Monster’s Streamer Star Chapter 86 : Claire (4)

Presia began sharing her mories with Ventus Frail.

To Gracie, it was an unexpectedly fresh and surprising story.

Apparently, he used to rate every al they ate at taverns or inns.

Surprisingly, he was the last to wake up among the party because he loved to sleep.

Whenever he did sothing impressive using magic, he'd joyfully explain what spell he had cast.

He was also interested in ornants—after defeating a calamity, he'd say they needed to show so grandeur and would use magic to create decorations based on designs he made himself and show them to his companions.

They weren’t dramatic adventure stories, but they were real, personal experiences you’d never find in a biography or book about heroic deeds.

As she listened, the guilt-fueled feelings of inferiority and helplessness lted away, and Gracie beca more absorbed in Presia’s stories.

And the more she listened, the more Gracie began to wonder sothing.

‘Saintess Presia… could it be… did she like my ancestor?’

It was a kind of instinct.

Calling Ventus “adorable” didn’t sound like sothing you’d say about a teammate, and the way she smiled fondly while recalling mories—it felt like she was speaking of soone she had affection for.

‘Can I even ask that? No, wait, what if she only liked him as a comrade? Wouldn't that make my question rude!?’

“Is sothing the matter, Miss Gracie?”

“Ah!?”

“You look like you’re troubled by sothing again.”

“No! It’s just… sothing that suddenly crossed my mind! I’m not worried!”

She waved her hands rapidly, trying to deflect the subject, but Presia smiled kindly and asked again.

“What kind of thought would that be?”

“Uh, well…”

At this point, Gracie figured it was too late to dodge the question.

Even if she tried, Presia would probably see right through it, so she decided to just say it.

“I-It’s really nothing, so please just laugh it off if I’m wrong! But… um… Saint Presia, did you… like my ancestor? Not just, you know, as a comrade…”

Gracie fiddled with her fingers and asked hesitantly, glancing up nervously.

Presia looked at her quietly and smiled before replying.

“Fufu, how embarrassing. Was it really that obvious?”

“..!?”

Gracie was stunned by how Presia responded with such a gentle smile instead of hiding it.

‘So it’s true!? Saint Presia liked—my ancestor!? He was that popular!?’

For so reason, Gracie’s self-esteem went up.

Just because her ancestor was amazing didn’t an she was—but they shared blood, so maybe she had a chance to be popular too?

It was a tiny hope that had been planted.

“At the ti, I didn’t understand my own feelings. I simply thought that smiling every ti I saw Ventus was just because I liked him as a comrade.”

Presia placed her hand over her chest.

“After we defeated the calamity and returned to the tower and the holy city, we exchanged letters… Thinking back now, I realized I really looked forward to receiving his letters. Most of the content was about the magic he was developing, but we kept in touch regularly.”

Even though they exchanged letters, most of the content was about his research.

But Presia had found joy just in the act of writing and receiving letters from Ventus.

If a typical woman had seen those letters, she might have frowned at how he talked only about work.

“I see…”

‘I wonder what kind of magic he was developing?’

Gracie, being a magician, was more curious about the letter’s content than any romantic emotions.

“Yes. I still have all of his letters stored in a drawer. Would you like to read them later?”

“…! Yes!”

Letters detailing the magic that Ventus, the Sage of Magic, once developed—any magician would practically drool to get their hands on them.

Seeing Gracie’s sparkling eyes, Presia was reminded of the Ventus Frail who used to speak passionately about magic.

They had different genders, different faces—but maybe because they shared the sa bloodline, they overlapped in her mind.

Longing and tenderness.

And regrets from the past swirled in Presia’s heart.

“Miss Gracie, what’s the thing you regret most in your life?”

“Huh? Uh… I guess… I regret not being able to do anything when the lich appeared. The paladin tried to protect , and he faced the lich so bravely, but I… I just trembled behind the paladin…”

“I see. But the fact that you didn’t give up and ca all the way to the Holy City ans you still have a chance to make things right. Unlike .”

“Saintess Presia… do you have a regret you couldn’t fix?”

“Yes. I realized it on the day of Ventus’s funeral.”

“On the day of my ancestor’s funeral…”

Presia began to speak, recalling that day.

“It was such sudden and unbelievable news that ca through a bulletin. It said Ventus had died in a magical accident. I couldn’t believe it. It didn’t make sense. That Ventus—of all people—dying to a magic accident? Impossible.”

He was the Sage of Magic.

Even in the most intense battle situations, he could unfold the most complex magic in an instant and save his comrades’ lives over and over again.

That was the Ventus Frail Presia knew.

“But… when I went to the magic tower and attended his funeral, only then did it finally hit that he was really gone.”

Staring at a coffin that held no body, Presia wept.

‘Ah… Ventus really is dead.’

That thought finally made her cry—and with it ca a searing pain.

A pain that struck her chest, her heart, her soul.

She would never see his face again.

Never hear his voice again.

Never speak to him again.

That pain made her realize sothing she had never understood before.

‘Ah… I loved Ventus…’

“It was such a… painfully late realization. Fufu, I’ve listened to so many people’s regrets and worries over the years… and yet I didn’t even know my own heart. Isn’t that funny?”

