"Oh…"
Elara's fair face flushed a delicate pink as she opened her small mouth and let the drop of Angel Tears fall onto her tongue.
The liquid was sweet—soft as honey—and slid down her throat like cool rain after a long drought. Warmth bloomed through her body, spreading from her heart to the very tips of her fingers. The scarlet lines that ran along her pale skin began to dim, their heat fading at last.
"Huh…"
A faint sound escaped her lips—half sigh, half groan of relief.
Realizing what she'd done, Elara's eyes widened, and she quickly covered her mouth with her hand, embarrassed.
Luciel leaned forward, his sharp gaze following the crimson markings that traced her cheeks. The glow had dulled slightly, losing its unsettling shine.
As he suspected—Angel Tears couldn't completely remove the infection of the virtual ghost, but it could at least suppress it.
"How does it feel?" Luciel asked, though he already knew the answer.
"My body…" Elara's voice trembled with surprise. "It's never felt this light before. So relaxed—so comfortable…"
Her face lit up with joy, the corners of her lips curving into an unguarded smile. She brushed a finger along her upper cheek—then froze. The faint scarlet pattern of the virtual ghost infection still lingered there. Her expression faltered.
"So even Angel Tears can't cure it?" she murmured bitterly.
"Maybe you didn't drink enough," Luciel said gently, offering comfort he didn't quite believe. "But even if it doesn't heal the infection, it's stopped the erosion."
Elara shook her head softly, her silver hair swaying. "That's enough for me. If I don't turn into a ghost, I'm already satisfied."
Luciel studied her quiet smile, the way it masked exhaustion and pain. He resisted the urge to use his evolution points to create Angel Wings. For now, he wanted to observe her condition, to understand the infection more clearly before deciding anything rash.
"…Can I stay with you for a while?" Elara asked suddenly, her voice hesitant. Her hands twisted nervously in the hem of her cloak.
Before Luciel could misunderstand, she added quickly, "I just want to wait for more Angel Tears to condense. I'll exchange something with you when they're ready."
She couldn't bring herself to mention Angel Wings—that was far too much to ask. But Angel Tears were valuable enough to trade, and if they could hold back the infection… then it was worth staying a little longer.
"Sure," Luciel said simply.
Elara's eyes brightened. "Thank you."
She carefully set a small wooden barrel on the table, then pulled a long white bow from beneath her cloak. The weapon gleamed faintly in the light.
"This is a spiritual weapon," she explained. "It stabilizes arrow flight and improves their ability to pierce the air."
Her slender fingers caressed the bowstring once before reluctantly offering it to him. "An ordinary archer using this bow will see their range and accuracy increased by about thirty percent."
Luciel took the bow curiously. It was surprisingly light in his hands. When he flicked the string, a deep, resonant hum filled the air.
Buzz…
The sound was strong, full of restrained power.
"I'd like to trade this light spirit longbow for three drops of Angel Tears," Elara said softly, her cheeks coloring. "That includes the one I already drank." She hesitated, then added, "I might come to you again later—to trade for more."
By her own estimation, a single drop of Angel Tears could suppress the virtual ghost infection for about sixty days.
"Tell me something," Luciel said, tilting his head. "What exactly is a spirit weapon?"
He turned toward the rabbit-eared girl sitting beside him. "Mino, you know what that is?"
"Hmm?" Mino blinked her bright blue eyes, looking confused. "What's a… spirit weapon?"
Luciel sighed and shook his head. "Never mind."
Elara blinked in surprise. "You don't know what they are?"
"Not really," Luciel admitted.
Mino nodded shyly beside him, still wary of strangers.
Elara tucked a strand of white hair behind her ear and began to explain, her tone patient.
"Spirit weapons are crafted from the remains of beasts or spirit beasts. They retain a fragment of the creature's strength—its instincts, sometimes even its essence."
She gestured to the bow in Luciel's hands. "That longbow, for example, was made using the wing bones of an aerial beast. That's why it grants greater stability and speed to arrows."
"That's all?" Luciel asked, half-disappointed.
"This one is a low-level spirit weapon, yes," Elara said with a tiny roll of her eyes. "But stronger ones use beast spars to activate special abilities—flame, frost, even illusion."
"I see," Luciel said thoughtfully.
He had imagined something far grander—like the legendary weapons of cultivation myths. Instead, these seemed more… practical. Useful, but not miraculous.
"You know how to make them?" he asked.
"I can craft simple ones," Elara replied, a flicker of pride crossing her face. "This longbow was made by me."
"Then I'll give it back," Luciel said suddenly, holding it out to her.
Elara blinked in confusion. "Huh?"
"Don't worry," he said with a faint smile. "You'll still get two drops of Angel Tears."
Her brow furrowed. "Why would you give me both? There's no such thing as free charity."
"I need a spirit weapon crafted," Luciel said calmly. "I don't use bows. But I do use crossbows—and I want something special made."
"Ah…" Elara hesitated, her fingers brushing the bowstring. "I've only made longbows. Other weapons are beyond me, at least for now."
"That's fine," Luciel said, waving a hand. "I'll show you the design later."
He had other plans forming in his mind. The rock tortoise he relied on was evolving—growing larger every day. Soon, it would be too big to monitor itself closely. Like an elephant blind to ants on its back, it would need someone to watch over it—to guard it.
A skilled craftsman like Elara would be perfect for that.
A few drops of Angel Tears in exchange for loyalty—and a capable guardian—was more than fair.
"…Alright," Elara said finally, nodding. "If that's what you want."
She glanced at the longbow in her hands. Perhaps it was for the best. Staying here meant safety—and purpose.
Luciel smiled faintly. "It's getting late. You should rest."
Beside him, Mino was already blinking sleepily, struggling to keep her eyes open.
"Huh? We're done already?" she murmured, rubbing her eyes.
"Go on, sleep," Luciel said gently. "You've had a long day."
"What about Elara?" Mino whispered, leaning closer until her breath brushed Luciel's ear. "We only have two rooms. Where will she sleep?"
"Elara can take my room," Luciel said. "I'll sleep in the hall."
"No, no, that's not necessary!" Elara protested immediately, waving her hands. "I can sleep in the hall. You've already done so much for me."
"Listen," Luciel said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. "There's no reason for a guest to sleep in the hall."
Elara lowered her head, cheeks glowing red. "Then… thank you."
Mino bit her lip, looking between them. "Um… Elara could sleep with me," she whispered, too quiet for Luciel to hear. But when she tried to speak louder, he tugged gently on one of her long ears.
"Don't overthink it," he teased. "Go to bed."
"I'm not a pet," Mino muttered, pouting. "Stop pulling my ears."
"Yes, yes," Luciel said absentmindedly, amused.
"Hmph. I'm going to sleep," she declared, stomping off toward her room.
"Good dreams," Luciel said softly.
Elara smiled faintly as she watched the little rabbit-eared girl disappear into the hallway. For the first time in a long while, her heart felt light.
Tonight, she would sleep somewhere safe.
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