Chapter 250 - Braving Fire And Water For Love

As the figure of her younger self came a little closer, Cecile saw that her cheeks were stuffed till they seemed to burst and her hands were full of… “Fruits?” Cecile gasped. Piled in the young child’s arms was the same fruit that she’d just sampled from the World Tree. Her younger self had now claimed a seat for herself on one of the branches and set about happily gorging on the freshly picked fruits. She was munching with such gusto that anyone might’ve thought the child had starved for at least three days. Only after the young Cecile appeared full did she lay down on the branch. “Why aren’t you coming, Mom?” she murmured.

Cecile gasped in surprise. These were words she would’ve never said. From her first memories, Cecile had already known that her mother had passed away. It was impossible that she would’ve waited for her like this.

Meanwhile, the young Cecile grabbed at the fruits next to her. Picking out the one with the prettiest color, she hugged it close to her chest. As tears welled up in her eyes, she shut them and whispered, “This one’s for Mom… So, don’t leave me.”

Cecile choked up at the sight of the poor little girl. No… Something like this never could’ve happened. Her mother had died shortly after childbirth, and the king had immediately sent her to the royal villa. That was what she was told. ‘But by who?’ It had to be the maids that had always been taking care of Cecile since she could remember.

Soon, the younger Cecile drifted off to sleep. Then, the tree branch next to her crept up to steal the fruit in her hand. It then went to reattach the fruit to a branch nearby, before returning to hover around the sleeping girl’s head. It wasn’t to caress the crying child, but rather… the branch seemed conflicted on whether to smack her or not.

“Oh, come on. Really? You should comfort a crying child,” Cecile pouted, even as she felt choked up. However, at that moment, more fruits rolled out from under the child’s ragged excuse for clothes. Apparently, there was a hidden pocket inside. Seeing this, Cecile felt that perhaps she could silently overlook one smack. Still, this had to be a lie. She denied this memory from ever existing, and couldn’t fathom why the World Tree would show her such a thing.

The little Cecile’s breathing had evened out, as slept while curled up. Just then, through her slightly opened mouth, she mumbled, “I have to meet Estian too…”

Cecile felt herself waver from hearing her younger self utter Estian’s name, and her grip on the golden branch weakened. It wasn’t unusual for a child to call for their mother, but not Estian.

A second later, the image of the young child disappeared and the World Tree’s voice could be heard again.

[You. Remem. Ber?]

Cecile bit her lips. No, she didn’t—no such memory existed. It didn’t make sense. Why and how in the world did her younger self end up in such a mysterious place? Moreover…

‘Estian.’ Cecile felt a chill form in a corner of her heart. She’d liked him from the moment they had met. She assumed it was because she found him attractive, and he became the first family she’d made. All along, Cecile was convinced that those emotions belonged to her and her only… But what if that wasn’t the case? What if she was destined to like him from the beginning?

Thinking about it from the other person’s perspective, Estian also paid no interest to anyone, that is, until she came along and he accepted her. ‘What if it’s the same for Estian?’ What if Estian was meant to love her unconditionally, regardless of what kind of person she was?

Cecile felt the remaining strength disappearing from the hand from which she dangled off the World Tree’s branch.

* * *

Estian tossed Ruin aside with such force that the latter landed with a noticeable quake before rolling on the ground. The unconscious prince coughed up blood, but Estian didn’t bother sparing a glance as he stormed up and accosted Richard.

“Where is Cecile?” he demanded, grabbing the archmage by the collar.

“I-I don’t know.”

“Who other than you would know?” Rather than yelling, there was a chilling pressure in his terribly menacing voice.

“I told you clearly”—Estian grabbed one of Richard’s fingers and twisted—“to not harm even a single hair of Cecile’s.”