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    Chapter 3.1: The Forlorn Grandma<hr>


    An aroma of something delicious wafted through Adira’s nose. She tried reaching toward the direction of what seemed to be faint humming and the strong scent of food.


    Mumbling softly, she asked, "Mom, are you cooking?"


    "What!? What mom!? Do I look like your mother!?" came a sharp reply.


    Still half-asleep, Adira sat up carefully, shifting the cloth—no, the blanket—that covered her. Her hands and thumbs felt stiff, almost as if they were bound, while the rest of her fingers felt oddly light and unnervingly smooth, as though they had been deliberately cleaned.


    In a daze, she felt her entire body stiff. "You''re not my mother?"


    "Of course, I''m not! Why would I waste my time giving birth to someone like you!? I’m the owner of the bed you’ve been sleeping on for the past three days!"


    The voice sounded like an angry old lady.


    "Oh. Is that so? I’m sorry. I’ll move." Adira tried to stand, but her legs refused to cooperate. It felt numb, almost as if she had lost all connection to it. For a moment, she even wondered if it had been amputated, though she could still feel the faint sensation in her toes.


    As she shifted them, her feeling slowly returning, she noticed something soft yet tight, like a bandage wrapped around her left leg.


    Only then did she realize that the reason parts of her body felt bound was because she had been patched up. All the wounds that once ached were now carefully covered with bandages!


    "I don’t think I can move..." she said softly, a bit embarrassed by her situation, feeling as though she had trespassed into someone’s home and became a burden for days.


    "Of course, you can’t. Your fever these past three days can boil an egg! You’re still not well, and you try to stand up? You dare waste my precious medicine!?"


    Adira heard heavy thudding in front of her. She instinctively reached for her sword, only to feel the hard surface of the bed.


    Unease swept over her, and a sudden, frantic thought pierced the back of her mind as she tried to feel around her, <i>Where''s my sword?</i>


    Out of nowhere, a sharp sensation—a cold, slightly wet touch—brushed against her forehead.


    "See! What did I tell you!?"


    Adira’s shoulders were abruptly pushed back down, and her whole body was laid on the bed once more.


    "Sleep, you ungrateful brat! You’re still burning up. I don’t want to end up with a corpse in my house. You think I’ll dig you a grave? Ha! I don’t even have one for myself." The old woman snorted.


    Adira was bewildered. The old woman’s tone had unmistakably conveyed irritation at the presence of a stranger in her home, yet her actions told a different story altogether.


    Adira could only lie there, dumbfounded, unsure whether to feel grateful or sorry. Suddenly, a quiet unease began to gnaw at her.


    Her missing sword weighed on her thoughts, and the strange, unfamiliar surroundings made it impossible for her to form a clear image of her environment.


    She couldn’t even begin to picture where she was, perhaps it was her lack of imagination, but she couldn’t conjure even the faintest image of the place she found herself in.


    She brushed off the thought with a sigh. At least the cloth resting on her forehead helped to regulate her temperature, bringing a slight relief.


    After a while of silence, the old woman initiated a conversation, "What’s wrong with you? Caught the plague or something?"


    There was a brief pause, and then she added, "You don’t actually have it, do you?"


    It sounded like she was still cooking, judging by the smell and the clinking of utensils.


    "No," Adira replied. "Before I passed out, I was in desperate need of water, but I didn’t know where I was."


    Adira still hadn’t grown accustomed to her blindness. For reasons she couldn’t fully grasp, she lacked the courage to utter the word “<i>blind</i>“ aloud.


    In the depths of her mind, a heavy sense of denial loomed, a quiet but persistent unease that kept her from fully accepting her current reality.


    "Ah..." The old woman clicked her tongue, then shifted the conversation with a pointed glance. "That... wound on your eyes, seems fresh" she continued, her voice thick with emphasis, " Extremely fresh."


    "Yes... It is." Adira answered firmly, leaving no space for a follow-up, tilting her head slightly as she listened intently.


    She could hear the woman stirring something, the faint scrape of a spoon against a pot. But Adira’s imagination ran wild, conjuring bizarre images.


    She pictured the old woman playing with fire as she stirred a pot of… magma? No way!


    <i>Soup</i>, she corrected herself with a rueful shake of her head. Strange, or was she simply foolish?


