Chapter 603: You Look Like You Need A Hug

"If you had seen my mother, you would’ve known that she was beautiful. Beautiful beyond imagination."

Caramela said with a nostalgic look in her eyes before it twisted into pure malice as she added,

"And that filthy bastard he...he took full advantage of that."

"Every night I could hear her. The screams. The sobs. The things he did to her...the things his friends did."

"I would press my hands over my ears and try to sleep, but the sounds always came through. Always."

Hearing this, Joy’s face went pale. Her aura, usually so tightly controlled began to flare, pink sparks flickering in the air around her like embers.

Carmela continued, voice shaking.

"B-But he didn’t stop at private torment. He made her parade naked in front of his family. Made her serve wine to his guests while they slapped her, pushed her, laughed. Broke her bones when they grew bored...And she healed."

"Vampires heal fast. So he used it. Over and over. Bones snapped, skin torn, blood everywhere and the next day she was whole again, ready for more."

She shuddered.

"I begged her—every time she came back to our cell, broken and bleeding—I begged her to stop. To fight back. To let them kill me if that’s what it took."

"But she would only smile."

"No matter how dead her eyes looked...no matter how much pain she was in...she looked at me with love. Pure love."

"She never blamed me. Not once. She treated me like I was still her precious little girl. Like none of it was my fault."

Carmela’s voice cracked completely.

"My heart shattered every single day. I was supposed to be the one suffering. I was the one who caused this. But she shielded me from the worst of it. She hid the darkness so I wouldn’t have to see."

"She sacrificed everything...and still smiled for me."

"And because of that, I honestly wanted to die." Her hands trembled now. "I hated myself. I wanted to take her place, to do anything to stop it. But I couldn’t. I was weak. A coward. I just...existed."

For a long moment, only the sound of Carmela’s uneven breathing filled the air.

Then, with a trembling exhale, she whispered.

"But monsters like him never keep their word."

Her eyes grew cold.

"One day, he turned his eyes toward me. He couldn’t resist anymore. My mother begged him not to touch me. Begged on her knees."

"And when he laughed at her...something in her snapped."

"She stopped obeying. She fought back with everything she had. Even though she knew she’d die for it, she didn’t care. She killed 90% of his guards. She tore through them like a storm."

"And when she got to him...she cut off his arm."

Her voice wavered.

"For a moment, I thought...maybe we’d escape. Maybe that was it. Maybe we’d finally be free."

Her eyes glistened, and she gave a bitter smile.

"But of course...life doesn’t give happy endings, does it? More guards came. They surrounded us. And my mother—she looked at me one last time and used her remaining strength to throw me out of the dungeon. She told me to run. To never look back."

Her hands clenched tightly now, her whole body trembling.

"I-I screamed for her. I told her I wouldn’t leave her. But she just smiled. The same broken, loving smile she always had."

"And she said...’Go, my little one. Live. I’d rot here for eternity then let you stay here for one more second.’"

Her voice broke completely.

"And that’s what I did. I ran. I ran until I couldn’t breathe, until I collapsed. I kept running because I thought if I stopped, she’d still be behind me."

She closed her eyes, trembling.

"The next morning, in the nearest town, the people found something hanging on the gates of the square."

Her lips quivered. "A pair of eyes."

Joy froze, her expression hardening, but her chest felt heavy.

"Everyone thought it was some strange message, some bizarre symbol. But I knew. I knew..."

Tears slipped down her face as she whispered,

"...that they were my mother’s."

And hearing Carmela’s story all the way to the end, Joy didn’t know what to say.

She had known, from the beginning, that this story would not end well.

But she hadn’t imagined this.

Not this kind of pain. Not this degree of cruelty.

And as she listened, she couldn’t help but see fragments of her own past reflected in Carmela’s.

Mothers forced into impossible situations for the sake of their daughters.

Women who carried the world’s cruelty on their shoulders and fought tooth and nail against fate itself.

The difference was that Joy’s mother, despite everything had managed to break free, to create her own ending.

But Carmela’s mother...she hadn’t. Her end had been the worst kind of tragedy.

And thinking about this, Joy felt her chest ache. A dull, heavy ache that she couldn’t ignore.

She had thought her own fate was cruel, that she’d suffered more than most.

But now, hearing Carmela’s story, she realized there were people who’d endured even darker hells and lived to tell about it.

Carmela’s voice broke the silence again.

Her tone had changed—colder now, but steadier, the tears gone and replaced with a quiet, murderous resolve.

"When I saw those eyes, my mother’s eyes hanging from the town gates, I thought I’d die from grief. But I didn’t."

Her voice grew harsher.

