Chapter 31 – Need to Know

Chapter 31 – Need to Know

Liria walked toward the gathered prisoners, a faint unease settling in her chest.

Seris kept pace beside her, small fingers wrapped around her hand. The little Saintess tilted her head up, studying her face with quiet concern.

“Big Sis?” she asked. “Is something wrong? We already won, didn’t we? We beat all the bad guys and saved everyone.”

Her brows knit together, earnest and puzzled. “So why do you still look worried?”

Did it show?

Liria was quite certain her expression remained as composed as ever. But Seris had always been frighteningly perceptive.

She gave the child’s hand a gentle squeeze.

“That,” Liria said, “is what I intend to find out.”

They approached the prisoners.

Joren and his companions stood apart from the others, heads bowed, shoulders heavy with shame. Around them, the freed captives formed a loose circle, the air thick with lingering tension.

“You think saying sorry is enough?” a woman snapped, her voice hoarse but fierce. Her arms were folded tightly across her chest, as if holding herself together. “You drank from us like we were animals!”

“We didn’t have a choice!” one of the former vampires blurted, then immediately flinched as several heads turned toward him.

“No choice?” another prisoner laughed bitterly. “Funny. I don’t remember being asked.”

“They’re telling the truth,” a third voice interjected, quieter but firm. A thin man with sunken cheeks stepped forward. “I watched them. Some of them tried to stop. It… didn’t go well.”

His gaze flickered to Joren, then away. “They were suffering too.”

“That doesn’t make it right,” the first woman shot back, though the edge in her voice had dulled, if only slightly.

“It doesn’t,” the thin man agreed. “But it makes it… different.”

The murmuring rose, overlapping voices clashing, anger grinding against reluctant understanding.

Then Liria stepped forward.

Silence fell like a curtain. Every eye turned toward her.

“Great Lady.” A man stepped out from the crowd and bowed low.

His dark hair hung loose around his face, and though his posture was stiff, there was a quiet strength in the way he held himself. His bow was a little clumsy, but the reverence behind it was painfully genuine.

“You’re not planning to just… let these monsters go, are you?” he asked carefully, though his gaze toward Joren was anything but.

Liria met his eyes. And held it.

Jin Wu.

The knowledge slipped into her mind as naturally as breath. Name, level, skills. A warrior from the Far East. Disciplined. Tempered by hardship.

“Be at peace, Jin Wu,” Liria said gently. “They will answer for their wrongdoings under the laws of this land.”

The tension in his shoulders eased, though not completely. He studied her a moment longer, as though deciding whether her word was enough. Then he stepped back.

A woman near the wall let out a long breath. She was older, her gray hair matted and tangled, but her eyes were sharp. “Thank the Goddess,” she murmured. “Thank the actual Goddess.” She pressed a hand to her mouth, and said nothing more.

Beside her, a younger man—barely more than a boy, really—was staring at Joren with an expression Liria couldn’t quite name. Not hate. Something more exhausted than that.

“I used to think,” the young man said quietly, to no one in particular, “that if I ever got out, I’d have things to say. Lots of things.” He looked down at his hands. “I don’t anymore.”

Liria’s gaze shifted, taking in the condition of the prisoners more fully now that she stood among them. Gaunt faces. Hollow eyes. Skin marred by filth and neglect. Some bore wounds that had only partially healed, others trembled with lingering weakness.

Something in her tightened. Humans should not look like this.

Without ceremony, she raised her hand.

Light gathered. Soft, warm, suffused with quiet vitality. It spread outward in a gentle wave, passing through every prisoner in the chamber. Color returned to pale cheeks. Dirt vanished as though it had never been. Torn clothing mended just enough to preserve modesty and comfort. The stiffness of pain eased. The lingering chill of fear receded.

A collective gasp rippled through the group.

Some staggered, as if unsure of their own strength. Others touched their faces, their arms, their bodies, disbelief written plainly across their features. The gray-haired woman made a broken little sound and sat down hard on the floor, as though her legs had simply decided they were done.

“She’s crying,” Seris whispered, pressing closer to Liria’s side. Her voice was very small. “Is that okay?”

“Yes, little one,” Liria said softly. “That is very okay.”

Liria lowered her hand.

“I understand your anger, Jin Wu,” she continued softly, “but I do hope that you can find it in you not to hate them too much.”

She gestured lightly toward Joren and the others.

“These unfortunate souls have fought the dead god’s corruption as well as anyone in their position could.”

“My Lady…” Joren’s voice broke. He dropped to one knee, his companions following suit almost immediately.

They cried quietly, something deep and long-buried finally breaking loose.

“We… we don’t deserve this,” one of them said, voice shaking.

“No,” another whispered. “We don’t…”

“But thank you,” Joren managed, bowing his head. “Thank you for seeing us as… people.”

Jin Wu looked down at his newly healed hands. He tested them, flexing his fingers slowly.

Then he exhaled.

“…You are kinder than I would be,” he admitted, before bowing deeply. “I will trust your judgment.”

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Around him, the other prisoners shifted. Some still glanced at Joren and his companions with lingering resentment, but the sharpness had dulled. A few stepped closer, hesitant.

The thin man from earlier awkwardly patted one of the former vampires on the shoulder.

“…Don’t waste it,” he muttered. “Whatever she just gave you.”

“I won’t,” came the quiet reply.

The woman who had spoken so harshly hesitated, then looked away with a click of her tongue.

“…Idiot,” she muttered. “Next time, try not to bite people.”

“…There won’t be a next time,” the man answered, voice raw.

Liria’s heart felt heavy. Was it really all right for her words to hold this much weight just because she looked a little like the Goddess? How could she ever live up to such trust?

But her self-doubts could wait. This was not the time.

“Have you heard anything from your captors?” she asked, addressing the group. “Do you know why you were taken?”

Jin Wu hesitated. “We believed it was for blood.”

He glanced at the others. Several nodded.

“They took it regularly,” one said. “Enough to keep them fed.”

“Like livestock,” another added bitterly.

“She came once,” said the young man. “The woman who ran them. Lady Camilla, they called her. She walked through like she was inspecting a warehouse.” He paused. “She didn’t even look at us.”

Something about that detail settled into Liria’s mind with a cold, particular weight.

“She measured the room,” the gray-haired woman said from the floor. She had composed herself, though her hands still trembled faintly in her lap. “I remember thinking that was strange. Who measures a room? But she walked the walls, counted her steps, made notes in a little book.” Her eyes found Liria’s. “I thought she was planning to renovate.”

A few people made sounds that might, under different circumstances, have been laughter.

Jin Wu turned back to Liria. “Was there… another reason?”

The question lingered.