    She wished, at the very least, that she had read more literary books—perhaps then her mind would have been sharp enough to conjure a clear image of mundane stuff.


    As a noble, access to a library had always been a privilege she was born into, an unspoken right. Yet, like any noble, she had taken it for granted, never fully appreciating the wealth of knowledge that lay within reach until it was no longer there to guide her.


    But alas, it was too late for such regrets, especially given her current situation where reading is out of question.


    "The wound on your leg?" the old woman continued, "It’s fresh, but not as fresh as it looks, right? It''s older than it seems. Want me to help you with it?"


    "What..." Adira asked nervously. "What kind of help, if I may ask?"


    BANG!


    The sudden sound of something being chopped harshly made Adira flinch, her body instinctively tensing at the sharp, jarring noise.


    Unable to see her surroundings, Adira reacted instinctively. "No! Nope!" she said quickly, her voice betraying her unease. She forced a nervous laugh. "It''s fine. I can handle it."


    "Your fingers aren’t hurting?"


    "Not really." She sheepishly maintained a smile as she replied, her voice uncertain but trying to sound confident.


    "What about those red spots on your skin?"


    "Just some rashes from the sun."


    "Tch! Keep acting like that, and you’ll end up six feet under!" The old woman suddenly exclaimed, "WHA—WHAT IN THE HEAVENS!?"


    Adira paled, sensing the panic in the old woman’s voice. Alarmed, she braced herself for potential danger, whether from fire or some unexpected attack.


    "YOU!"


    "Yes!?"


    "WHY ARE YOU BLEEDING AGAIN!?"


    "..."


    The bandage covering her eyes had become tainted with blood, its edges soaked and red.


    Adira traced her cheek with her fingers, feeling a warm liquid trickling down.


    "I''ve already cleaned you! Why did it start bleeding again? Worse than before!" The old woman’s voice grew sharper with each word. "At this rate, you’ll bleed out entirely! Look at yourself—you’re already as thin as a stick! What happens if you lose what little you have left?"


    As she spoke, the old woman wiped Adira’s cheeks with quick, practiced motions, her touch brisk but oddly tender.


    "Hmp! Anyway—" The floor creaked as the old woman rose to her feet, her voice carrying a hint of annoyance. "I accidentally cooked too much. I’ll give you some, so you’d better be thankful. Since it’s free food, you’d better eat plenty and put some flesh back on those bones!"


    Adira’s head drooped, a quiet sense of elation bubbling up in her chest. She whispered, "Thank you so much." Unbeknownst to her, a small, fragile smile curled at the corners of her lips.


    "…"


    The old woman didn’t reply, her silence settling between them.


    After a moment, Adira shifted her focus, honing in on her tactile sense.


    She realized that the clothes she was wearing were a bit tight around her torso. It seemed she had been changed into a dress, given the hollow feeling between her legs. Her hands roamed over the fabric, confirming her suspicions.


    She couldn’t help but pity the old woman. It must have been a horrifying sight—her previous clothes, soaked in blood, both from her own and other people.


    The old woman, unaware of this, likely believed that Adira’s gaunt appearance was the result of her own relentless bleeding.


    After a while, Adira heard the creaking of wood nearby, followed by the old woman’s impatient groan. It seems like some stuff is being moved?


    Then, without warning, her hand was grasped firmly, causing Adira to flinch.


    From the texture, she could tell that a wooden stick had been placed in her right hand, though she still felt the need to ask for clarification.


    "What is this?" she asked.


    "Can you not see!?" The old woman suddenly fell silent, coughing before continuing, "It’s a spoon, of course!"


    Adira couldn’t help but chuckle softly, finding a strange sense of satisfaction in the old woman’s occasional moments of awkwardness.


    The old woman may have a sharp tongue, but her actions spoke volumes of the kindness she worked so hard to conceal behind her words.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    "Just eat already!"


    Adira quickly sat up, her sharp tone that of a mother, making her instinctively act. She carefully placed the cloth that had been resting on her forehead onto the bed.


    She stretched out her arm, then began feeling around with her free hand, exploring the object in front of her. Her fingers brushed against something flat—like a table!


    Satisfied with her correct guess, her mood brightened instantly!


    This was likely the wood that had been creaking earlier. The old woman must have brought it near the bed


    Not knowing where things were, Adira’s hands hung awkwardly in the air.


    Slowly, the awkwardness seeped in, and she warily began searching for a bowl.


