At this point, she was furious and made a firm decision: "Fine! Since that's how it is—"
Kelling stared in astonishment at Philsa and Gerlu, and at Freya, whose temper had inexplicably flared up. Besides the demon attack tonight, what else had happened?
"I never want to see you again!" she said, her tears flowing uncontrollably as she made this painful decision.
This was the first time she had cried in years. Not wanting anyone to see her like this, she covered her face with her hands and hurried away without waiting for Kelling to catch up. Jelu called out to her several times but received no response.
"Even if she hates you, you're willing to do it?" Jelu watched Freya walk away until her figure disappeared.
She asked Philsa so anxiously. The fact that her former friend had now become her enemy was the saddest thing for her.
Freya and Philsa—she didn't want to lose either of them.
"There's no way around it. If she finds out the truth, she'll definitely break down. That's just how she is. Freya appears strong on the outside, but she's actually very fragile inside."
"What exactly is going on?"
"..." Jerome didn't press the matter further, because she saw her companion lower her head.
He seemed to have remembered something, but he couldn't express his emotions on his face and could only silently lower his head.
He definitely had something he couldn't say, and he was always thinking of Freya's best interests, not as cold as he appeared.
Afterwards, Jelu helped her companion back to the guild. As she watched him limp along with concern, she felt a pang of pity and a hint of anger, and said, "Felsa, I've made up my mind."
"What?"
She no longer cared whether she was the third party between Philsa and Sherry; she secretly vowed to protect her companion or fight alongside him.
Anyone who harms their comrades is an enemy.
"Next time... if I see it, I will not be polite again."
Firsa heard Jelu mutter these words to herself for the last time.
5. He had always believed that his memory was flawless. He was so certain of it. Until recently, he increasingly felt that deep within his mind, in a dark corner, lay fragments of his memories, sealed away.
He had never read it, or perhaps he had completely forgotten it, or perhaps the memory was insignificant and not worth paying attention to.
That's what he believed ever since he awoke. But as the days went by, he became increasingly concerned about those lost memories.
He felt a void in his mind. Until one day he woke up and realized that he had been filled with fear, darkness, and evil in his dream.
He also discovered a strange scar on his arm, like a symbol, or like a letter.
But he couldn't remember how he had been injured.
The slightest touch would cause inexplicable excruciating pain, and at the same time, an inexplicable fear would surge within me.
He is already a father of a daughter, and his life has not been very turbulent; on the contrary, it is quite comfortable.
He didn't know why he had such a dream, nor did he know what that lost memory was.
In short, all of this instilled fear in him, an ever-growing fear of the unknown.
He felt that his subconscious was hiding something from him, and it didn't seem to be anything good.
He was even afraid of his daughter's bright eyes because of this.
There was a sealed laboratory inside the castle, but as the lord of the castle, he didn't know why it was sealed off.
However, according to the guards, it was he who had strictly ordered the sealing off of the area.
He suspected it was related to his lost memories.
But the fear in his heart of not daring to face the truth prevented him from taking a single step inside.
Did he kill someone there? He wasn't even sure, because he was afraid that the vague memory might actually be a memory of murder...
Until recently, he finally had the courage to face it, after all, he was already an adult over fifty.
If he himself couldn't face the truth, how could he have the face to teach his daughter? So, during the day, he took the key and opened the laboratory door, only to be greeted by a blast of dust.
He had prepared for the worst and was determined to identify the body as soon as it was discovered. However, there was no smell of blood as he had expected, and he breathed a sigh of relief.
If he really were a murderer, how would he face his daughter in the future? Fortunately, he wasn't.
No one had entered the laboratory for eight years, and the oil lamp had long since gone out, and repeated attempts to light it had been to no avail.
The room was small, and the walls were old. There were two tables in total, one for alchemical experiments and the other for eating.
The alchemical apparatus on the first table was intact, except that most of the reagents had expired or had long since evaporated.
He noticed traces of something having been placed in the crucible, though it had long since been emptied. In the corner of the room was a sealed container of chemical waste, next to which was a wooden bed against the wall, covered only by a moldy straw mat.
He remembered that this was his private alchemy laboratory, where he had once worked tirelessly, neglecting sleep and meals, conducting experiments day and night in pursuit of results.
That diligence, that pursuit, that fervor—it's truly unforgettable. Since recovering from his injuries and becoming the head of the Alchemists' Guild, he has entrusted all his experiments to his subordinates.
After that, aside from handling some simple tasks, I would relax and enjoy tea, rarely operating the lab bench myself anymore. Whenever my daughter returned from her college break, I would chat with her or go out for fun.
He suddenly noticed a tattered notebook lying under the bed.
He picked it up, wanting to review his past research findings, and his heart yearned to rekindle the passion he had once had.
Thus, through her own handwritten records, Princess Ireland finally came to understand her own "sin".
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