Next, Eleanor and Hilda discussed things for a few more minutes.
Regarding the types of dication.
Regarding the upper limits of dosages.
Regarding possible complications.
The answers received for every question were similar.
"The effect is limited."
"It cannot be cured at the root."
"It can only provide a little relief."
Eleanor finished listening to the final proposal.
She fell into complete silence.
Then, she took a deep breath.
"Thank you for your hard work, Aunt Hilda."
She said.
Her voice was very calm.
"From here on, I will handle it myself."
Hilda's hand stopped on the dicine chest.
She looked up.
Her eyes behind the gold-rimd glasses widened slightly.
"You'll handle it?"
"Do you an..."
She looked at Eleanor.
Then she realized.
Hilda's expression changed.
From professional composure, it turned into a look bordering on shock.
"Eleanor."
Her voice dropped low.
"You're going to use *that* thing?"
"You should know the price of using that thing, right?"
"I know, I've already thought it through."
Eleanor said.
"Have you really thought it through?"
Hilda's voice grew urgent.
"If anyone else finds out, you could be..."
"Aunt Hilda."
Eleanor interrupted her.
"I said, I'll handle it from here on."
She repeated it.
Her tone wasn't particularly harsh.
But there was no room for negotiation in it.
Hilda was choked up.
She opened her mouth.
Then closed it again.
She looked into Eleanor's eyes.
Ice blue.
Calm.
The kind of calm that cos when all decisions have already been made.
Hilda had known Eleanor for many years.
Ever since she was a Little girl chasing butterflies in the manor.
She knew this expression all too well.
When this expression appeared, saying anything was useless.
She sighed.
"...Fine."
She began to pack the dicine chest.
Putting the dicine bottles, syringes, and gauze scattered on the nightstand back one by one.
Her movents were very slow.
As if she were trying to buy herself ti to say a few more words.
"If you really must use it."
Hilda snapped the clasp of the dicine chest shut.
Her voice was very light.
"You'd better hide for the next few days."
"Don't see any outsiders."
"Especially people from the military."
She straightened up and looked at Eleanor.
"If rumors appear that you've been tainted by Return Power..."
She didn't finish the sentence.
But the aning was already clear.
Whether in the Victorian Empire or the Usar Union.
Military commanders must not co into contact with Return Power.
This was a consensus.
Though it wasn't a law written on paper.
It was more binding than any law.
The reason was simple.
No matter which type of Return Power it was, it would cause erosion to the user.
erosion would change a person's way of thinking.
It would amplify certain emotions.
It would distort certain judgnts.
For a military commander who needs absolute calm and reason, and carries the lives of countless comrades on their shoulders.
This was a fatal flaw.
A commander eroded by the Path of the Tower might make insane decisions in pursuit of destruction.
A commander eroded by the Path of the Chariot might do whatever it takes for victory, regardless of the cost.
Therefore.
If rumors spread that Eleanor von Schwartz, the Empire's "Blood Rose," Lieutenant Colonel of the Army, and Envoy of the General Staff Departnt, had once used a Return Relic.
Those political rivals, those who were already looking for dirt on her.
They would swarm like sharks slling blood.
Eleanor waved her hand.
"I understand."
She said.
Hilda glanced at her once more.
In the end, she said nothing more.
Carrying the dicine chest, she walked toward the door.
When her fingers touched the doorknob, she paused.
She didn't look back.
"...Be careful."
She said.
Then she pulled open the door and walked out.
The door closed softly behind her.
The room fell silent.
Only Pavela's intermittent whimpers remained.
Along with the rustling of the night wind blowing through the leaves outside the window.
Eleanor stood where she was.
Looking at Pavela on the bed.
Watching her body twist incessantly.
Watching her unfocused eyes.
Watching her silver hair that was growing longer and being stained by dark red.
She watched for a long ti.
Then, she turned.
She walked toward a low table in the corner of the room.
A box sat on the table.
It wasn't large.
