Parents…

Eliza had almost forgotten that they were supposed to be an essential part of her life. The only times she ever ran into them were during meals and considering that she hadn’t seen her mother in over half a year and her father for the last month, it almost felt surreal.

Eating in her room was simpler for her. More importantly, having Iris put the food in her mouth was easier than eating it herself. Especially when her body was sore. Not sore enough to be immobile but sore enough that after every moment, she wanted to wince.

It was always there, at the back of her mind, threatening to overwhelm her senses but it never did.

Eliza dug into her meal. It was a steak, conveniently cut into smaller pieces for her due to her insistence. Eating meat was a necessity and it was simply impractical to have anyone other than the cook cut it apart, especially if it was done at the table.

“It’s been a while, mother,” said Eliza, showing off the little she learned from her etiquette class before Miss Corbin deemed it fit to not come anymore. Perhaps she was angered by Iris sending her away on account of Eliza being sick, which was a fact.

Ever since the Soul Burn, which was what Eliza called that pain from before, the damage done by the enlarging Mana Circuits wasn’t as severe. Maybe it just didn’t hurt as bad in comparison, but there was a constant ache, like a burn, enveloping her entire body even if she took a day’s break.

It wasn’t from her crazy training regimen.

“Yeah,” mumbled her mother softly and lazily, abandoning all noble etiquette for comfort. She was in the presence of her immediate family —her husband and daughter— after all. That, and the servants. Several of them adorned in fancy suits stood near the table, almost invisible to the eye.

She was far too used to them.

“How have you been, darling? Is Iris taking care of you well?” asked Evelyn after she got her bearings, her eyes now focused on Eliza. There was a frail smile on her lips and her eyes were droopy.

The diplomatic missions were undoubtedly tiring but exhaustion wasn’t something that Eliza’s Empathy brought to her. Exhaustion by itself wasn’t an emotion but feeling tired was and she had no shortage of that from her father who dragged that emotion from his study every evening, without fail.

“She is,” said Eliza and stopped, the rest of her sentence lost somewhere between her mind and her mouth.

Something always felt wrong when she sat in the dining room with them. Only today did Eliza manage to put her finger on it. Everything seemed so wooden, like it was a social interaction between nobles rather than a familial one.

“So Miss Corbin informed me,” said Tristan, starting a conversation after realizing the last one was over, “She says that you’ve been sick in my absence.”

“I was. Still am,” said Eliza, dropping the formalities in favor of more familiarness.

“Should we summon a healer? What is the cause?” asked Tristan as he started to get slightly more interested in Eliza’s condition.

It wasn’t fear nor worry but interest.

That was an emotion and Eliza could feel it as plain as day.

If the emotions of the servants were whispers, Tristan's emotions were like shouts. They were loud and took up all the room.

“I do not know,” said Eliza and sighed, “It might have something to do with the Soul.”

“Soul?” asked Tristan, an eyebrow raised.

“I was trying to learn Soul Vision,” said Eliza and averted her gaze —it felt like what she was doing was wrong.

“Soul Vision… at your age? How?” asked Tristan as his eyes widened, not in surprise but amazement and wonder.

“Sir Fabian is teaching me in exchange for a… favor. It’s about the hieroglyphs,” said Eliza and gave her a stiff smile.

“Oh? You managed to persuade Sir Fabian, have you?” said Tristan and nodded several times, a wide grin on his face, “That’s good. That’s excellent.”

“And I’ve made some progress for the mission,” said Eliza.

“Mission? Ah, yes, the mission. Raised your Durability, have you?” asked Tristan and Eliza nodded in response.

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Everything felt wrong.

As if the two of them weren’t family.

“Don’t even think about it,” said Evelyn softly but her voice sent a shiver up Eliza’s spine —something not even Miss Corbin and her father had managed to do.

“She’s ready,” retorted Tristan.

“No, she is not. She’s not even four,” said Evelyn.

What were they talking about?

“It’s fine. His Majesty has granted me a core that is sufficient for youth such as Eliza,” he said and gave Evelyn a wink, “And… I have promised something else.”

“We have a Contract,” said Evelyn, her voice little more than a growl.

“I’ll be excused by His Majesty even if I’m registered,” said Tristan, and that’s when Eliza saw magic being used for the first time.

Ice crawled down to the table from Evelyn’s hands tenderly touching the wooden table. It spread with impressive speed and a portion of the table cracked into a million tiny pieces underneath her hands as she let go.

“Eliza, come,” ordered her mother and walked out of the room. Despite her tone of voice, it seemed like her mother’s expression never changed. Eliza had expected to see scrunched noses and furrowed brows yet got nothing but the equivalent of throwing furniture, or at least the Mage equivalent of that.

