Chapter 57: The Girl with Rose-Pink Eyes

Chapter 57: The Girl with Rose-Pink Eyes The carriage ride back from the auction was suffocatingly quiet. The rhythmic clatter of the mana-bred stallions’ hooves on the cobblestone streets of the capital was the only sound, a stark, lonely counterpoint to the chaotic symphony of my own thoughts. Layla sat across from me, her legs crossed, her arms folded, a perfect, regal statue of icy composure. Her gaze, however, flickered occasionally toward the small, silent figure nestled beside me. Yumi. Her tiny hands clutched the hem of my new, expensive overcoat like it was a lifeline, her knuckles white. She hadn’t said a single word since we left the cavernous, corrupt underground chamber. Not a sound. Not a cry. Just a profound, unnerving silence. Her soft, snow-white curls bounced gently with the carriage’s motion, and her big, rose-pink eyes would peek up at me now and then, wide with an emotion I couldn’t quite decipher—not fear, but a deep, cautious uncertainty. I didn’t know what to say to her. Hell, I didn’t even know what to say to myself. I had come to that place with a mission—a single, clear objective that could have rewritten my path forward, that could have given me the raw, undeniable power I so desperately needed to keep up with the monsters and prodigies that surrounded me. But instead, I had left with a child. A child who looked at me like I was the first kind hand she’d ever been offered in her short, tragic life. And I couldn’t bring myself to regret it. Layla broke the silence first, her voice a sharp, cutting sliver of ice. "So... do you plan to feed her? Bathe her? Tuck her into bed with lullabies?" I gave her a tired, weary look. "If you’re done being sarcastic, maybe you could help me figure out what I’m supposed to do now." "You’re the one who spent three thousand two hundred gold coins on her," she retorted, her voice laced with a familiar, aristocratic disdain. "That’s, what? Enough to buy a small estate or sponsor an entire battalion of mercenaries?" "I’m aware." "She’s your responsibility now, Ashen." "I didn’t buy her to own her," I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended. "I bought her to free her." Layla raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "You do know that’s not how the slave contract works, right? You’re her owner now. The bond is magical, absolute. Until it’s undone by a high-tier curse breaker—a service that will cost you more than you just spent—her life is tied to yours." "I’ll find a way to break it," I said, my voice a low, determined growl. "I hope you do," she said, her tone suddenly, surprisingly softer. "Because if she gets attached to you... and something happens to a reckless, trouble-magnet like you..." I looked down. Yumi was staring up at me again, her rose-pink eyes, the color of faded roses, glowing faintly in the dim, flickering light of the carriage’s mana-lamps. "...She’s not going to get hurt," I said firmly, my voice a quiet promise to myself as much as to Layla. "Not on my watch." When we reached the Academy gates, Layla’s carriage took a separate route, a discreet and sensible move to avoid the inevitable scandal of the Student Council President being seen with me and a newly purchased child-slave at this late hour. Not that I blamed her. Even I wasn’t sure how I was going to explain this. By the time I reached my dorm, the moon had fully risen, a perfect, silver disc in a sea of black. Masha was waiting at the door, her arms crossed, her expression turning from one of mild concern to full-blown, slack-jawed shock the moment she saw Yumi hiding behind my legs. "Master... is that a child?" I nodded, gently nudging Yumi forward. "Her name is Yumi. She’s... staying with us for now." "I—I wasn’t informed of this," she said, her voice a mixture of confusion and disapproval. "Neither was I," I muttered, stepping inside. "It just... happened." Masha followed us in, her sharp, calculating eyes immediately beginning to assess the small, silent girl. "She’s... a pureblood," she breathed, her professional composure momentarily forgotten. "You can feel the density of her mana, can’t you?" "Yeah." "She’s bound by a life-drain slave contract." "I know." "And I suppose you, in your infinite wisdom, intend to break that somehow." I dropped onto the couch, the exhaustion of the night finally catching up to me. Yumi, still silent, continued to hold onto my coat. "Eventually. First, I need to... figure out where she’s going to sleep." Masha sighed, a long, weary sound as she placed her hands on her hips, her demeanor shifting from shocked observer to efficient problem-solver. "I’ll prepare the guest room. And—she’ll need proper clothes, real