There was not even a fleeting moment granted to mourn the death of the former Supreme Guardian, Cocolia. Before the city's grief could take root, the one who rushed to Qlipoth Fort without hesitation, as if compelled by something greater than duty, was none other than—Bronya.
She had just finished her speech to the people. Her voice still lingered in the hearts of thousands, but the applause had long faded. There was no time to rest. Despite it only being a single day since the storm had passed, the new Guardian was already drowning in responsibilities far too heavy for her age.
Now, Bronya stood alone in the vast, cold chamber of the Supreme Guardian. Her hands rested on the desk—Cocolia's desk—once a symbol of unyielding control, now a relic of sorrow. Dozens of artifacts and personal belongings remained untouched. Bronya's gaze lingered on them, frozen in a silence heavy with unspoken memories. So deep in thought was she, that she failed to notice the sound of footsteps or the creaking of the grand doors as they swung open.
"—Bronya! We're back!"
March 7th's voice rang out brightly, her hands planted firmly on her hips, her tone deliberately cheerful—cutting through the still air like a spark.
Startled from her reverie, Bronya turned. Her expression softened into a faint, tired smile.
"Ms. March, Mr. Dan Heng, Stelle... and Ms. Felicity." Her voice carried both relief and fatigue. "I'm glad you made it in time for the speech."
She nodded at each of them, but her eyes lingered on Felicity, as though searching for something.
"Thank you," she said, her voice low and sincere.
She owed everything to Felicity. Without her intervention, Belobog would have never emerged from the crisis so swiftly. Without the divine power that Felicity had wielded like it were second nature, Bronya could have never summoned the courage to confine Cocolia in Qlipoth Fort. And the Stellaron—Bronya hadn't even glimpsed it. But she didn't need to. Felicity had dealt with it, quietly, as if it were never a threat.
"And… I'm sorry," Bronya hesitated, the words weighing on her tongue. "I withheld some truths. That includes... some of the things you accomplished."
Felicity responded with a slow nod. "It's fine."
Belobog could survive a lie—but not despair. The city had barely been reborn from the remnants of the storm. If its people were to lose their faith in the Supreme Guardian, or their trust in the Preservation Path, now of all times...
It would collapse from the inside.
Even so, the reality remained—Cocolia had died.
Felicity quietly lamented. In her memory, she'd never truly spoken with the Supreme Guardian. It felt like she'd missed a critical scene from the story, like an important CG that never unlocked.
"But still!" March 7th cut in, clearly uncomfortable with the heavy atmosphere. "Bronya's speech was seriously moving! If it were me, I'd have collapsed from nerves halfway through."
Bronya lowered her gaze and shook her head.
"...It was just a beautiful lie strung together with polished words. I hope you never have to understand what that feels like, March."
Then, as if summoning her courage from the air itself, Bronya turned to Felicity once more.
"Um… Ms. Felicity—"
"Just Felicity is fine," came the calm reply.
Bronya faltered. Her expression visibly cracked, the carefully composed mask slipping for a moment.
"Y-Yes… Felicity," she repeated, trying to steady her voice. "I… have a request."
Felicity raised an eyebrow.
"Can you… stay in Belobog?"
The words barely left Bronya's lips before Felicity gave her answer.
"No."
The refusal was swift, immediate—unyielding.
"Whoa, so fast!" March 7th whispered, clearly taken aback. "She didn't even give Bronya a chance to build suspense!"
She elbowed Dan Heng in the ribs, trying to coax a reaction, but he merely sighed in silence.
"Sister Feli's going junk-hunting with me, so there's no way she's staying behind!" Stelle declared confidently, arms crossed.
"It's always about exploring the unknown, huh..." Dan Heng murmured, almost to himself.
Felicity's expression grew serious, and she placed a firm hand on Bronya's shoulder.
"The future of Belobog must be written by its people. I'm just a visitor, Bronya. If I stayed, I'd be little more than a bystander."
—And besides, she thought silently, the Stellaron that had threatened this world was already powerless before her. What could possibly pose a challenge now? Die of boredom?
"I see…"
Bronya didn't press further. Her voice was soft with disappointment, but she nodded, understanding. Yet, just as Felicity was about to step away—
"Can I... make one more request?" Bronya asked, almost in a whisper.
Felicity paused. "Yes, as long as it's not too outrageous."
"That…"
Without warning, Bronya stepped forward. Her slender hands reached out and gently clasped Felicity's, lifting them upward—until they rested atop her own head.
A rosy hue spread across Bronya's pale cheeks, flooding even the curve of her neck. Her gaze dropped to the floor, too shy to meet Felicity's eyes.
"...Then, can I lean on you for just a little while?" she murmured, voice trembling like the last snowflake before spring.
Felicity blinked in surprise.
She wasn't dense. She could feel the weight Bronya carried—expectations, grief, duty. Once, that weight had been shared with Cocolia. Now, that support had vanished. What was left but to look for another pillar?
Felicity said nothing. She simply rested her hand atop Bronya's head, her fingers gently smoothing down the silver strands.
She wasn't a saint. Hell, she didn't even consider herself a particularly good person. But she hated tragedy with all her being. If someone had to die in a story, she'd rather it be herself. After all, death wasn't the end, right? Everyone gets resurrected eventually.
After a while, her hand left Bronya's head.
"Bronya," she said softly, "look at the sky."
Bronya turned without thinking and followed her gaze out the towering window. The steel ceiling that once encased the city like a tomb was gone. In its place was clear, dazzling sunlight—warming every stone of Belobog with the light of freedom.
"You have nothing," Felicity said with a quiet smile, "but you're free."
Bronya's eyes widened.
Yes… freedom.
The storm was over. The snow no longer howled with despair. The once-shrouded sky was open. The people of Belobog were no longer shackled by survival alone—they could finally live.
In that moment, Bronya saw her younger self: a small girl sitting on a worn bench of gray stone, scrawling dreams onto the dusty path with a broken twig.
Make the world a better place.
"I'll try my best," she said, the words firm with renewed resolve.
Not for duty. Not just for Belobog. But for Felicity—for the one who had gifted her strength, who had believed in her. One day, she would prove that this power wasn't wasted. Even seven centuries from now, the children of Jarilo-VI would still look to the stars and dare to hope.
"Then go."
Felicity gave a single nod, the corners of her lips lifting.
Hope, after all, was the greatest journey. As long as they carried it with them, Belobog would emerge from the Stellaron's lingering shadow, step by step.
…Speaking of which, Felicity suddenly remembered—hadn't she poured an absurd amount of life energy into the planet?
With that much vitality, maybe Jarilo-VI would restore its ancient forests and skies in no time.
She blinked, amused, but said nothing to Bronya.
After all, life is always better with a little surprise.
--+--
T/N: This time I acted out the yuri study guide.