Feeling the sting of being brushed aside, Theresa reassigned Lunelle to the logistics department of St. Freya Academy without ceremony.
For Lunelle—who once harbored grand dreams of becoming a Valkyrie, of receiving a stigmata and using that strength to surpass her wife—it was a crushing blow. Her dream, once shimmering with possibility, now felt like a distant illusion.
If I'm not even given a stigmata… what kind of Valkyrie am I supposed to be?
A glorified errand runner in a Valkyrie uniform?
But after a short spiral of despair, Lunelle calmed herself and began to reconsider. Perhaps... logistics wasn't as humiliating as it first seemed.
After all, a support role meant she wouldn't be constantly dragged to the front lines. She could remain in the background—quietly growing, quietly preparing.
And what Lunelle lacked the most... was time.
Her unconscious period had been skipped entirely, and in just over four days, she had advanced from a total amateur to someone hovering just beneath the threshold of a B-rank Valkyrie. Yes, even the lowest-tier B-rank might be cannon fodder on the battlefield, but with that title came the ability to overpower ten ordinary fighters without breaking a sweat.
If Lunelle were to walk into a Far Eastern gym packed with regular civilians right now, she could confidently shout, "Bring ten of them—I'll take them all!" and not be bluffing.
And that wasn't even counting Valkyrie armor.
Once equipped and properly synchronized with the user's Honkai energy, the armor didn't just double or triple a Valkyrie's strength—it could amplify it tenfold. In some rare cases, even more.
But there was one cruel truth that pierced through Lunelle like cold steel.
Theresa had let it slip, almost offhandedly—Lunelle couldn't even receive a stigmata.
Even if someone handed her a full set of Valkyrie gear on a silver platter, she'd be incapable of piloting it.
Because every Valkyrie, whether born with it or transplanted later, needed a stigmata to channel and control Honkai energy. It was the medium, the circuit—the soul's gateway to power.
Without one, even the highest Honkai adaptability would be useless. It'd be like a martial artist with oceans of inner qi but no method to circulate it. The energy would remain locked, untapped.
No matter how far she pushed her physical stats—hundreds, even thousands of points through continuous simulation—it would all be for nothing.
Because the moment an A-rank Valkyrie appeared, someone with decent artificial stigmata and armor calibrated to raise her output tenfold, the gap in raw stats would be instantly flattened.
Such was the terrifying potential of a true Valkyrie.
This was why Schicksal, above all other factions, stood at the top of the Honkai world. Their power came from the systematic nurturing of Valkyries—the very weapons of their age.
Even Anti-Entropy, their eternal rival, had once been born from Schicksal's own North American branch, only turning rogue later on.
Had it not been for the First Herrscher leading them—someone even Otto found troublesome—Anti-Entropy would've been long obliterated under Otto's cold, efficient wrath. The man did not tolerate risk... unless victory was guaranteed.
After briefing Lunelle on enrollment procedures and the rules of St. Freya Academy, Theresa lingered—more than necessary.
Even someone like her, who genuinely enjoyed the taste of bitter melon, found it hard to part from the adorable Lunelle.
Lunelle, noticing Theresa fumbling for conversation topics yet clearly unwilling to leave, could only meet her persistence with a polite smile.
To Lunelle, Theresa was practically like her own daughter now.
Fine. Let's treat this awkward chatting like a teen mom trying to bond with her emotionally jaded forty-year-old kid.
Of course, the mental image of a teenage mother and a middle-aged child was... more than a little abstract.
Still, it was hard to tell whether Theresa's refusal to leave stemmed from pure laziness or the arrogance of someone in power.
Fortunately, a strict-looking staff member from Schicksal's Far East Branch finally came knocking—dragging Theresa, who had clearly overstayed, back to actual duties.
Watching her silly "daughter" being forcefully escorted away, Lunelle finally let out a subtle sigh of relief. Even if she could slip into her "first wife of Seele" persona at will, the pressure was undeniable.
Now that she had survived the most dangerous part of her awakening, her [Super Recovery] derivative talent had also begun to wane. The effects were still there—but less immediate, less miraculous.
Sigh... the simulation's on cooldown again. I guess I'll rest for now.
Her body, still heavy with fatigue and injury, was already leaning toward sleep.
But then—ah. She had forgotten something important.
She'd gone too far in the simulation. Her figure had... grown. Substantially.
Now, the tight chest wrap clinging uncomfortably against her enlarged bust made rest almost impossible.
Luckily, her ornery simulator still retained some sleep-aiding functions. And despite the discomfort, Lunelle drifted off with relative ease.
Yet even as she slept with her usual recklessness, danger—or at least disturbance—was quietly approaching.
A small figure moved stealthily toward Lunelle's ward. A duck.
Despite the mushrooms that had nearly sprouted from her idle waiting aboard the Hyperion, Bronya had technically been enrolled into St. Freya over a day before Lunelle's awakening.
But Bronya wasn't just anyone. She was a top-tier hacker—someone capable of breaching even Schicksal's HQ database given enough time.
So the moment any information regarding Seele surfaced, Bronya intercepted it. Of course she did.
She'd been here a while already.
The only reason she hadn't barged in yet was because, unlike Theresa, she didn't have unrestricted access to the intensive care unit.
So if she couldn't enter through the front door...
She would sneak her way in.
After all, Seele was waiting.
But by the time Bronya finally slipped into the corridor near the ward, what awaited her wasn't the quiet sight of her beloved Seele lying peacefully in bed—but the bitter realization that Principal Theresa had already whisked her away.
