The scene shifted back to the Azure Princess, her weakened form dragging itself across the cold floor. Each movement was slow and laborious, her body pale and frail, a stark contrast to the powerful presence she once held. Her hands trembled as she crawled towards the blade that had been discarded on the ground. The weapon, still partially embedded in the floor, gleamed under the dim light of the chamber.
The psychic magic that had once controlled others now seemed to falter in her weakened state, but the desperation in her eyes remained. She reached for the hilt of the blade, her fingers brushing against the cold metal. The thought of ending her suffering, to stop the torment both in her body and mind, consumed her.
Her breathing was shallow, her face contorted in pain as she clutched the blade with a final burst of strength. She stared at it, conflicted and broken, knowing that death might be her only release from the unrelenting agony she had endured for so long.
As the Azure Princess gripped the blade, she caught a glimpse of herself in the ornate mirror across the room. The reflection that stared back at her was a shadow of the vibrant, regal woman she once was. Her features, once full of life and confidence, were now gaunt and hollow, a stark contrast to the image of strength she had once projected. Her skin was pale, her eyes sunken, and the vibrant spark that had once lit up her gaze had dimmed to an empty, haunted stare.
The Azure Princess's eyes lingered on her reflection, and for a moment, she allowed herself to think of what could have been. She hadn't always been royalty. She was born into a humble, ordinary family, her life was once simple and unremarkable. But her sharp mind and innate ability had propelled her to a status most could only dream of. It was her psychic magic, a gift that had set her apart, allowing her to rise from nothing to a place of power and influence.
She had once envisioned herself as a woman with unparalleled beauty, a mind capable of understanding the thoughts of those around her. Her psychic abilities were meant to be her greatest asset, an edge that would elevate her further. She imagined herself using that gift to navigate the intricacies of politics, manipulating situations and people with ease, and earning the admiration of those around her.
Her breathing was shallow, her face contorted in pain as she clutched the blade with a final burst of strength. She stared at it, conflicted and broken, knowing that death might be her only release from the unrelenting agony she had endured for so long.
As the Azure Princess, she should have been a symbol of grace, strength, and power—a woman whose very presence commanded respect. Many other girls would have envied her, dreaming of a life filled with luxury and privilege, of having the power to shape the world around them.
But now, as she gazed at the broken image in the mirror, she realized how far she had fallen. The very abilities that had helped her rise to greatness had become her undoing. The power that had once been a gift had turned into a curse, leaving her physically and mentally drained. What she could have been, what she had dreamed of becoming, seemed out of reach now.
The Azure Princess tightened her grip on the blade, preparing to end her suffering, a sudden, commanding voice broke the silence. A man's voice, calm yet firm, resonated in the room as a spell was cast. Before she could react, she felt herself being gently lifted into the air, the weight of her body no longer bearing down on the floor.
The Azure Princess's eyes widened in surprise as she hovered, the blade still in her grasp, but now suspended in mid-air. The man who had cast the spell swiftly moved to her, his hands precise and steady. He carefully pried the dagger from her hands, sheathing it with a practiced motion.
Before she could fully comprehend what was happening, the spell worked once again, and she was gently set back onto the bed. Her body settled onto the soft surface, the sudden shift from the cold floor to the warmth of the bedding leaving her momentarily disoriented.
The room, once quiet and oppressive, now felt different. The forceful magic that had controlled her movements had been replaced by a calmness that came with the man's intervention. She lay there, stunned, as the weight of the moment settled on her. The man's presence was almost overwhelming, and for the first time in a long while, she felt something other than pain—uncertainty.
Shimuzu Rin stepped forward, his expression calm but firm, as he addressed the stunned Azure Princess. "Shimuzu Rin," he began, his tone lighter than expected, an informal edge softening his words to ease the tense atmosphere. His eyes, still bearing the faint remnants of his earlier activation, held a steady gaze as he spoke.
"I'm from the White Flower Palace," he continued, his voice measured, "and I was sent here to check on your condition." His words were direct, yet there was a gentleness in his delivery, as if to assure her that his presence was meant to help, not harm.