food, and someone to undo that horrible, tangled hairstyle." "Hey, the ribbons are cute." "The ribbons are fine. The knots are a criminal offense." She turned to Yumi and crouched down, her expression softening into one of gentle, maternal concern. "Hi there, sweetheart. My name is Masha. I’m the master’s maid, but you can think of me as your big sister." Yumi blinked, her rose-pink eyes wide and curious. Then, she gave a small, hesitant nod. "I’ll draw you a warm bath," Masha said gently. "Come on, let’s get all that auction house dirt off you." For the first time since I had won the bid, Yumi let go of my coat. She took Masha’s outstretched hand and followed her into the other room, her little boots clinking softly on the polished marble floor. And I sat there in the echoing silence of the grand, empty room. What the hell was I doing? An hour later, Masha returned, her footsteps a soft, comforting presence in the quiet dorm. "She’s asleep," she said quietly. "She didn’t eat much. Barely spoke a word. But she didn’t resist the bath or the change of clothes." "She’ll need time," I murmured, my gaze fixed on the ceiling. "She trusts you." I looked up, a humorless laugh escaping my lips. "She barely knows me." Masha smiled, a genuine, knowing expression. "She clung to your coat like it was a shield, Ashen. In a world that has only ever shown her cruelty, you were the first person to show her kindness. That’s more than you think." I sighed and rubbed my face, the weariness settling deep into my bones. "This wasn’t supposed to happen." "What was?" "I came for a sword," I confessed, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. "One of the Demon King’s relics. It was supposed to be mine. It was the key to everything. Instead..." "Instead, you saved someone." "...Yeah." "Sounds like you made the better trade." I didn’t answer. I just leaned back against the plush cushions of the couch and stared at the ceiling, my mind a chaotic battlefield of what-ifs and what-nows. "Do you regret it?" Masha asked softly, her voice a gentle probe in the darkness. "No," I said, the word coming out instantly, with a certainty that surprised even me. "But I’m worried. About what happens next." She sat beside me, just close enough that I could feel her presence, a quiet, steady anchor in the storm of my thoughts. "You’ve handled worse." "Barely." "You’ll manage," she said, her voice filled with a quiet, unwavering conviction. "You always do." That night, I couldn’t sleep. I stood by the door to the guest room, a silent, unseen guardian, watching the tiny figure curled up beneath the covers. Yumi’s breathing was steady, her pale, silvery hair glowing faintly in the moonlight that streamed through the window. The garish pink ribbons were gone now, replaced by the soft, clean scent of lavender soap. Her new clothes—a simple, oversized Academy-issue sleep shirt—made her look even smaller, more fragile. She looked peaceful. But on her wrist, I could see the faint, sickly glow of the slave contract’s runic mark. I would fix that. I would find a way. The next morning came too quickly, and with it, a whole new set of problems. As soon as I stepped into class, everyone stared. The rumors, it seemed, had already begun to spread like a plague. "Ashen Crimson bought a child at a black-market auction?" "Isn’t that the princess’s new companion?" "Is that even legal?" Even Sasha, my most loyal and steadfast ally, cornered me the moment I sat down. "You bought what?!" she hissed, her eyes wide with a mixture of horror and disbelief. "She’s not a pet, Sasha." "Then what is she?!" I sighed, a sound of profound exhaustion. "A responsibility." She paused, her gaze searching mine. "You... you didn’t... you wouldn’t..." "No," I said, my voice firm. "I bought her to keep her from people far worse than me." Her expression softened, but only slightly. "You’re reckless," she said, her voice a low, fierce whisper. "Would you rather I had left her there?" "...No." I didn’t expect what happened next. She hugged me, a quick, fierce embrace that was over before I could even react. Then, she punched me hard in the shoulder. "Idiot." "I know." The classroom hummed with the usual midday laziness. Sunlight filtered through the grand, arched windows of the Academy, pooling in golden halos across the polished floor. Some students scribbled half-hearted notes. Others whispered about festival preparations, upcoming duels, or the latest, juiciest piece of Academy gossip—me. I was staring blankly at the corner of my desk, twirling my pen slowly between my fingers. My mind wasn’t here. It was back at the dorm, with a small, white-haired girl who now slept in the guest room beside mine. "...What do I do with her?" I murmured under my breath. Sasha, who sat beside me, leaned over. "Huh?" "Nothing," I said quickly. She gave me a suspicious glance but didn’t push. I slouched deeper into my chair, my hand covering my mouth as I whispered to myself. ’I should... hand her over to an orphanage. Maybe a child-friendly noble household. Somewhere with actual people who know how to raise kids.’ It sounded logical. Reasonable. The responsible thing to do. But my heart twisted at the very thought. No. That wasn’t what I wanted. ’She’s just a child,’ I muttered. ’But... she looked at me like I was her whole world.’ I tapped my pen once on the desk, then let it drop. ’I should ask her first. Maybe she has parents. Maybe she has distant relatives. If she belongs somewhere else, I’ll have no choice. I’ll have to return her. That would be the right thing to do...’ And yet, the moment I pictured handing her over—watching her tiny, trusting fingers slip out of my grasp—something inside me screamed in protest. An ache I didn’t know I still had. Why? Why does the thought of letting her go feel like I’m losing a part of my own family? ’Dammit,’ I sighed. ’Why do I feel like this?’ She was just a child. An innocent, broken little girl. But somehow, she made me feel... needed. In my last life, I never had that. I never got the chance to protect anyone—not like this. And now? Now I could spoil her. I could protect her. I could give her a warm bed, good food, and silly, frivolous toys she probably never even knew existed. She could have nightmares and crawl into my room, and I wouldn’t push her away. I’d let her stay. ...Because maybe, just maybe, I needed her just as much as she needed me. My throat tightened. ’I want her to stay with me,’ I whispered, the words a silent vow. ’I’ll be her guardian.’ No. More than that. "I’ll be her parent." Sasha gave me another sideways glance. "Are you okay?" I waved her off. The thought repeated itself in my mind, louder this time, a declaration of intent. I’ll be her parent. ...But how? How do you become something you’ve never had? I rubbed my temples, trying to piece together the fragmented memories of a love I had almost forgotten. My mind pulled me back to the only person who had ever made me feel safe, in both this life and the last. My mother. She wasn’t a warrior. She wasn’t a queen. But she was the strongest woman I had ever known. No matter how hard the world beat me down, she was always there. A soft voice in my darkest moments. A shield when I needed it most. A smile that told me I was loved—even when I failed. Her qualities? Heh. I could write a whole damn book. She always gave me her time. She never treated me like a burden, even when I cried in the middle of the night or made a mess of everything. She didn’t yell. She didn’t leave. She stayed. She was there when no one else was. And if I could become even half of that... then maybe... maybe I could give Yumi the life she deserved. I sat up straighter, my heart feeling strangely, impossibly lighter. "I’ll do it," I whispered to myself. "No one’s taking her away from me. I’ll raise her. I’ll be her anchor." My lips curved into a soft, genuine smile. "Guess I’ll have to change," I murmured. "Grow up a little." Let Rin save the world. That hero act fits him better, anyway. He can duel demon lords, carry swords of light, and fight his way through prophecies and divine curses. Me? I just want a quiet life. A warm home. A little vampire girl running around the halls and calling me something ridiculous like "Ashy." That’s enough. Of course, that didn’t mean I’d stop scheming. I leaned back in my chair and rested my boots on the desk, a familiar, dangerous gleam in my eyes. "That sword... the one Erwin bought," I muttered under my breath. I knew the story. I knew how it would play out. Erwin, fueled by the sword’s dark power, would climb the ranks. He would rise in fame and power. He would destroy a rival noble family in the process, draw the unwanted attention of the demon cult, and inevitably fall into the darkness. And then, he’d come for Rin. Rin would win, of course. That’s just how these stories go. Hero beats the fallen champion. And when Erwin falls? That sword—the cursed, powerful dark sword of the Demon King’s general—will be without a master. Its seal will be broken. And guess who’ll be standing nearby, ready to pick up the pieces? I chuckled to myself. "I’ll just steal it." Simple. Elegant. Inevitable. I didn’t need to win the bidding war. I just had to wait for the right moment. After all, who said fate couldn’t be manipulated? My laugh came low and quiet. Not mocking. Not cruel. Just... amused. "Guess I’m evil now," I said softly, still smiling. "But at least I’m a good parent."