Transmigrated as My Support Mage Avatar-Chapter 63: Ch: The Weight of What Remains

The wooden wheels of the carriage clacked steadily over the cobbled path, the moon casting pale beams through the slits of the carriage window. The wind outside whispered like ghosts in the dark.

From the driver’s seat, the masked man finally broke the silence.

His voice was strangely calm. Mature.

"...You know what, Princess?" he said, not looking back. "You did great back there... with that Evos guy. I thought you were done for. If you had fallen, I would’ve stepped in and killed him myself."

Inside the carriage, Dila’s expression shifted. Her gaze sharpened like glass.

She clenched her jaw. Her voice came out trembling in anger, a whisper that built into a snarl.

"Now you care?" she snapped, her tone ice and fire in one.

"Now you’re worried about my well-being? After everything?"

Fran stirred faintly beside her, still asleep.

Dila leaned forward, her eyes fierce.

"You hurt my friends. You enjoyed twisting them, breaking them—just like toys."

She dug her nails into her palm.

"You manipulated everything—including me! You forced me into this, dragged me out of the only freedom I’ve ever tasted! What even is this place you’re dragging me to?! Where is it, huh? Another golden cage?"

The masked man didn’t respond immediately. He kept his eyes ahead, the reins still gripped tightly.

After a long silence, he finally said,

"...I’m sorry, Princess. I’m just like this."

His tone didn’t shift, but there was something quiet in it. Regret, maybe. Or something buried too deep to show.

"...Your father ordered me to spy on you first and than a second order he said just retrieve you. I didn’t have a choice."

That was when Dila snapped.

"I don’t have a fucking father, you dumbass!!"

Her voice rang through the night like thunder inside the carriage.

Fran flinched in her sleep.

But still, the masked man didn’t look back.

He just drove the carriage in silence.

Dila’s voice broke the silence again—this time softer, weaker. But every word trembled with the weight of her shattered hope.

"It’s because of you..." she whispered, her head tilted downward.

Her silver-white hair fell like curtains, hiding her eyes. Her fists slowly clenched on her lap, trembling.

"Because of you, I keep living this miserable life... always running, always in danger... always alert like something is about to fall apart."

Her voice cracked.

"I just wanted a quiet, simple life... a life where I could breathe."

She sniffled, biting her lower lip as tears slid quietly down her cheeks.

"A life where I could explore, mess up, laugh... be free. I thought this world would finally give me that."

She laughed bitterly, her shoulders shaking.

"...But you dragged me to this and in the political matter that i even didn’t know to begin with. And then You always drag me."

She raised her hand to her face, wiping the tears roughly with the back of her wrist.

But they kept falling anyway.

In her arms, Fran stirred faintly, but still rested.

The masked man didn’t answer.

He sat there, his grip on the reins frozen, unmoving.

But for the first time...

his shoulders slumped.

The wind outside picked up, brushing through the treetops as if the forest itself held its breath.

The carriage wheels turned softly beneath the moonlight.

The masked man’s voice was low, gentle, no longer taunting—almost human.

"Princess... Don’t you miss your father?"

He kept his eyes on the moon, not daring to meet hers.

"He was grieving. For years. When you disappeared... we thought you were dead."

His voice cracked just slightly.

"He wasn’t always like this. We were supposed to be justice-bound assassins. Clean, quiet, swift... but when he lost you—he lost himself."

He looked down at the reins.

The horses trotted rhythmically, unaware of the heavy weight in the air.

"Maybe..." he whispered,

"Maybe if he sees you again... it’ll quench that desperate longing. Maybe he’ll come back to who he was."

But Dila didn’t even glance at him.

Her eyes were vacant, fixed on the floor of the carriage. Her body trembling slightly as Fran snuggled quietly in her arms.

She heard him...

but she didn’t believe a word.

Everything felt like manipulation. A sweet lie painted over like a fear of control, and silent wounds.

Dila slowly closed her eyes and whispered in her heart:

"If he really missed me... he would have let me go."

While The carriage has still quietly rolled through the night, the soft clatter of hooves the only sound in the stillness.

The masked man, his voice calm and quiet, spoke again.

"I’m sorry... I can’t help you with that."

