Chapter 238: Stopping The Sisters

Night had fallen completely over the Rubenhart Estate.

The halls were dark.

The servants had retired after working late into the night. The guards remained at their posts outside, but inside the Estate, everything seemed still.

It was at that hour that the sisters chose to leave.

They took only what they needed.

Clothes suitable for travel.

A little food wrapped carefully in cloth.

Water.

A few small mementos from the village where they had once lived.

And the money that had belonged to their mother.

Ulrich had recovered it for them after taking them in. The coins were not a great fortune, but they were theirs. Their mother’s belongings. Their right.

It was enough to rent rooms for a while.

Enough to buy food.

Enough, perhaps, to find another place where three girls with dangerous magic might disappear.

Hermione packed the last of the supplies into a small travel bag.

Her movements were quiet.

Esther stood beside her own bag, staring at the floor with red-rimmed eyes.

"Where will we go now, Big Sister?" Esther asked.

Her voice was soft and sad.

Hermione did not answer immediately.

Esther’s fingers tightened around the strap of her bag.

She did not want to leave.

She did not want to leave the Estate, the people who lived there, or the rooms that had slowly become familiar to her. She did not want to leave the knights who had protected them, the servants who had cared for them, the lessons, the gardens, or the warmth of the dining hall.

Most of all, she did not want to leave Ulrich.

But after the things she had said...

After seeing the way he looked at her while lying fevered and broken in bed...

Esther no longer believed she could stay.

She had seen hatred before.

She had seen it in the eyes of people who feared witches. In the looks of adults who judged her before she had spoken a word. In the coldness of people who saw only the danger of her powers and not the frightened girl standing before them.

Those looks hurt.

But Ulrich’s gaze had hurt more.

Ulrich had always seemed distant. He had always been stern. He had always carried that cold, unreadable expression that made everyone around him think twice before speaking.

Yet he had never looked at them as though he hated them.

Not even when he brought them into his house.

But earlier, while half-conscious and drowning in pain, he had looked toward Hermione and Esther and said that he should have killed them.

The memory would not leave Esther’s mind.

She wanted to stay.

She truly did.

But how could she remain when she believed nothing would be the same again?

How could she sit across from Ulrich at breakfast, attend lessons in the Estate, or smile when he praised her if he now saw her as something he should have destroyed from the beginning?

"There are other kingdoms," Hermione said at last.

She closed her bag.

Her hands were trembling.

"We need to leave Skargardia first."

Esther looked at her.

Hermione kept her eyes lowered.

She did not see things in quite the same way Esther did.

Esther feared that Ulrich no longer cared for them.

Hermione feared that he would be better off without them.

Ulrich had nearly died because of Airam.

Because of them.

He had fought Valdris. He had lost knights. He had lost his arm. He had brought the attention of the Valmorian Empire upon House Rubenhart.

And Hermione could not forget his words.

I should have killed you that day.

Perhaps he had only spoken through fever and pain.

Perhaps he had not truly meant it.

But Hermione could not stop thinking that some hidden part of him must have believed it.

They had brought misfortune into his life.

They had dragged him into danger he never should have faced.

They had made him suffer.

Hermione remembered the ballroom at the Skargardian Keep.

The memory came without warning.

Ulrich’s hand had held hers as they danced.

He had been careful with her. Patient, even while even ’teasing’ her in his own way for being terrible at dancing. For a brief time, Hermione had felt happier than she could remember being. The music, the lights, the warmth of the ballroom, and the strange closeness she felt while he guided her through each step...

She had loved it.

She had loved dancing with him.

She had never felt so close to Ulrich.

And now, remembering it only made her chest ache.

Would things ever return to what they had been?

Would Ulrich ever look at her with that same quiet patience?

Would he ever take her hand again without remembering the cruel words she had shouted when Airam was taken?

Hermione’s vision blurred.

She quickly wiped her eyes before Esther could see.

Then she raised her gaze.

Airam stood beside the window.

She looked out into the moonlit courtyard with an expression so calm that Hermione could not understand it. The dark coat Ulrich had given her earlier still rested around her shoulders. Her small travel bag hung from one hand.

Airam had been through the most.

She had been taken.

She had seen Valdris.

She had watched Ulrich destroy himself to bring her home.

And yet she looked calm.

Too calm for someone about to leave the only home they had known in years.

Hermione did not understand it.

