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“Miorine-san.”
“Eh?”
Miorine blinked out of her spiraling thoughts and saw her groom’s large hand waving in front of her face.
“Are you okay, Miorine-san? Are you sure it’s all right to be helping me right now?” Suletta asked, brows knit as she settled back into her seat by the center table in Miorine’s room.
Miorine waved a dismissive hand. “I’m alright, Suletta. Are you done with the mock test?”
“Yes.” Suletta handed over the tablet. “I tried my best to answer most of what I remember. Especially the manual-like parts.”
Miorine took it, scrolling through her short mock test. Or at least, she tried. She kept rereading the same sentence.
Again.
And again.
Because she could feel it.
Those teal eyes at the edge of her vision, watching quietly. Patiently. Waiting. Either for feedback… or for her to admit something was wrong.
That was the problem with Suletta. She notice.
She was attentive. Careful. Annoyingly understanding at times like this. And it squeezed Miorine’s chest in a way she hated.
It kept getting harder to ignore the tension building in her chest as the day went by, along with Suletta’s subtle, unassuming shifts toward her.
The comfort was distracting.
Miorine had thought she could manage this. That she could keep her emotions in check.
How wrong she was.
This Mercurian bumpkin had walked into her life with genuine warmth and kindness, and suddenly Miorine found herself wanting something she had no right to keep.
Suletta didn’t belong in the kind of world Miorine’s family had built. Full of adult hypocrisy, calculated cruelty, and cold facades.
And now Miorine was already moving pieces Suletta didn’t know existed.
Teaming with Guel. Planning to take back a title that, for once, felt like it belonged to Suletta.
“Miorine-san?”
“It’s perfect. You did well.”
Suletta’s proud little smile lasted only three seconds before the worry returned.
Miorine turned her chair away, setting the tablet down before Suletta could see her hesitation. She inhaled slowly, the way soldiers did.
Slow. Controlled.
The plan was simple: get Suletta to safety. Cut her ties with anyone who might use her. Keep her from becoming a pawn in adult games.
But how could she do it gently?
She had already asked once. Refused.
“Miorine-san.” A warm palm rested on her thigh, startling her. “Please… let me help this time?”
Before she could respond, Suletta moved behind her, gently pulling Miorine’s hands from her forehead. Then she took over.
Fingers pressing into her temples.
Miorine hated how easily she let it happen. Her body was too tired to resist.
Suletta’s hands were calloused but careful. Steady. Hands that had piloted Aerial for years. Hands that had the precision of a surgeon.
Miorine’s skin crawled. She could still see them—those same hands, smeared with red, reaching out to her with a smile that didn’t understand the horror it had just caused. Hands shaped by Prospera’s commands.
They belonged in that warm cockpit. Molded into a shape that only fits a weapon. In that family.
A family Miorine was preparing to separate her from.
Miorine bit her lip as hard as she could. She couldn’t afford to waver. Not now. Not with Suletta’s family still so close to her heart.
If she did, everything would fall apart.
“Does the upcoming duel worry you that much?” Suletta asked softly.
“Huh?”
“You’ve been spacing out since it was officiated…”
Miorine held her breath. Suletta noticed.
“Please, have faith in me. I will win for you, Miorine-san. I promise.” Her hands moved down to Miorine’s shoulders, pressing gently.
Miorine reacted quickly. Mask on. She reached up, touching Suletta’s hands.
“Silly, Suletta. I wouldn’t have let you stake Aerial if I didn’t trust you.”
Suletta laughed, relieved, but didn’t move away. When she glanced down, Miorine’s brows were still drawn tight.
“You should take medicine,” she suggested.
Miorine stiffened. Was the dull throb behind her eyes that obvious?
“Why? Your massage isn’t working?”
“N-no! That’s not…”
“It’s fine. Just a little rest will work.”
Suletta didn’t seem convinced. Her thumbs lingered, pressing as if trying to force the knots under Miorine’s skin to surrender.
“…You’re still frowning,” she murmured.
Of course she was.
As if a massage could fix this. As if anything could.
“Oh!”
Miorine blinked her eyes open as Suletta straightened.
“C-can I do something else?”
“Hm?”
“It’s… a chant. I use it when I get bruises. I thought maybe it might help without medicine.”
Miorine raised a brow, tired but humoring her.
“A chant?”
Suletta nodded, already stepping around the chair.
“It’s something my mom used to do.”
Miorine didn’t move. She couldn’t. For a second, the phantom weight of Prospera’s hand—cold, mechanical, and calculating—seemed to replace Suletta’s warm ones. It was a reminder of why she was doing this. Why she had to do this.