His tone wasn’t mocking this time. It was sincere. Almost too sincere.

"He misses you, Princess. He can’t bear to lose his only daughter. You are... the future queen of Eldor."

There was a pause.

And then Dila, her eyes sharp and tired, clenched her fists and snapped softly but with a growing fire:

"So he wants to take me back... just to use me there?"

Her voice trembled—not out of fear, but anger.

The masked man didn’t flinch. His eyes remained fixed on the road, guiding the horses.

"Actually... no," he said softly, as if choosing his words carefully.

But Dila didn’t believe him.

Not even for a second.

She turned her head away, her silver hair brushing against Fran’s cheek as the younger girl slept soundly in her arms. Her voice, barely above a whisper, was filled with exhaustion.

"You people always say it’s for me... but it’s never really about me, is it?"

And for a moment, neither of them spoke.

Just the sound of carriage wheels and the weight of silence between a captive daughter... and the servant of a grieving king.

Meanwhile....................

The golden morning sun poured through the windows of the Exonory Kingdom’s Hero Quarters, casting long beams of light over the stillness inside. Dust motes floated gently in the air, and the once-lively room now smelled of medicine, dried blood, and regret.

Sarios lay in bed, nearly his whole body wrapped in thick bandages. His armor was nowhere to be seen—torn beyond repair—and his sword rested, cracked, in the corner of the room like a fallen relic.

Beside him, Stella was curled up in a small chair, her golden hair softly glowing in the morning light as she slept, arms crossed and exhaustion drawn across her face. She had clearly stayed up all night helping to treat his wounds, magical and otherwise.

Sarios groaned faintly, his voice gravelly.

"Ahh—dammit..."

Pain pulsed through his chest, ribs, arms—everywhere. But the worst pain wasn’t physical.

He clenched the bedsheets with his only uninjured hand.

"I’m sorry, Dila..." he whispered, voice trembling as his eyes watered.

"I failed to protect you..."

He stared up at the ceiling, memories of Dila being taken flashing in his mind while He still had enough energy to glance at her that time like stab. Her voice. Her panic. Her decision to surrender.

"I should’ve stopped you," he murmured again, guilt thick in his voice.

"I should’ve never listened to your request to go to that guild bar... for some stupid appraisal."

His hand trembled, bandaged and bruised, barely able to hold the frustration inside.

"Now I don’t even know if you’re safe..."

His voice cracked.

From the corner, Stella shifted in her sleep, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

Sarios wiped his eyes with the back of his arm, refusing to cry harder than that. But he couldn’t stop the ache inside. Not until he saw Dila again. Not until he made things right.

And not until he crushed the masked man with his own hands.

Suddenly, the soft creak of the wooden chair stirred the still air.

Stella slowly woke up, rubbing her eyes with the sleeve of her priestess robe. Her golden hair was tousled, and her eyes looked heavy with sleep and worry. But the moment her blurry vision landed on Sarios—eyes open, barely moving—she froze.

"S-Sarios...?" she whispered, voice cracking. "My dear, you’re awake..." freewebnoveℓ.com

Her lips quivered, and in the next breath, she burst into tears.

"You idiot! You’ve been asleep for three days!" she sobbed as she rushed to his side, her hands hovering over his wounds as if she didn’t know whether to hold him or scold him.

Sarios’s vision trembled, eyes reddened again. He clenched his jaw and said in a low, pained voice, "I’m sorry... I failed... I couldn’t protect the Princess..." He turned his head away, ashamed.

But Stella didn’t let him finish.

"No. No, don’t say that!" she choked through her tears, shaking her head violently. "You’re alive. You’re alive! That’s what matters right now... You tried. You stood your ground... You’re here. That means something."

Sarios’s throat tightened. His breath caught as tears silently rolled down his face.

He reached out with his only uninjured hand—bandaged but steady—and gently pulled her into an embrace as he lay there. Stella leaned down into his chest, hugging him softly, carefully, afraid to hurt him, but unable to stop crying.

"I was so scared..." she whispered into his chest. "I thought I’d lose you, too..."

The room went silent again, save for the sound of muffled sobs. Sunlight continued pouring in from the window, washing the broken, healing two in gold. They didn’t say anything more for a while.

They didn’t need to.

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