Roughly thirty centiters long, twenty centiters wide, and ten centiters high.
A dark brown hardwood shell.
The corners were wrapped in brass.
The surface had no decoration.
No inscriptions, no coat of arms.
Only a simple clasp.
She had brought this box with her before setting out.
The mont she opened the cha's cockpit and saw Pavela rolling on the floor.
She knew this wasn't an ordinary injury or illness.
It wasn't necessarily a problem that doctors and dicine could solve.
It was likely a problem of the return.
So, she had prepared for this from the beginning.
Eleanor's fingers rested on the clasp.
She paused for a second.
Then, she opened the box.
The box's lining was deep red velvet.
On that piece of soft velvet.
A pair of rings lay quietly.
Two silver rings.
Entangled with each other.
Like two snakes entwined.
Or like two vines clinging to each other.
Extrely fine patterns were engraved on their surfaces.
Those patterns flowed slightly under the candlelight.
Emitting a faint, almost transparent pink halo.
This was a Return Relic.
So-called Return Relics refer to special items that have been soaked in Return Power for a long ti, or were deliberately crafted using special ans by high-sequence Wayfarers.
They seal a wisp of power from a certain Path.
Anyone, even if they aren't a Wayfarer, can temporarily borrow a certain ability of that Path as long as they use the relic.
But the price is that the user will suffer the erosion of the corresponding Path; their thoughts, emotions, and judgnt will all be affected by that Path.
For non-Wayfarers.
That erosion might be temporary, or it might be permanent.
And this pair of rings was a Path of the Lover, Level IV relic nad "Pact of Symbiosis."
It had only one function.
An extrely simple function.
To establish a temporary, extrely unstable link between two souls.
And then.
Share the pain equally.
The suffering endured by one person becos shared by two, each bearing half.
That was all.
It couldn't heal.
It couldn't eliminate.
It just split a weight that one person couldn't carry between two.
Moreover, the more powerful the shared pain, the more severe the resulting erosion.
Eleanor reached out.
She took the entangled rings from the velvet lining.
The two rings separated at her fingertips.
Like two snakes being forcibly pulled apart.
The mont they separated, the pink halo on their surfaces suddenly brightened for an instant.
Then it dimd again.
Like they were breathing.
She first picked up one of them.
She took a look.
Then she slipped it onto the middle finger of her left hand.
The mont the ring touched her skin.
A warm sensation spread from the base of her finger.
Across her finger.
Crawling onto the back of her hand.
Along her arm.
All the way up.
As if soone had injected a wisp of warm water into her veins.
Then ca the erosion.
The erosion of the Path of the Lover.
It ca very lightly.
Very softly.
Like soone whispering in her ear.
Not any specific words.
Just a feeling.
A strong, almost irresistible urge to be close to soone.
Wanting to touch.
Wanting to embrace.
Wanting to confirm the other person's existence.
Wanting to hide them away, in a place only she knew.
Never letting anyone else touch them.
Eleanor closed her eyes.
She took a deep breath.
She suppressed those surging emotions.
She opened her eyes.
She walked to the bedside.
Pavela was still struggling.
The silver hair stained with dark red had already spread to her shoulder blades.
Her wrists, tied with ribbons, were covered in red marks from the constant pulling.
Vague, painful whimpers ca from behind the ball gag.
Eleanor sat down by the bed.
She reached out.
She gently held Pavela's left hand.
That hand was trembling.
The fingers were curled.
The nails were almost digging into the palm.
Eleanor pried her fingers open one by one.
Her movents were very light.
Very slow.
Like she was dismantling an extrely fragile piece of porcelain.
Pavela's fingers relaxed slightly under her touch.
Only a little bit.
But they did relax.
"Don't be afraid, Little Pa."
Eleanor slowly slipped the second ring onto the middle finger of Pavela's left hand.
The mont the ring touched the skin.
Both rings lit up simultaneously.
A pink halo spread from both of their fingers.
"No matter what kind of hell it is, sister will walk through it with you."
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