Chapter 181: Consequences
[Gale’s POV]
The red mark on Ovelia’s cheek was like a brand seared into my vision. The sight of it, combined with the faint echo of her sadness and anger bleeding through our bond, ignited something primal in my chest. The women standing before her—three of them, preening and cruel—had done this. Had touched her. Had hurt her.
"You bitch." The words came out low, venomous, my eyes locked on the woman with the pink headband. I let her see everything I was feeling. Let her feel the weight of my anger pressing down on her like a physical force. "Did you just slap her?"
The woman’s raised hand faltered. She lowered it slowly, her earlier bravado crumbling like ash. Her face went pale beneath her thick makeup.
"Who... who are you?" she stammered, her voice small.
I took a step forward. "I’m the person who’s about to make you regret ever touching her."
She trembled.
I took another step.
"We didn’t do anything wrong!" the woman with the ornate hairpin squeaked, pressing closer to her companions.
Liar.
Another step. The cobblestones seemed to vibrate beneath my feet, or maybe that was just the fury humming through my veins.
"We... we were just stating the obvious things..." the flower-haired one added, her voice thin and reedy.
"Obvious things?" I repeated, my gaze never leaving them. The three women huddled together like frightened sheep, their earlier cruelty forgotten.
"Gale... wait..." Ovelia’s voice came from behind me, small and uncertain.
I didn’t listen. The anger was a living thing now, coursing through my veins, demanding release. I raised my hand and called to the wind.
It answered.
Air gathered around the three women, swirling faster and faster until it became a contained cyclone. They screamed—high, terrified sounds that cut through the festival noise. The wind’s edge was sharp, precise. It caught their clothing, tearing at hems and sleeves, exposing skin. Not enough to truly harm, but enough to humiliate. Enough to terrify. Enough to make them feel a fraction of the vulnerability they’d inflicted.
The crowd around us erupted. People screamed and scattered, running in all directions, mothers covering their children’s eyes, men shouting in alarm. The festival’s cheerful chaos transformed into genuine panic.
"Gale, stop it!"
Ovelia’s hand closed around my wrist.
The wind died instantly. The cyclone dissolved into nothing, as if someone had flipped a switch, leaving only the three women collapsed on the cobblestones, their clothes in disarray, their faces streaked with tears and smeared makeup. Their faces were masks of traumatized shock. They gasped and sobbed, clutching at each other and their ruined garments.
I turned to Ovelia, my chest heaving. "But I’m sure she slapped you!" The words came out raw, almost pleading. "Can’t you see? I did this for you. I defended you. Why are you stopping me?"
She looked up at me. Her eyes were still wet, her cheek still bore that ugly red mark, but despite everything—despite the tears, despite the pain, despite the chaos I’d just caused—she smiled.
A small, proud, trembling smile.
"I slapped her back," she said.
I blinked. The anger faltered. "Huh?"
"See?" She held up her palm. It was red, the skin beginning to bruise from the force of her own strike.
This idiot. She’d actually fought back. After a lifetime of swallowing abuse, she’d raised her hand and defended herself. Against three of them. Alone.
Should I be proud? Furious? Both?
I looked at the three women huddled on the ground. Their carefully applied makeup was ruined—foundation streaked with tears, lipstick smeared, mascara running in dark rivulets down their cheeks. They looked pathetic. Utterly, completely pathetic.
"Hey." My voice was flat, cold. "You three ugly bitches with faces caked in enough makeup to plaster a wall. Get out of my sight. Now. Before I decide to permanently ruin what’s left of your faces."
I gestured with my hand—a sharp, dismissive flick. A gust of wind rushed past them, ruffling their torn clothes and tangled hair, a reminder of what I could do.
They scrambled to their feet and ran, disappearing into the crowd so fast they left one shoe behind.
I stood, breathing hard, the anger slowly draining from my body.
"What’s all this commotion?"
I turned at the sound of Ace’s voice. He was walking toward us, sweat glistening on his forehead, his chest still heaving slightly from running. His silver eyes swept over the scene—the lingering tension, the frightened onlookers—but when they found Ovelia, everything else ceased to matter.
"A!" She rushed to him and threw her arms around his neck.
He hugged her back tightly, his eyes closing for just a moment—relief, pure and simple, flooding his features. Then he pulled back slightly, his gaze falling on her cheek.
The red mark was still there, stark against her skin.
His expression hardened. He looked at me. "Gale. What happened to her cheek?"
I looked away. Studied a nearby stall with intense focus.
"Gale. Answer me."
"Um... it’s not Gale’s fault," Ovelia interjected, stepping away from him to retrieve the bouquet and paper bag of takoyaki from where she’d placed them on the cobblestones. "Also, I heal fast. This red mark will be gone soon."
Idiot. The word echoed in my mind. If I hadn’t left you alone, this wouldn’t have happened.
"She got her revenge," I said flatly. I set down the ugly wolf stuffed toy and the cookbook on the ground in front of me. "You still have twenty minutes. Enjoy your date."
"Gale, I’m still talking to you," Ace called after me.
I ignored him. I turned and walked away, weaving through the crowd, letting the festival noise swallow me.
I didn’t want to hear his scolding. I wasn’t a child. I’d made a choice—leave her to chase a phantom, return to find her hurt—and I’d deal with the consequences on my own.
I look at the fairy stuffed toy at my arm. If I see those women again, I promised myself, I’ll make them bald. Every last strand.
Right now, I needed something sweet. Something to burn away the lingering taste of failure. I headed toward a stall selling honey-drenched pastries, leaving the festival lights and the murmuring crowd behind.