Tower of Paradise

KATHYIN GRAMONT'S POV

I felt my body shudder when Arceus embraced me. I pursed my lips, but I was too exhausted to show any expression of surprise after having collapsed and cried like a little girl.

The icy shell of apathy in which I had kept myself locked away—far from the anger, pain, loss, and other emotions trying to make their way inside me—had melted.

It might have been the warmth of his embrace or the warmth of his words, but I found myself crying once more. Tears ran down my cheeks, incessant and warm.

My shoulders trembled as I tried with all my might not to collapse once more, but Arceus's words continued to resonate in my mind.

I did very well.

I realized that I was even beginning to get used to the various "frivolous" behaviors of this rogue in front of me. His actions were so natural, without probing or questions, simply touching and embracing me at will. It was simply...

Too hateful; this guy is really too hateful!

I had always considered myself a virtuous woman and had never before fought or cursed at anyone. At that moment, facing such an insensitive guy, I discovered that I really had no way of dealing with him.

But the main reason I could calm down at that moment was my curiosity. Why had Arceus hugged me? Did he feel sorry for me?

The man in front of me had suddenly become a mystery full of questions. His way of doing things was impeccable. His plans were like puzzles that were assembled with meticulous care; he seemed to always be one step ahead of others. Only during that brief moment on the fourth floor did I feel that there might be many things in his heart that no one knew.

I realized that I seemed to have gotten used to the feeling of being cared for in that way. Although I didn't want to admit it, in my heart, there was a kind of dependency that I had rarely experienced since I was a child.

Born into a great noble family, I had lived in a luxurious mansion unimaginable to common people. To my eyes, there always existed a cold and indistinguishable distance between people. A maid could not have a sincere conversation with a lady, a warrior could never be a knight's brother, and a butler would not laugh or joke with a servant. Everything was so clearly delimited. But at that moment, I no longer felt that coldness or that loneliness that had been my constant companions.

I had never before imagined meeting such a strange guy. My mind was brimming with curiosity. But Arceus was like a wooden log. He didn't utter a word if I didn't speak first, which depressed me a little.

—I'm sorry. —I hugged my knees and looked at the ground as we waited for the next wave of undead. —I didn't mean to collapse like that.

—Don't apologize. After what we just went through, anyone would need to vent. —Arceus was sitting on the ground with his legs crossed, resting his elbow, which held his mask, on his leg with a disinterested expression in the middle of the desolate village.

—What are you thinking about? —I asked, raising my head slightly and looking at him out of the corner of my eye. Arceus turned his head and observed me for a moment.

—A person. —He shrugged and answered sincerely.

—A woman? —I dared to ask.

Arceus remained silent and didn't respond, but his eyes that could be seen through his mask seemed to immerse in something deep, which made me feel that his entire aura seemed to have changed slightly.

—I was just curious. It doesn't matter if you don't want to tell me. —For no reason, I felt that I seemed to have asked something I shouldn't have because I saw that he didn't respond. —... Is she beautiful?

I wanted to say something more, but the words seemed to come out of my mouth without thinking. Women were gossips by nature. Although I regretted having said it, I looked at Arceus carefully, still waiting for an answer.

Arceus was stunned by my question and seemed to hesitate in responding.

—Yes, very beautiful.

With a sigh, I heard the answer I wanted to hear, but I felt it was a somewhat disappointing answer for me. My hopeful eyes darkened instantly. I didn't know what I expected, but at that moment, a coldness enveloped me. My anguish gradually surfaced, and even I felt a little disconcerted.

Although I resisted the temptation to ask more questions, I couldn't help but imagine what that "beautiful woman" would look like. What kind of relationship might they have? How did they meet? What happened between her and Arceus?

Girls were always meticulous. Although Arceus's way of acting embarrassed and annoyed me, these details that I ignored also constantly changed the impression I had of him. In general, he was a weirdo in my eyes.

—Actually, let's not talk about these murky things —I said, changing the subject—. Arceus, I really want to know... what is your true identity? Why do you never take off your mask? Were you a nobleman or a dwarf? Or a famous adventurer?

—To prevent being knocked out in an ambush —he responded simply—. And regarding your other questions, you're far from the truth.

—Oh... I didn't guess. Actually, I just envy those free people. —I murmured, somewhat disappointed by his vague answer.

—Why were you crying? —He suddenly asked, moving his neck to look at me directly.

—Humph? —I looked at him, narrowing my eyes, surprised by his sudden interest.

—You're curious, aren't you?

—No, well... Yes. —He admitted after a moment.

