Rosie's Games
Chapter 542 542: Awakening 4

Soon enough, Rosalind observed as the child grew into adolescence, marked by a teenage countenance bearing unmistakable hatred, a heavy presence in her eyes.

"This flower signifies forgiveness," echoed a voice. This time, Rosalind witnessed a lovely teenager, her smile warm, offering a delicate bloom to a young man with hair as white as snow. "Take it. It complements your hair."

For a moment, the young man hesitated, then accepted the flower as he gazed at the girl. "What do you need?"

"Can I not offer you a flower just because I wish to?" she replied.

The young man furrowed his brow. Naturally, he was the same child Rosalind had seen earlier. She had chosen to dress as a young boy, her hair cropped short, her hands roughened by the grip of a sword. On the outside, no one would be able to tell that this handsome young man is actually a young woman.

"Are you angry?" the young girl inquired as the man turned away and began walking toward the village gates he was guarding. "Please...is there a need for your anger against someone who merely seeks your friendship?"

The young man's steps faltered, and he halted just shy of the village gates. He did not turn around, but his shoulders seemed less tense, less guarded.

Rosalind observed the interaction from a distance, her heart heavy for both of them. She sensed the turmoil within the young man, the bitterness that had hardened his heart over the years, and the suffocating anger that he carried.

Yet, the girl, so full of innocence and kindness, remained undeterred by his cold demeanor.

After a brief silence, the young man spoke. "Please stay away from me."

Soon, the scene shifted once more, still involving the young woman. This time, she was bringing food to the young man.

"I prepared this. I hope you find it to your liking."

"I know you're weary, and it's rather cold. Please try this soup."

"I made this today. Knowing your aversion to sweetness, I refrained from adding sugar. Please enjoy it."

"The tea I brewed today was crafted from morning dew I collected over several days. Do you like it?"

"Hey, what do you think of this attire?"

"The snow is melting, spring is approaching. Would you like to witness the flowers blooming in the valley?"

Rosalind observed as winter gave way to spring, and the young boy began to open up to the girl. He smiled more, ate the meals she prepared, and adorned himself in the clothing she offered.

He admired the blossoming flowers and watched the young girl dance in the rain. For a while, all was serene, light, and peaceful.

Regrettably, this harmonious atmosphere proved short-lived as a sea of fire abruptly consumed the village.

Screams accompanied the odor of blood that filled the air.

"No," the boy exclaimed in anxiety, abandoning the firewood he had collected for the upcoming winter.

"The demons!" a woman's voice cried from a distance. "Flee! Run for your lives!"

Then Rosalind watched as the boy unsheathed his sword, bravely attempting to confront a nearby demon, swiftly dispatching it with a single strike. However, how could a young teenager possess the strength to slay three-meter-tall demonic creatures ravaging the village?

In time, the boy grew fatigued, yet he persisted. For a moment, it appeared he might have a chance against the demons. Then he saw her.

The lifeless form of the young girl who had prepared his meals, the same girl who had brought a smile to his face.

Just before Rosalind could witness the outcome, her vision blurred. She found herself within a wooden structure. A single glance confirmed it was a hospital. There were about ten beds inside the room and only four of them were occupied.

Inside, she immediately recognized the young boy, now dressed as a woman. He was already awake, gazing vacantly at the ceiling. His face was devoid of any expression.

"You're awake," a woman entered the room. "Here, please have some water." She helped her in, taking a sip. "When we saw you, we didn't think you' would survive. By the grace of the gods, you pulled through. I hope that— ah!" The woman gasped as the young teenager grasped her arm.

"Where is she?" she inquired.

"W— what?"

"The young girl with black hair. She was wearing an old gray tunic… she was lying not far from me."

"I— " the woman's expression shifted.

"Where is she?"

"I do not know. We found nothing around you. There were only…"

"Only what?" she asked. When the woman hesitated, the teenager pressed again. "Only what?"

"The area around you was incinerated. There were only charred remains that… we could not identify. The reason we doubted your survival was because… because nobody else in that village survived. Everything was reduced to ashes. The healer said you were fortunate as… as you arrived late."

"What?" the teenager released the woman's arm. She frowned.

"The healer suggested you had fainted. We found no fatal wounds on your body, no burns. He said… he said you might have been returning to the village when an explosion occurred. That's why you fainted." The woman stared at her while holding her now bruised arm. "For a woman, your grip is surprisingly strong."

"You mentioned an explosion?" the teenager inquired.

"Yes. That was the only explanation for the village's devastation. Ah, the healer asked me to inform him when you awoke. Please wait a moment; you should speak with the healer directly." The woman left the room without waiting for a response.

Before long, a man with familiar white hair and dressed entirely in a white long robe arrived.

It was none other than Belisarius.

Rosalind frowned. Surprisingly, Belisarius's face did not change. Aside from his almost too-good-to-be true aura, nothing practically changed.

"You are awake..." Belisarius said. "Please call me Belisarius. Would you let me check your body to make sure that you are-"

"No," the teenager frowned. This time, Rosalind was already certain that this teenager was none other than the goddess herself.

She is showing Rosalind her past experiences and possibly explaining why she despised demons enough to sacrifice everything for humans.

...

A/N: Sorry for the delay in updates. Starting tomorrow, I am going to write more. I am better now. Thank you so much for the concern. :)