    Based on the familiar smell and the way the old woman made stirring sounds, the food was probably porridge or something liquid? So a plate wouldn’t be used.


    Her face brightened when she felt something. Although just a moment ago, there had been nothing in that area--when she brushed past it again, a bowl suddenly appeared.


    Carefully, she slowly dragged the bowl in front of her, mindful of the table''s unsteadiness.


    As her fingers made contact with the bowl, she whispered a shy <i>" Thank you."</i> her voice barely audible but filled with gratitude.


    With a steady hand, she scooped a spoonful, blowing on it a few times to cool it down before bringing it to her mouth and taking a bite.


    "Wow! This is amazing!" she exclaimed, eagerly taking another spoonful. Midway through her excitement, she paused, quickly wiping the side of her mouth and partially covering it with her hand, suddenly aware that her enthusiasm might have been a bit improper.


    But she couldn’t help it! She hadn’t had a proper meal in a while, and the warmth of the personally cooked food melted deliciously on her taste buds, the flavor so bursting that she felt as though she had fulfilled her life!


    The old woman coughed, but a faint laugh could be heard.


    Adira’s hunger was a gnawing ache, fierce enough to drive a person to madness. So, when she finally tasted the warm, comforting porridge, a wave of relief washed over her, its familiar warmth almost bringing her to the brink of tears.


    Hunger, she realized, was not to be underestimated. Satisfying it could tip the balance between ally and foe—one humble meal, and the course of things could change entirely!


    Adira’s guard was completely down, her entire focus consumed by the porridge, savoring each spoonful as if it were her last meal. But then, the old woman’s voice cut through her thoughts.


    "So, what’s a young lady like you—soaked in blood from head to toe, dressed in men’s clothing, with a malicious-looking sword—doing passed out in the middle of the road?"


    Adira stiffened. The old woman’s comment about her being "soaked in blood" made her imagine herself walking around the streets, covered in blood.


    A terrifying sight, indeed. Some kids who might have seen her could start making up stories—calling her a bloodied creature of the dark, or something equally horrible.


    Realizing this, it no longer surprised her why no one was around when she asked for help, her very appearance didn’t seem so easy to approach!


    Just thinking about it was stressful. Another awful title to add to her name…


    The old woman sighed, whispering, " Not only blind, but mute too."


    "..."


    The old woman seemed eager for an answer, but Adira knew all too well that the best response was often no response.


    More words could easily lead to misunderstanding, and right now, she had no desire to reveal too much.


    She hadn’t yet repaid the kindness she’d received, and besides—ahem—the porridge was simply too good to interrupt with a conversation.


    "Look —whatever."


    A small chuckle escaped Adira’s lips. She coughed, pretending the porridge was still too hot to eat, as if it required her undivided attention.


    The old woman gave her a sharp look, but Adira simply smiled, feigning ignorance. She continued, "Listen, whether you''re in trouble or not doesn’t matter, alright? Just spit it out. I’m just an old sack of bones anyway. I won’t leak anything you say, and even if I do—think I’ll be able to outrun you if you chase me?"


    Adira had never wanted to hide her identity from any adult who didn’t know her. If she ever got caught or asked to reveal her identity, she would gladly surrender right then and there.


    She had reached a point where she just wanted to leave it all to those who wished to tear her apart. Because if  she didn’t, the lives lost wouldn’t be hers, but theirs.


    She slapped herself mentally, reprimanding herself for allowing such dark thoughts to surface in the presence of the one who had shown her such grace.


    She sighed; surrendering herself was all she could think of—but that was before she was saved yesterday, absurd as it was, a mere apple was all it took to change her mind.


    How could she reveal everything now when the people who detested her were eager for her to die, only to find out that she had been saved from death itself?


    Those people may have believed that they were striking her down in the name of justice, but their actions were chaotic, like a crashing wave.


    In their pursuit, they had inadvertently harmed the innocent—people who never deserved punishment—simply because they had crossed paths with her, even if only for a fleeting moment.


    It could backfire—not on her, but on the person who saved her.


    It was too risky, especially now that the old woman had taken her in for days instead of leaving her to die.


    One could convince them that they didn''t know her, but the mere fact that she had survived because of their help would be enough to condemn them.


    She had seen with her own eyes how much those people despised her, how little they cared about the consequences or the damage it might cause. Their hatred ran so deep that it would drive them to act without hesitation, no matter the cost.