"Are you ready, Airam?" she asked.

Airam turned from the window.

She nodded.

Then she took hold of her bag.

The three sisters left the room.

They moved carefully through the dark corridors, their footsteps light against the floor. Hermione led the way. Airam followed close behind her. Esther walked last, one hand over her mouth as she tried to keep her cries from becoming too loud.

But she could not stop them completely.

Small sobs escaped between her fingers.

They echoed faintly through the sleeping Estate.

Every hallway seemed to hold a memory.

The corridor where Esther once ran too quickly and collided with a servant carrying tea.

The sitting room where Hermione spent long evenings studying Formula Rings.

The windows where Airam sometimes stood silently, watching rain fall across the gardens.

The dining hall where all three had eaten meals with Ulrich, even when he barely spoke.

The training yard where he had watched their progress with cold, demanding eyes that nevertheless never missed a single improvement.

Soon, they would leave all of it behind.

They descended the stairs in silence.

Eventually, the three sisters reached the main entrance of the Estate.

The great doors stood open slowly as they pushed it.

Beyond the threshold waited the cold night.

The air outside cut sharply against their skin, carrying the scent of wet grass, distant trees, and stone chilled beneath the moonlight.

Hermione stepped out first.

Her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag.

"I will handle the guards," she said quietly.

Airam glanced at her.

Hermione continued before either of her sisters could speak.

"I can put them to sleep without hurting them."

She was right.

Airam could use loose runes quickly, but witchcraft was dangerous when emotions ran high. Esther’s magic was strong but not suited to careful control in a moment like this. Hermione, however, understood Formula Rings better than either of them. She could form a small sleep spell, a numbing spell, or a controlled burst of mana precise enough to make the guards collapse without causing them any harm.

No one argued.

They began walking.

The courtyard stretched before them in silver moonlight. The gardens lay dark on either side, their hedges and flowerbeds reduced to shadowed shapes. Farther ahead stood the outer gate, where two guards remained stationed beneath the dim glow of a lantern.

Hermione kept her eyes on them.

A small Formula Ring began to form faintly around her fingers.

Then Airam stopped.

Hermione took two more steps before noticing.

She raised her head.

Esther did the same.

Both of them froze.

Ulrich stood in their path.

He had dressed simply: a dark shirt beneath a cloak thrown over his shoulders, his left sleeve pinned empty against his side. He looked pale in the moonlight. He should have been resting. He should have still been in bed with physicians nearby.

Yet he stood upright.

His face was calm.

His crimson eyes watched them without anger.

Without surprise.

As though he had known all along that they would come.

"U—Ulrich," Hermione whispered.

Ulrich looked from Hermione to Esther, then to Airam.

"What are you doing?" He asked quietly.

Hermione averted her eyes.

"Leaving," she said.

The word came out thinner than she intended.

"We have caused you enough trouble."

Esther stood beside her with trembling hands.

She wanted to look at Ulrich.

She wanted to see whether he had changed his mind.

But when his gaze passed over her, she lowered her head immediately. She was afraid to meet his eyes. Afraid she would find the same hatred she believed she had seen earlier, when he lay feverish in bed and spoke those terrible words.

Ulrich was silent for a moment.

Then he said, "I do not remember any of you trying to leave when Libra attacked because of you."

Hermione flinched.

"T—That was different."

"How?"

"We thought it would be fine," Hermione said.

Her fingers clenched around her bag.

"But it only became worse. You are hated by the other nobles because of us. Libra has become your enemy. And now..."

Her voice caught.

"Now our father is your enemy too."

"It changes nothing," Ulrich said.

"It changes everything!"

Hermione’s head snapped up.

Her ruby eyes were filled with tears.

"You do not understand!"

Ulrich’s expression remained still.

"Our father is the Emperor of Valmoria," Hermione continued. "He will not stop because Valdris failed once. He will send more people. Better people. He will come himself if he has to."

Her voice shook harder with every word.

"And every time he comes, you will be dragged into more danger because of us."

"It is too late to say that," Ulrich replied. "I made Valmoria my enemy the moment I killed their soldiers and brought your sister back."

Hermione’s face twisted.

"It can still be changed."

Ulrich said nothing.

"If we leave," she continued desperately, "they will not come after you anymore. Libra will not come after you. The witches will not come after you. Valmoria will not come after you."

She paused, taking a breath.

"If we disappear, you can go back to your old life."