CHAPTER 103: LET YOUR HEART TAKE THE REIGN

"So what’s Gear waiting for? A fucking invitation?"

They were guards, muttering as they made their patrol—just a pair of bored, bitter soldiers gossiping in the depths of the earth.

"Still, those hero bitches are fine as hell, though. Especially that Ice Princess. Mm... chilly on the outside, but I bet she melts just right if you embrace her..."

"He he he."

Then suddenly, the goblin’s body jerked. His fingers twitched.

The moment that name, the Ice Princess was spoken, a tremor ran through the tree. His sealed eyes quivered.

Then, they opened.

Twin slits of crimson light burned in the dark.

Vertical pupils stared forward, wild and sharp like a predator finally waking from a coma of rage and vengeance.

The beast... had stirred.

...

Celeste opened her eyes slowly. Frost shimmered in the air around her, her breath misting in the chill of her own aura.

She had been meditating. Again. Trying to drown the fire in her mind with cold, focused stillness.

"You’re working hard, madame."

The voice pulled her out of her trance.

Across from her sat Laila, legs crossed and a book open in her lap, eyes flicking up with a knowing glint.

Celeste took a deep breath, letting the frosty air swirl around her once more before exhaling sharply.

"Can’t take them down without leveling up. I need to grow stronger. Fast."

"Them?"

Laila raised an eyebrow and closed her book gently.

"You mean... someone other than that stupid ass, Gear?"

Celeste stiffened.

Like a slap across the face, the memories came back, uninvited and in high definition.

Her face flushed immediately, the icy calm in her aura cracking like thin glass.

That goblin. That filthy, infuriating, humiliating...

Why the hell was she blushing?

Even worse, why the hell was she feeling something down there?

No. Absolutely not.

She shook her head violently, like trying to toss the memory out of her skull.

But it wouldn’t budge.

It clung to her like static, and that twinge between her thighs made her want to punch something—or herself.

What the fuck was wrong with her?

Why wasn’t she angry?

Why was she... ashamed?

Embarrassed? Turned on?

Her frost aura sputtered like a candle in the wind.

Laila tilted her head, eyes narrowing, watching her madame unravel silently.

Celeste shook her head.

"No. No one. Just him. That’s all."

Her answer came too fast. Too flat.

Laila didn’t buy it for a second.

Something was off, very off.

Her madame had taken a horse and bolted off like a thief in the night.

No message, no explanation. Not even a damn note.

And Laila, her self-proclaimed most trusted attendant, had been left standing in the dust like a forgotten sock.

That had never happened before.

And then there was the way Celeste had returned, face flushed, walking like she’d wrestled a bear and lost emotionally more than physically.

Laila narrowed her eyes.

’Something happened out there... I know it.’

She remembered the moment her madame had entered the tent.

Lips tight, cheeks glowing, walking funny like her inner thighs had been in a duel with destiny.

At first, Laila assumed it was anger. Fury. Maybe shame.

But now?

Her madame’s silence was deafening. And suspicious.

"Hey..."

Celeste’s voice yanked Laila out of her spiraling thoughts.

She blinked and looked up, surprised to see her madame’s face tense, almost... nervous?

"Yes, madame?"

Celeste hesitated. The frost in her aura crackled a little.

"You said you knew this guy, right? The goblin. He was... your friend?"

That question made Laila tilt her head.

There was a flicker in her eyes, some mix of curiosity and confusion.

"I do know him. But I wouldn’t call us friends. He used to try courting me. For years, actually."

Celeste blinked.

’Courting...?’

Her expression didn’t change, but her aura suddenly dipped two degrees colder.

Laila caught it quickly.

Despite her noble airs, polished speech, and very serious meditative posture, Celeste secretly loved juicy gossip.

She acted like scandal was beneath her, but hearing someone else’s drama lit up something in her spine.

A little thrill.

Like she was eavesdropping on forbidden pleasure.

"Oh, I see..."

Celeste said, way too quickly. Her face remained serene, but her ears were practically twitching.

Laila smirked. She knew her madame too well. That fake indifference? Please.

"I never gave in, though..."

Laila said, stretching her arms as if this was all casual.

"He was too wild for me. Always thrashing around, climbing trees, stealing pies, fighting goblins bare-handed, just constantly doing something stupid."

