Chapter Fifty-Two: Underground Romance

Lilith heard more than a dip in Sakunae Mashiro’s tone; it sank like dusk sliding down a mountain.

The fox lady’s brows drooped like wet willow leaves, and her eyes drifted like mist over a dark pond.

Little White Dragon’s curiosity rose like a cat’s ear, but Lilith couldn’t find an opening; her fingers tangled like shy vines.

“Miss Lilith wants to know me?” Sakunae Mashiro caught the curiosity like a breeze catching a wind chime. The kind fox pointed at herself. “My love life?”

“Uh, if it’s not offensive,” the Little White Dragon blurted, cheeks blooming like cherry petals, small hands flying to her face like startled birds.

“It’s fine, though it isn’t a happy memory.” Sakunae Mashiro shook her head, eyes soft as old pages, scenting the past like warm incense.

“In my hometown, girls in love speak by letters, like sending little boats of ink across a night river.”

“Over time, letters and romance braided together like red threads; countless people met their hearts on paper, two strangers pulled close by a single sheet.”

“I found my luck inside an envelope, like finding a lantern in fog.”

“She wasn’t a beastkin. She was Undead.” Her voice steadied like a stone in a stream. “Sierte sits near the Ancient Tomb Fort, where grave-cold winds pass.”

“So many there choose Undead partners; it’s not strange, like winter sharing the road with pine.”

“The girl I met by letter seemed noble, a lady of rank, maybe even a princess.” A small smile opened like dawn. “She wanted beastkin language, so she sought a pen pal.”

“I was lucky to be chosen, like a sparrow invited into a warm eave.”

“She was adorable, curious as spring rain tapping ten questions a page.”

“Sometimes she asked about beastkin words, sometimes about Sierte, like someone tracing a map with sunlight.”

“She kept perfect measure, asking without grating, like a bell rung soft at dusk.”

“I loved to answer; I wrote each reply carefully, like setting pearls in a line, then stitched them to the back of my letters.”

“Even when her questions faded, I kept the habit, and attached a blank page like fresh snow.”

“She was approachable, though her status rose like a high tower.” Her voice warmed like tea. “I’m only a small fox from Sierte.”

“I became an adventurer to live, gambling with cliffs and storms.”

“She never despised me; in her heart, we were pure pen pals, two lamps facing each other across the night.”

“No one had treated me like that.” She closed her eyes, pain rippling like cold water. “In Sierte, adventurers are low, like weeds by the road.”

“Only those poor in spellcraft, poor in study, and poor in chances walk that path.”

“I am one of those the world tossed aside, like a broken tile.”

“But she never mocked me; she admired me, envy bright as a morning star.”

“I could travel like wind over roads, while she stayed caged in the Grand Mausoleum like a night bird.”

“Miss Lilith, it was the first time anyone was so kind to me.” She smiled shyly, like a bud pressing toward sun. “I fell in love almost at once.”

“I wrote more often, like other lovestruck beastkin girls, tucking secret lines between strokes like petals pressed in a book.”

“She wasn’t beastkin, so she might have missed the hints, like rain tapping a window no one opens.”

“She was busy; her replies slowed like a stream in winter, yet each one came careful as stitched silk.”

Sakunae Mashiro’s smile thinned, a crescent clouding over the moon. “I thought we could keep exchanging letters for a long time.”

“I’d been quietly saving coins, small moons in a pouch, and I wrote her a love letter.”

“I wanted to go to the Grand Mausoleum and place it in her hands, like setting a candle on an altar.”

“But I never got the chance.” She laughed miserably, a cracked bell in an empty hall.

Little White Dragon understood like thunder behind the hills. “So you took the Adventurers’ Guild commission for the Moonswallow Mist, for her, your pen pal?”

“Yes.” Sakunae Mashiro nodded, steady as a drum. “When I heard the Moonswallow Mist leaked and the Undead royals cried for help, I set out to save her.”

“The commission helped, like wind at my back; it gave me teammates I could trust and paid my road dust.”

“I met her in the Grand Mausoleum.” Her eyes lit, fireflies rising from grass. “We’d never met, never traded faces.”

“She’d never asked about mine, yet we knew each other in a blink, like mirrors finding their twins.”

“She really was a princess.” A laugh, soft as silk. “It was my first time seeing such a beautiful little dress.”

“But she was too beautiful; any dress dimmed on her, like stars paling at dawn.”

“She was the prettiest girl I’ve seen in this life; words broke like waves and failed me.” She covered her chest, as if holding a fluttering bird.

“I caught her hand, and she followed our team, retreating like a stream seeking daylight.”

“I slipped the unsent love letter into her palm, a warm seal under a cold sky, and we believed the future would blaze bright.”

“But…” The word snagged like thorns.

“But Eternal Life arrived,” Nidhogg finished, voice like iron on stone.

Little White Dragon’s tail flicked like a willow switch and snapped against the Black Dragon, scolding him for trampling the hush.

“Yes, Eternal Life arrived.” Sakunae Mashiro nodded, eyes like ash on snow. “Everyone died—my teammates, and her.”

“Only I staggered on, a leaf spared by the fire, and then the killer who took her made me his puppet.”

“He drove me to attack other adventurers, strings tight as winter wire.”

Maybe it was self-mockery, maybe awe at fate; she smiled once, thin as frost.

“I don’t even know her name,” the fox lady said, voice soft as falling ash.