Chapter 197: Forty Years Of Hidden Kindness

Leona felt like she was going to combust.

This was it. The most shameful, most embarrassing moment of her entire existence.

After all, she was the Matriarch of the village.

A figure meant to embody dignity, restraint, and authority…someone the entire village looked up to.

Not just that—she was a mother of two children.

And technically…a married woman.

Even if her relationship with Julius was cold, distant, and nothing more than a hollow title, the fact remained—she was married. She was supposed to uphold that responsibility, that image.

And yet…

Here she was.

Being held so closely by another man…letting him touch her, tease her, bite her neck…responding to him in ways she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in years.

And the worst part—

Her own sister had seen it.

Leona couldn’t even begin to process how that had just happened.

Her thoughts spiraled as her face burned, her entire body stiff with embarrassment.

Then—

Her eyes slowly shifted toward Luca.

He was looking at her too.

There was a bit of awkwardness on his face…but nowhere near the level of panic or shame she was drowning in.

Seeing how he looked like he was enjoying the whole situation, she wanted to blame him for that.

It would be so easy to blame him. He was the one who had started the teasing, the biting, the kissing. He was the one who had pulled her close, who had made her feel so warm and safe and wanted.

But she knew the truth. She couldn’t blame him. It was her fault. Her own fault, for letting it happen. For not pulling away. For holding on tighter.

What could she do, though?

The way he held her, the way his hands felt on her shoulders, the way his lips found her neck again and again—it was intoxicating.

She couldn’t think straight when he was that close. Couldn’t remember why she was supposed to resist.

She was dying of embarrassment. Literally dying. Her face was so hot she was sure steam was rising from her skin.

And then she heard his voice.

“Today…”

Luca read aloud, his tone light and amused.

“I went to Elder Maelis’s house early in the morning before anyone was awake. Her joints have been bothering her lately, so I left fresh herbs on her doorstep and a small pot of the salve I made last week.”

“When she opened the door later, she looked at the herbs and said, ’The forest spirit has blessed me again.’ I watched from behind a tree and she smiled. That smile made everything worth it.”

Leona’s steps faltered. She turned to look at him, confused.

He was holding something. A small leather-bound notebook, open in his hands, his eyes scanning the pages with obvious enjoyment.

“Today.” He continued. “I repaired the bridge near the eastern path. The ropes were rotting. Someone could have fallen. Now they won’t. I watched the first person cross it safely. They looked relieved. That was worth the work.”

Leona’s blood ran cold.

“Today.” Luca read, turning a page. “I left flowers on the doorstep of the family who lost their daughter. I couldn’t bring her back. I couldn’t do anything to ease their pain.”

“But I thought…maybe flowers would remind them that something beautiful still exists. I hope they helped. Even a little.”

Her journal. Her private journal. The one she kept tucked in her pouch at all times, where she recorded every secret kindness, every hidden deed, every small moment of joy she stole from the shadows.

And Luca was reading it.

She looked down at her waist. Her pouch was open and her journal was gone.

He must have taken it when they were—when they were—

“LUCA!”

She lunged at him, her hands grabbing for the notebook, her face a mask of pure, unadulterated horror.

“Don’t read that! Give it back! How could you just steal someone’s journal and read from it?!”

Luca, with the reflexes of someone who had spent a lifetime dodging much faster threats, simply lifted the journal high above his head.

Leona jumped for it, but he was taller. Much taller. Her fingers brushed nothing but air.

“Today…”

He continued, holding her at arm’s length with one hand while keeping the journal aloft with the other.

“I left fresh vegetables on the doorstep of the young mother who’s been sick. Her children need to eat. I hope she gets better soon. I hope…”

“GIVE IT BACK!”

She was bouncing now, jumping, reaching, but he kept it just out of reach, still reading.

“Today I fixed the latch on the window that wouldn’t close. The elder who lives there can’t see well anymore. She didn’t even notice. But she won’t have cold drafts at night. That’s enough.”

Leona’s face was the color of a ripe tomato. Every word he read was another piece of her soul laid bare.

Every secret kindness, every hidden joy, every moment of happiness she had stolen from the shadows—he was seeing all of it.

She couldn’t take it anymore.

