Aya Ran Away - Chapter 12

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 12
A pang of disappointment settled over her.
To shake off the lingering unease, Aya set out on foot.
She made her way to the Pond Side, where she had first met Nahal all those months ago.
When the strange mist had seized her lungs and fever wracked her frame, she’d sworn never to return to that place again.
But now that she’d recovered, she found herself drifting there more and more often, wondering if he might come back.
‘There’s nowhere quieter than this.’
Foreign envoys and court officials passed through only occasionally, so the grounds remained sparse—just the necessary staff coming and going.
For someone like Aya, who had little love for crowds, it was perfect.
Sometimes she came alone to admire the pond, weaving flower chains or tending to weeds that crept in uninvited.
Today, she’d planned to do much the same.
But in her absence, vines had wound themselves thickly around the small crabapple tree.
‘What is this?’
As she tore at the tangled growth, the Opal Ring tumbled from her pocket and rolled across the stone.
Sunlight caught it, and it sparkled with unusual brilliance.
She picked it up and turned it slowly, studying it from every angle.
After gazing at the inner surface for some time, she seemed to reach a decision—and picked up a sharp stone nearby.
Aya had never learned to read properly.
The alphabet of Levar was beyond her reach; there was no one to teach her.
Yet somehow, among all those letters, she could read a few words—and they were all Temple Characters.
‘Did I study Temple Characters at some point?’
She wondered, but without a clear memory to confirm it, she couldn’t be certain.
‘What was I like then?’
The question caught her off guard.
She thought about the time she’d lost—those fragments of memory, those marks left on her body.
‘Anyway.’
She began to scratch at the inner surface of the ring with the stone.
She wanted to carve one of the few words she knew—the one she loved most.
The character meaning Vital Force.
For reasons she couldn’t explain, the characters she wrote seemed to hold a strange power.
She couldn’t be sure herself, but those who possessed objects bearing her script seemed blessed with a touch of good fortune.
She’d once practiced the few words she knew, determined not to forget them.
Mostly she’d carved them into stone and erased them, but eventually she’d begun using wine-soaked cloth scraps instead.
She’d dropped one in a corridor, and a palace attendant had found it. Later, she heard that same attendant had been promoted to a higher rank.
She’d once witnessed a court official proudly displaying a scrap bearing her characters, claiming he’d paid good money to acquire it.
“Don’t you feel an auspicious energy emanating from it?”
She’d been so shocked to see her own work in that woman’s hands.
The script wasn’t even particularly fine, and the whole thing embarrassed her.
It was a blessing that they couldn’t read Temple Characters—otherwise, they might recognize her hand.
At first, she’d thought it was simply strange coincidence.
But then it happened again.
And again after that.
Of course, those who found her writing had no idea it came from her.
Her nurse and Yesilli both believed her to be completely illiterate, unable to read a single letter.
Besides, even if her ability were known, the court officials would have shunned her work rather than treasured it.
With such thoughts turning in her mind, she finished carving the characters.
In the palace where Aya dwelt, her script had come to be known among the attendants as Angel’s Hem.
‘Does that make this an Angel’s Ring?’
A foolish thought—but it was interrupted by the sound of voices rising in the distance.
The commotion grew louder, drawing swiftly toward her location.
‘An odd day for visitors.’
Aya quickly concealed herself behind the bushes.
She curled herself small and waited for the noise to pass, but it didn’t fade.
‘Who could that be?’
Just as she was about to peek out and identify the source, a scream pierced the air above the sound of running feet.
“…General!”
Aya’s body went rigid.
How many men in this realm could bear the title General?
She pushed through the branches and caught sight of a tall man, standing precariously among the chaos.
‘Nahal?’
Why?
Aya’s eyes widened in surprise, blinking rapidly.
‘Why has he come here?’
The thought passed quickly—Nahal seemed to be speaking with someone from the palace.
The distance between them was enough that she couldn’t hear the words clearly, which frustrated her.
‘What’s he saying? Temple? Priest?’
From what little she could catch, it seemed he was searching for someone.
Suddenly she recalled that whenever he came to the Capital, he always stayed at the Temple and prayed.
At the time, she’d simply assumed him to be devout, but now it occurred to her—perhaps that wasn’t the reason at all.
‘Who have you been looking for all this time.’
All along.
“Were you searching for me?”
Yesilli emerged just after Nahal had finished speaking with the palace attendant.
She walked out from the back of the courtyard.
Likely she had come looking for Aya, who hadn’t returned, and paused to observe when the commotion started.
Curiosity colored her questioning voice.
Yet she showed no fear.
If anything, it was Nahal who seemed frightened.
Even seeing only his back, Aya could tell he was trembling.
The hands he held clasped behind him trembled faintly.
“You’re a priest?”
His question came flatly—or rather, not flat so much as thick with disbelief.
“Was it you who sang here?”
His voice had lost its usual composure.
Aya, frozen where she lay, found herself thinking.
‘Sang?’
Guilt for a sin she hadn’t committed stiffened her body, and without thinking, her hand moved to her throat.
“What makes you ask, sir?”
It was a distinctly Yesilli response—never yielding the advantage, no matter who stood before her.
Nahal seemed taken aback by her counter-question.
He paused, then spoke in a smaller voice, almost confessing.
“There’s someone I’m looking for.”
At those words, Yesilli’s intensity eased.
Aya saw her eyes brighten with curiosity as she studied Nahal.
“Do you bear a grudge against them?”
‘No, I don’t think so.’
Listening to their exchange from the tall grass, Aya shook her head without quite meaning to.
From Nahal’s manner and tone, the person he sought seemed far removed from any matter of enmity.
“Not at all. The one I seek is my benefactor.”
‘Ah.’
As she listened to their words, Aya found her hands clenching into fists.
Tender leaves crumpled between her fingers, releasing the faint green scent of crushed growth.
She felt a sharp tension rising in her chest.
‘Something feels wrong.’
Why?
There was no time to answer the unbidden question.
All her attention remained fixed on the two figures before her.
“To be honest, I’m not certain.”
How could one sing and then claim not to know?
Before Nahal could object, Yesilli spoke first.
“It’s true I came here alone to rest, but I didn’t sing deliberately. I may have hummed to myself, but I doubt it would have been audible.”
“You were said to have sung the Temple Hymn.”
“It’s widely known among the common people, so it’s difficult to claim it was sung only by someone from the Temple.”
Yesilli denied it, but chose her words carefully.
She neither flatly refused nor admitted outright.
Nahal said, “I see.”
A soft, troubled sigh escaped him.
Aya wondered if perhaps he meant to ask Yesilli to sing for him.
“I’m sorry, but I should return now.”
Saying this, Yesilli bowed slightly.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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