Chapter 29: Correction
The rich scent of black tea drifted quietly through the air, forming a strange harmony with the muffled sound of sobbing from somewhere further in.
Lucian lifted his teacup and looked out the window. The afternoon light traced a soft outline along the side of his face, but the corner of his mouth carried a smile that was, if one were being honest, slightly wicked.
Infinite Magic, don't thank me. A little suffering now means less later.
"It's about time, God of Judgment, sir." The Supreme Pontiff set down his teacup, the porcelain meeting the tray with a small sound.
Lucian turned his head, held that aged, sharp gaze for a moment, and gave a slight nod.
He stood, straightened his robes, and walked at an easy pace toward the closed door.
The sound leaking through the gap had lost its earlier sharpness. What remained was a broken, intermittent sobbing — like raindrops left clinging to the eaves after a storm has passed.
Lucian rubbed his face with his hand and arranged his expression.
He shoved the door open.
"Antirin —"
His voice cut off, because his gaze had already found the small, curled figure in the center of the room.
Elis was kneeling on the floor, her blue hair — previously combed with meticulous precision — fallen loose and covering most of her face. Her shoulders trembled slightly, like a young animal cornered by a hunter, too proud to make a sound of surrender but unable to hide the fear underneath.
Lucian crossed to her in two quick strides, placing himself between her and Zetsumei.
He spread his arms in the stance of someone offering protection, tilted his head back, and looked up at the girl in front of him with an expression of pure righteousness.
"That's enough, Miss Antirin." His voice was low and deliberate, each word pressed up from somewhere deep in his chest. "How could you bully a little girl like this?"
Zetsumei blinked those mismatched eyes with an air of complete innocence, as though asking: me?
Lucian held the righteous expression, but the corner of his eye twitched, and he shot her a look: play along.
Zetsumei tilted her head, the corner of her mouth lifting by the smallest degree, then settled back into her usual blank expression.
"Oh," she said. "I suppose I was bullying her."
Lucian nearly choked on that, and was just about to say something else when footsteps came from behind him.
The Supreme Pontiff had appeared in the doorway without Lucian noticing. His gaze swept the room and settled on Zetsumei. His tone was gentle but carried the particular authority of someone older addressing a junior: "Antirin. Out of consideration for the God of Judgment, let's call it here for today."
Zetsumei looked at Lucian, then at the Supreme Pontiff, was quiet for a moment, and finally gave a soft sound of assent.
She turned, her black-and-white hair tracing an arc through the air, and walked deeper into the room.
Lucian felt something seize the hem of his robe.
He looked down.
Elis had raised her head at some point. Her eyes were red from crying, tears still clinging to her lashes, not yet dry. But what had been in those eyes before — the arrogance, the distance — was gone. In its place was something more complicated: gratitude, dependence, and a careful, tentative testing of the ground.
She was gripping his robe with both hands, the way a drowning person grips the last piece of driftwood.
Something shifted in Lucian's chest.
Those eyes, that expression — they overlapped with a figure from his memory, six or seven parts the same.
That's enough. No need to push it any further.
He wasn't a monster, after all.
He bent down and reached out to pat Elis's head, gently. The hair under his palm was soft and loose, and he could feel that small body still trembling faintly.
"It's all right." He kept his voice very soft, as if afraid of startling something. "It's over now."
Elis's tears welled up again, but she bit down hard on her lip and didn't make a sound.
The Supreme Pontiff came over and extended a hand. "Elis, come with me and let's see to those injuries."
Elis raised her head and looked at Lucian.
There was something in that look Lucian recognized — it was the same look Siel had given from the alley when Lakyus led her out.
Lucian nodded to her, and felt something close to guilt.
Elis released her grip on his robe, stood, and followed the Supreme Pontiff out of the room.
The door closed softly.
Lucian was left alone in the room.
* * *
Siel was sitting on a bench in the side hall of the Foreign Affairs Temple.
Sunlight came through the colored glass windows and cast a patchwork of light and shadow across her. Her blue hair had been carefully braided into two plaits, hanging quiet at her shoulders. Her hands were folded in her lap, her posture so perfectly upright it was as though she were sitting through a lesson.
At the sound of footsteps, she raised her head at once.
Those amber eyes lit up the moment they found Lucian, bright as two small flames kindling at once.
"Lord Lucian!"
She jumped down from the bench and trotted toward him, but stopped herself three steps away and gave a proper bow.
Aldred had taught her that.
Lucian looked at that careful, tentative manner of hers, and something in him went soft.
"Siel."
"Yes!" She raised her head, eyes bright.
Lucian was quiet for a moment.
He had prepared something to say. Now he found he couldn't quite get it out.
Siel tilted her head and looked at him, a little puzzled.
"Lord Lucian?"
Lucian drew a slow breath.
"Siel." He brought his gaze level with hers. "There's something I need to tell you."
Siel blinked, waiting.
"The Theocracy..." Lucian paused. "Is a good place."
Siel nodded.
"It's safe here. There are people here who will protect you, and other children like you. You can study, learn magic, grow up properly."
A flicker of confusion moved through Siel's eyes.
But she went on nodding, quiet and obedient.
Lucian looked at her, and suddenly didn't know what to say.
The room was quiet for a few seconds.
Then Siel spoke.
"Lord Lucian."
"Yes?"
"Are you leaving me here?"
Her voice was very soft — soft as a feather settling on still water.
Lucian looked into those amber eyes. There was no accusation in them, no grievance — only something calm, like someone who had already expected this and made their peace with it.
"Siel..."
"It's all right," Siel said, her voice just as soft. "I know."
She lowered her head and looked at her hands, folded in her lap.
"I'm just a commoner. I don't know anything. I'd only be in the way if I stayed with Lord Lucian."
Lucian opened his mouth to say something, and found his throat had closed.
"And," Siel raised her head and worked a smile onto her face, "the Theocracy does sound really wonderful."
The smile was strained. Something in Lucian's chest hurt sharply at the sight of it.
***
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