Chapter 195 - The Price of Being a Mother
Katherine Evenhart:
It was morning, and I was in the kitchen, preparing something to take to Nathan. A part of me still didn’t feel comfortable sending him back to the academy. At the castle, I always had him nearby. Even though my duties there were time-consuming, I could still see him during my breaks.
Would the academy accept a summoner professor of the plant element?
I let out a small laugh at the thought, but my mind soon returned to the events of the past few days.
"I’ll cut off the head of the wretch who ordered his kidnapping..." I muttered angrily, slicing through some fruit.
"It's been a while since I’ve put you to use, hasn't it, my girl?" I said, placing my hand on my mana gem to communicate with my Soul Golem. I felt the creature stir within, as if responding to my call.
I made a promise when I lost my husband: I swore I’d never be a soldier again. I didn’t want to drag Nathan into that kind of life. But my trauma and weakness put my baby in danger... more than once.
I remember when he was just five years old. My son was so small, and we lived in a simple home in the village. One day, trouble knocked on our door and forced us into this noble life, where I had to tell him about his family.
Now, ten years have passed, and it feels like I'm reliving that nightmare.
Staring at the fruit, I started cutting it with a surge of anger, but soon stopped, trying to calm myself down.
I’ve already lost my husband… and now, I almost lost my son.
I dropped what I was doing and ran to the bathroom, locking the door behind me. My heart was racing, sweat was dripping down my face, and my hands were trembling uncontrollably.
I almost lost my son… I almost lost my Nathan… Why do these things keep happening to me?
First, I lost my father, then my mother… then my first love… and now… it could be my son.
I had to sit on the bathroom floor to steady myself. The truth is, I've never forgiven myself. One of the last conversations I had with my husband was a fight, begging him to abandon the war and come home with me. And shortly after that, came the news of his death.
No one understands the burden of realizing that the last day you spent with the person you loved… you didn’t love them enough. You didn’t tell them how much they meant to you. You didn’t express how much you cherished them.
This regret haunts me to this day.
Why didn’t I give you one more hug? Why didn’t I give you one more smile? Why didn’t I tell you one more time that I love you?
I lived in bitterness, and that pain consumed me so much that, during my pregnancy, I fell ill. I almost lost my son because of that bitterness. It’s yet another regret I carry within me. I blame myself for being weak at that moment, unable to care for my child.
When I was young, I was cold to others, someone who didn’t value her own life. It was this feeling, this lack of purpose, that led me to become a soldier. But no one told me that having a child erases all that arrogance. No one told me that being a mother brings an overwhelming fear, a fear of losing your child so intense that just the thought of something happening to them makes a part of you die a little each time.
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“No one told me that having a child means experiencing the greatest joy in life while also carrying the risk of the greatest pain if something happens.”
I wiped away the tears that rolled down my face as I thought about the injuries I had seen on my boy's body.
"I'm sorry, Nathan... It’s my fault. Over the years, your mother has grown weak. I argue with you because the fear of something happening to you is unbearable... I'm sorry for being this way. I’m so afraid of losing the one person who keeps me grounded in this world. If it hadn’t been for seeing your face and hearing your cry when you were born… I would’ve surrendered to death at that moment. It was you who kept me alive… and it’s you who still keeps me alive."
Nathan Evenhart:
That night, I was feeling a bit better. I could move and walk, as long as I avoided sudden movements. Cylla had insisted on healing me, but I knew how exhausted she was. Even so, she healed me a little before I continued my recovery with the healing potion, a miraculous remedy in this world.
The potion had two methods of use: the fast one, where the liquid was poured directly onto the wound, and the slow one, which involved ingesting it. Though slower, this method was effective for healing internal injuries and bones.
My mother was feeling sentimental and didn’t want to leave my side all afternoon. She changed my bandages and insisted on feeding me. I gave in to her demands, allowing her to take care of me, knowing that she loved me more than anything in this world, and I loved her just as deeply.
As we were having dinner, Martha emerged from the basement where the assassin was being held. Her uniform was stained with blood splatters. As soon as my mother saw her, she immediately called her over.
"What did you find out? Is it what we suspected?" my mother asked, a nervous edge to her voice.
Martha shook her head. "At no point did the assassin mention the Special Eyes. I tried various methods to extract whether he knew about this information. Curiously, it turns out that the one who hired him was another assassin."
We exchanged surprised glances.
"Wait, the contractor they were planning to deliver me to was another assassin?" I murmured, analyzing the information.
Martha nodded.
"What else?" my mother pressed.
"In short, they used those two to kidnap the young master and didn’t know anything beyond that. The other contractor, from what I gathered, is also a mage-assassin, at the same power level as those two, and he’s the one with the main information."
Damn... If those two were already extremely strong, now I’d have to deal with a third mage-assassin of that caliber? I was fortunate to have fought them before they took me to their hideout. Facing three mage-assassins of that level at once would’ve been complicated.
"Most likely, this third assassin has direct contact with the one who ordered the young master’s death. Hiring an assassin to kill a high-ranking noble is not something done through intermediaries. I can say that this assassin was hired knowing he had an intermediary team, fragmenting the identity of the true client so that only one of them would know."
We all pondered over the information.
"So, there’s another guy out there who wants Nate dead?" Chloe asked.
"Yes… and his name is Quinn. That’s the identity of the third assassin," Martha replied.
But just the first name doesn’t help… it’s practically useless.
My mother was lost in thought.
"We have to find out who this noble contractor is and make him pay! The worst part is, we still don’t know if it’s because of his eyes," my mother said.
She was right.
If the hired assassin used two others to capture me, the real motive behind my death remains unclear. Maybe the third assassin intended to take my eyes without the team knowing. Or perhaps the contractor wanted to kill me directly, using this third assassin to ensure the job was done without arousing suspicion, only to collect my eyes afterward.
Countless possibilities ran through my mind.
These special eyes are both a blessing and a curse. They’ve become objects of desire over time, and the worst part is that the human royal family covets them above all else.
"And what about the names they gave us? Was it as we suspected?" I asked.
Martha nodded.
"They were their real names… they’re real assassins. And Ricardo even had a tooth with a messaging stone engraved with his name," she said.
I rubbed my temples.
They’re trained killers, not just mere mercenaries...
Professional assassins followed a certain rule, almost like a trademark: they always revealed their true first name to the contractor and, especially, to the target. It was both a signature and a grim reminder. You’d know exactly who was responsible for your death, and the assassin would bear the risk of having his identity exposed if he failed, leaving you alive. For the assassin, revealing his name was a symbol of unwavering confidence in his skills. A true assassin never considered the possibility of failure. He would pursue his target to the end, no matter the cost.
"I managed to find out the price offered for the young master’s death," Martha suddenly said, catching our attention.
"How much?" my mother asked.
"35,000 gold coins."
We exchanged shocked looks, stunned by the absurd amount.
"35,000…" my mother murmured, disbelief evident in her voice.