Otaku Translation: The Amber Sword V3C97

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Chapter 97: The Maiden’s Thread, Part 4

The room fell silent as Cinnabar, her head resting on the pristine white pillow, stared at Brandon with tears streaming down her face.

Metissa remained quiet, Fleur said nothing, and Chael merely watched Brandon. Antietta glanced around, suspicion growing in her eyes. She hadn’t experienced the darkness beneath Shafrend or possessed Metissa’s keen insight—she couldn’t comprehend what Brandon meant to Cinnabar now. Still, even a fool could see the girl’s deep attachment to him, and Antietta couldn’t help but let her thoughts wander.

Brandon stepped closer, standing by Cinnabar’s bedside. The girl finally stopped her tears, calming herself. A fragile smile formed on her lips—sweet but brittle, like an image drawn on fragile parchment, ready to shatter at any moment.

“You’re back… my lord,” Cinnabar whispered. For days, she’d been unable to eat, surviving only on water. Her voice was barely audible, her lips forming the words silently.

“I’m back,” Brandon replied softly, his heart heavy at the sight of her frailty.

“What about Shafrend?” she asked without sound, her gaze fixed on him.

Brandon smiled faintly but didn’t answer.

“Did you come back for me, my lord?” Cinnabar’s amber eyes shimmered with hesitant hope. Brandon saw it clearly and nodded.

Cinnabar blinked hard, then sniffled and lay back down. Her chest rose and fell weakly, her brows occasionally furrowing as if even lying there caused her immense pain. No one dared to speak, and the room grew so still that the faintest sound would have echoed.

“Will I survive?”

The red-haired girl turned her head toward the window, staring blankly at the lush branches of the ancient red tree. Her voice was barely a whisper.

Brandon hesitated, then nodded.

“The truth?”

“When have I ever lied?” he responded gently.

Cinnabar paused, her sharp intuition telling her otherwise. “But… I feel like… you’re lying to me, my lord,” she murmured, her tone almost playful, like a child seeking reassurance. Her words softened everyone’s hearts.

No one expected this stubborn girl to appear so vulnerable, as though the relentless pain had shattered the resilience she’d clung to for so long.

Brandon didn’t respond.

In truth, no one in the room could answer her question. Silence reigned.

“Actually…” Cinnabar gazed at the dark green leaves of the red tree, sunlight tracing their veins. “I heard… your conversation.”

She took a shallow breath. “It’s impractical… forget it. Even I think it’s pointless.” A faint, self-deprecating smile crossed her lips.

Had Macaro been present, he might have realized he’d never truly noticed the sweetness and serenity in his ward’s smile—like that of an angel.

“Cinnabar.”

Antietta interrupted, stepping forward with frustration. “What are you saying?” The usually composed girl couldn’t continue, Cinnabar’s words piercing her heart.

But Brandon waved her off. He looked at Cinnabar, resolve firming in his mind. The young lord lifted his head slightly and asked softly, “Cinnabar, do you have any last wishes?”

Everyone froze.

Even Cinnabar hesitated.

Though she spoke defiantly, her heart clung to life. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have endured each agonizing day, waiting for this young lord to return.

He had promised her—he would take her with him, no matter what, and never leave her behind.

That promise had touched her deeply.

She gazed at Brandon, her heart aching as if it wanted to cry. Everyone had deceived her like this—offering false hope, only to fail in the end. It had happened before, and it was happening again.

Cinnabar wondered if she was being too greedy, always longing for things others couldn’t give. She gave her all, her sincerity, yet the pain in her chest felt like a dagger twisting deeper.

Her eyes brimming with tears, she struggled to steady her breathing before whispering hoarsely, “My lord…”

She paused, taking another breath to steady herself. Three attempts to speak, and finally, her voice broke through: “In my homeland… there’s a tradition…”

“It’s said that when someone dies, their closest loved ones kiss their forehead, leaving their memories there. That way, even in the next world, they won’t be forgotten…”

Her gaze drifted to Brandon—she couldn’t bring herself to hate this deceitful man.

“My lord…” she whispered.

“So… can you… pretend to be… Cinnabar’s closest person? Just this once?”

“Even if only for a moment.”

