Chapter 129: Do You Care?

Chen froze.

‘Outside the script? This person… is she talking about me?’

A thousand alarms blared in his mind, but years of honed internet trolling and quick-witted survival instincts took over. The internal panic was instantly smothered, replaced by a mask of pure, unadulterated bewilderment that bloomed across his features with perfect timing.

He blinked, then pointed a thumb at his own chest. “Me? What could I possibly know?”

“I’m just a passing Trailblazer,” he said, his tone a study in casual innocence. “Here to keep my precious Qiong company.”

He gave a slight shrug, the picture of a simple-minded companion. “As for all this talk about scripts… it sounds pretty mysterious. Way over my head, I’m afraid.”

His expression hardened just a fraction, a glint of steel entering his eyes. “All I know is that anyone who wants to harm my companion is my enemy.”

As he spoke, he took a subtle, almost imperceptible half-step forward, bringing him closer to the shimmering edge of the light pillar that imprisoned Kafka. A look of genuine curiosity now colored his face.

“But then again,” he mused, tilting his head. “You don’t seem worried about your own situation at all, do you? You’re locked up in here, yet you still have the time to worry about what other people are thinking?”

Beside him, Qiong mirrored his movement, stepping sideways to partially obscure Kafka’s view of Chen. She said nothing, but her defensive posture was a declaration in itself.

Kafka’s lips curved into a soft, knowing chuckle, utterly unbothered by Chen’s evasive maneuvering or Qiong’s silent guardianship.

“Worried? Perhaps.”

Her voice was a low murmur, yet it carried through the space with unnerving clarity. “But rather than worrying about myself, I find I’m far more concerned with whether the script’s intended direction has encountered… an interesting divergence.”

Her gaze, sharp and analytical, swept from Chen to Qiong and back again. Finally, it settled on Chen, laden with a meaning that made the hairs on his arms stand up.

“However,” Kafka said, the subject shifting as abruptly as a summer storm. The intense scrutiny that felt like it could peel back the layers of his soul suddenly vanished. “Actually… I only need to know that you are truly willing to protect her. That is enough.”

The statement was so out of left field, so disconnected from her previous line of questioning, that it made the prepared retorts and deflections die in Chen’s throat. It was as if her probe about being ‘outside the script’had been nothing more than a passing remark.’This woman… what in the world is she playing at?’

After speaking, Kafka’s gaze didn’t move away from Chen. Instead, it took on a playful, almost clinical quality. Her eyes lingered for a telling moment on his tensed shoulders, then on the way his face was instinctively angled toward Qiong, ready to shield or be shielded.

She then turned her attention to the gray-haired girl who remained silently on guard. The curve of her lips deepened, and her tone grew impossibly soft, laced with a kind of fond understanding, like an elder watching the clumsy courtships of the younger generation.

“This little guy… seems to care about you quite a lot, Qiong.”

Chen’s heart gave a painful lurch, and he very nearly lost control of his carefully constructed expression.

“Care? Who cares?” he blurted out, his voice a little too high. “This is just… strategically protecting an important companion!”

He cleared his throat, a dry cough meant to wrestle the conversation back onto solid ground. “Ahem! Anyway, Kafka, the point we were discussing…”

“Shouldn’t it be what you Stellaron Hunters are actually planning to do to the Luofu, and to Qiong?” he demanded, pointing an accusatory finger. “Stop changing the subject!”

Qiong’s reaction was even more direct.

She had only been standing partially in front of him. But upon hearing Kafka’s teasing words, she took another silent, decisive step forward, completely blocking Chen from view. Her back was now a solid wall between him and the woman in the pillar of light.

Kafka’s smile only deepened as she watched Qiong’s protective maneuver. Her voice dropped again, becoming a soft, hypnotic whisper that seemed designed to bypass the ears and brand itself directly onto Qiong’s consciousness.

“Yes. Just like that, Qiong.”

“Remember this feeling.”

“Remember the surge of instinct that rises in your heart right now, the moment you want to stand in front of someone…”

“…the moment you want to shield him from every gaze, every word, and every potential harm.”

“This impulse, this singular thought of wanting to protect… it is perhaps purer than any power and truer than any prophecy.”

“Elio allows us to see the trajectory of destiny, but how to walk each step upon that path, which fork in the road to choose, what scenery to experience… the script doesn’t write these things. It can’t.”

“And the desire to protect someone,” Kafka continued, her voice imbued with a deep gravity, “is one of the brightest choices, the one most likely to alter that trajectory.”

“So, remember it.”

“No matter what you see, hear, or encounter in the future… never forget this feeling. The feeling of standing right here, wanting to protect the person behind you.”

Qiong stared at Kafka, her silver eyes wide and unblinking. She didn’t nod, nor did she offer any denial, but her protective stance didn’t waver by a single millimeter.

Tucked completely behind her, Chen could only see a sliver of Kafka’s face past Qiong’s shoulder. As he listened to her words, the snark and defensiveness coiled in his chest began to… unwind.

He still felt that Kafka was being needlessly mystical, speaking in riddles and half-truths. But for all her theatrics, he couldn’t deny that she was also genuinely, truly thinking of what was best for his precious Qiong.

Kafka’s gaze shifted, finding the half of Chen’s face that was still visible. The deep, knowing look in her eyes hadn’t dissipated; it had merely transformed, sharpening into a direct question. It was a question she tossed out lightly, shattering the fragile peace that had just begun to settle in Chen’s mind.

“Well then, my… enthusiastic little friend.”

Kafka tilted her head, her gaze seeming to pierce right through Qiong’s shoulder to pin him in place.

“Qiong cares about you so much that she’s willing to stand in front of you without a second thought.”

Her voice was light, almost conversational.

“So, what about you?”

She paused, letting the question hang in the air.

“Qiong is protecting you so closely… how much, I wonder… do you care in your heart?”

The question was so direct, so utterly unexpected, that for a moment, Chen’s mind went completely blank.

Did he care about Qiong?

‘Of course I do,’ the answer surfaced, immediate and absolute.

Ever since he had grown accustomed to the quiet, gray-haired figure who followed him everywhere, the word ‘care’ had become as natural and necessary as breathing.

After all, who wouldn’t grow fond of a girl who was willing to trust and follow you so wholeheartedly?

Someone whose eyes would light up at a single word of praise.

Someone who would grow visibly downcast over a broken promise.

Someone who, in a moment of true danger, wouldn’t hesitate for a second to stand in front of you.

[Elysian’s Note:

Having a good time with the story?

Every single bit helps immensely:

Thanks a ton for making this journey possible!]