"Instead...something else was born inside me. Something darker."

Joy said nothing, but the faint chill in the air shifted, the aura around Carmela pulsing faintly.

"Sadness turned into hatred." Carmela continued, her tone trembling with intensity. "Hatred so deep it could drown the gods themselves. I wanted to tear them all apart—every knight, every priest, every noble who ever smiled while others suffered."

"I wanted them to feel it—the same despair, the same horror my mother felt."

Her lips curved slightly, but it was not a smile.

"People in that town laughed when they saw the eyes. They joked about them. Some said it was a criminal’s punishment, others said it was art."

"I remember looking at them and imagining ripping their throats out right there on the street."

Her nails pressed into her palms as she spoke.

"But I didn’t. I knew if I acted then, I’d be caught—and die meaninglessly. That wasn’t what my mother would have wanted. So I controlled it. I waited."

Carmela’s eyes gleamed crimson under the faint light.

"From that day onward, I made a promise. I would kill—but I would never be caught. And every person I killed would deserve it."

"Every noble, every missionary, every corrupt official who built their lives on the misery of others...they all became my prey."

Her voice dropped into a low, bitter rhythm like a confession carved into stone.

"And I did. I hunted them. One by one. The scum who trafficked the poor, who burned villages, who treated people like property. I killed them all. Slowly. Brutally."

Her eyes dimmed slightly, her tone almost hollow.

"It wasn’t justice. I don’t believe in that word. It was vengeance. Nothing more, nothing less. I became what the world already thought I was—a monster. The monster they created."

She looked down, her fingers twitching slightly.

"Decades passed. I killed, and killed, and killed. Until finally, they gave me a name. The nobles whispered it like a curse. The poor shouted it like a prayer."

Her lips curved faintly.

"The Noble Killer."

She said it like it was both a crown and a curse and when her voice finally faded—she looked up at Joy—half-expecting the Saintess to give a short, cold remark and move on.

Perhaps some words of judgment. Perhaps quiet understanding.

She didn’t really know. But she expected something detached.

Joy, after all, was like her—cold, practical, distant from feelings.

She wasn’t someone who gave comfort, not even to her own allies.

So Carmela expected a few calm words,maybe something like "I see" and that would be the end of it.

But instead...something else happened.

Joy’s eyes lingered on her, quiet and unreadable.

Then, very slowly, she scooted over to her side.

Carmela frowned slightly, confused.

"...What are you doing?" She asked warily.

Joy didn’t answer. She simply moved closer and before Carmela could even react, she leaned down and wrapped her arms around her.

For a full heartbeat, Carmela froze completely.

"W-What?" She stammered, caught between confusion and disbelief. "What are you...doing?"

Joy didn’t answer immediately. Her expression was calm, though her movements were faintly awkward, hesitant like someone who wasn’t used to this kind of thing.

"This..." Joy murmured, tightening her hold a little. "...isn’t something I usually do. And I don’t really know if I’m doing it right. But right now, I don’t know how else to respond."

She sighed again, the sound quiet but heavy.

"The truth is I’m not good with words. I don’t know how to say comforting things—I never have. But whenever I used to feel like you do now...whenever I was lost, drowning in what I’d done, my mother would hug me. She never said anything. She didn’t need to."

"Just that warmth...it made the world quiet for a while."

Her voice softened, barely above a whisper.

"So I’m doing the same. I don’t know if this helps. Maybe you hate it. Maybe you hate me for it. But I think...you need some warmth in your life."

Carmela was completely stunned.

She didn’t know what to do—her body felt stiff, her thoughts scattered.

For a few seconds, she sat there motionless, unsure whether to push Joy away or just let it happen.

Then, something inside her cracked—something small but deep. A faint warmth spread through her chest.

She hesitated, her lips trembling, and then, slowly she lifted her arms. With a quiet breath, she wrapped them around Joy in return.

It was clumsy. Hesitant. Both women were stiff, uncertain, clearly out of practice with affection.

But as awkward as it was...it was real.

Meanwhile, Joy blinked, surprised when she felt Carmela’s arms around her. For just a second, her own cheeks flushed faintly.

"You...don’t have to." She murmured.

Carmela gave a weak, trembling laugh.

"I know." She said softly. "But just...let me."

So Joy did and let her embrace her.

Just two broken souls who had spent their lives fighting against the world and their own pasts, quietly holding each other.

It was awkward. It was uncertain.

But it was warm.

And in that quiet, fragile embrace, they weren’t the Saintess or the Noble Killer anymore.

They were just Joy and Carmela, two women who had suffered, lost, and somehow...still endured.

For that brief moment, the world outside didn’t matter.

Only the warmth between them did.