With great effort, she lay back, her consciousness fading. Murmuring deliriously, she whispered, “Commander, Aiko, Yura… everyone abandoned Cinnabar…”

Antietta turned away, covering her mouth to stifle a sob. She fought back tears, unwilling to witness what came next.

But Metissa and Chael’s eyes were fixed on Brandon.

After a long silence, Brandon nodded.

Cinnabar, bereft of her final anchor, collapsed completely. Though she didn’t see Brandon’s nod, in her haze, she still tried to smile—but lacked even the strength for that.

What a failure, she thought bitterly. Her life was a failure—unable to protect others, relying on others only to be abandoned in the end.

She wanted to cry, but no tears came.

“Close your eyes, Cinnabar,” Brandon said softly.

The girl hesitated, then obeyed. She thought Marsha must have finally noticed her tiny existence. She closed her eyes, her final wish lingering—a hope to leave without regret.

As her eyelids fell, she imagined hearing the gentle breeze of the Chablis mountains, the sound that had accompanied her childhood.

It was the homeland of the mountain folk, where dreams began and ended.

A profound peace settled over Cinnabar. She felt she had returned to those quiet woods, where memories of growing up with everyone were vivid and clear.

Aiko, Commander, carefree days—all came flooding back.

Yet she raised her head slightly, stubbornly waiting for the kiss that symbolized farewell. But time seemed to stand still, and no kiss came.

Cinnabar, bewildered, tried to open her eyes, unsure if she even had the strength. But just then, a gentle voice whispered:

“Don’t move.”

Cinnabar’s eyes remained shut, her body trembling as her cheeks flushed crimson. Is it coming? she wondered. But instead, something cool brushed against her lips.

A soft gasp escaped her soul. If she could, her ears—and not just her earlobes—would have burned red.

“He… how could he kiss there…”

“And… and in front of everyone…”

Cinnabar felt mortified, as if she might die of embarrassment rather than the blood of gods. Her body stiffened, her mind racing. What should she do? Her thoughts froze, her heart pounding louder and clearer than ever before.

But wait—

Gradually, her fidgeting ceased. She took a tentative breath. Clear thoughts? How long had it been since she last felt this clarity? The pain vanished, vitality returning to her body.

The crushing weakness that had made breathing difficult disappeared entirely.

She felt a warm current enter her body through her lips, sliding along her tongue, down her throat, and spreading through her limbs. This force seemed to soothe her wounds, pulling her from the abyss of suffering.

Cinnabar was stunned. Instinctively, she reached up to touch her cheek, though her eyes remained closed. Her shock lasted only a moment before embarrassment overwhelmed her.

No matter what—he shouldn’t have kissed her!

“Why did he do that…” Cinnabar’s face flared red again, like a ripe apple. “And… and in front of everyone…”

“He even put something strange in her mouth…” Mortified, she lowered her head, feeling as if her body were on fire. She wished she could vanish into thin air.

Her eyes squeezed shut tightly, refusing to open lest she be mocked.

But then, a soft chuckle broke the silence.

That laugh was the final straw. Cinnabar’s eyes snapped open. First, she saw Antietta and Fleur struggling to suppress their amusement. But Chael and Metissa—

The young wizard and Silver Elf princess stared at Brandon in awe, their eyes wide as they looked at the golden apple in his hand.

Brandon, expressionless, placed the apple gently on Cinnabar’s lips. Unlike the others, he felt no joy. The powerful life force within the golden apple could only prolong her life, not alter her fate. Worse, it might strengthen the blood of gods within her.

Still, he consoled himself. Legends claimed the golden apple could change one’s destiny. Perhaps it could change hers too.

It was a desperate measure. Moreover, the young dragon had warned him—the apple carried something strange. Not poison, perhaps, but certainly nothing good.

For now, though, Cinnabar’s face burned brighter than ever. Even Brandon found her blush perplexing. How could someone’s face turn so red? Was this the dragon’s mischief?

He never guessed that Cinnabar’s sole thought at the moment was finding a block of cheese to bash her head into.

She had misunderstood everything. And worse, her reaction hadn’t gone unnoticed by Antietta and Fleur.

“I’m going to die of embarrassment,” Cinnabar thought, the blood of gods momentarily forgotten.

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