Chapter 19

  Vulnerability

  Aaronn had roamed the city for hours, hoping the steady rhythm of his steps would quiet the turmoil in his mind. His morning wandering had led him to Jaje Neima’s apartment, the very place that had been attacked the day before. Before him, the tall building rose into the sky, its entrance cordoned off with security ribbons. Two guards filtered the comings and goings of the few residents still authorized to cross the threshold.

  Tilting his head back toward the top floor, Aaronn tried to catch some clue, some overlooked detail. But from where he stood, he could see nothing but the underside of the balcony. Around him, the agitation sparked by the incident was still in full swing. Realizing he would gain nothing more for now, he abandoned any further investigation.

  Back at the apartment, Lunamilla had just stepped out of the shower.

  “Where’s Linart?” Aaronn asked.

  “He went out to contact the resistance,” she replied, tying her hair into a ponytail.

  Aaronn felt relieved to see a hint of a smile on his teammate’s face again. He had feared that the previous day’s events had completely crushed her spirits.

  “What does he plan to tell them?”

  “He didn’t intend to reach out before we recovered the amarite, but after what happened, he changed his mind. He wanted to inform them about those so-called ghost mercenaries… Communication zones have been set up across the city specifically for that. They’re concealed by a magical enchantment.”

  “Ghost mercenaries?”

  “Yeah. That’s what the media’s calling them.”

  The name reminded him of something he had wanted to ask her.

  “Yesterday—did you see the mercenaries in the apartment disappear?”

  Lunamilla’s expression froze for a brief moment, guilt flickering across her features.

  “No… I’m sorry. Neima’s men escorted us out long before that.”

  “I see…”

  Aaronn had the intuition that neither Jaje nor Godrick were personally involved in the affair of the ghost mercenaries.

  I… see… you… You… won’t… escape… me… Your eff…orts are futile… And Senator So…la…na… will ne…ver… be… elec…ted…

  The words echoed ceaselessly in his mind.

  “D… did I… disappoint you?” Lunamilla blurted, pulling him from his thoughts.

  Aaronn’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. Sadness had once again settled over her face.

  “What? Of course not, Luna. Why would I?”

  “I wasn’t much help yesterday…”

  “You wish you’d done more?” he asked gently.

  “Yes,” she admitted, lowering her gaze.

  “I understand… but know this—you didn’t disappoint me, and I don’t blame you for anything.”

  Her breathing eased slightly. The scene felt strangely familiar to her. As though she had lived it again and again: apologizing for not being enough, always receiving the same reassuring answer. As if no one expected her to act differently… or rather, as if she alone believed she could.

  “If you’d like… I can show you a few defensive moves,” Aaronn offered when she didn’t respond.

  Lunamilla looked up abruptly.

  “I… that would be great, yes,” she said, a grateful smile brightening her face.

  They made their way to one of the city’s few parks and found a patch of grass near the small forest that separated the park’s interior from the surrounding streets.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  “Have you ever trained in self-defense?” Aaronn asked, positioning himself a few steps away from her.

  “Yes. When I was at the resistance headquarters. I even trained with the chief herself.”

  The chief? So the resistance was led by a woman.

  “Wow. You might give me a hard time, then,” he teased with a laugh.

  “Yeah, yeah. Don’t count on it,” she replied with an embarrassed smile.

  Aaronn stepped back and raised his guard. Both fists lifted, his right arm slightly withdrawn, his right leg set back as well.

  “Go ahead. Take your stance like I showed you.”

  Lunamilla hesitated, unsure which arm to place forward.

  “Trust yourself,” Aaronn encouraged. “Let instinct decide.”

  “Sorry… I’m really not comfortable with this sort of thing. I constantly forget what I’m taught.”

  “You won’t forget with me. I promise,” he said with a confident smile.

  She let out a nervous laugh. She couldn’t understand how he could be so certain, no matter the circumstances.

  Naturally, she stepped her right leg back, raised her fists, and bent her knees slightly. Just as Aaronn was about to compliment her stance, she changed it. She opened her fists, relaxed her wrists, and lowered her palms toward the ground, adopting a looser posture.

  “Nice,” Aaronn said. “That guard leaves more openings, but it can work to your advantage if you master it. Who taught you that?”

  “The resistance chief,” she replied, her expression serious. “I’m ready.”

