Chapter 30: Choosing Sides

When Yelena entered the room, her face was painted with worry and concern, the kind only a mother could hold, like a warrior who had just crossed a battlefield to find her children after they’d been gravely wounded.

And it was only natural she looked that way, given how much she adored both Charlotte and Mika.

But the truth was, when she had first called her daughter, breathless and panicked, and learnt that Mika had been hit by a truck, Yelena hadn’t thought too much of it.

Not because she didn’t care, on the contrary, she cared more than anyone. But because she knew Mika. She knew how strong and resilient, no, how utterly impenetrable that boy was.

There was no way something as mundane as a truck could bring her Mika down. She had even laughed it off at first, gently chiding her daughter for worrying too much.

But then...Charlotte’s next words froze the blood in her veins.

"Mom...After the truck hit him...he didn’t move for a couple minutes. He just laid there. Completely still."

Yelena’s face had turned pale as ice at that moment. Her chest tightened. Her stomach dropped like a stone into cold water.

That...That had never happened before.

Mika was the kind of boy who could walk away from anything, the kind who brushed off injuries that would leave others in pieces. But the way Charlotte described it, the hesitation, the silence after impact, it gnawed at her heart like a disease.

And in that moment, all her composure as Yelena Dimitrivitch Heavensblade, the Blademaiden of Void and Decay and one of the five battle angels that saved the world, shattered.

And she didn’t waste another breath.

She was nowhere near the city, not even remotely close. Yet the instant she ended the call, Yelena grabbed her sword, channeled her energy, and soared across the sky.

The wind roared in her ears, the landscape below blurring as she pushed her body to its limit, all while one desperate prayer looped endlessly in her mind:

"Please...Let him be okay. Please let my Mika be safe."

Before she had even reached the hospital, she had already called ahead, unleashing her full authority to ensure Mika received every test and treatment imaginable. She didn’t care about her image, her reputation, or any unspoken code about restraint, she used every ounce of her power to make certain her boy was cared for.

If there was even the slightest chance he’d been hurt in a way unseen, she wasn’t going to take any chances.

So, when she stood out in the doorway, her crimson hair wild from her frantic flight and a fine sheen of sweat on her skin, her heart still thundered in her chest.

Even as she placed her hand on the door, it trembled slightly.

Never before had she experienced this. Never had she imagined her Mika, her strong, unshakable Mika, like this.

She was terrified. Utterly, absolutely terrified.

But then...The door opened.

And what she saw inside was not her boy clinging to life...No.

What she saw was Charlotte, her own daughter, sitting astride Mika on the hospital bed, a blissful, lovesick smile curving her lips as if she had not a care in the world.

And Mika...Mika sat beneath her, his hands pressed against her thighs as though trying to push her away, his face twisted in horror and silent pleas, his mouth opening but no words coming out.

The scene froze her where she stood.

The worried, frantic look on her face slowly melted into one of dismay.

Like a soldier who had expected to charge into battle, only to find herself in the middle of a dreamlike garden where lovers whispered to one another.

"...Mika." She breathed, his name escaping her lips like a fragile glass about to shatter.

For a moment, silence reigned.

And seeing her enter, Mika’s eyes darted to hers, and his head began shaking vigorously. His lips formed words, "This isn’t what it looks like", but no sound came out.

And Charlotte?...Charlotte, unlike any daughter in such a predicament, didn’t flinch or cry out in shame. She didn’t scramble off Mika or apologize.

Instead, she merely turned her head slightly, her eyes warm and soft as she gazed down at Mika.

As though her mother wasn’t even there. As though she intended to continue what she was doing.

And seeing all of this in front of her, Yelena’s stomach churned.

If anyone else had walked into this scene, no matter how much they analyzed Mika’s reluctant body language or his attempts to push Charlotte away, they would still think he was the one at fault.

After all, wasn’t that how people were?

In these situations, they instinctively took the girl’s side.

Especially a parent...Even the most rational mother would see her child in such a position and immediately assume the worst of the man.

And Yelena, rational, poised, dignified Yelena, was no exception.

Her initial dismay gave way to something sharper.

Her eyes narrowed.

Her regal face hardened, a cold anger flashing in those luminous green eyes.

"...Mika." She said again, but this time her voice was lower, taut with icy warning.

Then, she raised her hand.

The air seemed to crackle as a faint golden light shimmered around her fingers.

And then suddenly from the bag resting against the wall, a small knife, one Mika had bought earlier, slipped free and floated up, quivering in the air like a predator scenting blood.

It hovered over her palm, spinning lazily, before snapping to attention, its point aimed forward and seeing this Mika’s face drained of all color.

"No...Wait—" He started, reaching out instinctively.

But before the words could leave his lips, Yelena’s hand flicked forward.

The knife shot out like a bullet and Mika’s body tensed.

This wasn’t like her. Yelena was rational. She was careful. She would never lash out without knowing the full truth.

...Or so Mika thought.

But the cold fury on her face told him otherwise.

Her parental love was overflowing, clouding her judgment, drowning her in instinct.

It was understandable. That was what any mother would feel in this situation.

And so, Mika braced for impact.

If this was the punishment for what she believed he had done, if this was the culmination of her fear and anger, then he would accept it.

He closed his eyes.

But the blow never came.

A sharp gasp broke through the tension and Mika’s eyes snapped open just in time to see,

The knife hadn’t come for him.

It had gone for Charlotte.

"Wha—?!"

But before the blade touched her skin, it flipped around, its handle catching on the collar of her uniform. And with a swift jerk, the knife lifted Charlotte clean off of Mika, holding her aloft like a hanger on a rack.

"Ah! Mama!" Charlotte cried indignantly, her legs kicking in the air as she hung there, her face red with frustration and embarrassment.

Ans seeing her daughter hanging above, Yelena’s glare didn’t waver. Instead she exhaled slowly, the icy edge to her anger softening just a fraction as she saw Mika now sitting alone on the bed, his body trembling slightly, not from guilt, but from relief.