【Interstellar Contract Magician】Ruyuanke

Chapter 372 [Empire] Orphans of Martyrs

I paused, my heart suddenly shocked.

In the dim light, I noticed the teardrops on the ground, shimmering slightly. They weren't ordinary liquid, but rather solidified waxy residue. Refraction of the light revealed the wax to be translucent, seemingly still retaining the girl's warmth, trembling slightly.

An indescribable chill ran down my spine. I turned and looked once more at the little girl holding the wax bear. Her figure was blurry and fragile in the light, and on the ground beneath my feet, I could still vaguely see a trace of wax left where she had walked.

"She...herself..." I whispered to myself, my throat seemed to be blocked by something.

Nightingale had clearly noticed this, his gaze deepening. His expression lost a touch of composure, becoming more solemn. He whispered, "It seems her connection to those Black Candle beasts is far deeper than we imagined."

There was no need to assume any more. She was no ordinary child, but a being like the Black Candle Beast—a waxen being. Perhaps, her waxen body was the source of all this. The black mist, the Black Candle Beast, the maddening flames, could all be caused by her uncontrolled emotions, perhaps even a part of her very being.

"This little bear..." I whispered, my eyes fixed on the wax bear in her arms, "It's her 'core', the embodiment of her existence. And she herself may be a special individual endowed with wax life."

This is my guess.

The girl still held the bear with her head down, oblivious to the complex emotions in our gazes. Her eyes were still a little empty and lost, but the dim firelight shining on her face revealed the subtle texture of her waxy skin.

"She might not know it herself," Nightingale whispered, a rare heaviness in her tone. "She might have always thought she was an ordinary little girl. Those candles, flames, black mist... perhaps they are the embodiment of her fear of loss, her obsession with promises, and her unresolved emotions."

My heart was suddenly filled with complex emotions. Perhaps the girl simply didn't understand her own uniqueness, or how her emotions could cause such a catastrophe. Everything she did was to protect a heavy yet seemingly insignificant promise: to wait for her mother's return.

"She's lonely," I whispered, with an indescribable bitterness in my voice. "She might even be tormented by this loneliness and fear."

Nightingale glanced at me and nodded, but said nothing.

I turned back again, watching the girl's back. She was still clutching the bear, head bowed, silent. Her waxen body seemed especially fragile in the dim light. Her life, like the flame within the wax bear, was faint yet tenacious, ready to die at any moment, yet burning tenaciously.

"She needs help," I said firmly.

Nightingale was silent for a moment, looking at the girl's back with a complicated look. "This isn't something we can decide lightly. Her existence itself is a contradiction. Helping her is only temporary; but if she loses control again, the consequences could be even more serious than today."

I gritted my teeth, knowing Nightingale's words weren't completely unfounded. He was right. The relationship between the girl's waxy life and the Black Candle Beast was complex. If I didn't address the root cause, simply appeasing her would only set her back into another cycle of losing control.

But I couldn't ignore her confused and helpless eyes, nor could I ignore the faint but stubborn firelight when she held the teddy bear.

"Whatever happens, we can't leave her alone," I whispered.

Nightingale glanced at me, frowning slightly, but didn't refute. He sighed softly and said, "You're always like this."

I smiled slightly, turned and walked towards the girl, squatted down again, and looked at her at eye level.

"Little girl," I whispered, trying to sound gentle yet firm. "You're not alone. You'll have someone by your side. You don't have to wait alone anymore." My gaze fell on the little bear in her arms, and my voice softened. "Just like it, you'll have a home, a place of your own."

The girl raised her head, a hint of hesitation and confusion flashed in her eyes, but she did not resist, just looked at me quietly.

Maybe, this is just the beginning.

The atmosphere in the command center suddenly became solemn.

The officer stared at the little girl, as if he couldn't believe his eyes. His breathing quickened, his brow furrowed, and his eyes betrayed a complex mix of emotions: shock, confusion, sadness, and a deep sense of self-blame. He slowly stood up, his voice low and trembling, "This is Captain Miri's...daughter."

These words, like a thunder, exploded throughout the room.

The little girl hugged the teddy bear and shrank back slightly, her eyes avoiding. She didn't know where she was being taken and seemed not to understand what the officer said.

"Are you sure?" I asked in a low voice, with huge waves in my heart.

The officer nodded gravely, his eyes fixed on the girl, as if afraid she would vanish in the next moment. He murmured, "I won't be mistaken... That blue and white dress was a birthday gift the captain made for her... Her hair, her eyes..." His voice suddenly choked, and he clenched his fists tightly, as if suppressing some overwhelming emotion.

I looked at the little girl, then at him, and immediately understood the whole story. The girl was still holding the bear, looking around blankly, her eyes filled with anxiety, but she didn't reveal any memory of these people or these words.

"She... is the orphan of a martyr?" Nightingale's voice was low, with a rare hint of respect.

The officer nodded emphatically and explained in a low voice, "Captain Mi Rui was one of the best squad leaders in our army. She led her team on an important mission, but unfortunately, she died in the process. Her daughter... happened to have her birthday that day, and before she could even cut the cake, she received an emergency order and was recalled to the battlefield."

He paused, his voice filled with deep sorrow. "She told her daughter to wait for her in the park. But... she never came back. Her comrades... we... spent a long time searching for this child, hoping to arrange a stable life for her. But no matter how hard we looked, we couldn't find her."

His gaze stopped at the girl's waxy body, and a trace of disbelief flashed in his eyes: "Now...she has become...like this."

I looked down at the little girl, a surge of indescribable emotion welling up inside me. She was still holding the bear in a tense position, as if she were protecting a last shred of security. Her eyes were blank and vacant, clearly showing no memory of what had happened.

"She might not be human anymore." I whispered, a hint of difficulty in my voice. "Her body has turned waxy. Her existence is directly related to those black candle beasts. Perhaps her life essence has been altered by some force."

The officer was silent for a moment and sighed deeply: "No matter what she is now... she is still Captain Miri's daughter."

These words, like a needle, pierced my heart. The little girl's waxen body seemed strange and unbelievable, but her heart, her emotions, were still that of a child, a child who had once waited for her mother's return.

"But her condition... is clearly not suitable for staying in an ordinary environment." Nightingale said calmly, glancing at me and the officer. "If she loses control again, you all know the consequences she will bring."

The officer's expression darkened, clearly understanding the gravity of the situation. He didn't argue, instead gently approaching the little girl, trying to appear less threatening. He whispered, "Child... do you remember your mother?"

The little girl looked up at him, but didn't answer. She just hugged the bear tightly and lowered her head. Her movements were cautious, but full of silent resistance.

"She doesn't remember." I sighed softly. "In her memory, there is only waiting, only the words 'Mom asked me to wait for her.' Everything else has been... swallowed up."

The officer was silent for a long time, and finally heaved a long sigh. "She was once an innocent and lively child. We all watched her grow up. If Captain Miri were still alive, she would never want to see her daughter become like this..." His voice was low and choked. "She would definitely want her daughter to have a normal life again."

Nightingale glanced at him and asked calmly, "What are you going to do? Her physical condition is obviously not something an ordinary person can handle. Accommodating her...how easy is that?"

The officer's hands clenched into fists, his brow furrowed. He didn't answer immediately, but his gaze grew more resolute. "She's Captain Miri's daughter. The military will take full responsibility for her affairs. No matter what she's become, we will find a way to help her return to a normal life."

I didn't say anything, just looked at the little girl. Her future was destined to be difficult. But no matter what, I hoped she could find her home and the warmth she once lost, albeit in a different form.