Transmigrated as the Villainess Princess - Chapter 241

Chapter 241: A New Direction (5)

Ahcehera bid her quiet farewells to the gala without attracting much attention. The weight of the day, of memories she could no longer place, and the quiet ache behind her smile, tugged her away from the blinding lights and soft music.

As she slipped past the threshold of the grand hall and out into the cooler air of the night, her heels echoed lightly on the stone path leading toward the outer courtyard. Eros had remained inside, probably swept up by conversations or performances, and Liliana was still nestled safely under the watchful eyes of her grandparents.

Nothing was stopping her from heading straight home, nothing at all, but her feet slowed as she reached the familiar crossroad. The stars glittered above like scattered diamonds across velvet, and a breeze stirred her hair softly.

The direction toward the dormitories stretched ahead, but her gaze was pulled toward the back of the Academy, past the sculpture gardens and courtyards, toward a path that had not entered her thoughts in years.

The lake.

The path wasn’t lit, overgrown in some parts, with old stone lanterns that flickered dimly from leftover solar energy stored during the day. Still, something inside her stirred, an invisible thread tugging her forward.

She turned and walked with soft, deliberate steps, drawn by something more than nostalgia. It wasn’t until she reached the edge of the lake, water like ink beneath the stars, that the air changed.

The gentle waves lapped at the edge of the stone dock that jutted out into the middle, where they used to sit, long ago. Back when her hands remembered sword hilts and her heart bore a fire that felt limitless.

She walked to the edge, standing with the breeze pushing gently at her back, hair lifting like whispers. The reflection that stared up at her was a stranger. Eyes the same, body stronger, posture dignified, but the warmth and light that once radiated from within had dimmed.

She sat at the edge, letting her legs dangle over the water. Her wine glass was still in her hand, half-forgotten, now warmed by her fingers. She didn’t sip, just stared. “This used to be a place I came to breathe,” she murmured, though no one was near enough to hear.

The silence was comforting. Familiar.

For a moment, she imagined the laughter again, young recruits daring each other to jump into the freezing water, sparring sessions that ended with soaked uniforms and smug grins. Richmond tossed her a towel, and Riezekiel, sitting quietly beside her.

Ahcehera closed her eyes and leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on her knees. Her mind was a strange storm. The past blurred around the edges. Some days, she could remember every detail, what his voice sounded like, how it cracked when he laughed too hard.

Other days, his face was the one she couldn’t quite place, like a dream upon waking. Tonight, she didn’t know what she remembered and what she had simply made up. “Ahcehera?” A soft voice broke through the quiet.

She turned. It wasn’t Riezekiel, nor Eros. It was a student, a young girl from the secondary division, who had gotten lost while looking for her team after the gala.

Ahcehera composed herself and stood, smiling faintly. “You shouldn’t be out here alone,” she said. The girl apologized, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Ahcehera led her back to the main building with the ease of someone who had worn authority like a second skin.

Once she ensured the girl was reunited with her classmates, she stood by the academy’s gates again. She could have gone home, yet her steps took her back to the lake. Something unresolved hung there. This time, she wasn’t alone.

She felt it before she saw it, an energy, a presence, like the way a silent song hums in the soul before the first note plays. Riezekiel stood at the edge of the trees, barely lit by the faint moonlight. He didn’t move, didn’t call out to her. And still, she knew it was him.

Ahcehera paused halfway to the dock, her posture unreadable. “You followed me?” she asked without turning.

“No,” he replied after a beat. “I was already here.”

She let the silence linger before walking forward, reclaiming her place on the dock.

“You’ve always liked quiet places,” he said, stepping closer. “That hasn’t changed.”

“A lot has changed,” she answered, her voice calm, almost indifferent.

“I can see that.” He joined her but did not sit. He stared out at the water instead. “I came back… hoping to make things right.”

She didn’t respond.

The ripples on the lake were louder than his words.

“I know what it looks like,” he continued. “That I’m only a shadow of what you remember. That maybe I don’t belong in your world anymore.”

“You don’t,” she said plainly. “Not because I hate you. But because I don’t even remember what role you played in mine.”

He flinched, just slightly, but didn’t look away.

“The memories…” she murmured, almost to herself. “They’re like sand in my hand. Some days I wake up with empty palms.”

“You don’t remember us?”

“There is no us,” she said, turning her gaze to him. “There may have been once. But you’re not in my world anymore, Riezekiel. And I’m not the woman you once knew either.”

“I waited for you,” he whispered. “I broke everything I was to rebuild myself for you.”

“You built yourself for someone who no longer exists,” she said, her voice like a quiet, final bell. “And I’m sorry for your pain, I truly am. But you shouldn’t carry it into what I’ve become.”

“Then what do I do?” he asked, helplessness creeping into his voice.

“Move on,” she said. “Like I did. Like I’m still trying to do.”

He turned to leave but paused. “Do you regret it? Us?”

She stared at the lake for a long time before answering. “I don’t remember enough to regret it.”

His footsteps faded into the distance.

She sat alone once more, watching the stars blink above the water, reflections shimmering like memories just out of reach. Somewhere deep within her, a thread loosened. It didn’t snap. It was simply released.

Ahcehera let her shoulders drop. The wind tugged at her cloak, and the dock creaked beneath her weight. She didn’t cry. There were no tears left for what she couldn’t remember.

Only the slow, quiet breath of moving forward. When she stood and left the lake behind, the water stilled, carrying the echoes of a woman who had once loved deeply but now chose peace.