Star Rail: Starting with a Lyre, Living off Busking [23]

To keep Bronya’s outing discreet, why would Venti choose to make such a conspicuous appearance in front of the Silvermane Guards?

First, it was to get his face known. No matter what he planned next, having them recognize him might save him from being mistaken as some petty thief. First impressions were everything.

After all, any plans to change Belobog’s power structure would inevitably involve the Silvermane Guards, and earning their goodwill could only help. He didn’t expect them to rise up against Cocolia on his behalf, but they might at least go easy on him in any future “rebellion suppression campaigns.”

The second reason was that to gain the trust of Belobog’s legitimate heiress, Venti needed to demonstrate his good intentions. He couldn’t come across as a skulking vagabond with hidden motives. Everything he was doing here was open and aboveboard, nothing shady or underhanded.

In fact, he imagined he’d already been flagged on certain “priority lists” by the city’s authorities, so he didn’t mind what this tyrant thought. It was only the beginning of a long game to come.

But first—

“Venti, do I look alright like this?”

Instead of her usual polished look, Bronya wore something far simpler—a plain outfit with a gray headscarf covering most of her hair. It was hard to imagine her as the shining future Guardian; she looked more like a village girl on her first outing to the city.

“—Perfect! You look so down-to-earth, I’m starting to feel like you’re the one teaching me.”

Venti circled her, smiling with an exaggerated air of awe.

Not used to such unreserved scrutiny, Bronya crossed her arms, suddenly aware of how exposed she felt. But any further staring would indeed have been improper, so Venti stepped back with a respectful nod.

“Well, then, let’s get ready to go.”

“But with all the Silvermane patrols outside, leaving without alerting anyone will be difficult,” Bronya replied, a touch of apprehension in her voice.

Once she’d returned home after reporting to Cocolia, her mother had let her retire to her residence just outside Qlipoth Fort to rest, clearly pleased with her performance. But what delighted her mother had less to do with the troops’ lower-than-usual casualties and everything to do with her daughter’s achievements.

Yes, she saw this as proof of Bronya’s superior leadership and quick thinking.

Nothing made Cocolia happier than seeing Bronya surpass herself, as if her daughter could become the person Cocolia had once aspired to be.

After a few rare words of praise, Cocolia had sent her off with permission to rest while awaiting further orders.

As for that “little bird” of hers with his harmless musical tricks—she considered him more like a pet for her daughter, nothing more. He posed no threat.

But that would be a decision she’d come to regret deeply.

…

As the residence of Belobog’s heir, Bronya’s house was watched over by a thick ring of Silvermane Guards, a security measure implemented after a past tragedy.

Trying to sneak past them or break through their lines wasn’t much easier than breaching Qlipoth Fort itself.

Fortunately, however, the guards below had become so focused on securing the ground that they’d long stopped looking up to the skies.

Venti’s solution was both simple and risky: fly from the second-floor balcony up onto the roof, and from there, with a little disguise, take to the air.

For someone like Bronya who’d never flown before, the experience was both thrilling and nerve-wracking, her hand gripping his arm tightly, too proud to admit her fear but unable to hide it.

But Venti, always attentive, gave her a few gentle words of reassurance.

“No need to worry—I’ll be holding onto you the whole time. And if you get nervous, go ahead and let it out; it’ll help ease the tension.”

For the occasion, Venti had even prepared something special: a set of wings made purely from wind, giving her some sense of security.

Though they were mostly for show, the soft, familiar shape of wings eased her fear more than simply floating in the open air would have.

“So, have you thought of the words you’ll use to commemorate your first flight, Miss Bronya?”

“Just Bronya will do…like before,” she replied, catching him by surprise with the unexpected closeness of the gesture.

“That works too. After all, beautiful names like yours need no embellishment,” Venti replied, his easy charm bringing a faint smile to her lips.

Part of her wondered if he reserved this warmth and patience for her alone, or if every girl found herself just as captivated. As much as she hated to admit it, she did wish to be someone special to him. The murky ambiguity between friendship and something more left her questioning.

They had the makings of friendship, and yet—enemy? That was a possibility too. Perhaps they were most accurately described as allies bound by mutual interest.

But deep down, she didn’t want their connection defined by such impersonal terms.

“I’m ready,” she said, extending her hand to him. “I’ll do my best to follow your lead and not slow us down.”

Venti took her hand, surprised at first, but he returned her gesture with warmth and ease.

Her hand, so marked by the hard-won calluses of a military life, felt out of place against his—soft and supple.

With her mind swimming in her usual cascade of thoughts, a soft breeze lifted them upward, as Bronya’s eyes met his in a fleeting moment of calm. The initial unease ebbed away, leaving only a strange, blissful peace.

The sensation of weightlessness she’d dreaded was replaced by the pure freedom of gliding through the open sky.

For the first time, she saw things from above she’d never glimpsed before.

Below, the Silvermane Guards’ lines encircled the city like stone walls. The few human-inhabitable zones looked insignificant, encased by ever-spreading rift borders that grew like tumors.

Belobog, once the proud City of Preservation, now seemed as fragile as a butterfly tangled in a spider’s web. Even the imposing Qlipoth Fort that had once inspired such reverence now felt cold, isolated.

In its stead rose a sense of smallness, of a city already teetering at the edge. Indeed, standing before those fortress walls, one might sense their strength. But from here, from this unfiltered vantage, she could see the chinks in its armor.

For if this City of Preservation were to fall, how great would the sacrifice be? The thought alone weighed on her heart like a stone.

The ground had never made the city’s predicament as clear as this vantage did: they were boxed in by frost and rifts. What remained was no more than a prisoner’s cell.

Mother must have known this, too, and yet she continued to send soldiers and supplies to the front line to push back. Each small, bloody victory only seemed to intensify the rift’s response.

The monster incursions only grew fiercer, and the townspeople’s lives only deteriorated further with every sacrifice.

So many resources, so much potential wasted—all for an outcome that seemed increasingly futile.

Were her mother’s methods really the right way?

Doubt settled into her heart, like roots piercing soil.

At her side, Venti’s voice called her back to the present. “It’s a stunning view, isn’t it? But we should prepare for our descent.”

His words snapped her back to reality, and she turned to look at him, her gaze a complicated mix of emotions.

Could he really look at these scenes of entrapment and despair and still call it beautiful?

In that moment, Bronya knew—this journey would shatter everything she thought she knew.