CHAPTER 237: CHAPTER 237

I pulled up to the funeral home, the place looking so silent and somber it made my chest tighten. I transformed my motorcycle back into a bracelet with a quick pulse of mana, tucking it away, but when I tried to step forward, my feet just wouldn’t move. It felt wrong, like I didn’t belong there after everything that had gone down. So, I hung back, deciding to just watch from a distance under a nearby tree, telling myself I’d head in once my heart stopped racing.

My stomach growled, pulling me out of my thoughts, and that’s when I remembered the sandwich in my expansion pouch—the pepperoni grilled cheese I’d picked up earlier. I was about to unwrap it when it hit me: this used to be Raphael’s favorite. He’d always bug me to bring one when I visited, complaining about the bland hospital food. The memory stung, so I set it aside and just cracked open the bottle of Pocari Sweat, taking a long sip to settle the knot in my throat.

After a while, I felt this weird sense of being watched, like eyes on me from somewhere. I scanned around, trying to focus, but whoever it was had already slipped inside the funeral home. I shook it off, going back and forth in my head about whether to go in or not, pacing under the tree like it would help me decide.

Then, my eyes caught the entrance, and there she was—Angela, looking around with this furious expression until our gazes locked.

"Remillia! You witch!" she shouted, her voice cutting through the quiet as she started charging toward me.

W-Wait, did she know? How could she know? I thought Kairos said the cover-up was perfect. Panic hit me like a wave, and I took off running without thinking, my heart pounding as I bolted away from her.

"Why are you running?!" she shouted, her face twisted with rage. Knowing that she can’t catch me she scooped up a rock from the ground and hurled it my way. I dodged it swiftly, the stone whizzing past my shoulder and clattering against the pavement.

"I’m sorry!" I shouted back, my voice echoing in the open space, hoping it might calm her down.

But that only fueled her fire. "I told you to protect my brother! Why did he die, huh?!" she yelled, her words sharp and accusing, closing the distance between us.

We ended up running in circles across the wide grounds, the funeral home looming in the background like a silent witness. It was exhausting, dodging and weaving, my breath coming in short bursts. As I passed the entrance on one of my loops, I spotted Whitney standing there, watching the whole thing unfold with this wide-eyed, silent stare.

I skidded to a stop in front of her, desperation kicking in. "Help me! Angela’s gone mad! She— Aaack!"

My words cut off abruptly as Angela tackled me from behind, sending us both crashing to the ground. The impact knocked the wind out of me, and I struggled under her weight as she pinned me down. "Why?! Why didn’t you manage to protect my brother?! Where were you the day he got kidnapped?!" Her voice broke with a mix of anger and grief, tears streaming down her face as she shook me.

I don’t know what to feel—relieved that Angela had no clue I was the one who ended it, or guilty as hell for not finding a way to save him. It was a mess of emotions, twisting me up inside, and before I could sort it out, my vision started blurring with tears. Everything just hit at once—the weight of that decision, the loss, the what-ifs.

"Why are you crying?" Angela demanded, her teeth gritted as she hovered over me, still pinning me down. "We wouldn’t be in a mess like this if you’d just visited him that day—"

That’s when I realized tears were streaming down my face, hot and unstoppable. "I’m sorry... I’m really sorry," I choked out, the words barely making it past the lump in my throat. I had no choice but to kill your brother, or else this city would have fallen into ruins again. "For failing to protect Raph..."

Angela’s own tears started falling, splashing onto my face as she finally eased off and sat beside me on the ground, the fight draining out of her. "Witch... I told you to stay by his side and protect him," she sniffled, her voice breaking.

Whitney quietly sat down next to her, the three of us just there on the ground, not caring about their image or who might see. The two were a mess—heiresses to big names, reduced to this raw, emotional heap.

"As much as I hate to say it," Angela went on, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, "you’re stronger and more skilled than the rest of us. That’s why I figured, since my brother always let you visit him, you could act as his bodyguard while I was away for training. I just forgot that you couldn’t be there 24/7 to watch over him."

I hung my head low, the guilt weighing on me like a ton of bricks. I wanted to tell her the truth—that I was there by his side right up until the end—but the words caught in my throat. How could I explain that I was the one who had to make that call?

Then, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a photo, handing it to me with a shaky breath. "Here," she said. I took it, and a bitter smile crossed my lips. It was a picture of me and Raphael, the one where he was about to catch me falling. "I wanted to throw it away, but I’m sure my brother would scold me, so I’m giving it to you before I rip it to pieces."

I carefully slipped the photo into my wallet, tucking it away safe, then stood up and offered a hand to both of them. "Get up, you two look like beggars," I said, trying to force a small smile to lighten the mood.

Whitney grabbed my hand quickly, pulling herself up and suddenly seeming aware of how disheveled we all were. Angela took a moment, staring at my hand like it was a lifeline, before finally accepting it and standing. But as soon as she was on her feet, her eyes rolled back, and she started to faint. I caught her just in time, her weight slumping against me as I lowered her gently to the ground again.

"Angela? Hey, stay with me!" Whitney said, rushing over to help.

"Don’t worry, she’s just fainted—probably from exhaustion," I said, gently handing Angela over to Whitney. "Take care of her, and tell her I’m sorry once more."

I glanced at the guards nearby and waved them over. "She just fainted—could you help out here?"

Whitney looked at me, her expression a mix of confusion and concern. "Wait, Remi, aren’t you going inside?"

I stopped for a second, my back to her, the weight of it all pressing down. "Maybe next time," I muttered, the words feeling hollow. If I’m ever ready.

Before she could say more, I pulled out my bracelet, letting it shift into my motorcycle with a quick surge of mana. The engine roared to life, and I swung on, speeding away from the funeral home, the wind whipping at my face as I left it all behind.

I headed straight back to my condo, the familiar path feeling like a lifeline after everything. As soon as I pushed the door open and closed it behind me, two furry figures came barreling toward me like they’d been waiting on pins and needles. Macaron practically tackled my face with a hug, his feathers tickling my skin, while Glacier pounced right at my legs, nearly knocking me off balance.

"Where were you?! Did you know how worried we were when you were gone for a week, Master?! Glacier wanted to go find you, but I stopped him because you told us to stay put, and we were scared to death!" Macaron cried out, his voice all high-pitched and frantic, like he’d been holding it in forever.

I managed a faint smile, feeling a warmth spread through me despite the exhaustion. I scooped Macaron up in my arms, with Glacier trotting along behind us as we made our way to the bed. They cuddled up close, wrapping around me like they were afraid I’d vanish again, and I hugged them both tighter than I ever had.

"I’m sorry for worrying you guys," I said, lying through my teeth about the mission taking longer than expected. "It just dragged on more than I thought." The words felt heavy, but holding them like this made it a little easier to breathe.

I was just starting to drift off, wrapped up in Macaron and Glacier’s warmth, when someone interrupted me.

[Are you okay?] the system suddenly popped up in front of me, those glowing words hovering like a concerned whisper in the air.

A small smile played on my lips. ’Wow, I didn’t know you were the caring type,’ I said, trying to lighten the mood even though I felt like a wreck.

[...It’s okay... I know you’re strong... You can handle this,] the system shot back, ignoring my jab like it always did, all business as usual.

My smile vanished. ’Stop talking to me, I’m tired already,’ I muttered, shaking my head and closing my eyes. I’ll be okay again tomorrow but... just not today.

The room fell silent again, with Macaron and Glacier’s warmth the only comfort as I drifted off, letting the exhaustion take over.