    The old lady would be sentenced for conspiring with a criminal, innocent or not.


    Crimes these days were easy to fabricate, and words, after all, were like a disease that spread uncontrollably. Her reputation alone could make it all as easy as falling off a log.


    Adira sighed. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you, but my situation doesn’t allow it. Just my existence is enough to bring bad luck to your home.” She paused, then a hint of shame laced her voice as she muttered, “ I’m a bad person. It’s best if I leave as soon as possible.”


    "WHAT!? LEAVE!? You just woke up! Stop acting tough and finish your food!" The old woman snorted. "Bad person… bad person, my ass! How childish! Remember this, everyone’s a bad person in someone else’s eyes. There’s no such thing as a good person. If a person sees you as bad, then you’re bad. That’s it. Nothing you can do about it. Stop sulking!"


    Though the old woman knew nothing of Adira’s past, and Adira was acutely aware of this, she couldn’t help but feel some of her high walls begin to crumble.


    The woman’s words resonated with Adira in a way she hadn’t anticipated. They were the very words she never thought she would hear again, yet here they were, spoken aloud in a place she least expected.


    It was a belief Adira had once held dearly herself, taught to her by her father. He had often said it to her and her siblings whenever someone sought to undermine them.


    Nobility, after all, was often a battle fought through rumors, and tarnishing someone’s name was the surest way to ruin their reputation. So, no matter how hard someone tried to paint them as the villain—even if others began to believe it—it all came down to perception.


    <i>Who you are is defined by how you present yourself, not by how others perceive you.</i>


    It was what she had always been told for being an unruly child after getting into a childish fight with another noble''s child.


    The memory of the past brought a sense of nostalgia, a feeling she never thought she could still experience, having long since lost hope of recalling the good and somewhat normal memories whenever she reflected on her past.


    “I... I actually don’t know." she confessed.


    "What is?"


    After a moment of reflection, Adira couldn’t help but wonder if opening up, even just a little, might not be so bad. Perhaps it was the lingering effect of the old woman’s words, but the thought of sharing some of what had happened felt oddly tempting.


    She had kept everything locked inside for so long. For now, though, she simply craved a brief respite, a moment of peace without the weight of her past pressing down on her.


    It may have been born from her own selfishness, but at that moment, she pushed the thought aside, not caring to dwell on it any longer.


    Though hesitant, she pushed herself to speak.“ I’ve lived my life believing that if I followed someone—someone who truly understood what life is really like, someone who knew pain... No, what am I even saying? Just someone who had enough experience with the harsh realities of life—I thought I could protect the people I love, you know? But it’s all because of that... that I ended up like this. Looking back, I realize I’ve been following so many people.”


    It dawned on her then, her expression shifting as the weight of it settled in—everything she had done had led her to a dead end, and in the end, she had lost everyone she held dear, every single person—the very reason she had committed all those ruthless acts—was now all gone.


    This was the consequence of trying to control everything, despite knowing deep down that she couldn''t handle it all on her own.


    “What can I do? I’m just a foolish child."


    "What?" The old woman scrunched her face in confusion.


    "I thought... I thought I was doing everything right." she murmured, her voice heavy with regret. "I truly believed that my actions would set things straight, that everything would turn out fine. Even when I knew the path I was walking on was—" She chuckled bitterly, the sound rough and hollow. "Wrong."


    The old woman’s face was now red with annoyance, confusion evident on her features.


    Oblivious to her expression, Adira continued, almost as if in a trance, as though the past had gotten hold of her. "Now, I’m just running away from everything. Actually, just recently, I had this extremely bizarre idea that maybe I could redeem myself? But it was short-lived. I was reminded in my dream that redeeming myself was no longer an option. You see, it’s like… what’s the word? Drowning? It’s kind of like that. Every single night, they won’t stop. Those nightmares. Yes, they’re all punishing me."


    Thud! The sound of wood slapping against something startled Adira.


    "I don’t know what the heck you’re saying! This and that. What the heck?" The old woman interrupted.


    "Wh—"


    "Listen," The old woman snapped, "If you don’t like being a dog, following whoever that is you’re following, then just make your own damn choices! You’re the one holding your life, not somebody else’s. Do you have a collar on your neck? Are you bound by something? Do you have the mark of a slave?"