“…Fine,” she muttered, closing her eyes against the image of that helmeted face. “Do what you want.”
Suletta hesitated only a second before gently lifting her chin. Warm lips pressed against her forehead.
Soft. Careful. The simplicity of it made her chest ache. For a split second, the world went quiet. The plans, the duels, and the cruelty all muffled by the heat of Suletta’s skin. The spot where they touched felt like it was smoldering, a brand Miorine had no right to wear.
Then Suletta pulled back, and the cold air rushed in to fill the gap, making Miorine’s skin crawl with the sudden absence.
“H–huh?!”
Miorine’s brain stalled. The ‘soldier’s rhythm’ she’d been practicing shattered into static. She gripped the armrests of her chair until her knuckles turned white, her face heating up with a speed that felt dangerous.
“S-sorry! That part comes first!” Suletta stammered, her own face turning a bright, frantic red as she scrambled to adjust her stance.
“What part?!” Miorine hissed. She felt exposed, like the kiss had peeled back her mask and left her raw. “Since when does a ‘chant’ involve—that?!”
“M-Mom said that’s how the magic starts! She said a mother’s breath—or, or someone who cares about you—has to seal the wound so the bad feelings can’t get back in!”
Suletta looked at her with wide, watery eyes, completely unaware of how much that 'someone who cares about you' line was currently gutting Miorine.
“I just… I wanted your headache to leave. I’m sorry if I did the ritual wrong!”
Miorine’s retort died in her throat.
She looked at Suletta—really looked at her—and saw nothing but that terrifying, sincere devotion. There was no calculated cruelty here. No adult hypocrisy. Just a girl from Mercury who thought a kiss could seal a wound.
Someone who cares about you.
Miorine felt like she was suffocating under the weight of that care. She wanted to yell at her. She wanted to tell her to stop being so gullible, to stop trusting everyone, to stop leaning in.
Instead, Miorine’s shoulders slumped. The fire in her face didn’t fade, but the fight left her body. She couldn’t push her away, not yet. She could allow this much.
“…Just finish it,” Miorine muttered, her voice barely a thread as she looked away, unable to meet those wide, glassy eyes.
Flustered, Suletta placed her hands back on Miorine’s temples. Her thumbs smoothed the crease between her brows.
And quietly, she said, “Pain, pain, go away.”
Childish. Simple. So small against the storm in Miorine’s chest.
“Mom says it always works,” Suletta added shyly. “Her magic is amazing.”
Suletta said it with such ease, such fondness, as if Miorine wasn’t preparing to tear her away from that very person.
Her breath caught.
Suletta looked peaceful whenever she spoke of her family.
It’s unsettling.
“…Did it help?” Suletta asked, searching her face.
Miorine couldn’t answer. Because for a moment… it almost did.
Ridiculous.
As if on cue, Suletta’s notebook chimed from the table.
Suletta went to grab it, and the small movement gave Miorine a moment to breathe. She finally let out the breath she’d been holding. Her lungs burned as if she’d actually been suffocating.
“Chuchu-senpai?”
“Suletta!” Chuchu’s voice exploded through the speaker, loud enough that Miorine could hear it from across the room. “The monitors are doing the final sweep. You plan on sleeping in a hallway or what?”
Suletta flinched, her hand still hovering her notebook. She looked at the time, then back at Miorine. The warmth from the chant still clung to her, making her movements slow and hesitant.
“Ah… I-I’m still at Miorine-san’s,” Suletta stammered.
A scoff echoed through the device. “Figures. Look, I’m not trekkin’ all the way over there to drag you back. If you’re staying at that Princess’s place, just say so and stop wasting my time.”
Suletta didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she turned those wide, doe eyes toward Miorine.
It was that look again. The one that made Miorine feel like she was under a microscope. It wasn’t a demand. It was a question wrapped in absolute, terrifying faith.
Miorine frowned.
“What?”
Suletta startled slightly, as if she hadn’t expected to be caught staring.
“Ah—um…!”
She rubbed the back of her neck, glancing toward the door, then back at Miorine again. Miorine already knew what the question would be. Chuchu’s voice had carried clearly through the quiet room.
“Chuchu-senpai said the monitors are doing the last sweep, so… uh…” Her voice shrank a little.
“Would it be okay if I… stay here tonight?”
Miorine sighed and pushed herself up from the chair, grabbing her notebook from the desk as she moved.
“You’re already here,” she muttered, stepping out the door. “Better to stay than be caught.”
Suletta blinked. Then her face lit up. She lifted her notebook again.