“N-No, it’s not… It’s not funny at all. Sniff”

Even though Presia spoke in a soft voice.

No—because she spoke so gently—Gracie was moved to tears.

No matter how late, even if there had been a chance for their love to co true…

Gracie found it incredibly sad that the love between Saintess Presia and Ventus Frail ended in tragedy because of a magical accident.

“Oh dear, I’m sorry. I didn’t an to make you cry because of .”

“No! I’m really… sniffle… grateful you told .”

“No, thank you, Gracie, for listening to this old woman. Actually, there was sothing else I ant to talk to you about, but I ended up going off on a tangent.”

Presia handed Gracie a handkerchief and got to the real reason she had called her.

“Miss Gracie, do you still rember the lich clearly?”

“Yes. I haven’t forgotten a single detail from that day.”

“In that case, would you tell everything? Exactly how it all happened. What you saw and heard.”

In the five days before she summoned Gracie to her room,

Presia had been wrestling with uncertainty.

She’d stared again and again at the sketch of the lich Gracie had drawn.

Could that lich really be Ventus Frail?

Or was it truly just a coincidence?

But when Ventus died, they said not even a trace of his body remained from the magical accident.

If he didn’t die in the accident but instead beca a lich—

Why would he have beco one?

What caused it?

Why didn’t he co to see after becoming a lich?

Countless questions and thoughts tangled in her mind.

And after much contemplation, Presia made a decision.

She still didn’t have enough information.

She needed even the smallest clue to be sure.

First, she had to confirm whether that lich was truly Ventus Frail.

That’s why Presia had called Gracie into her room.

Presia then asked Gracie to tell her everything about what happened that day.

She especially focused on the lich’s behavior and asked the sa questions multiple tis, trying to determine if the lich acted in ways similar to Ventus Frail.

After hearing everything, Presia bowed her head in thanks to Gracie.

“Thank you for telling , Miss Gracie. I must have asked too many questions, didn’t I?”

“Not at all! You’re just trying to understand the lich better!”

Presia wanted to reflect on everything Gracie had told her today.

“Thank you for understanding. Would it be okay if I showed you the letters another ti? I’d like to sort out my thoughts about the lich first.”

“Of course! No problem at all! Then, if you’ll excuse !”

After Gracie left, Presia opened the drawer where she kept the letters.

‘I still can’t be certain that the lich’s actions confirm he’s Ventus. But… if it was him, I can imagine him saying those things.’

Presia opened the last letter Ventus Frail had sent.

It contained details about a warp spell.

“Ventus, did you really die in a magical accident and disappear from this world? Or… are you still sowhere out there?”

Saint Presia’s worries only grew deeper.

***

The sli, following the direction Claire had pointed, finally made it out of the forest.

And as soon as they exited, Claire, who had been riding on the sli’s soft surface, said:

“We’re good now. I’ll get off.”

'Okay!'

At her words, the sli imdiately stopped and lowered the soft surface to make it easier for Claire to dismount.

Having seen how well the sli understood speech several tis already, Claire wasn’t surprised and stepped down.

During their entire journey through the forest, Claire hadn’t had to lift a finger.

Well, to be exact, she didn’t even get the chance to lift a finger—because the sli dealt with any monsters before she could, then picked her up and kept moving.

‘With a sli this smart… could it possibly…?’

Claire looked down at the sli and asked, “Do you know an elf nad Marin?”

‘Marin? Nope!’

The sli tilted its body, then twisted side to side as if shaking its head like a person.

[Squishy Queen] ▶ You ungrateful brat! My kin helped you escape safely, and instead of thanking them properly, you’re asking questions? How shaless!

▶ Already out of the woods, so who cares?

▶ LOL, who asked for help anyway? LOL.

[Just Slam First] ▶ What the? You're already out?

Even though the sli denied it once, Claire didn’t think that ant there was no connection between Nellin and the sli.

After all, Claire herself didn’t always rember people’s nas when she t them!

Back in the days when she only cared about hunting monsters, she barely paid attention to others and would just call them “you” or “hey.”

These days, she usually rembered the nas of people she’d t several tis, but with adventurers she’d only tead up with by chance, she often forgot their nas.

‘It’s possible it just doesn’t know the na.’

So Claire began describing Marin’s features.

“Are you sure you don’t know Marin? She’s an elf. Has light green hair. Blue eyes. And she ties her hair like this.”

Claire gathered her own shoulder-length hair into a ponytail with both hands.

“And she’s super strong. She’s looking for a smart sli like you. Her na’s Marin.”

She emphasized the na again and asked.

But—

‘Marin? Don’t know!’

Even if it knew the na Nellin, this sli didn’t know any elf nad Marin, so it twisted its body side to side again.

“So you don’t know. Must’ve been a different sli.”

‘Yeah, I guess I’m not the sli Marin is looking for.’

As Claire looked disappointed—

A lich, who had been watching the whole ti, thought to himself, amused.

‘A strong elf looking for a smart sli, and her na is Marin… Don’t tell … Nellin left the Blue Elven Forest?’

While Claire and the sli were missing the connection, only the lich figured out the truth.