Chapter 43: Bronya

The hotel corridor was quiet, save for the hushed sounds of its occupants.

March 7th had his arms crossed, his pink-haired head tilted at an odd angle as he pressed his ear almost flat against the wooden door panel.

He was straining to catch any hint of movement from within, any clue to the mystery his friend was concocting.

But all he could discern was the faint, muffled sound of Chen’s footsteps pacing back and forth, punctuated by indistinct whispers.

Nothing overtly unusual, yet the secrecy was maddening.

“What’s he doing in there?” March grumbled, pulling back from the door.

He shot a complaining glance at Dan Heng, who stood beside him, arms also crossed in a posture of patient observation.

“So mysterious… He even locked the door.”

He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

“Dan Heng, do you think Chen’s come up with some crazy idea again?

Every time he gets that secretive look, it’s never anything good!”

Dan Heng’s gaze shifted from the closed door to March 7th, his expression as placid as ever.

“March,” he said, his tone flat and even, “we have to trust him.”

“Well, that’s easy for you to say…” March scratched his head, his eyes unconsciously drifting toward Qiong.

She was standing quietly on the other side of the hallway, staring at the door with a blank, unreadable expression.

The young woman, her ash-blonde hair tied back in a neat high ponytail, had eyes as clear as still water.

Her face was a mask of calm.

Yet, the simple, unwavering way she waited for Chen struck March 7th as a little strange.

Ever since they’d arrived on this planet, Qiong seemed to possess a natural closeness and an almost blind trust in Chen.

Many of his actions, which the rest of them considered nonsensical or needlessly risky, she would simply watch in silence before choosing to follow without question.

“Hey, Qiong,” March couldn’t help but lean in, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“Do you really trust Chen that much?

He says there’s a surprise, and you just wait here obediently?”

He gestured wildly with his hands.

“What if he’s planning some scary prank again?

Like suddenly turning into a monster and jumping out at us?”

Qiong turned her head to look at him, her brow furrowing slightly as if she were carefully pondering the meaning behind his words.

Then, she replied with a seriousness that was both simple and absolute.

“Chen won’t hurt us.”

The concise, direct answer completely choked the words in March 7th’s throat.

He opened his mouth, then closed it, unsure how to respond.

Of course, he knew Chen wouldn’t actually hurt them, but… wasn’t this level of unreserved trust a bit too much, too soon?

“I’m not saying he’ll hurt us…” March felt a wave of discouragement wash over him, and he muttered under his breath, “I just feel… Dan Heng and I clearly met you first… so why does it feel like you listen to Chen more?”

The moment the words left his mouth, he realized how childish they sounded, and a faint blush crept up his neck.

Qiong didn’t seem to grasp the complex, tangled emotions behind March’s pout.

She looked at his conflicted expression, then back at the door, and spoke again, her voice soft.

“Chen is different.”

She suddenly closed her eyes, a faint, reminiscent smile touching her lips.

“His embrace is very warm.

It puts me at ease.”

The statement dropped into the quiet hallway like a bomb.

March 7th’s head buzzed.

“Wha… What?!”

His voice shot up several octaves, his face instantly turning a shade of bright crimson.

A trembling finger shot out, pointing accusingly at the closed door.

“Em-Embrace?!

Very warm?!

What… what did he do to you?!” he sputtered, his mind racing.

“Was it at the Space Station?

Or on the Express?

Did that guy Chen force you?!

I knew he could be untrustworthy sometimes!”

The impact of this news was more staggering to March 7th than the time he’d seen Chen transform into a miniature Herta.

Even Dan Heng, the unshakable pillar of calm, was completely stunned.

His crossed arms fell to his sides, his eyes darting rapidly between the door and Qiong, who now wore an expression that screamed, ‘Did I say something?’ He mentally rewound every interaction they’d had since meeting at the Herta Space Station, searching for any detail he might have missed.

He couldn’t find one.

What on earth had Chen been doing with Qiong in private?

Faced with March 7th’s frantic, rapid-fire questioning and Dan Heng’s piercing stare, Qiong seemed to finally realize she’d said something she shouldn’t have.

She blinked, her face suddenly a canvas of pure confusion, as if she couldn’t possibly comprehend why March was so agitated.

She looked at March, then at Dan Heng, and then shook her head with an air of perfect innocence.

“What… embrace?

Did I just say that?”

It was a blatant attempt to play dumb, a very basic, ‘what-are-you-going-to-do-about-it’ brand of feigned ignorance.

But combined with her naturally harmless and innocent expression, it was devastatingly effective.

“You—!”

March 7th was so frustrated he could barely catch his breath.

He was certain he hadn’t misheard, but Qiong’s current ‘I don’t know anything’ act made all his accusations feel like punching a cloud of cotton.

“March, calm down.” Dan Heng placed a firm hand on March’s shoulder, trying to ground the frantic young man.

His own gaze turned back toward the door, his voice low and serious.

“The priority now is to find out what Chen is doing inside.

His ‘surprise’…”

He didn’t get to finish.

The bombshell Qiong had dropped had pushed March 7th completely over the edge.

He’d reached his limit.

“I’m going to ask him directly!”

Shaking off Dan Heng’s hand, March lunged for the door, completely ignoring Chen’s earlier instructions not to peek.

His hand closed around the doorknob and twisted.

“Chen!

You’d better explain yourself, you—!”

He burst through the door, his furious interrogation dying in his throat.

His gaze was instantly locked by what he saw.

It was a spear.

The razor-sharp tip hovered less than an inch from his brow, held with a steadiness that defied belief.

And the person holding the spear… In the room, Chen’s figure had vanished without a trace.

In his place stood a strange young woman.

She stood in the center of the room, backlit by the faint light filtering through the window.

Her light gray hair was carefully styled into elegant twin drills that cascaded down her shoulders.

She wore a silver-gray uniform that was sleek and efficient, yet carried an obvious military air.

But the most shocking thing was her face.

It was strikingly similar—seventy, perhaps eighty percent identical—to the Lord Bronya who had given a speech on the platform that morning, his demeanor calm and reserved.

It was the same exquisite face, but this one lacked the masculine toughness of the young lord.

Instead, her features possessed a distinct, feminine softness.

At this moment, she was calmly watching March 7th, who had just barged in.

Her gaze flickered past him to Dan Heng, who had already entered a defensive stance behind him, and finally to Qiong, who was peeking in with wide, curious eyes.

Shielded behind Dan Heng, Qiong stared unblinkingly at the gray-haired girl in the room.

She seemed to sense something familiar, her expression one of pure curiosity rather than alarm.

“Who… who are you?!” March 7th finally found his voice.

With the spear tip pressed against his forehead, he didn’t dare move a muscle.

“Where’s Chen?

What did you do to him?!”

The gray-haired girl—or rather, “Bronya”—calmly scanned the three people at the door before her gaze settled back on March 7th’s face.

The hand holding the spear didn’t move an inch.

Her voice, when she spoke, carried a steadiness that seemed at odds with her apparent age.

“Trespassing into a private domain without permission.”

Her tone was cool and measured.

“That is not a wise move, Mr.

March 7th.”

“As for Chen…”

The corners of “Bronya’s” mouth couldn’t help but curl upward into a faint, knowing smile.

“He has already been sent to hell by me.”

[Elysian’s Note:

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