had naturally scoffed at Jonathan’s words.
Even he didn’t truly believe his own words but chose to ignore reality.
To accept reality would be to admit he was truly a failure.
Up until now, he had barely scraped by on the money his wife Kisha brought in, but she had also run away recently.
In early spring, when the ice began to thaw, Kisha had left home to gather herbs in the mountains and never returned.
She hadn’t left a note or said a word.
It wasn’t until two weeks had passed without her return that Jonathan, half-drunk, finally set out to look for her.
Two weeks turned into a month, and a month became three.
When autumn harvest had passed, Jonathan had to accept the truth.
His wife had abandoned him and their children.
With Kisha gone, no one was left to pay off his gambling debts, and after getting beaten and thrown out of the gambling den, Jonathan heard the village people whisper behind his back.
“She must have been truly fed up to leave even her children behind.”
“If it were me, I’d have left long ago. No matter how much she paid, the gambling debts never went away. Tsk, tsk.”
“If you knew Jonathan, you wouldn’t blame Kisha. She wore herself out raising two daughters that weren’t even hers, all while dealing with a useless, foul-tempered husband. Kisha’s an angel, a saint.”
“You didn’t know? The eldest and the youngest aren’t Kisha’s daughters. Jonathan fathered them with someone else. Just like their father, the eldest and youngest have terrible tempers. Kisha’s only biological child is the second daughter, Arabelle.”
“Rather than being grateful to Kisha for raising those girls as her own, he broke things in the house and got drunk every day. No wonder she couldn’t endure it any longer and ran away. Who could live with that man?”
Humiliated and furious, Jonathan clenched his teeth as the townsfolk continued to gossip while he walked through the village.
“But it’s surprising that she left Arabelle behind. Kisha used to take Arabelle everywhere, probably because of Jonathan’s temper.”
“Everyone knows how much Jonathan hates that poor girl. She’s the kindest and gentlest of the three sisters… but because of her father’s cruelty, Camille and Roxy bully her too. Nasty little things.”
“Now that Kisha’s gone, Arabelle’s the one feeding her father and sisters. I heard the nine-year-old’s working as a servant at Baron Kander’s castle.”
“They’ll work her to the bone for now, but as soon as she comes of age, they’ll probably sell her off to some rich old widower. It’s obvious.”
Jonathan glared at the empty cage and the shelf where the medicine bottles had been.
Pulling the riding crop taut with both hands, he spoke coldly.
“Find Arabelle and the lamb. They can’t have gone far.”
“Yes, Father,”
Camille and Roxy answered excitedly as they ran out of the lab.
Their faces lit up with glee at the thought of finally having an excuse to torment their sister.
Jonathan’s eyes flashed as he scanned the remnants of Kisha’s presence in the lab.
This isn’t my fault.
Arabelle, the second daughter...
She doesn’t even have the purple mark on the crown of her head that signifies the DelSaincre bloodline.
Her eyes aren’t orange like mine, Camille’s, or Roxy’s, nor are they black like Kisha’s. Instead, they’re a pale brown.
And when she places her hands over a suffering creature, there’s no faint light like a mirage.
Even Roxy, the youngest daughter, who manifested her powers last year, can sometimes produce a faint healing effect when the three of them combine their energies.
It’s still incomplete and inconsistent, but it’s there.
But she doesn’t have a shred of healing energy.
No matter how much I try to deny it, everything about that child tells me she isn’t my daughter.
And yet, I couldn’t even question Kisha’s infidelity before I passed on my name to her.
**Side Story 2: The Time We Didn’t Spend Together**
**April 1, 2024**
"They’re not by the well, nor in the stables!"
"They must have left the manor!"
Camille and Roxy burst into their father Jonathan's laboratory.
Jonathan's face twisted in anger, his expression dark with fury.
The sun outside the cracked, old window was nearing noon.
It would soon be time for the village market to open. Today’s market was a major event, where merchants from the southeastern region gathered to showcase their specialty goods.
