I remained at the doorway, unable to step in and offer comfort—or to step back and leave her space. After the morning with Miss Halle, part of me wanted to stride across the threshold, to tell her none of this was her fault, that the system, not she, bore the blame. But I did not. I was rooted, uncertain what to do with myself. The pride I had felt in mastering the firearm now felt trivial, almost shameful.
Her sobs gradually softened into quiet whimpers, yet I could not move. My limbs were locked in indecision. Fear? Helplessness? Something heavier than both?
A voice broke the fog.
"Miss Victoria, what are you doing standing there? It is time for luncheon."
Miss Halle had appeared silently behind me.
When had she arrived? I did not know. I looked at Heiwa, then back at Miss Halle, unsure what I was meant to do.
"Some things are better left to resolve on their own," Miss Halle said softly, her gaze flicking toward Heiwa. "Or allowed time to come to their own conclusion." She knocked lightly and opened the door.
"Miss Heiwa, it is time for luncheon."
Heiwa wiped her face, cleared her throat. "Alright… I'll be there in a moment," she whispered, still trembling.
"Very well, Victoria. Go change into something more comfortable for luncheon," Miss Halle added with a calm smile before departing.
---
We gathered at the table, joined by the innkeeper herself—an elderly lady, late thirties, her brown tail brushing the floor gracefully. I longed to reach out and play with it but restrained myself.
The table groaned with food: steaming noodles, fragrant curry, tender pork, and delicate garnishes that made each dish look like a miniature work of art. My stomach twisted; the feast should have been comforting, yet I could barely taste it.
Heiwa had not spoken to me before we sat, and the weight of unspoken words pressed down.
"How was practice with the firearm?" Miss Lakshmi asked gently, eyes soft as she sipped her tea.
I choked slightly on a bite before replying. "It was… impactful. I feel… more capable."
Her smile was measured, polite, and no more was said.
"Miss Heiwa," she continued, turning her gaze toward the younger girl, "how goes the letter to your father? And are you still planning to return to Twin Peak Province?"
Heiwa faltered. "The letter… it's coming along. As for heading back… or to the conflict…" Her words trailed off, fragile and uncertain.
I could not intervene, though I wished I could. The thought of her returning there, of facing what I could barely comprehend, tightened something inside me.
No other topic surfaced. Heiwa ate quietly, Miss Lakshmi glanced at her but did not press. Outside, snow blanketed the capital like a quiet witness, and a heavy silence settled over the table.
Even a simple act—lifting a spoon, offering a smile—felt like it carried the weight of the world.
I sat there, tasting nothing but the chill of helplessness. I could not fix her, could not shield her, could only be present. And perhaps, that was all anyone could do.
---