Standing beside the bed, he observed her carefully, noting her confusion and the flicker of unease in her eyes. Rin kept his posture relaxed but attentive, ensuring that his presence didn't add to the weight of the situation. He waited patiently, allowing his introduction and explanation to sink in, as the room's tension slowly began to ease.
The Azure Princess, her voice weak and trembling, looked up at Rin with hollow eyes. "It hurts... so much," she whispered, her frail hands clutching at the sheets as if trying to anchor herself through the pain.
Rin knelt beside her bed, his expression softening as he reassured her. "It will be fine," he said gently, his voice steady and confident. "I'm here to help, and I won't let you suffer alone."
But even as his words reached her ears, a flicker of desperation ignited in her dulled gaze. Summoning what strength she had left, she unleashed her psychic magic, the mental attack aimed directly at Rin. It was raw, filled with anguish and an overwhelming compulsion—to force him to end her suffering.
The mental pressure engulfed Rin like an invisible storm, its intensity threatening to crush him. Yet, as quickly as it came, it shattered like fragile glass against the shield of his defensive magic. The psychic energy dispersed into harmless fragments, leaving a stunned silence in its wake.
The Azure Princess stared at him in shock, her pale lips slightly parted. Her voice faltered as she muttered, "How...?" Her mind struggled to comprehend how her magic, which had overwhelmed so many, did not affect this man. Rin, unshaken, stood firm, his calm demeanor hiding the sharp resolve that burned within him.
Rin reached out, carefully taking Chinen Suzuki's delicate, trembling hand in his own. Her skin was cold and fragile, a testament to the toll her condition had taken. Gently, he began to rub her hand in soothing circles, his touch steady and reassuring.
"You've endured well, Suzuki," he said softly, his voice filled with a rare warmth. "For so long, you've carried this pain. But you're not alone anymore."
As he spoke, Rin let a stream of his mana flow into her hand, guiding it with precision. The energy moved in controlled waves, aligning with her disrupted constitution. His touch and magic combined, easing the strain and offering a momentary reprieve from the suffering that had consumed her.
The Azure Princess's eyes widened slightly, the sensation foreign yet comforting. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the overwhelming ache seemed to lessen. Rin continued to focus, his presence unwavering, as he silently vowed to help her through this ordeal.
As Rin channeled his mana into the Azure Princess's fragile hand, his voice began to hum a slow, gentle melody—a tune from his previous life, imbued with calm and solace. The notes filled the dimly lit room, each one carefully placed as if it were part of an intricate symphony.
At the same time, the cleaning tools he had brought with him stirred to life, moving gracefully under his subtle magical command. The broom swept away the dust in elegant arcs, the cloth wiped surfaces with precise motions, and the air grew lighter as the room transformed. It was as though the space itself responded to his melody, aligning with the harmony he created.
To the Azure Princess, it felt surreal. Her pain eased under Rin's touch, and the haunting tension that had gripped her for so long began to dissolve. She watched the gentle rhythm of the floating tools, the serene look on Rin's face as he worked, and the ethereal quality of his song. For the first time in months, the oppressive weight pressing on her mind and body felt bearable.
Her eyelids grew heavy, a sense of peace she hadn't known in ages washing over her. The melody cradled her like a lullaby, and she finally allowed herself to surrender to the pull of sleep, her breathing becoming soft and steady. Rin continued his delicate performance, his focus unwavering, ensuring her rest would be undisturbed and free of suffering.
"Sleep well, Lady Suzuki," Rin whispered softly, his voice barely audible as he gazed at the now-peaceful form of the Azure Princess. Her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, her expression serene for the first time in what must have been months.
Rin continued his tasks with quiet diligence. The cleaning tools worked under his guidance, ensuring the room was spotless and welcoming, while he took careful note of her condition, planning the next steps of her treatment. Every action was methodical and precise, driven by his resolve to help her recover.
Once everything was in order, Rin placed the sheathed dagger securely out of reach, ensuring no harm could come to her or anyone else. With one last glance at the slumbering princess, he turned and left the room, closing the door behind him silently. The first treatment had been secured, but Rin knew there was still a long path ahead to bring her back from the brink of despair.