For Jonathan, who was often dismissed as a quack healer, it was a particularly important day.
He had prepared meticulously to prove the healing powers of the Delcroix family to the local nobles and influential people.
Jonathan glared at a small cage placed in the corner of the lab.
The creature that should have been groaning in pain was nowhere to be seen.
The lamb he had captured from the woods and crippled a few days ago was gone.
And so was Arabelle, who should have returned from the fields late in the morning.
"She must have taken the lamb up to the back hill again."
"She even stole the medicine bottles from the shelf! Just wait till we catch her."
Camille, who was ten, and Roxy, seven, both growled, bearing a striking resemblance to their father.
The girls spoke about their sister like vicious hunting dogs baring their teeth.
Jonathan reached for the horsewhip hanging on the wall. The veins on the back of his hand pulsed as he gripped it tightly.
Today was supposed to be the day he proved his doubters wrong.
Though it was all just a charade.
He had taken a newborn lamb from its mother in the forest and broken its front legs.
The lamb, severely injured and unable to drink its mother's milk, was close to death.
The plan was to revive the lamb in front of the market crowd.
Of course, it was all thanks to the herbs Kisha had made.
The plan was to use a poisonous herb, which Kisha had hidden, to temporarily stop the lamb's heartbeat, making it appear dead.
Then, using another of her herbs, Jonathan would bring the lamb back to life.
The lamb would inevitably die a few hours later due to the poison, but that wasn't Jonathan's concern.
The number of wild animals and stolen livestock sacrificed for today’s event exceeded ten.
Many died without even opening their eyes, as Jonathan hadn’t correctly adjusted the herb ratios.
But this time, he had finally figured out the right proportions to let the lamb wake up, if only for a brief moment.
When he ran his hands over the lamb's head and belly, Camille was supposed to sneak the herbal extract into the lamb's mouth, a trick they had practiced numerous times.
Roxy would cause a commotion to distract the crowd, covering for Camille.
This wasn’t fraud. Sooner or later, the healing power that had been dormant in his family for generations would manifest in him and his daughters. This wasn’t a lie.
Jonathan gritted his teeth, justifying the scam he was about to pull.
The Delcroix family, once known as a family of "Great Healers," had once enjoyed the trust of the Imperial Court.
But over time, the bloodline of Delcroix began to abuse and misuse the divine gift.
As punishment for their greed, the family lost their healing powers, and Jonathan was no exception.
He had boasted that the powers would eventually manifest, but in reality, they were long gone.
He survived on the money his wife, Kisha, earned by gathering and preparing herbs.
He lived a pitiful life, ridiculed even by the castle servants, leeching off his brother-in-law, Baron Cander.
He drowned his sorrows in gambling and alcohol, his boasts echoing hollowly.
“If the girls' healing powers manifest as they grow up, and we combine our strengths, we’ll restore the honor of the empire’s greatest family of healers in no time!”
Everyone scoffed at Jonathan's words.
In truth, even he didn’t believe his own claims but couldn’t face reality.
To do so would be to admit he was a complete failure.
So far, they had managed to survive on the money Kisha brought home, but even she had run away recently.
At the beginning of spring, when the ice had just begun to melt.
Kisha had gone out to the mountains to gather herbs and never returned.
She left no note, not a single word.
After two weeks, when Kisha still hadn’t returned, Jonathan, half-drunk, finally went out to look for her.
Two weeks became a month, and a month became three.
It was after the fall harvest that Jonathan had to accept it.
Kisha had abandoned him and the children.
Without his wife to cover his gambling debts, Jonathan was beaten up and kicked out of the gambling den, and the village people whispered behind his back.
"She must have been so fed up to leave even her children behind."
"If it were me, I’d have left long ago. No matter how much you pay, his gambling debts never go down, tsk tsk."
"Anyone who knows Jonathan wouldn’t blame Kisha. She was a saint, putting up with a worthless, foul-tempered husband and raising two daughters who weren’t even hers. Kisha was an angel, an angel."
