NoGift 170 I'M GIVING YOU A SHOW

But the real question here was not if she should do it but if she could succeed doing it.

Yes, she could indeed just stab him with her sword right here, right now.  But the probability of that succeeding was, no doubt, pretty low.  If he could be killed so easily, then he would probably have died a hundred times already.  With that kind of personality, he definitely would not lack enemies who wanted him dead.  But look, he's still standing here.  Safe, very much alive, and still projecting his holier-than-thou image.

But even knowing that, her hand was still itching to stab him.  

"You should not try it," the Pope suddenly said when they reached the stairs leading to the upper floor.

"Try what?" she asked automatically.  She's not really paying attention since she's still imagining stabbing him again and again.

He looked back and smiled at her.  "Killing me."

Argent stopped and then smirked.  "Oh?  Now my hand is itching even more to stab you."

He chuckled.  "That's no good.  Should I scratch it for you?"

"Scratching won't work.  The only thing that could relieve it is if you prostrate yourself in front of me and disemboweled yourself."

"My, my, how bloodthirsty.  I think there's a right term for what you're describing.  Ah, yes, people from the country of Kano refer to that as 'seppuku'.  If I remember correctly, it's a way for warriors to regain their honors."  The Pope smiled at her, a little bit brighter compared to earlier.  "I didn't think you thought so highly of me."

Argent felt like a vein in her forehead would pop any second now.  How could this bastard spin what she just said into that?  So she also gave him a fake smile and copied his tone.  "My, my, how delusional of you.  How could you regain honor when you don't have one to begin with?  I suggest you go to a healer and let them check your brain so as not to further widen the damage."

This time, Lucern didn't chuckle.  He flat out laughed.  He couldn't remember the last time he laughed like this.  He even thought he was no longer capable of it.  But alas, he still underestimated the effect of this person on him.  "The duke's sense of humor is truly exceptional."

"Thank you for the compliment," Argent just said dryly.

A loud soud of throat clearing was heard behind them.  The two looked back and saw Harlequin coughing.  

"Sorry, I think I'm really going down with a cold," the masked man apologized.

Argent rolled her eyes.  The Pope gave him a cold look and then proceed on ignoring him again.  Then he continued climbing up the stairs.  She followed.  Harlequin did so as well.

When they reached the second floor, they stopped at the door of the room at the end of the corridor.  As if knowing their arrival, the door opened from the inside.  The purple haired woman stood there.  But Argent's attention was not on her but on the woman sleeping peacefully on the bed.

She didn't wait for the Pope to speak.  She immediately pushed pass him, she even shoved the purple haired woman, and walked straight beside the bed.  She stared down at his sleeping mother.

Anthea's golden brown hair that had grown passed her shoulder was scattered on the pristine white sheet.  Her bronze skin was giving off a healthy glow.  She was breathing evenly as if she was really just indeed sleeping with no care in her surroundings.  

Argent could no longer help herself and kneeled beside the bed.  She took her hand and for the first time in two months, it felt like a huge boulder was lifted up from her shoulders.  Some kind of peace filled her heart.  She put her mother's hand on her forehead, silently feeling the lively beating of her pulse.

[Mother, I'm here.  I'm sorry for not coming much faster.]

"It seems like you really do care about her.  How surprising.  From what I heard, the Duchess wasn't really there most of the time for you and your sister.  She's wandering around the world instead of taking care of the two of you.  So, why care so much?" the Pope asked in a tone as if he was really confused why.

Argent ignored him.  It's true, for the past seven years, their mother wasn't really there most of the time.  But even so, she and Aurum had always felt her presence.  There wasn't a day that she wouldn't call, checking up on them and asking how their day had been.  She would always send trinkets and knicknacks from every new place she'd been.  Every year, she would not miss going back for their birthday.  So even if she wasn't there, it didn't feel like that at all.

Maybe the reason why Argent didn't really mind that was because she could easily feel the love that Anthea had for her and her sister.  Even across a defaro crystal of a phone screen, that love was just radiating so brightly from her.  Argent had never felt something so warm.  

She had never felt that kind of warmth.  She grew up as an orphan raised by the government.  They valued her.  But not because they cared about her but because they valued what's inside of her brain.  The moment they saw her making her first invention, they no longer looked at her as a person.  For them, she's just a tool.  A tool that could bring prosperity and honor to the country.

Argent had no memory before the age of five.  But she had never missed the love of the so called 'parents'.  Just like they said, how could you miss something you didn't have?  So even without those memories, the word 'parents' was not really something that could evoke any good feelings from her.  In fact, she'd rather not think about them.  She only understood what it felt like to be loved when she came to this world.

So yes, even if Anthea wasn't by her side, she still cared about her.  Because she could feel that she cared about Argent ten times, no, a hundred times more.  In this life, the only 'mother' that she would recognize was Anthea Blackbourne. 

Argent held her mother's hand tighter.  "The Mana you put on her, was it removed?" she asked, not bothering to look at the Pope.

"Yes."

She put down her mother's hand and then turned to the Pope.  "Make a vow.  Vow to me that my mother won't suffer any side-effect from the Gift your bitch put on her."

Limos' face burned in embarassment and indignation.  She had never been called using such a derogatory word.  She looked at His Holiness, hoping that he would defend her.  But to her disappointment, he didn't even gave her a single glance.  All his attention was focused on the duke.  She bit her lower lip and lowered her gaze.

"Why should I do that?  I know you won't give me the sword, so why would I make that vow?" the Pope asked.  "Unless, of course, you could offer me something of equal value."

Argent sneered.  "Offer you something?  You're blatantly using me as a pawn so you could open the Mythos continent.  Me playing along with you is more than enough.  So make that vow.  Or I swear, I will make sure the Mythos continent would stay close forever, completely hindering you from whatever endgame you're planning."

A deep smile crossed the Pope's face, as if he was amused by Argent and not the least bit bothered by her threat.  "I, Lucern Faust, vow that the Duchess of Hanover - Anthea Blackbourne - didn't receive any side effect from the Gift put on her by my subbordinate, Limos," he said.  "Satisfied?"

Before Argent could answer, the ground suddenly shook and they heard the sound of some kind of explosion.  It was not that loud, meaning that it didn't happen in the close vicinity but near enough for them to hear and felt its tremors.   

They looked out of the window and saw a pillar of white light.  There were dark clouds brewing above.  Its direction?  The Holy Temple.

Argent smiled when she saw this.  Something that the Pope didn't miss.

"What did you do?" he asked.

She turned to him.  "You said you didn't want to be disappointed."  She smiled darkly at him.  "So I'm giving you a show."

For the first time, since the start of their meeting, the Pope's smile disappeared.

Chapter end