With a desperate cry, she launched herself at him, climbing him like a tree, grabbing at his arm, his shoulder, anything she could reach.

He stumbled back, surprised, and she used the moment to snatch the journal from his hand.

She landed on the ground, clutching the notebook to her chest like a shield, her chest heaving, her face still burning.

“You thief!” She gasped, pointing at him with a trembling finger. “How could you?! How could you steal my private journal?!”

Luca straightened his shirt, looking utterly unrepentant.

“I didn’t steal it.” He said mildly. “When we were deeply embracing one another…”

He paused meaningfully, watching her face flush even deeper.

“….I noticed your pouch was open and your journal was falling out. It was about to hit the ground. I simply caught it. Saved it from getting dirty.”

He smiled innocently.

“You should be thanking me, really. I was being a gentleman and saved your precious book.”

Leona stared at him in dismay.

The excuse was so flimsy, so transparent that she couldn’t even form a response.

But before she could unleash the torrent of outrage building in her chest, Luca tilted his head, his expression shifting to something more thoughtful.

“You know, you and your daughters are very alike.”

Leona blinked. “What?”

He gestured at the journal clutched to her chest.

“Luna always carries a journal. A little notebook. She writes down everything I tell her. Questions, answers, observations—she treats it like sacred information she can’t afford to forget.”

Despite herself, Leona felt a flicker of warmth. Her daughter. So dedicated. So earnest.

“That’s very much like you.” Luca said, and she couldn’t help the small swell of pride that rose in her chest.

“Nyx also writes in journals.” He continued, and his expression became slightly sheepish. “Hers are…different. Less about helping people. More about…methods. Techniques.”

“Very detailed descriptions of how to cause maximum damage to a person’s body while keeping them alive as long as possible to prolong the suffering.”

Leona sighed.

“…That does sound like her.”

Luca then pointed at her with a smirk.

“But you?”

Leona stiffened.

“Your journal is the complete opposite.” He said. “It’s full of hope…struggles…little moments of happiness.”

Her eyes widened slightly.

“And the way you write…” He continued teasingly. “I can already imagine it.”

Leona felt a bad feeling creeping up.

“You’re probably giggling to yourself while writing, aren’t you?” He added.

Her face froze.

“And maybe even rolling around on your bed like a little girl while doing it.”

“…!”

Leona’s entire body jolted.

Because—

That was exactly what she did.

Every single time.

Her face turned completely red again.

“Y-You—!!”

She couldn’t even form words.

The fact that he had guessed it so accurately made it feel even more humiliating.

But then—

Luca suddenly frowned slightly.

“Now that I think about it…what about Lulu?”

Leona blinked, still recovering. “Lulu?”

“Does she even write anything?” He asked. “She might be the anomaly in your family.”

Leona thought about it for a moment.

Then gave an awkward smile.

“Well…I did give her a notebook once.”

Luca’s eyes lit up slightly. “Oh? So she writes too?”

“…Not exactly.”

He blinked.

“Half of the pages are filled with drawings of birds…chickens…and little stories about them.”

Luca winced slightly.

“And the other half?” He asked cautiously.

“…She turns them into paper airplanes and throws them around the forest. For weeks, we were finding them in trees, in bushes, in the stream. I think one ended up in the human continent.”

There was a brief silence.

“…I see.” Luca said slowly.

Then suddenly he brightened.

“But that’s good.” He added. “It just means she’s more creative than the rest of you. Diversity is important.”

Leona nodded immediately.

“Yes…exactly.”

She clearly wasn’t going to say anything bad about her daughter.

But then, Luca’s expression shifted.

Becoming more serious.

“There’s something I noticed, though.” He said, his tone lowering slightly.

Leona looked at him curiously.

“In your journal…every page has a date. Years, even.”

Her grip on the journal tightened slightly.

“…Yes.”

He looked directly at her.

“Does that mean you’ve been writing these for a long time? If so how many?”

Leona hesitated. She really didn’t want to say it. The number felt too heavy, too sad, too revealing of a life lived in shadows.

But Luca wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

So, she looked up at him, her voice barely a whisper.

“Ever since Luna and Lulu were born.”

She paused, the number sitting heavy on her tongue.

“So…over forty years now.”

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