"Didn’t you know? The eldest and youngest daughters aren’t Kisha's. Jonathan fathered them with other women. No wonder they’re as nasty as their father. Kisha’s real daughter is the second one, Arabelle."
"She raised them as if they were her own, yet instead of being grateful, Jonathan only grew more abusive, smashing everything in sight. No wonder poor Kisha finally ran away. No woman would stay with a man like that."
Full of shame and anger, Jonathan heard these words as he passed through the village.
"But it’s surprising, isn’t it? That she left Arabelle behind. Kisha always took her with her, no matter what, because of Jonathan's temper."
"Everyone knows how much he hates that poor girl. She’s the kindest and gentlest of the three daughters, but her father treats her horribly... so Camille and Roxy bully her too. They’re horrible."
"Now that Kisha’s gone, Arabelle’s the one keeping them fed, isn’t she? That nine-year-old is working like a servant at Baron Cander’s castle."
"For now, they’re overworking her, but as soon as she comes of age, they’ll probably sell her off to some rich old widower. You don’t even have to see it to know that’s what’ll happen."
Jonathan glared at the empty cage and the missing medicine bottles.
He stretched the whip between his hands, speaking ominously.
"Find Arabelle and that lamb. They can’t have gone far."
"Yes, Father."
Camille and Roxy answered excitedly, running out of the laboratory.
The prospect of finding a new reason to torment their sister filled them with glee.
Jonathan’s eyes gleamed as he chased the traces Kisha had left behind in the lab.
It’s not my fault.
Arabelle…
She doesn’t even have the purple mark on her crown that all Delcroix bloodline members should have.
Her eyes aren’t the orange of mine, Camille's, or Roxy's, nor are they the black of Kisha’s. Instead, they’re a pale hazel.
She’s useless, without even a glimmer of the healing energy that should appear like a heatwave over an injured life.
Even the youngest, Roxy, manifested her powers last year. When the three of us combine our energy, we can produce a faint healing power, though it’s incomplete and irregular.
But Arabelle hasn’t shown even the tiniest bit of healing energy.
No matter how much I try to deny it, everything about her screams that she isn’t my daughter.
And yet, I gave her my name, without ever confronting Kisha about her infidelity.
Because if Kisha admitted that Arabelle wasn’t mine, I’d have to divorce her under the empire’s laws.
I couldn’t bear the thought of covering the gambling debts and living expenses alone.
Out of pride as a man and for the sake of survival, I didn’t dare ask, even though I was certain Arabelle wasn’t my child.
If Arabelle had been my blood, born with healing powers, the four of us would already be the greatest healers, living in luxury.
What’s wrong with taking out my anger and betrayal on Arabelle?
How dare Kisha run away, leaving Arabelle behind.
After Kisha disappeared, I treated Arabelle even more harshly.
I wanted to make sure that when Kisha returned and saw the state Arabelle was in, she’d never think of leaving again.
Jonathan’s face twisted further as he was left alone in the lab.
"How dare she repay my kindness in raising her with this betrayal. This time, I’ll teach her a lesson she won’t forget."
Foolish Jonathan had no idea that today, Arabelle had saved his life.
The lamb Arabelle had taken and fled with into the mountains was meant to be a sacrificial offering for the anniversary of Emperor Maxius.
The ewe, lost in the woods, had been blessed and sent from the temple of the kingdom of Sebille.
She was carrying the offering meant for the emperor's anniversary.
During transport, the carriage fell off a cliff, and the ewe gave birth in the forest.
Jonathan found the newborn lamb and took it home, stealing it from its mother.
The ewe’s dirty brown coat, covered in muck, was actually golden wool, the only one of its kind on the continent, though Jonathan had no way of knowing this.
The lamb, which hadn’t yet shed its silver coat, looked like any ordinary lamb.
