Chapter 159: Mommy..?
There were countless knights flooding in—way too many for Finn’s liking. All of this over the destruction of Moistvile? It felt less like an investigation and more like a parade. People were scattered everywhere, poking through the mud, tending to survivors, and acting busy like ants rebuilding a hill.
The air felt lighter too—strangely free. Birds still circled above where Moistvile had once stood, but they were silent now. The quiet only made the place feel wrong, like something was off. Finn couldn’t explain it, but unease gnawed at him. It wasn’t just worry about the missing people—no, this felt deeper. Unreal. Like the calm before something awful.
"Is something the matter, Finn?" A calm, polite voice pulled him out of his head.
Finn turned. It was Theron, watching him with a worried, curious expression.
"Uhh, I’m not really sure..." Finn muttered, looking back over the ruined swamp.
Theron followed his gaze. "Are you certain?"
"I don’t even know, to be honest." Finn scratched at the back of his neck, eyes drifting to the bubbling hole where Moistvile had collapsed.
"I was told what happened." Theron’s tone shifted, more serious now. "Mind explaining to me what happened between you and Ardin?"
"Oh, nothing major," Finn said quickly. "Just, you know... a final showdown. One last battle."
"...What?"
"Right..." Finn trailed, realizing he needed to rephrase. "So, after I told Silvara to—uh—leave me..."
"She left you?!" Theron’s voice spiked.
"No, no!" Finn flailed his arms. "Poor wording. After I ordered her to save my friends."
Theron exhaled, shoulders easing. "Phew. Continue."
"Anyway, after she left to do that, I felt wrong just standing around like a lazy bum. So I moved along the railing, and that’s when Ardin showed up. He jumped me, and that’s basically where the fight started. The place collapsed, we ended up on some high ground, and... yeah. That’s when it all began."
Theron just stared forward, his face unreadable. Finn couldn’t tell if the man was processing the fight or just the way Finn had described it.
"And what happened after you fought?" Theron asked evenly.
"Oh, right. So in the last stretch, Chestelle randomly appeared, helped me beat him, and then Ardin fell into a hole that exploded." Finn shrugged, casual as if describing a bad video game boss fight. "So, yeah. The guy’s probably dead."
Theron swallowed, stiffening. He glanced at Finn, then back at the muddy field. Adjusting his posture, he said quietly, "I see..."
"What’s the matter?" Finn asked, eyebrow raised.
"Just... don’t tell anyone you killed him, alright?"
"...Why?"
Letting out a heavy sigh, Theron jabbed his cane into the mud, staring down as if the ground itself might help him decide where to begin.
"Well... as you know, Ardin Lightblade is—was—the hero of our kingdom."
’Tsk, that self-absorbed douchebag, a hero? Yeah right.’
"Yes, yes, I know that already. Get to the point, man," Finn cut in impatiently.
Theron gave him a sharp look but continued. "He is widely beloved throughout the kingdom—admired, sought after, seen as the one who will lead us to victory. Everyone places their hopes on him."
"Ohh..." Finn started to piece together what Theron was hinting at.
"You may or may not have heard," Theron added, "but he was granted one of the highest honors a man can earn—and at such a young age. He also had the privilege of meeting with the queen herself."
"Okay, the award part makes sense, but the queen thing... so what? Don’t all the higher-ups get to chat with her sometimes?"
Theron rubbed his nose and cleared his throat with a cough, his grip tightening on his cane. He let out another sigh, heavier this time.
"Listen carefully, Finn. What I am about to tell you—you are not to repeat to anyone. Do you understand?"
Finn nodded, wide-eyed. "Uh-huh."
"Very well. Our queen—may she be blessed—was struck by a curse. A vile spell that locked her body in eternal youth. She will never grow, never age, never be seen as the sovereign woman she truly is."
’That doesn’t sound that bad... kinda like free skincare, honestly.’
"Embarrassed by it, she hides away. She allows almost no one to see her, and those she does... she remembers their names, their faces, everything."
"Ohh..." Finn muttered, the pieces finally starting to click.
"She thought very highly of Ardin. He promised her that he would find a cure for her curse, defeat the demons that threatened our land, and keep the kingdom safe from all invaders."