  He appreciated that focus.

  “Good. I’m not going to teach you how to attack directly, but how to redirect your opponent’s energy back at them.”

  “Their energy? I don’t think I could fight a Light warrior.”

  Aaronn chuckled.

  “That’s not what I meant. I’m talking about the force of your opponent’s movement—and beyond that, their intention. I’m going to throw a punch. Don’t worry, I’ll go slowly. Use the motion I showed you to deflect it. But don’t focus on the technique itself—focus on accompanying the energy of my attack. Go ahead.”

  Lunamilla braced herself. She still struggled to grasp his explanation, but she would do her best. She saw his fist coming slowly toward her. Her hesitation, however, moved far faster than the punch. Before it could seize control, she acted.

  She guided the blow aside with her wrist, then seized Aaronn’s arm with her other hand. Pivoting on her footing, she engaged her hip, ready to throw him to the ground. But for reasons she couldn’t explain, instinct redirected her. Her right leg snapped upward in a precise arc, her foot aiming straight for his chin.

  Caught off guard, Aaronn staggered, lost his balance, and dropped to his back knee.

  “Wow,” he breathed. “That’s exactly it. And you’re agile. Did the resistance chief teach you that move too?”

  “N… no,” she said, embarrassed. “It just came naturally.”

  Aaronn sat down on the grass, absorbing the counterattack he’d just taken. Lunamilla joined him.

  “You see? You can handle yourself,” he said. “I think it’s more a matter of self-confidence than actual skill.”

  She lowered her gaze and began absentmindedly plucking blades of grass.

  “I… I wish I were less vulnerable,” she admitted. “I can’t control my emotions. I can’t hide my weaknesses.”

  “That’s exactly why you can’t manage your emotions,” Aaronn replied immediately.

  Her heart skipped.

  “You’re suppressing them. It’s trying to hide your weaknesses that makes you weak. You have to accept who you are. Don’t resist.”

  “How does hiding them make me weak?”

  He leaned back on his hands, searching for the right words.

  “In society, people think they have to wear a mask—pretend to be strong and never show weakness. But it’s that very mindset that keeps many from reaching their full potential. Taking off the mask doesn’t reveal your weaknesses to the world—it reveals your strength.”

  She stopped tearing at the grass, listening intently. His deep voice resonated within her, sending a shiver through her body.

  “Look at Jaje Neima. Polls place him at the top of the election list. Why do people like him so much? From what I heard in his speech—it’s because he’s vulnerable. He exposes his weaknesses to the world, making his sterility the driving force behind his political convictions.”

  Lunamilla’s eyes widened. She had never seen it that way.

  “The people recognize themselves in him and trust him because he has nothing to hide. No one fears someone whose greatest weakness is known. In other words, Neima’s greatest weakness has become his greatest strength. The door to success is the same as the door to vulnerability. If you suppress your vulnerability, how can you express your strength, Luna?”

  The question reverberated through her entire being. What was her greatest weakness? The vulnerability she kept buried deep inside? She had never truly asked herself.

  “Since I was born, I’ve always seen the same thing: men decide. Men hold the power. How can I—a simple girl—carve out my place in this world? To be born female and know I’ll never be the best because of it. I’ll never be as strong as a man, and I’ll never have as much credibility in the eyes of the world. I admire Senator Solana for running in this election, but no woman has ever been elected Chief Senator… I think… that’s my greatest weakness. I think I’m incapable of accomplishing anything because I was born a woman,” Lunamilla finished, tears rising to her eyes.

  The emotion in her voice betrayed a deep wound that speaking the words had reopened.

  “And that’s exactly why I consider you a strong woman,” Aaronn replied, and her sadness evaporated in an instant. “Despite that belief, you fight to prove it wrong. That’s honorable.”

  She wiped the tears from her cheeks. Who was this man? Who was the man standing before her? No one had ever believed in her like this—not even her own father. Not a single word of gratitude could pass her lips, weighed down by the depth of what she felt for him.

  She loved him. With all her heart.

  “But there’s one thing I don’t understand,” he continued. “The resistance chief is a woman too, isn’t she?”

  “It’s different… I can’t tell you why yet, but it’s different…”

  Was the resistance chief one of the Chosen?

  The thought had just taken root in Aaronn’s mind.