“Are you okay?”
Kirine blinked slowly, her gaze drifting to Ares as he scanned her from head to toe, his eyes sharp with concern.
Still groggy from just waking up, a haze lingered in her mind, making it difficult to focus.
A dream…
It had been a memory buried so deeply that she wondered how she’d managed to forget it in the first place.
“Do I look okay to you?” she muttered, her voice rough as she dragged herself upright with effort. She brushed a hand across her face, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep.
Ares exhaled audibly, his shoulders relaxing as the tension in his face softened. “You look fine,” he said, though his gaze lingered on her, still searching for any signs of injury.
“And Sasha?” Kirine asked, her voice quieter now.
“I put her to sleep,” Ares replied. “She insisted on staying by your side, but it was a struggle getting her to rest.”
“You did well,” she murmured, but her tone was half-hearted, distant.
Ares frowned slightly at her lukewarm response. He leaned closer, his voice firmer now. “Are you really okay?”
“Did I say I wasn’t?” Kirine replied, tilting her head as if to deflect the question.
“So you’re really not okay?” he pressed, his eyes narrowing.
She let out a faint sigh, her lips pressing into a thin line as she avoided his gaze.
Ares didn’t flinch, didn’t look away for even a second. His sharp, unyielding gaze seemed to peel back the layers of her composure, searching for any cracks.
Under the weight of his concern, Kirine reflexively rubbed the back of her neck. “Of course, I’m fine. Isn’t it obvious?”
For some reason, her voice didn’t carry its usual edge, and the words felt strangely hollow. Her eyes darted away from his, unable to hold his intense scrutiny any longer.
Why is he staring at me like that?
In the past, he hadn’t cared whether she was hurt or not. Back then, even if she’d collapsed, he wouldn’t have batted an eye. Yet now, he was making such a fuss over her fainting for just a moment.
It was bewildering.
But what unsettled her more was the strange warmth she felt beneath his concern.
And the fact that she didn’t dislike it.
“Mom!”
The strange feeling that had settled in Kirine’s chest vanished instantly at the sound of the voice behind her. She turned quickly, her heart skipping a beat.
Sasha stood a few steps away, clutching a pillow tightly against her chest. Her violet eyes were brimming with tears, her small frame trembling.
“Mom… Sasha was wrong,” the little girl murmured, her voice cracking with guilt.
Kirine’s chest tightened. It was clear Sasha had realized she was the reason her mother had fainted. Too consumed by guilt to approach, Sasha hesitated, shifting her weight nervously.
Kirine clapped her hands gently, the sharp sound breaking the tension in the air. “Sasha, you did great,” she said, her voice warm and reassuring.
“Huh?” Sasha blinked, her eyes widening in surprise at the unexpected praise.
“Whenever someone bad tries to hurt you, just like this time, you tell them to back off! Got it?” Kirine grinned, her pride shining through.
Sasha tilted her head slightly, still unsure, but the weight of guilt on her shoulders began to ease. Kirine felt a surge of delight—her daughter had handled herself so bravely.
“You don’t hate me?” Sasha asked hesitantly, her small voice trembling as fresh tears threatened to spill.
“Huh?” Kirine’s brows knitted together in confusion.
“Mom got hurt because of me,” Sasha whispered, her voice barely audible. “Sasha didn’t mean to hurt Mom, right?”
“Well, no, but still—”
“Then I’m grateful you protected me,” Kirine cut in, her tone firm but kind. She smiled, spreading her arms wide. “Besides, I’m fine now. See? Perfectly fine.”
Sasha remained silent, her wide eyes searching Kirine’s face for reassurance.
“So,” Kirine coaxed, lowering herself to one knee. “Can you come give Mom a hug?”
She kept her arms open, waiting patiently. “My arms are going to fall off here,” she added with a playful pout.
Sasha bit her lip, clutching the pillow tighter.
“Are you not going to hug Mom?” Kirine asked again, feigning disappointment as her lips curved downward dramatically.
Finally, Sasha’s resolve crumbled. She handed the pillow to Ares—who had been watching quietly—and ran forward, throwing herself into her mother’s embrace.
The warmth of Sasha nestled snugly in her arms brought a soft smile to Kirine’s lips.
“Mom, I’m sorry,” Sasha mumbled against her shoulder.
“I said it’s okay,” Kirine replied gently.
“But still… I’m sorry.”
“It’s not Sasha’s fault at all,” Kirine said firmly, her tone leaving no room for doubt.
As Sasha continued to whisper apologies, Kirine stroked her daughter’s hair in slow, soothing motions, her touch filled with all the love and comfort she could give.
***
The next day, Kirine made her way to the research lab after dropping Sasha off at the imperial education center. Despite the busyness of the morning, her thoughts lingered on the memories stirred up the day before.
Even now, she couldn’t fathom how she had managed to forget about that incident.
The moment Kirine stepped into the lab and spotted Cecil, she hesitated briefly before carefully broaching the subject.
“Can I ask you a favor?”
Cecil, who had just begun pouring tea, paused mid-motion. He raised an eyebrow, curiosity flickering in his sharp gaze. “What kind of favor?”
“I want to find someone,” Kirine said, her tone steady but tinged with uncertainty.
“Well, you’ve come to the right person,” Cecil said with a faint smile, setting the teapot down. “I’m pretty good at finding people. What’s the name?”
“Aria,” Kirine replied quickly. Then, as if struck by a sudden thought, she hesitated. “Her name is Aria, but…”
Cecil tilted her head, waiting for her to continue.
Kirine frowned, the faint echo of a memory surfacing in her mind.
“Actually, that’s not my real name. My true name is…”
“She has a real name,” Kirine admitted, her voice quieter now, “but it’s different.”
“What’s her real name?” Cecil asked, his tone careful.
“I… don’t know,” she admitted, a hint of frustration creeping in.