But the
moment the lamb died in the market today, its wool would have turned gold, and Jonathan would have been discovered by the empire’s soldiers searching for the lost offering.
Jonathan’s fate would have been sealed, as anyone could predict, for daring to touch the emperor’s sacrificial offering.
Jonathan, unaware that Arabelle had saved his life, gritted his teeth in anger.
***
Behind the Cander Barony, by the riverbank.
A small pink rabbit dashed out of the woods.
Its short, chubby hind legs propelled it towards the river.
The river, which had been calm moments ago, was now raging violently.
Just as the pink rabbit was about to lose control and plunge into the river, a large hand scooped it up by the belly, pulling it into a warm embrace.
"Thank you, Master..."
The rabbit spoke in human language, then suddenly transformed into a young boy.
He scrunched his nose in embarrassment, still unable to fully adapt to the human world, and was often more of a burden to his companions than help.
His master, Esperel, patted the boy’s shoulder reassuringly.
From across the river, an irritated voice reached the elf master and his student’s ears.
"Is that... Did she really get swept away because she couldn’t swim?"
"Now that you mention it, have you ever seen her swim? I don’t think I have..."
"Ugh, are we the only ones bothered by this? Whatever. She’ll crawl out on her own."
"Exactly. If she went to all this trouble to sneak that lamb away, she should’ve expected some risk. It’s not like we pushed her."
"Let’s just go. Staying here will only make us look suspicious."
Camille and Roxy scowled, leaving without looking back.
Though mischievous, they were still just young girls.
They had found Arabelle trying to heal the ewe and lamb, and in the ensuing scuffle, accidentally pushed Arabelle into the deep river.
Seeing their sister being swept away in the current, they were suddenly terrified.
What if they got caught and punished?
Panicked, the two sisters fled, leaving the lamb behind.
Watching the two girls disappear, Beryl clutched his master’s long robe desperately.
"Master, please help!"
Esperel’s clear eyes followed Beryl’s gaze to the riverbank.
The river, swollen and fierce, rushed dangerously, threatening to consume everything in its path.
A small body was being swallowed by the current, too weak to even struggle.
Soon, it would be completely engulfed.
The ewe and her lamb, miraculously recovering, began to bleat mournfully.
"Master, Arabelle helped me when I lost my way and collapsed after we got separated. If not for her, I would’ve been wolf food by now."
Beryl’s body, still unaccustomed to the human world, frequently reverted to its rabbit form to conserve energy.
He had been separated from Esperel during a battle with ogres trying to break through the barrier between the divine and human realms and had teleported, ending up on the back hill of the Cander Barony.
He was found and saved by Arabelle while lying unconscious in his rabbit form.
Esperel's gaze softened with sympathy but quickly hardened as he shook his head.
"You know that elves must never interfere in human affairs."
"But... Arabelle is different. She’s not like the greedy humans!"
For the first time, Beryl defied his master’s words.
Time was running out. Though he wanted to jump into the river and help Arabelle, Beryl didn’t have the energy.
Arabelle’s arms were no longer visible above the water.
Suddenly, Esperel’s clear eyes glimmered with a reflected light.
A faint glow spread across the river, over the spot where the girl had been submerged.
In disbelief, Esperel’s pupils and lips parted slightly.
"Master...?"
Beryl looked up at his master’s astonished face, puzzled.
"Lumen Savior."
As soon as the words left his lips, Esperel sprang forward.
In an instant, his feet touched the surface of the river.
He ran swiftly along the water, as if it were solid ground, following the current.
Drawing out a paulownia staff from beneath his long robes, he pointed it at the river, and the water swirled into a circular motion.
In that moment,
Whirr,
Plop.
The river spat out a small, frail body into the air.
Esperel caught Arabelle’s falling form with ease.
In her blurred vision, a beautiful man with pointed ears came into view.
"You must be Arabelle. I’m Esperel, your friend Beryl’s master."
Esperel... Master...
Muttering his name with her lips, Arabelle closed her eyes once more.
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