CHAPTER 42: CHAPTER 41: SCARS YOU CAN’T SEE

The city bell rang again.

Clang. Clang. Clang.

Smoke curled into the dawn sky, thick and black, dancing above rooftops like the devil’s own banner. People scrambled through the streets — buckets in hand, shouting, coughing.

The fire spread fast, orange tongues licking greedily at the wooden bones of the house.

The Guard Captain shoved his way through the crowd.

"What in the hells is going on now?" he growled, surveying the chaos.

A younger soldier ran up, out of breath, helmet askew. "Captain! Situation is under control. We managed to contain the blaze to one building. Two civilians were rescued. One’s the shop owner. The other’s his assistant. One injured."

"Which building?"

"Artificer’s workshop, sir."

The Captain muttered a curse and pushed forward. The familiar sight of the Artificer’s workshop now stood in ruins, charred timbers still smoking. Buckets of water had soaked the street, and the heat was just beginning to die down. The structure, or what was left of it, leaned like a dying beast.

The Artificer sat slumped against a broken beam, blanket over his shoulders, face pale. His assistant, equally shaken, stood nearby with a soldier.

The Captain crouched down, examining the man. "Healer says you’ll live. Lucky bastard. What the hell happened here?"

The Artificer’s voice was hoarse, almost too soft to hear. "Please... forgive me. It was my own fault. One of the fire runes... misfired. Faulty containment crystal. I should’ve checked it twice."

The Captain’s eyes narrowed. "So you’re saying this was your own damn mistake?"

The Artificer nodded quickly. Too quickly.

The Captain stared at him for a long moment.

He didn’t believe it for a second.

But what was he supposed to do? Drag the man in and interrogate him while his lungs were still coughing up smoke? No. Not now. Later.

"Fine," the Captain said at last, voice flat. "Get some rest. But you and I are gonna have a long chat later."

He turned and walked away, barking orders. "Clean this mess. Double patrols tonight. And for gods’ sake, someone get that damn bell to shut up."

★★★

Elsewhere, in the quieter edge of Ginip...

"How is she?" Kael asked.

"Better than expected," Roan said, wiping his hands on a rag. "Honestly, she recovered faster than I expected. Almost unnatural. A few more hours of rest, she’ll be walking."

This medieval fantasy world is even more amazing than I imagined. If something like this had happened on Earth, she would have been bedridden for at least a few weeks.

Kael looked at the door behind him, where Seris was resting.

"You’re sure she just needs rest?"

Roan nodded. "Yeah, of course. You can take her now."

Kael handed him a small pouch of coins. "Thanks."

Roan accepted it with a grunt. "You paid. That’s thanks enough."

"By the way, what happened to your hand?"

"Ah, it’s nothing, just a little scar."

Kael gave a small grin.

Seris emerged, leaning on a makeshift cane. Her movements were stiff, but she stood proud.

"I can walk," she said, defiant as ever.

Kael frowned. "You should be resting."

"I know."

There was silence, then Seris said more quietly, "You came back. I didn’t think you would."

Kael answered immediately.

"I don’t leave people behind."

....

The sun had finally risen. Ginip’s streets were quieter now. The chaos of the night faded into the dull hum of morning routines. Kael walked beside Seris, supporting her when she stumbled.

The Rusty Lantern Inn loomed ahead.

Alenia was sweeping the floor just outside the front door. Her eyes lit up when she saw them.

"Where have you been all night?!" she called out, brushing a lock of hair from her forehead. Then her gaze dropped to Seris, and her face changed. "Gods above. What happened to her?"

Kael kept his voice steady. "She got hurt. Took her to a healer. We stayed there overnight."

Alenia raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Looks like she got stomped by a troll."

"Almost," Kael muttered.

The innkeeper looked up from behind the counter, pipe in his mouth. "You’re treating her like a damn princess. She’s a slave, ain’t she?"

Kael’s tone dropped a degree. "She’s mine. That means I decide how she’s treated."

The innkeeper held up his hands. "Easy, lad. Didn’t mean nothing by it."

Kael ignored him and helped Seris to a chair. She sat down, wincing. Alenia brought food over without asking — hot bread, stew, a jug of clean water.

They ate in silence.

After that, they went upstairs.

It was a double-room now — one bed for each of them. He’d paid extra to keep her close.

Seris lay down with a sigh, finally letting herself relax.

Kael lay down too.

The bed creaked beneath him.

"I hated being called a slave," Seris said suddenly.

Kael glanced at her.

"You killed your last owner, didn’t you?"

Her eyes opened slowly.

"I did."

"The first one... was a sadist. Liked breaking people to prove he was strong. Didn’t matter if it was slaves, servants, even stray animals. He drank too much, hit too hard, and bragged about things no man should brag about. I endured it for three months."

Her jaw clenched. "Then one night, he tried to force himself on a girl half his age. She couldn’t fight back. But I could. So I tripped him."

She gave a bitter smile. "He stumbled. Fell on his own dagger. Right between the ribs. The guard saw it. But they all hated him. No one came forward."

She swallowed. Her voice wavered.

"But the second one was worse."

Kael’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.

Seris stared at the ceiling. "He was charming. Kind in public. He smiled when he bought me. Said I was ’lucky’ to end up with someone like him."

Her jaw tightened.

"But at night, when the doors were locked, I wasn’t a person. Just something to own. To use."

"I couldn’t stop him," she continued. "The brand punishes resistance. I couldn’t scream. Couldn’t fight. If I tried to run, my legs collapsed. If I said no, my throat burned. Every time I resisted, the brand sent fire through my veins. So I—I stopped fighting. Just to stay conscious."

"He liked training with me in the rain," she said after a while, voice dull. "Said it made things more ’real.’ During one session, he made his biggest mistake — he handed me his sword so he could tighten his gloves."

Kael frowned.

"It was one of his enchanted blades — silvered steel, laced with a lightning-channeling core. Expensive. Conducts mana — and electricity."

Her voice dropped to a whisper.

"So when I handed it back... I didn’t let go. Just long enough. Just as he reached for the hilt, the lightning struck. Straight through the blade. Straight through him."

Kael stared.

Seris turned her head to meet his eyes. "The brand doesn’t let me hurt my master. But I didn’t swing the blade. I just... let nature do what it does."

Kael’s voice was low. "You planned it."

"I waited for it," she corrected. "It was the only way. And still — it nearly killed me too."

Silence fell again. He didn’t press her. Didn’t try to comfort her with empty words.

"Sleep," he said. "We both need it."

She nodded.

They fell asleep — not from comfort, but from exhaustion. Too much had happened just in one night.

But the trouble wasn’t over yet.

Down the quiet morning street, a group of guards and city officials were heading straight for the inn.