At first, Bronya wasn't particularly anxious. After all, in her logical mind, Theresa—overseer of the entire Far East Branch of Schicksal—ought to be drowning in paperwork, decisions, and organizational chaos in the wake of the recent catastrophe. Surely, she had just carved out a brief moment of personal time to check in on Lunelle. Maybe a few words of comfort, a pat on the head, and then she'd be gone in five minutes. That was what Bronya assumed.
And yet, that expectation shattered as the minutes passed.
Then half an hour.
Then a full hour.
Theresa—who by all rights should have been the busiest woman in the Far East—was still chatting away with Seele, seemingly in no rush to return to her duties. Even Bronya, usually so emotionally subdued, found herself flushing with a strange kind of second-hand embarrassment.
What kind of principal has this much free time to sit and awkwardly hover around someone else's sister?
Watching from the shadows with a faint scowl on her face, Bronya couldn't hold back her frustration. Muttering under her breath, she tapped into the system and silently pulled up Theresa's daily itinerary.
It was packed. Wall-to-wall meetings, briefings, field inspections.
And yet here she was, wasting a whole hour pretending to make small talk.
Bronya's face darkened.
So, she submitted an anonymous report—one laced with exact timestamps, activity logs, and even the Principal's current GPS location. It wasn't out of spite. It was justice. The entire branch was running on fumes. And their commander-in-chief was idling away like a slacker on holiday.
The response was swift.
Theresa, still caught up in her inexplicably stubborn attempt at bonding, was suddenly "invited" back to headquarters by a small army of stressed subordinates—who had, to their credit, arrived together with unmistakable grim expressions.
As soon as Theresa was reluctantly dragged away, Bronya finally slipped through the cracked-open door and entered Lunelle's ward.
Even so, she found herself feeling a strange kind of gratitude toward Theresa.
Because if the Principal hadn't used the giant cross known as Judah to quite literally smash the door open during her overly enthusiastic visit, Bronya would've had to crack it herself—likely triggering several security alerts in the process.
Just as she rounded the final corner, Bronya saw her.
There, beneath soft white sheets, lay Lunelle.
"Seele—!"
Bronya nearly stumbled in her haste, rushing to Lunelle's bedside as if drawn by invisible threads.
Her duck-like expression didn't change much—she still wore that unreadable, eternally calm face—but her eyes shimmered faintly, betraying a torrent of emotion. She stared at Seele with a quiet intensity, as if trying to carve the moment into memory.
It had only been three days since their last meeting.
And yet to Bronya, who had spent those days haunted by guilt, the absence felt far longer—like the old saying: One day apart feels like three years.
She clenched her fists.
Her sister had been wounded. And she hadn't been there to stop it.
"It's Bronya's fault... Bronya failed you," she whispered bitterly, eyes fixed on Seele's bandaged form. "Bronya couldn't protect you. Bronya couldn't even be there when you needed her."
Her voice trembled slightly—not with tears, but with a deep, aching sense of helplessness.
Even now, with her emotional module damaged, she couldn't cry for Seele.
She could only sit there in silence, gaze tracing every detail of her sister's resting form.
Then suddenly—Bronya stiffened.
"…Wait a moment. Seele… smells different."
It was a subtle shift, but Bronya's hypersensitive perception caught it immediately.
A delicate fragrance. Something faintly sweet, like the Seele she remembered. Nostalgic, yet unfamiliar.
"…Is it just my imagination?"
Curious—and perhaps just a bit overwhelmed—Bronya leaned in slightly closer. Then closer still.
Sniff.
Sniff sniff.
Within seconds, the emotionless duck had gone completely off the rails, burying her face under the blanket and diving headfirst into the soft warmth of Lunelle's bed.
"Storm Inhalation Mode—engaged," she muttered robotically.
Sniff. Sniff sniff. Sniiiff~!
The scent confirmed it.
Seele was changing. Not just in power or presence—but even her scent was returning to the Seele of the past. The Seele that belonged to Bronya.
Cheeks flushing faintly, Bronya pulled her head back out of the sheets, hugging the blanket tightly as if trying to preserve the warmth of that scent a moment longer.
Yes. There was no doubt.
This was her Seele.
…But then, as her thoughts spiraled deeper, Bronya remembered something that made her heart clench with jealousy.
Kiana.
That shameless, muscle-brained idiot.
The same girl who dared to lay hands on her precious sister. The same girl who already had Mei, yet still dared to covet Seele.
The bitterness in Bronya's heart deepened like a slow, creeping poison.
How hard had she worked, back in the orphanage, to win Seele's trust? To get her to open up, to accept the fragile promise between them?
And now, Seele no longer remembered her.
She no longer belonged solely to Bronya.
Instead, it was Kiana who was always around. Kiana, who occupied her sister's world now.
Bronya's nails dug into the sheets, breath catching in her throat as she gazed at Seele's sleeping face.
So peaceful.
So gentle.
So heartbreakingly unaware.
She remembered the way Seele had blushed when Kiana saw her bare body.
She remembered how, the very next morning, Kiana had already begun to leer at her like a predator stalking its prey.
That fool—how dare she think Seele was hers?
Bronya's possessiveness twisted sharply inside her chest, burning away the last threads of reason.
Her eyes, dark and glittering, fell to the cherry-pink blush on Seele's cheeks.
And in that moment, the jealous little duck could no longer hide the storm that raged within her heart.
--+--
T/N: Idk why but the author be writing a super long chapter for this one, 4k characters(chinese).