She paused. Her eyes lost focus, drifting somewhere far away.

"Once, I told a friend I wanted to taste mangoes. Just once. They don’t grow near the forest... not the kind humans eat, anyway."

A quiet chuckle escaped her lips.

"Next thing I know, he’s lugging a whole sack of them, scraped, bleeding, half-conscious... but smiling like he’d just slain a dragon."

Celeste blinked. Something tightened in her chest.

Laila didn’t say it out loud, but it was obvious. She did miss that village.

The same village Celeste and her fellow heroes had razed to the ground.

Celeste looked away. Suddenly, the gossip didn’t feel so delicious anymore.

"He wasn’t this big scary dude back then. He was just this scrawny little runt. Like Rae... but dumber. And way more reckless."

Celeste couldn’t help but laugh at the image.

Her cheeks flushed again, damn it, as her mind unwillingly conjured up Gear... only smaller.

Goblin-sized. Rae-sized. And still annoyingly smug.

"You liked him, didn’t you?"

Celeste asked, trying to play it cool, but her voice gave her away.

"So why didn’t you accept him?"

Laila sighed, a deep, worn-out breath that felt heavier than her frame should’ve carried.

"Sometimes, Madame..." she said, voice softer now, eyes distant, "we should choose peace."

She didn’t elaborate. She didn’t have to. Those six words dripped with meaning—guilt, regret, and that one night she never spoke of.

Celeste swallowed. That hit hard.

She and Laila really were opposites.

Celeste had grown up pampered, praised, expected to be righteous and explosive.

Laila... Laila had been free. Wild. She could’ve chased chaos. Could’ve gone mad with her power.

But she didn’t.

She had every reason to dive into insanity, and she chose calm instead.

Even when love was on the table. Even when someone stupid, devoted, and probably half-bleeding was offering her the world.

And she walked away.

Because Laila didn’t want to live a life full of panic and rescue missions.

She wanted stillness. Safety. No surprises. No heartbreaks.

Celeste stared at her.

For the first time, she didn’t just see a loyal subordinate.

She saw a woman who gave up a whirlwind for a quiet storm.

On the other hand, being born a noble had made Celeste’s life a curated hell.

Every detail of her existence had been decided by someone else.

From the silks she wore, to the etiquette classes she slept through, to the damn weapon she was allowed to wield.

Nothing had ever been hers, not even her opinions.

She used to watch the common kids playing outside, rolling in mud, chasing dogs, laughing like idiots with bruised knees and snot-covered faces... and envy them.

She wanted that.

She wanted to fall, scrape her elbows, cry and laugh without worrying if her dress was ruined or if her "reputation as a young lady of the Ducal House" would be damaged beyond repair.

The final straw was something else.

Her father tried to betroth her to the second prince.

A smug little peacock who thought women were accessories and swords were for guards.

She’d had enough.

She rebelled, said things she wasn’t allowed to say, then ran away from the castle before they could lock her in a tower.

From there, she carved her own path.

Became a wandering adventurer.

Lived on stale bread and monster guts for months.

Met her current companions, almost died with them, and somehow ended up sticking around.

She had all the freedom in the world now.

She could go wild.

She could be insane.

But years of noble training, years of quiet obedience, had left something behind.

An invisible chain.

It was still there. Tight around her shoulders, whispering: You’re still your Duke father’s daughter. Act like it.

So she didn’t go wild. Not really.

Even when her heart screamed for chaos, her hands stayed still.

Sigh.

Celeste let out another breath, heavy with thoughts she couldn’t quite shape.

"In a way, Laila... you’re better than me."

Laila opened her eyes at that, brow furrowing slightly.

"And why’s that, Madame?"

"At least you know what you want. And you’re willing to fight for it."

She paused, her voice quieter now.

"And here I am... not even sure what I want, or what I’m supposed to be doing."

Laila stood, walked up to her mistress, and offered a small smile.

"You don’t have to figure it all out right now, Madame. Just let your heart take the reins... and see where it leads."

With that, Laila gave her a respectful nod and stepped out of the tent, leaving a trail of calm behind her.

Celeste chuckled to herself, rubbing her temple.

"If I let my heart take the reins... I’m not even sure I’d recognize the woman in the mirror."

She wasn’t sure if that terrified her or thrilled her.