Chapter 781: The show must go on
[If you want to last long in here until a miracle comes, then keep up the pretense. I don’t mind, even if you keep using me as your means of survival. After all, the reason you’re here is because of my foolishness.]
Hera stared blankly at the vase before her. After leaving Leo in the garden, she returned to her room to arrange a vase for Dragon. However, since her return, she hadn’t touched the flowers or the vase. Instead, she found herself preoccupied with the brief conversation she had with Leo.
"He shouldn’t have brought it up," she murmured, suppressing the rising tension in her throat. "Why did he say it? Could he possibly like me?"
Confusion clouded her mind, leaving her uncertain about which emotions to embrace. She plucked a rose from the basket, its thorns already trimmed, rendering it harmless to handle.
"I’m like you," she whispered, her lips pressed tight, her jaw clenched. "A thornless flower that instills no fear in anyone."
Hera began plucking its petals one by one, allowing them to fall into her lap or onto the floor. Her eyes lacked their usual vitality, dimmed by an inner turmoil.
Some time ago, when she had called Leo for help, it had ended disastrously for her. Even with the help of the original Hera’s memories, it hadn’t been enough to save herself. That night had been a lesson etched in pain; not only had she put Leo on Dragon’s radar, but she herself had been subjected to torment that was supposed to erase her memory.
Her mind had been seared, putting her in unbearable pain, yet not fatal enough to kill her. Throughout that night, she had screamed, clung desperately to anything within reach, and teetered on the edge of life and death repeatedly. What multiplied the horror was waking up afterward, each moment of torture etched vividly in her memory: the apathetic gazes of others and Dragon’s malevolent smirk as he relished her suffering.
"It’s my fault that he’s here," she whispered, brushing away a tear that traced her cheek. "Yet... he doesn’t resent me."