Chapter 44: The Signs.
The living room was bathed in the faint orange of the setting sun, light spilling through the curtains and pooling across the wooden floor. Dust drifted lazily in the glow, each mote moving like it had nowhere else to be.
Belle and I sat together on the sofa, our shoulders barely touching. Neither of us spoke. We didn’t need to. The air between us felt heavy, filled with all the things that didn’t need to be said.
Sacha was curled up across our laps, fast asleep, her small chest rising and falling with steady rhythm. Every now and then her tail flicked, and a soft rumble escaped her throat — a tiny, contented purr that made the corners of my mouth lift just a little.
It was strange, sitting there. For the first time in months, there was no training, no pain, no exhaustion pressing down on me. Just warmth. Just... this.
Then Belle’s voice broke the quiet.
"You know," she began softly, her tone lighter than usual but trembling beneath the surface, "these past six months have been... different."
I turned my head slightly. Her posture was the same as always straight, composed but something in her voice made my chest tighten.
"I never thought I’d say this," she continued, her hands folding neatly in her lap, "but training you... living here with you... it’s been a blessing for me."
I didn’t interrupt. The words seemed to cost her something, and I didn’t want to take that away.
"I haven’t had this much fun since I was born," she said, and the faintest, saddest smile tugged at her lips. "You’re loud, arrogant, reckless... and sometimes so frustrating I want to throw you through a wall."
That got a short, quiet laugh out of me.
"But," she went on, her voice dipping lower, "you also made the days feel lighter. I didn’t realize how empty the quiet had been until you filled it with your noise."
When she stopped talking, I noticed her hand trembling slightly in her lap. Then something else, the glimmer of wetness just under her blindfold.
"Belle..." I whispered, but she didn’t answer.
A single tear slipped free, trailing slowly down her cheek.
Before I could think, I moved. My hand brushed gently against her face, fingers finding the edge of her blindfold. She didn’t stop me.
I hesitated for half a second, then lifted it away.
Her eyes beneath were still and unblinking, pale pink near the bottom, blending into soft violet at the top. They were stunning, but empty. Not with emotion, but with absence. Dull, unfocused, like glass catching light without understanding it.
My thumb brushed across her cheek, wiping the tear away before it fell. Her skin was warm, and beneath that warmth, she was trembling.
She didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just sat there, breathing softly, her head tilted faintly toward my hand as though she could sense where I was.
I carefully slipped the blindfold back over her eyes, tying it behind her head. My fingers lingered a moment longer than they needed to, brushing lightly through a strand of her hair before pulling away.
Her lips parted just slightly, maybe to say something, maybe just to breathe.
I looked at her then, really looked at her. The woman who’d beaten me bloody more times than I could count, who’d mocked and scolded and pushed me past every limit I thought I had. The woman who’d been my teacher, my tormentor, and, somehow, the closest thing I had to... family, even closer than my actual sister.
I reached out before my thoughts could catch up with me.My hands brushed against her cheeks, warm beneath my palms, and I gently tilted her face toward mine.
She didn’t resist. Her gemlike eyes faced me now, unfocused yet searching, as if some part of her could feel my gaze on her skin.
"Belle," I said quietly. "Listen to me."
Her breathing slowed. I could feel the faint tremor in her jaw beneath my thumb.
"I’m not going anywhere," I continued, voice steadier than I felt. "Even after I get into the academy, I’m still living here. On this floor. With you."
A flicker crossed her face surprise, disbelief, maybe even fear.
"Sebastian..." she started, her voice small, uncertain.
I cut her off with a crooked grin. "Think about it. If I’m gone, who’s going to make you breakfast? You’ll end up trying to cook again, and we both know how that went."
Her lips parted, and a faint sound escaped her, something between a scoff and a laugh.
"I can cook," she said weakly.
"Oh really?" I leaned closer, eyebrows raised. "Because last time, you somehow managed to make eggs crunchy. Eggs, Belle. That should be physically impossible."
That earned me a proper laugh quiet, breathy, and real. The kind that made my chest ache a little.
I smiled. "And if I’m not here, who’s going to find the remote you ’lost’ while you were literally holding it in your hand?"
Her shoulders trembled. "That was one time."
"It was four," I corrected, grinning wider now. "You even blamed the sofa once."
Belle’s mouth twitched, and she shook her head slightly.
"Face it," I said, my voice softening. "You’d be lost without me."
The air between us stilled. Her smile faltered, replaced by something quieter, something that carried more weight than words could handle.
"Sebastian..." she tried again, but her voice cracked halfway through.
"I’m not dying," I said quickly, forcing a laugh that didn’t quite sound right. "You make it sound like I’m heading to war, not some stupid entrance exam."
Her silence was answer enough.
Because we both knew what she was really afraid of. It wasn’t the exam. It wasn’t losing a student. It was losing someone close to her.
I’d seen the signs for months in the way she flinched when I raised my voice, in the way her hand froze midair when I once grabbed her wrist too suddenly. The way she sometimes started shaking in her sleep.
The way she often stared into nothing for hours after our spars, her expression hollow.
She never told me what happened. She didn’t have to. I’d already pieced it together.
A childhood ripped apart, a life built on betrayal and silence and pain.
Belle Ardent, the Reaper of Humanity, the Empire’s prodigy, the unstoppable swordmaster, and yet, beneath all that is a woman who’d never been allowed to live.
I let my thumbs rest just beneath her eyes, feeling the faintest tremor there. "You’ve had enough people walk away from you, haven’t you?" I said quietly.
She didn’t answer. But the smallest, most fragile breath escaped her, and that was enough.
I smiled again, smaller this time, softer. "You’re stuck with me, Belle. Whether you like it or not."
Her lips trembled. For a heartbeat, she looked like she might actually break. Then she breathed out through her nose and tilted her head down slightly.
"Idiot," she whispered.
Her voice was trembling, and there was a wet shine at the corner of her blindfold where a tear had managed to escape.
I couldn’t help but smile. "Yeah," I murmured, brushing my thumb gently along her cheek again. "But I’m your idiot."
Belle gave a quiet, breathless laugh and for the first time since I’d met her, it wasn’t the sharp, mocking sound of a teacher amused by her student. It was something smaller. Softer. Human.
And in that moment, with Sacha sleeping peacefully at our feet and the sun dipping low behind the curtains, it almost felt like the world had finally stopped trying to take things away from her.