Chapter 35: The Shadow in the House

After the night Orson and his friends had after the match, Julian flew Orson and Lenora back home before the others followed. Orson moved Lenora back to the house. As the door closed, Lenora was still buzzing from the fight, and not only that—she was hungry after the day they had. Even Orson was hungry as well.

So he got up to make dinner. It was a simple light meal. As Orson helped her with her food, they ate in a comfortable silence. Before Orson finally asked, "So did you see in the vision Aeron showed you?"

Lenora smiled. "Nothing really. Just for some reason, I will go to the north. That’s all."

"The north? Yes, Heaven Crest City. Wait—but I thought Aeron’s vision showed you when you will die."

Lenora looked at him and smiled as she ate. "Oh no. It’s more of a convergence, you know. A turning point. Like where your life takes a turn. So let me guess—he showed you yours too, right?"

Orson sighed before dropping his spoon. "Yeah."

"Well, don’t worry. It’s not set in stone yet, so you may have a chance to change it."

"How are you so sure?" Orson asked. "Can it be changed?"

Lenora nodded. "Yes. I think—I don’t really know myself. What he said was that the stronger you are, the more difficult it is to change."

"Wow," Orson deadpanned. "Funny way to say your husband is weak."

Lenora smiled. "Well, I’m not the one who started it, calling people names."

She shot back as the two went back and forth, enjoying their meal as the moon was starting to move to the sky, signaling it was getting late.

After the meal, Orson checked the system heating pad to see if it had enough wood before helping Lenora to bed. This time, he didn’t fall on her; he waited until she finished using the bathroom, and they both went to bed.

The night was still young as Orson, who was also asleep, woke up in the middle of the night because of a strange smell. He sat up from the bed and noticed Lenora was missing before getting up.

The smell was coming from the bed, so he got up and pulled the bedspread. It was Lenora’s side of the bed that was soiled, and Orson looked around the room and found Lenora on the floor near the bed, struggling to get up.

Orson looked at her, but Lenora was turning her back to him as her hair was covering her face. Orson looked at her and realized what had happened, so he moved closer to her. The smell was worse the closer he moved, but Orson—or to be exact, the soul in Orson’s body—did not flinch from the smell and tried to pull her up, his voice hoarse.

"Lenora, you should have said something."

But as he got close, Lenora shouted, her voice strained and angry, "Don’t touch me!"

Orson looked down at her. "What did you just—"

"Don’t you dare say it, Orson. Don’t you dare."

Lenora shouted back as she crawled with her hands to the bathroom. Orson was a bit taken aback by her tone.

Lenora just kept dragging her hands, trying to reach the bathroom. Orson sighed. "What exactly are you doing? You need help, so just ask."

Lenora shot back, "No, I don’t. I can do it on my own, okay?"

She felt like the one thing she had—the one thing she held onto, her pride—was just nothing but broken glass in front of Orson. So if she reached the bathroom, maybe she could salvage something.

Orson just looked at her. He was a bit tired and just wanted to sleep, so he had no idea where this stubbornness was coming from. So Orson just sighed and rushed toward Lenora.

She screamed this time. "I said don’t touch me!"

She shouted, but Orson did not care. She needed help, and he wanted to help her. And as he tried to pull her, Lenora fought back. She used her two hands to pull him, and out of nowhere, it turned into a fight where they were pushing each other. Although Lenora was crippled, she still had the body of a Saint, so she was able to overpower Orson.

Shouts and screaming. "Let me go!"

Still, she pushed him to the side. They were both breathing heavy as she lay there, closed off, soaked with her body fluids, and Orson, who just looked at her.

As she sat there, holding his breath, he looked at her. And was surprised by what he saw.

Lenora’s face was red, and her eyes, which were cold, were all puffy, making her look like an adorable puppy. But there was still that fire in her eyes as she rolled herself to continue moving.

Orson shot back, "So what? You’re just going to crawl until you reach the bathroom?"

Lenora did not say anything. She was not going to let anyone see her weak as she moved slowly and painfully to the bathroom.

Anyone watching this would have just looked. The woman was a broken mess trying to go to the bathroom. She was the Saint—one of the heroes to the world—and now she was just this.

Orson just let out a long breath. "What exactly are you trying to prove? That you’re great? Better than everyone? It’s just the bathroom. I can help."

But Lenora just kept quiet, continuing to move to the bathroom. Orson just looked at her.

"So you’re not going to say anything?"

Lenora just kept moving till she reached the bathroom. She crawled inside and locked the door.

Lenora used her hands to move to the toilet before turning on the tap as water fell on her, soaking her wet. Her eyes were red and puffy, but she was not going to break. She was Lenora Sloane, the feared Storm Saint, and she was not going to let this break her.

She looked out into the toilet to nothing, remembering the vision Aeron had shown her. She looked down at her hands. What she had told Orson was the truth—that she was going to the north according to the vision. But what she did in the north was what made her quiet.

---

Meanwhile, Orson looked at the door of the bathroom. He knew she was stubborn, but this was a new low, even for her, he thought as he took the stained bed to the washroom.

Downstairs, the moon was shining down, casting the night in a hazy glow. As Orson reached down, he took the bedspread to the washer. It was a large container, and as he opened it, he placed the clothes inside. When he closed it, a shadow stood where the door was—he was about to close it when he saw it.

Orson’s mind went blank. What? I didn’t even sense anything from him, he thought as the shadow moved his hands, aiming for Orson’s neck.