She nodded and hopped up to her feet, knowing better than to disobey her when she was like that. Eliza could feel the anger. It almost made her tremble in agitation but she pushed it away after identifying its source —her mother.

It was less identifying and more consciously telling herself.

Before she left the room, Eliza took a glance at her father who gave her an encouraging nod.

Contracts could be annulled, or rather, the punishment made null if the Royal Registry deemed it so. It meant that regardless of what, Contracts with commoners were one-sided. The nobility could simply reap the benefits and not comply with the conditions they set unless it is deemed unjust by the Emperor himself or a member of his court.

Eliza followed her mother out of the dining room and into her quarters. Not hers, per se. It belonged to both her and her husband.

“You will be summoned to the Royal Capital soon,” said Evelyn, her voice quieter than normal.

Sadness.

It made Eliza’s heart sink and ache.

“You must not show your talents there, understood?” asked Evelyn.

That was for her own good.

Eliza knew that but there was a question she had to ask, so with her most innocent voice, she asked, “Why?”

“You’re too young to understand that,” said Evelyn but Eliza knew what it meant.

It was common sense.

“I’m betrothed, aren’t I?” asked Eliza, earning a soft and slow nod from Evelyn, “I’d assumed it would’ve come… later. I’d assumed I was too young.”

“No, you’d have ordinarily been betrothed the moment you were born had I not been against it. You’d have been a mere token used to further your father’s goals,” said Evelyn, venom seeping from her words.

There was hate now.

Hate directed at her father.

Admiration for herself was something Eliza had felt before but when it was something directed at someone else, she couldn’t help but feel disgusted.

It was almost like she was being… brainwashed.

“And I ended up being used either way,” said Eliza slowly and let out a deep sigh, “It’s nothing to be concerned about, mother. I have no qualms about serving the interests of my household.”

“You’re a child,” hissed her mother.

“I won’t marry for another ten years, mother. That’s more than twice my age left before I do that and I have plenty of freedom before that,” said Eliza as a surprising calmness took over her mind.

It wasn’t hers.

It was her father’s, who stood outside the door.

Like he knew that nothing would come out of whatever her mother talked about.

“But you will lose your freedom at the age of fourteen, never to leave your husband’s side,” said Evelyn and that made Eliza pause for a second.

Losing her freedom.

She didn’t like the sound of that.

“You knew from day one, didn’t you?” asked Tristan from behind the door, “It shouldn’t be that bad. It’s a miracle.”

“The Gods taking her away would have been… better,” whispered Evelyn.

Sadness, again.

Gods?

Taking her away?

Eliza scoffed under her breath.

Why did she do… scoff?

“She’ll be a princess,” said Tristan to console her and added, “She’ll be a Royal. We’ll get more land and subjects. She’ll live the best life that the capital could offer her.”

“She’ll be a pawn,” growled Evelyn, her tone almost monstrous.

“Eliza? A pawn? No, my love. She’s a fighter. She’s a Rose with the sharpest thorns. If anything, we’re looking at a puppet prince,” said Tristan and pushed the door open, evidently left unlocked. He stepped behind Evelyn and pulled her into a hug, then whispered something into her ears.

That calmed Evelyn down.

Eliza would know —she was feeling exactly what her mother was feeling.

“I can hold my ground,” said Evelyn and smirked.

No, not hers.

That pride in Eliza wasn’t her own. It seeped into her from her father. It was overpowering, enough to turn Eliza into a narcissist without fail.

Even distancing herself from the emotion didn’t work and some of it seeped out of her mouth.

“It’ll probably be a breeze,” added Eliza.

“See? She’s the girl who went against fate itself. A marriage or two won’t stop her,” said Tristan, and the flood of emotions made Eliza turn around and walk away.

She didn’t like being overwhelmed with such strong emotions, whatever they were. Fear, happiness, pride, love, hate. All of them were disgusting and putrid in excess, and she’d had her fill for today.

Eliza burned it all away and activated her Soul Vision, covering her eyes in the soft red light of her Soul as she left the room. She didn’t care a tiny bit about tripping. All she wanted was to get rid of all these emotions.

Feed all of it to the fire.

The furnace that was her Soul blazed within her chest, the emotions from her parents giving her plenty Qi to power her Soul Vision for more than a minute. It was far more potent than the worry from Iris, especially considering the fact that there were two of them.

“I’ll be staying in the library until you have further need of me,” said Eliza with surprising coldness, almost like a miniature copy of her mother.

Feeling emotions was tiring.

Maybe human children weren’t built for that too.

“They are,” she mumbled underneath her breath but even Eliza herself didn’t hear that.