After Cyrene finished reading, Castorice was stunned, staring blankly at her. "...Huh? Ask Lord Phaethon? Lady Aglaea has been with Phaethon recently? What... what is this situation?"
Cyrene also wore a puzzled expression, pondering carefully. "Little Phaethon? Didn’t he just drop us off at Okhema and then imdiately return to Castrum Kremnos to continue holding the line? Besides, from what I know, for the past several days, he hasn’t left the front lines at Castrum Kremnos for a mont due to the continuous assaults of the Black Tide. How could he... possibly be in Okhema at the sa ti, spending ti with Lady Aglaea?"
Just then.
"Cyrene? Is that you? You’re finally back!"
A light, familiar voice, like a spring breeze, swept through the quiet of the Life Garden.
Cyrene and Castorice turned simultaneously to see Evelyn standing beside a cluster of radiant crystalline flowers, a look of pleasant surprise on her face as she walked briskly toward them.
She was dressed in neat priestly vestnts, yet carried an air of maturity and steadiness that she hadn’t possessed before.
"Evelyn!" Cyrene’s eyes lit up as if seeing long-awaited sunshine. She imdiately stepped forward to et her, her voice filled with the joy of reunion.
However, Evelyn’s next words hit Cyrene like a sudden cold snap, freezing her in place:
"That’s wonderful! When Elliot and I held our simple wedding in Janusopolis before, Phaethon even made a special trip to be Elliot’s best man, busy helping with everything. It was such a pity he said you had urgent business and truly couldn’t get away to attend... a real sha."
"You... you two... got married?" Cyrene’s voice involuntarily carried a slight tremble. She thought she must have misheard.
*(Cyrene: No... wait? Kids, I think... my ho base might have actually been stolen?)*
"Yes!" Evelyn’s smile remained bright, but it had lost so of its forr dependence and haze, gaining instead clarity and composure. "The old ... *ahem*, probably read too many novels, always easily mistaking strong fondness and dependence for unique, romantic love. I really liked being with you, Cyrene, I liked it a lot. The tis we spent discussing knowledge and traveling together are among my most precious mories."
She paused, her tone becoming softer yet firr. "But... later, it was Phaethon who pointed out, quite incisively: when I watched you chatting and laughing happily with the master craftsn of the Foundry Tower, with the cultivators of the gardens, even with strangers we t on the road, my heart felt only happiness for you, not that intense, ’you-must-be-mine’ possessiveness. That, he said, is not what’s called romantic love. He was the one who made truly realize... we are actually best friends, sisters, but not... *cough cough cough*... lovers."
Cyrene listened, stunned. Her originally sowhat chaotic feelings actually beca clearer because of this frankness. "So... this was your own carefully considered decision?"
"Of course it was my own choice," Evelyn’s tone brooked no doubt, her eyes sparkling with a mature light born of enduring hardship and deep thought. "After experiencing the threat of the Black Tide, witnessing so much loss and perseverance, people have to grow up, don’t they? I can’t keep living in a fantasy I wove myself. What’s more... I finally found the path I want to walk."
She seed to rember sothing and changed the subject. "Oh, right, you just got back so you probably haven’t heard yet? Most of the scholars and important archives from Janusopolis and The Grove have begun an orderly transfer to Okhema. This place is now the final, and strongest, fortress. That includes my family," Evelyn said, giving Cyrene a playful wink. "But they’re probably sick with regret now, regretting ever agreeing to let be with Elliot."
"Oh? Why?" Cyrene’s curiosity was piqued, temporarily setting aside her earlier complicated emotions.
"Because of Elliot," Evelyn’s eyes flashed with a familiar, sharp, and shrewd light that Cyrene knew well from the genius girl. "He’s not that fool who only knew how to show off and act cool anymore. He and I, along with so like-minded comrades, are pushing a bill with all our might—all wealthy rchants and guilds transferring to Okhema must ’voluntarily’ contribute a portion of their stored supplies and funds, free of charge, to fully support the front lines at Castrum Kremnos. He hasn’t spared any face for the old fogies of the various families."
Cyrene was montarily lost in thought. That light in Evelyn’s eyes... she hadn’t seen it for a long ti. Ever since Evelyn’s main family suffered heavy losses in the Black Tide, she seed to have tempered that sharp edge. Now, it was shining again, even more steady and powerful.
"Cyrene? Cyrene?" Evelyn waved a hand in front of Cyrene’s eyes. "What’s wrong? Worried we’ll get into trouble for this? Don’t worry, Lady Aglaea won’t let those guys who only care about their money bags cause any trouble." She lifted her chin slightly, with a hint of pride. "Now, I can finally refute their tired old argunts with a clear conscience: in this end of days, so-called money is utterly useless!"
Looking at her friend before her—bright-eyed, firm in her stance, having found what she truly wanted to do—Cyrene was stunned for a mont, then smiled in relief.
"Alright, Evelyn," she said, reaching out to give the other girl a light hug. "It seems you’ve truly found a path and a life that suits you. You have my blessing."
...
After saying goodbye to Evelyn, Cyrene stood in place for a long ti without moving. She frowned slightly, turning to Castorice beside her, her voice very low. "There’s a problem. Sothing is very off. Hyacine said Lady Aglaea has been with Phaethon recently, and Evelyn says it was Phaethon who brought her and Elliot together—but you and I both know Phaethon absolutely should not have been in Okhema during this ti."
Castorice nodded gravely. "Lord Phaethon should be commanding the defense against the Black Tide at the front lines right now. How could he possibly be here, dividing his attention to handle personal affairs?"
Cyrene’s frown deepened. "I have an immature hypothesis... but we can’t jump to conclusions based on speculation alone. Let’s walk around first and listen to what the common folk are saying about this ’Phaethon’."
The two then blended into the streets and markets of Okhema.
The Marmoreal Market was currently at its busiest ti of day. The calls of vendors, the aroma of food, and the clamor of pedestrians’ footsteps wove together into a tapestry of lively noise.
They deliberately slowed their pace, listening in on people’s conversations.
"We really owe it to Elder Phaethon!" a woman wearing a coarse apron sighed to a rchant at the neighboring stall. "My son fell seriously ill this month. If it weren’t for the relief funds Elder Phaethon sent, we couldn’t even have afforded dicine..."
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