Chapter 24: Isabelle’s confession?

In the living quarters behind Oracle Hall, Philly slipped into a white dress, hand pressed to her wound. She skirted past maids to the garden.

Heavy rain pattered petals. Garden workers vanished.

Perfect escape time.

Two steps—pain stabbed. Soaked, she hissed. Tears mixed rain down cheeks.

She was ill—deeply.

Didn’t want to flee. But task failure gnawed. Unrest sapped spirit.

Caged canary—freed, wings forgotten.

Garden vast. Time blurred reaching back gate.

Beyond—freedom?

Unsure. Only knew not moving unrested her.

Escape—not for freedom, but chains. Her known fate.

Gate unopened—opened from outside. Black figure with umbrella entered.

Sight—Philly paled.

Lady Isabelle…

“What here?”

“I—I’m sheltering.”

Voice colder than rain. Philly panicked—lame excuse.

Shelter?

Back gate—no cover.

“Come.”

Wrist gripped firm. Under umbrella. Back through garden to quarters.

Rain ceased. Body trembled.

Memories: childhood defiance—elders’ whips.

Magic-laced willow. Faint red marks—soul-shaking pain.

Punishment here too?

Isabelle led to second-floor bath.

Spacious. Pool pre-filled warm water. White steam blurred vision.

“Strip.”

“…Huh?”

“Strip. Bathe. Wet clothes—catch cold. Wound reopens.”

Dress clung from rain—underwear outlines clear. Isabelle uncomfortable just looking.

Philly dazed. Isabelle sighed. Grasped collar.

“Fine. I’ll help.”

“Eh? Lady Isabelle—I can—”

Blush. Philly struggled. Arm lift tugged wound—tears anew.

Rainwater masked.

Obediently stripped. Lip bitten, arms covered privates. With help—into pool.

Water warm. Head above—comfort.

Minutes—Isabelle yanked half up. Scrubbed back.

Philly stunned.

Back scrub?

Saintess scrubs who?

Me?

Dead? Heaven? All white mist.

“No rushing out in rain.”

“…Oh.”

Words grounded. Guilt, unfamiliar unrest—head down. Hesitant.

“Lady Isabelle—no punishment?”

“Why?”

“I tried sneaking out…”

“Normal.”

“Eh?” Philly shocked.

Isabelle explained.

“You’re human—not puppet. Humans think.”

Pause scrubbing. Soft.

“Philly—I researched many. Bios: deeds, hobbies. Yours—no latter.”

“If Celis—she’d say you’re like raindrops outside.”

“Drops fall unknowing—river, soil, or evaporate mid-air.”

“Fate set leaving cloud.”

White hair draped ear. Philly hugged self, head low.

Yes—raindrop. Birth—elders held fate. Thoughts, likes—uncared.

Even she didn’t know.

Food? Colors? Flowers?

Puppet. Tool. Used—discarded.

No care.

Fate—laughable, tragic.

“But.”

Isabelle neared ear. Cool voice warmed, firm.

“Some drops meet wind. Alters path—to unimagined land.”

“Nourish unique flower.”

“Philly—life not just Greiro’s dry soil. Another path possible—deserved.”

“I can be that wind.”

Breath grazed ear—fragrant. Philly’s dim eyes brightened—till last words.

Heartbeat stopped. Breath caught. Cheeks apple-red.

“I-I… give time… think…”

Love-struck?

Confession?

No—maybe. But like.

Controlled life—alone, read romances. Heroines confessed—thus.

Hand to heart. Dared not turn.

Need confidante—for strange feelings.

“Right—Celis, other saintess. Troubled—find via Renia. Gentler—answers.”

Gentler?

Celis gentler?

Impossible—Isabelle gentlest!

Domineering—facade!

Ears dripped red.

Unaware impact—Isabelle left bath.

Thinking time needed.

“Philly—fresh dress.”

Renia entered with clothes.

Philly rose, blushing. Emotional SOS.

“Renia—Lady Isabelle… confessed? What do?”

Rip—

Renia expressionless.

Dress—torn fragments.