“Chuchu-senpai? I’m staying here tonight!”
Miorine didn’t turn back. She was already halfway down the stairs, notebook gripped tightly.
Chuchu’s voice burst faintly through the speaker, agreeing and hurrying to put the call down.
By then Miorine had reached the bathroom door. Suletta’s voice still drifted faintly down the hallway behind her. Miorine slid the door shut.
For a moment there was only the sound of running water. She leaned over the sink, staring at her reflection. Her forehead still felt warm where Suletta’s lips had been. A ghost of a kiss that felt less like a blessing and more like a countdown.
Then—
Ping.
Her notebook screen lit up on the counter.
The app is complete.
Attachment ready for installation.
Miorine stared at the message.
.
Miorine tucked herself under the blanket, opening her notebook for her last objective before slumbering.
Tap.
Install.
The screen flickered. A tinny, synthesized melody began to play. A birthday song. Gloomy. Off-key.
Miorine stared. Right. It was her birthday.
She’d forgotten. Since her mother died, the day was just another deadline on a calendar. But looking at the progress bar, she realized this was the only birthday gift she had left to give.
Freedom. Suletta’s life, bought with Suletta’s heart.
The door opened. Suletta stepped in, freshly showered, smelling of cheap soap and earnestness.
“Miorine-san? Was that… music?”
Miorine didn’t flinch. The synthetic gloom of the melody still hung in the air.
“It’s a charm,” she said, voice flat, dead. “For Aerial. A synchronization patch to make sure tomorrow goes exactly as planned.”
Suletta’s eyes lit up. “A charm? For me?”
“For the win,” Miorine corrected. She couldn’t look at her. “It’ll play when you finish the duel. Now go to sleep.”
Suletta didn’t ask for details. She just beamed, installing the attachment Miorine had sent her.
Her grin cut into Miorine sharper than any duel.
.
The Jeturk hangar lacked the messy, crowded warmth of the Earth House.
It smelled of ozone, burnt oil, and the rowdy, echoing cheers of a House that had finally reclaimed its pride.
Miorine stood buried in the shadow of a towering, dismantled Darilbalde. The darkness there was thick, but not thick enough to drown out the celebration. Every cheer from the Jeturk house felt like a lash against her back.
Her fingers were twisted into the front of her suit so tightly. Her chest wouldn’t budge.
Breathe.
In. Out.
It didn’t work.
Her throat felt fused shut. Every attempt to pull air into her lungs snagged on something sharp and invisible.
She wasn’t crying. She couldn’t afford the moisture in her eyes. But the pressure building behind her ribs was becoming unbearable.
“Pain…”
The word barely made it past her lips. And with them came the voice she was trying not to hear.
“…Pain… go away."
Miorine…san..?
Her eyes squeezed shut as her fingers dug into her sternum. The chant felt like a curse now. A brand burned into the back of her mind. It was the last thing that girl had given her.
And now Miorine was using it like a tourniquet to stop herself from bleeding out.
“…pain..”
The words slipped out again.
You’re lying…
That’s not true!
The memory was too clear.
Suletta’s confusion. Her voice cracking over the comms.
Wait— Guel-san!
Please, I won’t lose this time!
Miorine’s fingers dug harder into her suit.
“Miorine.”
Guel’s voice was low, stripped of the triumph echoing through the hangar. He sounded like a man who had won a kingdom only to find it built on ash.
He stepped closer, hand lifting instinctively toward her shoulder.
Miorine’s arm snapped up.
It wasn’t a push. It was a barrier. A flat, trembling palm that cut through the air between them. Guel stopped instantly, his breath hitching in his own throat. He knew that look. It was the look of a person holding a grenade with the pin pulled out.
Miorine swallowed. The sound was loud in the quiet corner of the hangar. She forced her lungs to take one shaky breath.
“I’m fine,” she said.
The words came out thin and sharp, like a blade being drawn too quickly. She lowered her hand but didn’t look at him. Her eyes stayed fixed on the oil-stained floor.
“Focus on tomorrow,” she said quietly. “Get Aerial and move her here tonight. I want her out of Earth House before they start asking questions.”
Guel opened his mouth—
“I’ll handle the paperwork,” she cut in.
The tremor in her breathing vanished behind a sudden wall of ice. “Do your job, Guel.”
She walked past him before he could answer, her stride stiff and perfectly controlled.
She didn’t look at the broken Darilbalde.
She didn’t look at the man who had helped her carry this out.
She just kept repeating the words in the quiet of her own mind.
Pain, pain, go away.
But the magic was broken. The bad feelings were already in.