Killed Me? Now I Have Your Power Chapter 381: Longing

Chapter 381 – Longing

"They did what?" Sora asked, her searing eyes fixed on the standing Ro.

She was inside her study room, decorated in gold, wearing gilded imperial clothes adorned with luxurious jewels.

She had grown, now eighteen years old, with a more mature face.

Her beauty had increased, and with that, her aura.

If before, her whole aura felt like standing beside a searing fire, now standing beside Golden Voice felt like swimming inside burning lava.

She leaned on her chair, her blonde hair tied into one big knot behind her, held by a golden hairpin shaped like a sun disk. So strands slid down on each side of her face.

The Princess currently stood at Grandmaster rank. And not just any Grandmaster.

At her question, Ro ducked his head, then answered,

"Yes, my lady. They have changed the na Silver City and called it Black Dwells."

Sora’s eyebrows knitted tighter and tighter at his words.

"And the population just accepted it?"

"They had no choice. It was either accept the change or get killed," Ro answered, his voice calm. "And no one would allow themselves to die because of so na, if you would excuse my unnecessary opinion on the matter."

Sora waved her hand lazily. "I don’t mind," she said, then leaned her back further into her golden chair, her eyes drifting into deep thought.

Ro fell silent, but after a mont, he could no longer stop himself. He parted his lips and said,

"I am sorry, my lady."

His voice made Sora half-open her eyes, staring at him.

Ro suppressed a smile. She had only rested her gaze on him, yet he felt like his whole body was set afla.

There was nothing more joyous to him than to see his lady grow up. It filled him with a strange kind of joy. Sothing akin to pride.

He shook his head lightly, dispelling these thoughts, focusing back.

"Why don’t we just wipe them out?" Ro proposed. "I can lead your army and lay waste to Silver City. Your na shall be sung with each of their deaths."

"Perhaps," Sora began, golden nails tapping the table, "that is exactly what they want from us."

Ro arched his left eyebrow.

Golden Voice continued smoothly,

"They have been too open with their actions, don’t you think? It’s true they are nothing but beasts, but they are not idiots. And what they are doing, going openly against us, is nothing but stupid."

She stopped her fingers, sparing Ro a small smile.

"What do you think they are going after, then?"

It was a rhetorical question with only one possible answer. Ro gave it.

"They want us to react," he said.

"Exactly."

"But for what?" the loyal guard continued smoothly. "Why would they do that?"

"That is what I want to know," Sora said, then smirked, her voice suddenly holding a strange echo. "And know I shall, Ro."

She stood up, her chair creaking in the process. Unhurriedly, she walked out of her study room. Ro imdiately positioned himself behind her, following her pace at a respectful distance.

"How many songs did I create these past two years?" she asked, her heels clicking against the floor below in rhythmic echoes.

Golden walls decorated with portraits and luxurious artifacts lined each side of the corridor.

"Seventeen songs, my lady," Ro answered, his masked face making his voice sound more demonic than holy, despite the luster of his armor.

"The whole empire listens to them," he continued. "And with these songs, a new era has been ushered in, my lady. There are now more people wishing to pursue this path. And your people love you."

Sora allowed herself a smile.

They indeed loved her. Anyone listening to her songs would feel a part of her inside each lyric.

In a way, she opened herself to them, showing a glimpse of who she was.

A being like her, as exalted as she was, making herself seen by mortals? By simple farrs, rchants, and even beggars?

The folk felt special, and now held her in high regard.

Sora wondered briefly what her brother would think of her now.

She could already picture the scene.

His arrogant face and annoying smirk, telling her why she was proud of such a thing, made for fools to please the strong.

She would curse him. He would blow her a kiss and go on his way.

As always.

It, without fail, made her mad at the ti. And still it did. But sohow, she missed those little monts.

She missed her arrogant brother, even if she would never say it aloud.

Beside her brother, there was also Kaden. It had been two years, too, since she last saw him. And it seed the distance had a strange effect on her, fostering her emotions in a way Sora wanted to kill herself for.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to pass a day without standing in front of the mirror and imagining having a conversation with him.

