Inside the tent, the air grew as frigid as ice. The once-harmonious mother and daughter now faced each other like sworn enemies.
For Cocolia, she could bear anyone else calling her a tyrant, but Bronya—Bronya—could not, and would not.
She had poured all of her affection into her, never expecting anything in return. Whatever Bronya wanted, she did everything she could to give it to her.
In the years since taking Bronya in as her adopted daughter, no matter how busy Cocolia was, she always made time for her. From bedtime stories to parent-teacher conferences, she never missed a single one.
To ensure that Bronya, whose background had once stirred controversy, grew up in the best possible environment, she sacrificed her personal life completely. When she wasn’t working, she was at home, weaving beautiful lies about her origins, removing any obstacles from her path, and disposing of anyone with ulterior motives.
Why couldn’t Bronya understand her painstaking efforts? She was grown now—old enough to be a mother herself.
Why couldn’t she see the reason behind it all—
A surge of pain gripped Cocolia’s chest, as if an invisible hand had clenched around her heart. Her face turned pale, her breathing shallow.
She pressed her hand tightly against her chest, lips trembling, her gaze unfocused.
This transformation felt so profound, as if her very soul had shifted.
Bronya, meanwhile, silently lowered her hand, the vivid red imprint still stark on her delicate cheek. Yet it was not the sting of the slap that wounded her, but the blow that had struck her spirit.
But no more tears would fall.
Any tears she had left to shed for her mother had already dried.
Her silver eyes reflected Cocolia, her lips pressed into a tight line of unwavering resolve.
“…I will not return with you. Whether you choose to strip me of my title as Acting Commander or revoke my status as Guardian’s heir, everything you’ve given me, I’ll gladly return to you.”
“But if there’s even a fragment of affection left in your heart, then there is something you must return to me as well—”
With that, Bronya tore off her Geomarrow insignia, the symbol of her honor and her past, holding it like a defiant knight severing ties with an arrogant queen.
In a voice filled with clarity and strength, she declared,
“My freedom. Return to me the life that belongs to me, to Bronya!”
Cocolia’s fury at her unrepentant attitude was boundless, but she had no intention of harming Bronya any further. She realized that these punishments were meaningless to someone with a spirit as unbreakable as Bronya’s.
Only by striking at her heart could she truly make her submit.
Stepping forward, Cocolia looked down at the young woman Bronya had become, the girl who used to follow at her heels now standing tall and poised.
The red mark on her cheek disrupted her cold, striking beauty, giving her the allure of a bruised flower, exuding a tragic, defiant charm.
Cocolia seized Bronya by the chin, forcing her to look up.
“Freedom? As my daughter, do you honestly believe you’re entitled to such a luxury?”
Her mocking expression intensified Bronya’s sense of humiliation, yet she could only glare back with fierce defiance.
“Relax, Bronya. I won’t revoke your inheritance, nor will I let you run off like a stray, scurrying back into the muck.”
Cocolia’s voice dropped to a whisper as she leaned in, her breath brushing against Bronya’s ear.
“You’re the child I raised with my own hands, the daughter I love most. Even if you’re trapped by your own misguided ideals, I’ll never abandon you…”
“You’re only deceiving me!” Bronya struggled harder, but Cocolia’s grip was unyielding, as if her hand were carved from ice.
Cocolia chuckled coldly. “Remember? I once told you to practice forgiveness… just as I am now forgiving you. No matter what I may do that causes you pain, you’ll forgive your mother, won’t you?”
“What are you planning to do to my friends?!”
Bronya’s face hardened, and Cocolia saw this reaction as confirmation.
It chilled her to see the girl she’d raised now entangled in sentiments she should never have had.
“Do? Nothing. But as your mother, I have every right to judge whether your friends are worthy of your company, don’t I? Venti, was it?”
Hearing Venti’s name fall from her mother’s lips, Bronya’s heart tightened. She realized she had been under surveillance all along.
And Venti’s activities had likely already been documented on her mother’s desk—
While Venti was more than capable of handling himself, Bronya couldn’t shake the fear that her mother would treat him with the same merciless cruelty she’d used on her.
If that happened, and her mother drove Venti too far, it was certain that the dragon linked to him would intervene.
She didn’t know exactly what the dragon meant to him, but she could guess it was a master-servant relationship of some kind.
If her mother recklessly laid a hand on him, there was no telling if Belobog would survive the dragon’s wrath. A rampage in the city would bring death and destruction beyond reckoning.
Cocolia mistook her silence for cowardice, a cruel smile curving her lips.
“What’s wrong? Did I strike a nerve? Or is he more than just a friend to you?”
The accusation made Bronya snap back defensively.
“This is none of your concern!”
“None of my concern? And will you allow your own child to associate with anyone without standards?”
Cocolia smirked, as if she were toying with a mouse trapped under her paw.
“Venti isn’t some nobody!”
“If that’s true, then why are you so reluctant to answer?”
Like a black widow inching closer to its prey, Cocolia ensnared Bronya with words, binding her in a web of manipulation.
“If I recall correctly, you first met him at a banquet, didn’t you? You defended him, yet he showed no gratitude, and in the end, you both landed in jail with the troublemakers.”
“So, this entire rant was just to prove how many spies you have around me? To think I once trusted you!”
Bronya shot back sharply.
“Spies…? Ridiculous. Without my protection, do you truly think you’d hold the title of Guardian’s heir in a city full of wolves?”
Cocolia shook her head, pitying Bronya’s inability to grasp her intentions.
“Enough, Bronya. I’m exhausted… I won’t argue any further. From now on, I’ll use every means to force your ‘friend’ to reveal the nature of your relationship. Then—”
Her eyes glinted with a chilling, unfamiliar malice that sent shivers down Bronya’s spine.
“I’ll issue a warrant. I’ll make him a criminal, one who lured a dragon into our city, tearing families apart, worthy of all the people’s hate and scorn.
And you—will stay in your rightful place, watching as the poet you defended is torn apart by the people’s rage.”
Caught between helplessness and an urge to curse, Bronya could only look up and state firmly,
“…You’ll regret this, I swear.”
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