Chapter 105 : The Alchemist’s Daughter
❖ 𝓔𝓹𝓲𝓼𝓸𝓭𝓮 𝟷𝟶𝟻 ❖
⟡ The Alchemist’s Daughter ⟡
“Behind every truth lies a silence too deep to echo.”
✦✦✦
“No more sleep.”
Johannes’ voice was firm, almost cold, his gaze traveling down my tousled appearance with furrowed brows. Then, as if remembering some distant etiquette, he muttered:
“Oh, did I make a fuss? I’ll be careful in the future.”
I pulled my coat tighter around me and turned fully toward the chaos that unfolded. My eyes blinked rapidly, adjusting to the morning light—and to the sight of Porche Max, bruised and broken, sprawled across the earth like a discarded puppet.
The murmuring of villagers filled the air—whispers sharp as needles, fear laced with disbelief. I opened my mouth, unsure where to begin.
“This man…”
“Wait a minute,” Johannes interjected, lifting his hand with a calm that felt almost mechanical.
His entire demeanor was misplaced. The issue wasn’t that I’d been startled awake—it was that he’d thrown Porche Max in front of an entire village.
I stared at him wide-eyed, but his expression didn’t shift.
Meanwhile, the old villagers, trembling with indignation, broke their silence.
“What is this? The royal dog dares set foot here again…?”
“Oh, heavens. What calamity do they mean to rain down upon us now?”
“Whatever brought you here, leave us out of it!”
Before I could respond, Johannes spoke, his voice bone-dry, not even sparing Porche a glance.
“I only treated the intruder as he deserved. Let there be no misunderstandings.”
But the misunderstanding had already taken root. His words were a blade sharpened by pride.
“Yesterday,” he continued, “this man raised a gun to us while demanding the whereabouts of Isaac Prim. I simply neutralized the threat. No harm will come to this village.”
Still, skepticism glittered in the old man’s narrowed eyes. “Porche pointed a gun? Preposterous.”
“You have no choice but to believe it.”
His tone was unwavering, his posture unflinching.
“If I intended harm,” he said, “I wouldn’t have brought my wife here. What good would come of exposing her to this scene?”
That word—wife—caused a ripple through the crowd.
“…Wife? Did I hear that correctly?”
“Isaac’s daughter is married to a naval officer? Surely that can’t be right.”
“No, Isaac left to protect Edith. Then… perhaps she accepted him without knowing the truth.”
Their voices tangled like vines around me. What stung most wasn’t their distrust—it was the look in their eyes, a doubt as sharp as betrayal.
“She looks just like Candice. And she had the key to this house. That has to mean something.”
From the crowd stepped the old woman who had guided me home the day before. Her voice, rough and wise, sliced through the din.
“If she is Isaac’s daughter, she must have a reason for being here.”
With just those few words, the tide shifted. They respected her. Trusted her.
She turned her sharp gaze on me.
“Edith.”
That name, on her tongue, felt heavier than ever. I stood frozen under her inspection, knowing that her verdict could reshape my fate here.
Then, without warning, her eyes moved to Porche Max, still lying groaning on the ground.
“If what your husband says is true,” she said, “then Porche got what was coming. What kind of child is he, turning a gun on guests?”
I couldn’t tell if she believed Johannes, but she didn’t challenge him further.
“Come,” she said at last. “There are things you must hear.”
And then, firmly:
“Your husband stays.”
“Alone?” I asked, wary.
“Yes. If you fear us, bring your gun. But strangers don’t step into sacred places.”
I looked to Johannes. He gave a quiet nod—his silent consent.
“Alright.”
✦✦✦
The road we walked was cracked with time, each step echoing with a memory long buried. Eventually, we reached a small cabin tucked into the shadow of the trees. A silence settled between us, thick and expectant.
“…Has Isaac passed away?” she asked, her tone unreadable.
“Yes,” I said softly. “He joined the war… and died of illness.”
She exhaled deeply, her eyes remaining on the worn wooden door before us.
“And what brings you here, then?”
“He gave me the key.”
She turned slowly, eyes glinting with something I couldn’t decipher.
“Then you must know a piece of the truth.”
The truth? I frowned.
“…Does this have anything to do with why they lived here in isolation?” I asked.
“It has everything to do with it.”
She opened the door at last, her voice lowering into something almost reverent.
“Your mother’s research… is here.”
“My mother’s?” My breath caught.
She nodded solemnly.
“Candice left behind her final work. The list of studies. Experiments. Secrets.”
My mind reeled. Porche had hinted that she didn’t die giving birth to me.
“Was my mother… an alchemist?”
The old woman looked at me without blinking. Her answer came slowly, deliberately.
“Yes.”
✦✦✦
❝The past is not dead. It is buried beneath our feet, waiting to bloom in silence.❞