One day, she made a copy of Kaden with her solar fire manipulation. She destroyed it imdiately, annoyed that she was not able to capture his appearance.

She was a singer. Not a sculptor, nor a painter. Yet at that ti, she had wished to be one.

Still, she could immortalize her version of Kaden with her in her own way.

She had created seventeen songs. More than half of them were for Kaden, or talked about Kaden, or were inspired by Kaden.

In a shaful way, Kaden was her muse.

But that...that was sothing she would rather die than admit aloud.

Golden Voice exhaled, then focused back on the current situation.

"You said my songs are everywhere," she said. "Even in Silver City?"

"Yes, my lady."

She smiled strangely. "Then it’s perfect. Let them enjoy."

She turned left and went directly toward her training room.

"They will be perfect as a whetstone after my coronation. I will need sothing to boost my reputation, won’t I?"

Ro smiled.

"Sorry, my lady. I was shortsighted."

Sora waved her hand lazily.

"It’s fine. But is Kenan gone?"

"Yes. He sent his farewell two weeks ago."

Sora tugged her lips in distaste. "The mont I need him is when he disappears."

"Did he tell you where he went, at least?"

Ro shook his head. "He didn’t."

Sora suppressed a curse. "Think of a punishnt for when he is back."

Ro smiled wryly.

"By your order, my lady."

She held the doorknob of her training room, twisted it, and yanked it open.

Inside, a realm of fire greeted the Empress.

...

Darklore — Waverith.

Inside Ouroboros’s building, Inara watched the crimson letter in front of her, lying on a green couch, wearing a black top and a matching short skirt.

"You have been staring at it for two hours." dusa said, sitting across from her daughter, looking at her strangely. Dozens of snakes were coiling all over her body.

"What is written on it?" she asked.

"An invitation." Inara said. "An invitation from Kaden."

dusa looked at her daughter silently. "Will you go?"

Inara spared her a strange glance, making an ugly face. "Go?" She scoffed. "Damn if I fucking go."

"Yet you were looking at it for so long." dusa caressed one of her snakes. "Why are you lying?"

"I just like the aesthetic. What? Is that a cri now?"

"It’s been two years, Inara." dusa rolled her eyes. "Two years the young master has been trying to talk to you. Yet you always refused. To anyone else, it would look like you hate him."

"I hate him." Inara confird.

"You don’t. You are afraid of what you will feel when you see him face to face, alone. You are afraid of the pain of seeing him, knowing he rejected you."

Inara set her jaw tight, glaring at her mother.

dusa shrugged. "Truth always hurts, my daughter."

"Keep your truth to yourself, mother, then. I don’t need to hear it."

"Speak to that way again, Inara?"

Inara wisely didn’t repeat herself. Her mother could still make her ass red if she wished to.

dusa sighed next.

"You will soon go back to Fokay." She said. "Before you do, my daughter, speak to him."

"Heal your wounds and go back. Because you don’t know if there will be another chance."

She paused, looking at her seriously. "Don’t ever take people for granted. Life is unpredictable."

"And death doesn’t send a warning letter before knocking at soone’s door."

Inara lowered her head. Her mother was right. She herself was not sure if she would co back. Her life and death were as uncertain as anything.

And yet...

’It’s hard.’ She whimpered inwardly. ’It’s so damn hard.’

Two years had passed.

They said ti healed all wounds.

Yet hers were still open, looking as fresh as that day.

She cursed silently, rolled her body, and fell onto the ground.

Thud.

"Why does love hurt so fucking much, mother?"

dusa shook her head.

"Does it really?" she said. "Love is very easy, Inara. It’s just us who make it hard."

"So don’t think too much, and follow your heart."

"The last ti I did, I gained a wound that will never heal." Inara interjected.

"Maybe this ti," dusa shrugged, insisting, "you will get sothing that will heal all your wounds."

Inara paused, hiding her face with her hands. Then...

"Mother."

"Yes."

"I hate him."

"If that makes you sleep better."

—End of Chapter 381—