Rogue set down his quill, paused briefly, then closed his parchment notebook. He looked at Moy. "I'm done questioning. Now, tell me what you want to chat about."
Moy glanced around, then winked cutely at him. "Since we're chatting as friends, could the setting be a bit nicer? Like letting me have a drink and a bite to eat?"
"As a prisoner, don't you think you're asking too much?" Rogue retorted with a sigh, but his hands moved swiftly.
Muttering an incantation, he summoned a gentle breeze that swirled around Moy. It brushed over her, rustling her clothes. Her wounds visibly healed, and her mental fatigue lifted—as if washed clean.
After a while, the magic faded. Minor injuries healed; serious ones were suppressed. Rogue pulled a waterskin and a piece of bread from his spatial pouch. He walked over and placed them before Moy.
Moy gave a sweet smile. "You're still so gentle. Thanks."
Rogue walked aside and sat cross-legged on the straw. "Mutual benefit, that's all."
"Could I have some of your homemade jam? Plain bread isn't tasty."
"...
Rogue placed a small jar of jam beside her. It was meant for Lilitha originally.
Once Moy took a couple of sips, Rogue couldn't hold back. "How much do you really know about me? I can tell you're familiar with me. What was our past relationship? What happened three years ago? And in the Hero Squad, what was my role?"
A barrage of questions poured out. Even the usually calm Rogue felt his heart stir.
Moy was too familiar with him. His past and origins were within reach—he couldn't suppress his racing pulse.
After eating two jam-dipped bread pieces and another sip, Moy's eyes turned helpless. "I can't tell you about three years ago."
"Are you messing with me?" Rogue frowned deeply.
But Moy calmly uttered two words: "A curse."
"Lady Aria cursed me. If I speak of that time, I'll die."
Her words cooled Rogue's agitation.
He didn't doubt her. He was now certain Lady Aria hid things from him. As a former Hero Squad member, Moy knew much. Sending her here contradicted the original plan—countermeasures must exist.
Moy's expression suddenly turned serious. "Rogue, I know you doubt me. But I hope you'll trust me. This may not convince you, but prepare healing magic next."
"Healing magic?" Rogue wondered what trick she pulled.
Moy took a deep breath. Her body trembled slightly, then her eyes hardened. "Rogue, your true identity three years ago—"
Before she finished, her pupils blurred. Pain twisted her face. Rogue instinctively rushed over, catching her. He pressed a hand to her chest—a verdant green light glowed from his palm.
"Her insides are rotting! Such a powerful curse!" Rogue gasped. Instinctively, he pressed harder. The light turned eerie and terrifying.
Wounds healed; flesh remolded—as if time reversed. Moy's life force returned.
"Pfft!"
Spewing black blood, Moy grabbed Rogue's wrist. She forced a strained, fierce smile. "Believe me now?"
Rogue's healing magic continued. Inside, he was far from calm.
Using her life as collateral to gain my trust?
What made her sure I'd save her? Or that I could?
And that magic just now...
Rogue stared at the black light from his palm. This wasn't elf magic—it resembled necromancy. He was certain he didn't know such spells.
Was this eerie magic in my lost memories too?
His earlier move was pure instinct. His body refused to let this girl die.
Perhaps I can try trusting her.
Moy lowered her head, blushing faintly. She teased weakly, "If you like, you can massage it. At your skill level, it won't disrupt your casting."
Rogue glanced at his hand—pressed right over her chest.
His expression stayed flat. "Not interested. But I need an explanation for what happened."
"I need your trust. And... I want you to escape the Demon Lord Fortress. Return to the surface." Moy dropped the jokes, her tone earnest.
"Reason?"
Moy gave no answer. Not even a hint.
Unspeakable—it must tie to three years ago.
So I was in the Hero Squad. Her meaning: escape, join a new squad, and fight Lady Aria again?
If she can't speak directly, what if I ask and she hints?
Rogue met Moy's gaze. "Impossible. If you ask about that, even a nod or blink—with the thought alone—the curse restricts me."
"Then I can ask about things unrelated to three years ago?"
"Mm. I'll answer what I know."
Rogue stroked his chin. "My swordsmanship—where did it come from?"
Moy didn't react. Or dared not to. It linked to three years ago too.
Rogue pressed on. "How did we meet?"
Still no reaction.
"After we met, you must have investigated me. What was I like, unrelated to that incident?"
This time, Moy tapped her chin, recalling. "I didn't investigate. My family did. They told me three words."
"What?"
"Outsider."
A meaningless term. So much he sought remained unanswered. Lady Aria had anticipated his contact with Moy—no gap to exploit.
Checking the time, Rogue knew he'd stayed too long. Surveillance watched outside; Moy's identity was sensitive. Time to leave.
He stood. "Since you know I have amnesia and recognize me—is there a way to restore my memories?"
"This." Moy pointed to his pocket—Lilitha's pendant lay inside.
Start with Lilitha?
Or did the pendant hold other secrets?
Rogue wanted to ask more, but Moy's strained expression said enough. Lady Aria's curse blocked this topic entirely.
Rogue exhaled slowly, rising. "I'll return in a few days."
Leaving a blanket behind, he departed. He couldn't linger with watchers outside.
Once Rogue fully left the warehouse, Moy clutched her chest. She vomited filth and black blood, gasping hard, face contorted in agony.
"Your healing's deadlier than the curse... but I achieved my goal..." Moy forced a manic grin, then clamped a hand over her mouth.
"Cough! Cough! Cough!"
"Urgh!"
"Ha..." She opened her palm—a living eyeball rolled out. Inside her, flesh writhed while sustaining life—a sensation like ten thousand ants devouring her.
"Blockhead... Even knowing this love has no future, I still like you. I'll help you escape!"
She crushed the eyeball. Wrapping the blanket tight, she curled into the cell's corner.