I opened my mouth slightly and hesitated. It was reasonable to say that this type of matter involving my family's privacy should not be mentioned lightly. But obviously, I believed I could trust Arceus at that moment.

—My family, the Gramont clan, belongs to the elite of the Awakened —I paused, organizing my thoughts—. Do you know what the minimum requirement is to be a member?

—Awakening, isn't it?

—That's right. And I could never awaken, no matter the degree of the stellar core.

I felt a lump in my throat remembering all my failed attempts.

—Did you run away from your clan?

—No... They threw me out. —The words came out more bitter than I intended.

—I see. Did you like being there?

—No, I hated it. They had terrible food, small rooms, and old people wandering everywhere. It was terrible!

I frowned and moved my head with disgust as I spoke, trying to hide the pain under my trivial complaints.

—And... why do you keep climbing the tower? —Arceus tilted his head, as if trying to understand something fundamental about me.

—... Because I'm very resentful. —I raised my head and looked away, revealing a truth that I rarely admitted out loud.

I turned my head and looked at Arceus with a smile that shone like the sun in a clear sky, but that hid years of resentment like a withered garden watered with tears of disappointment.

—I will make them cry disconsolately when I return home as the most powerful Ascendant who has ever walked the earth. And finally, I'm going to destroy the Gramont clan from within!

To remind my clan of what they had forgotten: that equity, courage, justice, and freedom were not simple words; they were perspectives.

Suddenly, Arceus laughed. His laughter resonated in the silence of our refuge.

—What? —I raised an eyebrow, not understanding what he found so amusing in my oath of vengeance.

—It simply seemed typical of you. I... I like how you are: strong and perseverant.

My eyebrows rose and my eyes opened wide, astounded. My eyes trembled as if I had suffered an internal earthquake, as if I had received a direct critical attack to my heart.

—If you need help with something, let me know. Let's destroy the Gramont clan or something... —He put a hand behind his head while laughing at himself.

My chest tightened, and the lump in my throat grew. Every word I wanted to tell him seemed to drown before reaching my lips.

I gritted my teeth seeing him act like this. I kept cursing him in my heart for not understanding others' feelings, for not understanding the impact of his words on me.

—Idiot! It wouldn't make sense if I didn't do it myself!

Am I an idiot?

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry at Arceus's shameless words. I buried my head in my knees because I felt I would die of embarrassment. I couldn't allow my heart to race and my face to burn over such simple words.

But the truth was that no one, absolutely no one, had ever told me they liked how I was. All my life, I had been rejected for what I wasn't, for what I couldn't do, only for my deficiencies. And here was this masked man, this complete stranger, saying he liked precisely what I was.

Choosing to overcome my trauma required courage, but it would be one of the most powerful forms of transformation. This didn't mean erasing my past, but trying to give it a new meaning. I finally understood it.

Despite the deep marks that trauma could leave, the human brain was malleable and capable of rebuilding itself. What had been hurt in me was slowly healing, and a part of the wound that I believed incurable was beginning to close. What was broken, little by little, slowly... was being repaired.

The first step towards my healing was awareness. As long as a wound remained in darkness, it would continue dictating my conduct. But when I began to recognize the patterns that imprisoned me—the fear of rejection, the constant need for approval, the difficulty in trusting others—an opportunity opened for me to break that cycle.

As I found people who treated me with respect, affection, and validation, I would begin to rebuild my vision of the world. Each healthy relationship became proof that it was possible to experience affection in a different way. Overcoming my fears was a process, not a final destination. There would be easy days and difficult days, moments of advances and relapses. But with each small step, with each new understanding, something inside me would reorganize like a blank canvas, ready to be painted. The past may have molded me, but it didn't have to define who I would be from now on.

I understood that true freedom began when I stopped running from my own story and chose to write it with my own hands. Traumas could leave deep scars, shaping the way I saw the world, others, and myself. They had taught me from a very early age that I wasn't enough, that love was unstable, and that danger could be anywhere. Many times, there were people who carried these lessons all their lives without even realizing they no longer belonged to them. However, there was a truth that wasn't always told: what had happened to us didn't have to define who we were.

My past may have been marked by pain, but the future was in my hands. Trauma wasn't a sentence; it didn't mark my destiny. It was a painful experience, yes, but not defining. The path wouldn't be simple, but it was possible, and more than that, it was necessary. Because no one deserved to spend their entire life running from something that had already been left behind. The past couldn't be changed, but the present could, and from the present, the future could be rebuilt like a phoenix being reborn from its own ashes.