This statement was slightly better than “the only one.”
Cecia, of course, knew what she was doing. As a girl with knightly spirit, she decided to look Vesper in the eyes for everything she did that day, and speak every word with utmost sincerity, simply to give the young girl a little confidence.
She gently squeezed Vesper's hand.
“I don't know who will be the most important in the future,”
Vesper's eyes dimmed slightly.
“But Potato is already very important in my eyes, you know.”
“Very important?”
“Mhm.”
“You won't abandon me just because you make other friends?”
“No.”
“You won't forget me either?”
“That…”
Cecia couldn't guarantee what would happen decades from now.
“As long as we can stay in touch, as long as you don't hide away and refuse to see me.”
Vesper looked calmly into Cecia's eyes.
Their eyes met, their spirits communicating silently, until finally Cecia couldn't take it anymore and blurted out a random phrase:
“Don't underestimate the bond between us.”
Such a trite line didn't make the atmosphere any livelier.
Finally, Vesper moved, as if to confirm whether what had been said earlier was true.
She moved a little closer to Cecia.
Vesper slowly crept toward Cecia like a kitten, cautiously studying Cecia's expression.
She observed Cecia's reaction to her sudden proximity.
But Cecia did nothing. She understood what Vesper wanted to do and genuinely didn't want to disappoint a girl who was courageously expressing affection for the first time.
So Cecia just quietly watched Vesper, neither agreeing nor refusing.
The distance wasn't great, but Vesper was overly cautious, unsure if she was going too far—still, Cecia had a pleasant scent about her.
Cecia was about to break. Never before, whether in the past or present, had she been so intimate with another girl. She was on the verge of pushing the girl away from her chest when, at last, slender, soft hands wrapped around Cecia's neck, drawing them closer and closer.
Cecia could feel the slight trembling of the girl in her arms, who seemed so awkward and uncertain, as if she didn't know where to put her hands.
Soon, the girl in her arms found her rhythm; her body stopped tensing and slowly relaxed.
Vesper could smell the faint fragrance from the girl's hair, feel their rapid heartbeats, and sense their warm body temperatures.
In almost an instant, the love-starved girl became infatuated with that feeling.
She wanted a deeper, ever deeper embrace, a hug until ribs broke, until flesh became a blur.
“Let's not separate, okay? Let's be intertwined forever.”
Cecia didn't answer, merely patted Vesper's shoulder slowly, making the embrace a little deeper, and then a little deeper still.
So Vesper buried her face deeper into Cecia's neck, like a small beast that had finally found its way home, greedily confirming this warmth that wouldn't push her away. She suddenly felt that she didn't need to eat so much for her heart to feel full.
Hugs truly possessed astonishing magic; Cecia could see the shadows behind Vesper slowly calming down.
She recalled hearing a saying that people need four hugs a day to survive.
Now, it seemed there was indeed truth to it.
However, at this moment, Vesper probably wanted to get enough hugs to last her several decades, all at once.
Cecia suddenly remembered their first meeting in the church, when Vesper had collapsed weakly because of the church bells, and Cecia had hugged her tightly.
Could it be that for her, a gentle hug was already love?
What a child starved of love.
The Starfolk were still coming ashore.
Vesper seemed to have understood some things, yet she still had a lingering infatuation with that warm feeling.
She was docile again, as usual, meticulously clearing the Starfolk from the shore.
She just had to keep holding onto Cecia's sleeve.
“Hey, hey, hey, Potato, can you let go for a moment?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“There'll be fewer and fewer opportunities in the future.”
“…”
Cecia didn't object.
Vesper was very quiet now, much better than her earlier frenzied state.
And Cecia wondered if it was her imagination.
After the hug, Vesper was finally no longer as erratic and violent as before.
She returned to the quiet demeanor she had when they first met.
The cleanup that night went exceptionally smoothly.
Perhaps it was because Vesper's condition had stabilized, or perhaps because Cecia's Holy Flame was particularly effective against Abyss-tainted magical beasts like the Starfolk, or perhaps the night's assault wasn't particularly strong.
In the latter half of the night, it would often take over ten minutes for a single Starfolk to crawl onto the beach.
Then it would be gently wrapped by Vesper's tentacles, and its neck would be twisted—if the connection between the large flower on the Starfolk's head and the shell below could be called a neck.
The two patrolled the beach; it was so peaceful that it almost felt like a stroll by the sea.
If one ignored the bizarre corpses underfoot, that is.
Cecia glanced at her sleeve, then said to Vesper, “Potato, how much longer do you want to hold on?”
“Just a little longer.”
“You said that half an hour ago too.”
“Then just a little longer again.”
Cecia, rarely seeing Vesper's eyes, finally asked out of curiosity, “Speaking of which, Potato, why do you always keep your eyes covered? It wouldn't hurt not to wear it, right? Your eyes are very pretty, and I wish you'd look at me with them.”
The rare compliment made Vesper a little shy, but her voice remained faint: “First, my eyes can't tolerate strong light. It's night now, so it's fine.”
“Potato can take off her blindfold and look at me at night.”
Potato blinked, then seemed to ponder something before finally nodding and saying, “Then I'll properly look at Nightingale with my eyes at night from now on.”
“Yay!”
“Second, the bishop said that if I keep my eyes open for too long, I'll attract the attention of other things, so they're covered.”
“You can still see even when they're covered?”
“Yes, I can, but it gets very tiring. When I'm holding Nightingale's sleeve, I can sneakily take a break.”
“In the Cult, can you also lead others by the hand?”
“My personal maid, Mo'er, often let me hold her sleeve when I was little, but she stopped letting me later.”
“Why couldn't you hold her hand anymore?”
“Because Mo'er said, ‘The Saintess has grown up.’ ”
“And you stopped holding on?”
“Yes.”
Cecia looked at Vesper's matter-of-fact expression and suddenly felt that what was called “growing up” for Vesper seemed to be merely learning to obediently let go of everything she wanted.
But why was she like this with me?
Cecia thought for a long time and could only conclude one thing: perhaps it was because I had never taught her that things you liked also had to be obediently let go of.
Rate on N.U.