"That’s... a big promise."
"Yes," Theron said firmly. "And he lived up to much of it."
That caught Finn off guard. For all the arrogance, the posturing, the hero-complex—Ardin had actually delivered.
’Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all... or maybe he just let the fame get to his head. Eh, fifty-fifty.’
"So what happens now that he’s gone?" Finn asked. "Like... for the kingdom. And the people."
Theron’s tone darkened. "There will be unrest. The queen will be shaken. And the people will grieve. His death would shatter their faith."
"Oh."
"So do not speak of this to anyone. Not a word. Do you understand?"
"Yeah," Finn nodded quickly. "Honestly, I already forgot half the stuff you just said."
Theron blinked slowly, then sighed. "...I see."
***
A silence settled between them, broken only by the chatter of survivors and the shuffle of knights moving about, organizing the aftermath.
At last, Theron spoke again, his tone calm but deliberate. "Some of my house members are here, along with other higher-ups—as you like to call them. They will most likely wish to meet you, perhaps even question you. Do not mention anything we discussed earlier. Remember that."
"Alright, alright! I heard you the first time." Finn muttered under his breath. "Acting like I’m some kid who doesn’t know better, tsk."
Theron’s head tilted slightly. "What was that, Finn?"
"Nothing." Finn looked away quickly.
Theron let it pass, then glanced toward the distance. "Ah. Here comes one now. Please recall what I have told you. I am certain they will want to become... acquainted."
"Wait, what? One? How many? Who? Wait—huh?!"
"Just someone who works under me."
"’Someone’? That’s a person, not people! You said people like it was plural! Do you not understand the weight of plurals in a stressful situation like this?!"
"...My apologies. I did not mean to upset you. Yes, that was imprecise wording. Forgive me."
Finn whimpered, dragging his hands down his face. "You’re supposed to be all formal and proper, and you can’t even count..."
But then he caught sight of her.
And just like that, every ounce of stress melted from his body. His lips parted, his eyes widened, and his heart flipped.
’Sweet mama...’
What Finn saw made him reevaluate beauty itself all over again. Because this woman wasn’t just pretty—she was ghostly stunning.
’Are all the maid girls this absurdly gorgeous?! I can’t take this anymore!’
Her skin was pale as snow, so flawless it looked like it would be cool and smooth to the touch. Her hair shimmered with a silvery-white glow, faint streaks of violet catching the light as it flowed down to her lower back, the ends tied neatly. A braided crown circled her head, while a few loose strands drifted lazily around her head, as if underwater.
And her eyes—pale violet, sharp yet soft—framed by those floating strands, felt like they could look straight through him.
But her outfit nearly broke him. Finn actually swayed, ready to fall to his knees and beg this woman to step on him.
She wore a maid uniform of layered silks, dyed in ghostly blacks and pearly whites. The edges weren’t solid—they faded into smoke, as though the fabric itself didn’t belong to this world. A high-collared apron gleamed with silver embroidery in intricate spiderweb patterns, the long trails behind her fluttering unnaturally in the air.
Her sleeves flowed elegantly, and from them hung detachable veils that swayed as though caught in phantom winds. Around her neck, a lace choker clasped with a single white gem—like a frozen tear. Her gloves, edged in silver, left an oval opening on the back of her hand that revealed just enough pale skin to make Finn’s imagination combust.
And the way she moved—no sound, no weight, no hint of earthly gravity. She didn’t walk so much as glide, her long skirt drifting as though the ground itself dared not touch it.
Finn was done for. Completely hypnotized. He had officially declared this world the home of the most beautiful women in existence.
’No, seriously, I NEED to see her drawn. Somebody grab me a sketch artist—stat!’
She stopped beside Theron, and the man smirked knowingly at Finn’s dumbstruck expression.
Theron’s pause stretched just long enough for Finn’s brain to short-circuit. His lips twitched, his throat dried, and his legs felt like noodles trying to hold up a human disaster.
Finn blurted without thinking, "Please tell me her name is something elegant like Moonmist and not... I dunno... Brenda."
The maid tilted her head ever so slightly, her pale eyes blinking once—slow, unreadable, terrifying.
Theron’s smirk deepened. "Her name is..."