Being taken back to his house, Bran was surprised to find that the governor’s residence stood far taller than the buildings surrounding it. The difference in status was made painfully obvious through such extravagant architecture.
His mother held his hand tightly as she led him inside, tears flowing down her cheeks the entire way.
"Did I not tell you? I am completely fine." Bran squeezed her soft hand reassuringly.
He had purchased the lowest-grade healing potion for five credit points. It had stung a little, considering he had earned only twenty-five points from slaying the demon that had nearly taken his life.
Well, perhaps he was exaggerating.
It was hardly an unreasonable price considering what the potion had done for him.
"How can you say that when your entire body is covered in bruises?" she complained, her voice trembling. "You’re not used to this. So don’t pretend that you are."
Bran couldn’t bring himself to be offended.
Because that was exactly what he had been.
A wimpy, frail child who could still burst into tears at twenty simply because he had fallen out of bed. The old Bran had never possessed even the slightest restraint when it came to shedding tears.
And tears were a man’s worst enemy.
Kreak.
The doors swung open.
Beyond them lay the dining hall, where two servants stood quietly alongside two beautiful women.
One was Laura, his elder brother’s wife.
She was a tall brunette with short hair and a naturally scornful expression that seemed permanently etched across her charming face.
A great slender body with ample breast and wide hips. She definitely has kept herself well in shape.
Her fox-like eyes settled on Bran, widening ever so slightly.
Amazement?
Shock?
Whatever the emotion was, one thing was certain.
She had not expected to see him looking like this.
And then there was the woman beside her.
Long, flowing violet hair cascaded down her back, framing a pair of large, drooping eyes. Her delicate frame and flawless skin gave her an almost fragile beauty, the sort that made one hesitate to touch her for fear of leaving even the slightest blemish behind.
There was no denying that she was breathtaking.
Yet the moment Bran’s eyes fell upon her, something deep within his soul stirred with disgust.
Perhaps it was only natural.
She had once been his childhood friend, second only to his mother in the trust he had placed in another person. She had been the woman who swore before the gods that she would spend the rest of her life beside him, through sickness and misfortune alike.
And barely a year into their relationship, Bran had discovered her sharing a bed with none other than Lord Rawen.
Recently, the two had even married.
In doing so, she had unknowingly liberated Bran from the burden of remaining a cuckold.
He realized only after several seconds that he had stopped directly in front of her.
His eyes remained fixed on hers.
Bella shifted nervously, glancing between Bran and Venessa, but said nothing.
Bran approached her, causing Venessa to flinch, though she quickly steadied herself and refused to retreat.
Without a word, he reached up and grasped the bun of her hair.
"Bran!"
"Ah!"
Both Bella and Laura reacted instantly, though Laura’s voice carried a sharp sternness.
Bran looked at them calmly.
"Relax. I’m just taking back what’s mine."
He pulled the golden hairpin from her hair. It was an ornate piece he had purchased with his own money.
"No longer married, so I believe I can reclaim this."
He held the hairpin before her face, letting the golden ornament catch the light.
Venessa narrowed her eyes.
"Yes... it is yours."
Bran nodded.
"I know."
His gaze remained fixed on hers.
"And there are a few more things that belong to me."
He stepped closer until there was barely any distance between them, lowering his voice so only she could hear.
"And don’t worry. I’ll take everything back, with fair interest."
His voice was calm.
Far too calm.
"Just count the days of peace you have left, Venessa."
With that, Bran turned away.
"Mother... won’t you tend to my wounds for me?"
Bella finally snapped out of her daze and hurriedly nodded.
"Oh, yes. Of course. Come with me."
She glanced at Venessa one last time before leading Bran deeper into the house.
Thud.
Venessa suddenly collapsed onto her knees.
Her eyes remained fixed on Bran’s retreating back.
His eyes...
For the first time in her life, she had seen neither warmth nor anger within them.
All her life, Bran had looked at her with nothing but adoration. That affection had remained with him until they grew old enough to understand it and eventually fell in love.
After she remarried, however, all she had seen in his eyes was anger.
And that, she could understand.
She had betrayed him.
But what she had seen just now was something entirely different.
Something colder.
Something far more terrifying than anger.
Those eyes had not demanded an apology.
They had not sought an explanation.
They had promised one thing.
And that terrified her more than anything
....
"Come, sit here," Bella said, taking a seat on the bed before rising again to fetch the chest of medical supplies.
Bran sat down and glanced around.
It was his room, yet compared to the rest of the house, it barely deserved the name.
The room was so small that if he stretched his legs out from the edge of the bed, his feet could nearly touch the opposite wall. A tiny cupboard stood against one side, and opening its doors was enough to consume what little space remained.
Even the maids had been given larger quarters.
If there was anything that saved the room from being utterly miserable, it was the soft mattress, the dark curtains that kept the sunlight out, and the quality of the food he received.
And all of it was thanks to the stubbornness of a single woman.
That same woman now stood before him, visibly flustered as she tried to decide where to begin.
"Here, let me take this off. You should clean my shoulders first."
Bran slowly pulled his shirt from his battered body and slipped it off.
He was disappointed to see that not all of his injuries had healed. The potion had restored his stamina and closed the more serious wounds, however, which was enough to let him make the journey back while dragging the monster’s corpse behind him.
"Ah..."
Bella stood frozen for a moment, staring at him.
"Is... something the matter?"
Bran looked down at himself.
Only then did he notice it.
He no longer looked quite as skinny as before. Well, not much difference but yes, his ribs were no longer poking against his skin.
Bella had seen him shirtless countless times, so she would naturally notice even the slightest change.
"It’s nothing," she murmured.
She dipped a piece of cotton into the cleaning potion before carefully pressing it against the scraped skin of his shoulders, where the demon’s talons had torn into him.
"Ss..."
Bella winced with every touch, as though she could feel the pain herself.
"Does it hurt?"
Bran chuckled softly.
"No, Mother. I’m fine."
He reassured her, then lowered his gaze toward her chest unconsciously.
In the close proximity, he could, once again, smell her sweet fragrance and feel her warmth.
Bella was a well proportioned woman with an ample amount of flesh on her chest, enough to create a deep valley even though her dress was far from racy.
Some womanly fat gathered around her waist, enhancing her beauty and making her more tempting, he would dare say.
And a wide rear, big enough to assure him how good it would feel if she sat on his lap.
She was his mother, he had to keep reminding himself but was she? Bran was his child but not by birth. He was his adopted or some sort about which he got to know on his seventh birthday when Lord Rawen came back drunk.
Oh, it was such a day.
’But the old me saw her as nothing but as his mother.’
Could he say the same now?