    "..."


    "Are you mute as well?"


    “What?" Adira was speechless. The old woman’s words left her utterly bewildered. It was certainly not something she had expected to hear. She faltered for a moment before stammering, "Uh—no. No, I don’t have any of those."


    "Then why are you speaking like you’re bound by something!? Do you not have control over yourself? Don’t tell me the one I’m talking to right now is a corpse, a puppet, or some cursed doll?"


    "…"


    "Stupid kids these days." The old woman grumbled. "All you youngsters do is complain and complain. Back in my day, we followed our guts. Whatever the result, we faced it head-on. Nowadays, kids are so weak. Kick them in the knee, and they’ll go running to their mama’s tits begging for protection. If having a safe and secure nation makes the youth so weak, I’d rather live in the warring days, where we survived through gritted teeth!"


    Though old-fashioned as it may sound, the corners of Adira''s mouth curled into a faint smile. In a way, it was oddly satisfying to hear those words from the old woman.


    Indeed, she didn’t have a collar around her neck, nor chains binding her feet, nor any mark that indicated she was a slave. And yet, she still felt bound by something—no, it was more like a confinement, a cage of her own making.


    She was free, with nothing to her name, no blood shared with another anymore, and no master to follow.


    She was free. It hadn’t occurred to her until now that, for the first time, she truly had the freedom to make her own choices. Her past no longer had the power to dictate her actions.


    After hearing those words, it was as if she had been washed away, cleansed by something that had confined her for years—a prison invisible to the eye.


    Adira couldn’t help but find the idea utterly ridiculous. Confinement? From what? Had she been so preoccupied that she hadn’t noticed? Or had she simply chosen to ignore it all along? The realization was oddly disappointing.


    The mind had become so tainted; she had become so tainted. What else can a person do when the hardest prison to escape is the mind?


    But all of this ends now.


    A sudden surge of energy blossomed deep within her, flooding her senses with unexpected joy.


    “Oh… I get it now.”


    “What? Get what?”


    “I see. Haha… Hahaha!”


    Her laughter bellowed and echoed within her chest, filling her with the warmth of the soup and a strange delight. Though her eyes occasionally stung with pain, she could no longer bring herself to care. It all felt so absurd, so hilarious!


    “What are you laughing at? Have you gone mad? Does being blind make one go mad?”


    she laughed, holding her stomach as a strange, fluttering feeling danced inside her, like a butterfly tickling her insides. She even thought her laughter sounded cute—soft, yet full and resonant. Hearing it made her heart soften. It had been a while.


    “Sorry. I’m just happy,” Adira said with a smile. “Thank you very much for the food.”


    “What—?” The old woman clicked her tongue and whispered, “Crazy.”


    Adira only chuckled, a sense of relief washing over her as if a thorn had been plucked from her heart, replaced instead with a quiet but steadfast determination.


    After they finished eating, the old woman cleaned up the dishes while they discussed various topics, including her daughter who had left home and her husband who had recently passed away.


    “You know what that stupid daughter of mine said!? ‘Mum, I don''t want to live like this anymore! I''m going to Aragon to study!’ HA!” She slammed something down. “Stupid brat! She doesn’t know anything! What awaits her in the empire is the brothel! The brothel, I tell you! Have you heard of any commoner lady studying at the academy? No? Because there are none!”


    Adira tilted her head. “But His Imperial Majesty has long changed the law. I think she could if she tried.”


    All she knew was that noble ladies could now attend the academy and choose whatever path they desired, provided they passed the newly reformed admission test—a method used by the Academy to identify individual specialties so students could choose their most suitable paths.


    However, she had heard that it was ultimately up to the students whether they chose to follow it or not. She didn’t know much beyond basic information one would normally acquire through word of mouth since she hadn''t attended the academy herself.


    Instead, she had attended a special one, the kind that had sealed her fate for doom.


    “As if she’s smart enough!” The old woman exclaimed. “Look, she hasn’t come home ever since! Doesn’t even know her father is already eight feet below!” She began cursing under her breath. “I was the only one who buried him; do you know how hard that was? I’m old! A dead body weighs heavier than a hundred sacks! Now look at my back; I can’t believe it’s curved like this!”


    Adira reassured her with a calm smile, "I think it looks alright."


    The old woman, staring at her in disbelief, shot back sharply, "What—!"