Chương 249: 46. Ancestral Lands 2

By the time Ignicia and I finally appeared in the dining hall, the atmosphere had grown so delicate that even the clink of a spoon against a teacup sounded loaded with subtext. Alvira sat at the long table, face still flushed, forcing an expression that clearly meant I am furious, so don't test me. Unfortunately, combined with the heat still lingering at her ears, the effect landed less as "dangerous" and more as "someone valiantly trying to preserve the last of her dignity."

We'd barely sat down before she opened fire.

"Honestly. You two have no shame at all." Her tone was sharp; the tail end of it wobbled. My hand paused halfway to my cup.

"Alvira, about earlier—""You. Be quiet." She cut me off instantly, blushing a shade deeper.

"I don't want to hear it, because whatever you say, it's only going to make things worse." …That assessment was, regrettably, accurate. I swallowed the rest of my sentence. Ignicia, meanwhile, showed not one flicker of guilt. She sat with perfect posture, calmly cutting into her breakfast, as serene as if the woman who'd answered that door in a barely-draped robe and short-circuited an elf archer wasn't her at all.

"You're the one who knocked," she said, without inflection. Alvira's eyes went wide.

"That doesn't mean you open it like that!"

"How else was I supposed to open it?"

"At least—at the very least—" She "at least"-ed for a good while, clearly unable to locate vocabulary suitable for a breakfast table. Finally she just turned her head away with a huff.

"There is simply no version of that which is acceptable!" I nearly choked on my tea. What nearly finished me off was that Ignicia actually paused to consider this, then offered, with complete sincerity:"I can pull it tighter next time."

"There will be no next time!" Alvira erupted. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. I bent my head and coughed—a strategic cough that had nothing to do with the laugh I was failing to suppress. Across the hall, Jessi sat alone at a small table by the window, a cup of coffee so black it seemed to be absorbing the light in front of her. She looked considerably better than yesterday—at least she no longer looked ready to be blown away by a stiff breeze.

But she was quiet in a way that wasn't quite her usual quiet. No sardonic remark the second she saw me. No jumping into the chaos at the main table. She just sat there, fingers curled around the cup handle, sipping slowly. Then—when I finally couldn't help but glance her way— Our eyes met. She raised her free hand and gave me a single, deliberate thumbs-up. Her face carried none of its usual smirk—just a look of profound, world-weary understanding. It's fine. Big sis gets it.

My eye twitched hard enough that I nearly snapped my fork in half. No—this was worse than if she'd walked over and roasted me with ten straight lines. Because that thumbs-up wasn't spectating. It was a verdict. Well done, young master. You've finally crossed a line. I briefly entertained the thought that if a meteor punched through the ceiling of Latapan right now and flattened me into the floor, I might genuinely welcome it. Naturally, Ignicia followed my gaze.

"What's wrong?"

"…Nothing."

"Then why does your face look like that?"

"Because some people say more by saying absolutely nothing than by saying a hundred things." Jessi couldn't hear our exchange, but seemed to sense on some thief's instinct that she was being complained about. She lifted her cup, took another slow sip, and gave me a measured nod. I surrendered completely. Fine. This breakfast had been doomed from the moment I opened my eyes to find her playing with my hair. Still, the chaos eventually settled.

Alvira grumbled a few more times, then ducked her head to eat, refusing to look at us. Jessi stayed by the window, sipping her coffee, eyes quieter than usual. Ignicia stopped adding fuel to the fire and simply ate, her expression settling into something almost peaceful. And in that strange, slightly awkward calm, I slowly became aware of something else. Today wasn't an ordinary day. Not just a lazy, overslept morning. Not just the lingering aftershock of last night. Today, we were going to the Ancestral Lands.

The place that housed the souls of Dragon Kings past. The place even Ignicia never described in a light tone. Maybe that was why, near the end of breakfast, Ignicia set down her knife and fork and said quietly:"Don't dawdle." The mood at the table shifted in that instant. Alvira stopped complaining. Jessi's cup paused at her lips for a heartbeat before she lowered it. I looked up. Ignicia wasn't looking at me—only at the table, her tone as casual as someone reciting the day's schedule.

"We're heading to the Ancestral Lands shortly." Just that. But it pressed whatever lightness remained from the morning straight into the ground. No one joked about the door incident anymore. Even I understood, in that moment, that the ease of a few minutes ago had never been anything more than the briefest breath before a storm. After breakfast, Jessi stood and passed my chair without stopping, resting one hand briefly on my shoulder.

"Go," she murmured. No teasing. No extra words. But that touch carried real weight—as if she'd placed something unspoken directly onto my shoulder, and I understood exactly what it was. I watched her walk away, something heavy settling in my chest. Alvira still looked conflicted, like she wanted to say something more, but only muttered, looking away:"…Just don't do anything embarrassing in there."

"I'll do my best." She glared instantly.

"You'd better." That line, at least, kept the mood from sinking any further. Ignicia rose and tilted her head toward the door.

"Let's go." I nodded and followed.