Chapter 617: Until She Returns
Quinn laughed as if she had just heard the funniest thing in the world.
"Innocent? You mean that fallen Zane family steward’s daughter? Please. I wanted you dead. She was just... collateral damage. But you killed someone, didn’t you? Hahaha... just wait until the law comes for you!"
Her laughter spiraled out of control, harsh and unhinged. She had completely lost it.
"This woman’s beyond saving, boss," Varric muttered from the side. Now that everything was out in the open, he finally understood what this whole mess was about. There was no great feud here—just petty jealousy twisted into madness. He looked to Ethan for a decision.
Ethan had heard enough. Her biggest mistake wasn’t her jealousy—it was daring to touch the people around him.
"I said before, I, Ethan Caelum, won’t make things difficult for her," he said quietly, leaning back on the sofa.
"Oh." Varric grunted in acknowledgment.
"You can go," Emery added from the side, his voice thick with contempt. A woman like this made his skin crawl.
Quinn glared at Ethan one last time, then turned toward the door.
Just as her hand touched the handle, a violent surge of Soul Energy struck the back of her skull. Her body jerked as if she’d been electrocuted. Her eyes lost focus, turning glassy and vacant.
"Ethan said he wouldn’t make things difficult for you. He didn’t say anything about me," Varric said calmly, his eyes clearing as the mist within them faded.
"You..." Emery shot up, glaring at Varric, who only lifted his multiple chins and looked smugly unbothered.
Emery turned toward Ethan. The faint smile tugging at Ethan’s lips told him everything.
"She’s just an ordinary woman," Emery sighed. "What you did—" He stopped mid-sentence and shook his head before sinking back into his seat.
"Relax. She won’t die," Varric said with a small chuckle. "I just cut a few neural connections. If you feel sorry for her, send her to a good mental hospital."
Emery said nothing.
Quinn stood by the door, eyes empty, mind clearly gone. She opened it in a daze and stumbled out, her movements stiff and puppet-like under Varric’s control.
Outside, she walked straight toward the deck. Suddenly, her body trembled violently. A foul stench filled the air as she lost control of her bladder and collapsed to the floor, giggling like a fool.
People nearby recoiled, covering their noses and whispering in disgust.
Inside the presidential suite, silence settled over the room. Ethan kept eating and drinking, though his Soul Sense had followed Quinn and seen everything. His brow furrowed slightly. A flicker of pity crossed his mind, but this was what she’d earned. Still, the food in his mouth suddenly tasted like ash, and a wave of nausea rose in his chest.
Then came a soft splash.
All three men heard it clearly. None of them were weak, and their senses sharpened instantly. Ethan’s eyes flicked toward Varric, who gave him an innocent look that said, Don’t look at me. Ethan hadn’t sensed any Soul Energy from him either.
"Uh... meet me on deck in a bit," Ethan said awkwardly.
Varric and Emery exchanged knowing glances, grinning as they got up and left without a word.
When they were gone, Ethan stood and walked to the bedroom door. He hesitated, then raised his hand to knock.
The handle turned before he could. The door creaked open, and a cool, refreshing scent mixed with something faintly familiar drifted out, stopping him mid-motion.
Amber stood there, wrapped in nothing but a bedsheet.
"I don’t have any clothes to wear," she said softly.
The woman who was usually so cold and distant now looked at him with shy, glimmering eyes. Her face was faintly red, her voice gentle and melodious—so different from the brusque tone she’d used earlier when she said she would "take responsibility."
Her sudden change left Ethan frozen in place. For a few heartbeats, he just stared. Then a quiet surge of pride swelled inside him.
’Has this woman... fallen for me?’
He wanted to laugh, but he held it in. Amber’s gaze stayed fixed on him, calm and warm, as if waiting for him to do something—or say something—to make sense of it all.
Ethan snapped back to reality. With a thought, several outfits materialized in his hands.
"You and Lyla are about the same height. These should fit you," he said, offering the clothes to Amber.
The moment the words left his mouth, her expression shifted. Her eyes flickered, and her lips pressed into a faint line. She took the clothes quietly, lowering her gaze, then closed the door behind her without a word.
Through the narrow gap before it shut, Ethan caught a glimpse of a tear slipping down her cheek.
The sight struck him harder than he expected.
Lyla...
Her face flashed in his mind, stirring a tangle of emotions he didn’t know how to untangle.
’What am I supposed to do?’
A heaviness settled in his chest, pressing the air from his lungs.
From inside the bedroom, the sound of running water echoed faintly. Amber was showering. Ethan walked to the window and looked out toward the horizon.
The sun was blazing high, its reflection dancing across the rolling waves. Sacred Sea Island was already in sight, its shores alive with color and movement. Crowds lined the beaches, laughter and excitement drifting faintly across the wind.
The island itself was a wonder—lush and green, filled with plants he’d never seen before. For a moment, he understood why the Dissenters had chosen this place. It was as if the world had forgotten to spoil it.
A faint smile tugged at his lips. Maybe one day, when everything settled down, he could bring those dear to him somewhere like this. Find an island, build a home, and live as its lord. The thought didn’t sound bad at all.
The calm of the sea began to steady his heart.
He wasn’t sure how much time passed before the soft click of a door reached his ears. The bedroom door had opened slightly, but Amber didn’t come out.
Ethan hesitated, then walked over and gently pushed it wider.
Amber was standing by the bed, dressed in Lyla’s clothes. The outfit looked almost too youthful for her. She had the poise and grace of a woman, and the cute, pastel outfit didn’t match her air at all. Yet somehow, the contrast only made her seem more fragile.
He stayed silent, watching as she carefully folded the bloodstained bedsheet. Her hands paused over the dark stain, her fingers trembling slightly before she finished folding it into a neat square. She picked up her small purse, frowning when she realized the folded sheet wouldn’t fit inside.
"I can keep it for you, if you’d like," Ethan said softly.
Amber froze, then slowly turned to look at him. Without another word, he lifted a hand, and the sheet vanished from her grasp. In his Mindscape, he set it aside, tucked neatly into a quiet corner.
"Let’s go," Amber said after a moment. Her voice was calm again, her eyes clear. The gloom from before had faded, replaced by something quieter—acceptance, maybe. Her gaze wasn’t filled with love, but it wasn’t cold either. Her eyes shimmered faintly, like sunlight rippling on water.
Ethan found himself staring.
"What are you staring at, silly? Let’s go. The ship’s already docked," she said with a small smile, looping her arm through his.
"You..." Ethan was caught off guard by her sudden warmth.
"When Lyla comes back, you’ll be hers. I won’t interfere," Amber said softly. "But until then... please keep me company."
There was a trace of vulnerability in her voice—an unspoken plea that went straight to his chest.
Ethan didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. Instead, he slipped an arm around her waist.
Amber’s smile brightened, full of quiet joy, and she leaned into him as they walked toward the door together.