Memoirs of Your Local Small-time Villainess-Chapter 405 - Shattered Glass

Scarlett sat with her eyes closed, her breathing even and deliberately slow, when the whisper of boots over stone signalled Rosa’s return. She opened her eyes as the woman emerged from the tunnel, a small satchel bouncing at her hip and a travel-stained cloak draped loosely over her head.

“Brought civilisation,” Rosa announced, peering into the satchel. “Bread, that weird cheese-like stuff, and a soup that probably has too many colours to be trusted. But sometimes you’ve got to live dangerously.” Her gaze lifted and found Scarlett watching her. “Evening, Red.”

Scarlett arched a brow. She sat near the edge of the chamber on a slab of cushioned stone. “Set it by the crates,” she said. “I will eat when I am finished.”

“I wouldn’t have said no to a ‘thank you, Rosalina, you heroic provider of sustenance,’ but fine.” Rosa sighed theatrically and obeyed. She crossed to the crates stacked along the wall, set the satchel down, then perched atop one, leaning back against the rock with the ease of someone accustomed to waiting. She took out her klert and ran her fingers lightly across its polished surface. A few quiet notes followed as she tuned it, humming softly to herself.

Scarlett watched her for a moment, then closed her eyes again.

Gentle melodies soon threaded through the stillness, weaving into Scarlett’s focus. She didn’t mind. In fact, the sound had become something she almost relied on. It reminded her of studying to ambient music back at university, the noise helping her stay centred.

And that was precisely what she needed right now.

Shattered Glass.

That was the name of the current Echo, and of the Stillwork technique she was attempting to master.

There was much to say about Jahror—his past, his purpose, his motivations—but Scarlett’s interest in him was largely practical. The technique he possessed was too valuable to ignore. For someone with third-rate mana veins, a method of breaking and remaking them was something she’d been looking for since the day she woke in this body.

There had been some doubt as to whether she could even apply it. Her mana control had never been exceptional and likely bordered on substandard compared to most real mages, and she’d worried the difference between this world’s principles and her own would complicate matters. Fortunately, her [Major Mana Control] skill provided a workable foundation, and Jahror’s method proved surprisingly intuitive. It relied on deliberately flowing mana through the body’s internal pathways, guided by precise sequences. Jahror had demonstrated by channelling his own Quintessence through her network, gently enough for her to trace. That had been enough for her to grasp the fundamentals fairly quickly.

Though that was only the beginning.

The controlled flow of the Stillwork was just the preparation — the Heating of the glass before the shaping. Apparently, in ordinary Stillwork techniques, Heating led to Polishing and Smoothing. But with Shattered Glass, those stages were replaced by Breaking and Remaking.

Jahror had given her careful instructions and even demonstrated the process. She understood the theory well enough. The problem lay in execution. Breaking and Remaking were not only agonising and painstakingly slow, but the Remaking phase was incomplete. Scarlett had to work out that part herself and couldn’t rely entirely on Jahror’s method.

Because he wasn’t ‘broken’ in the same way she was.

So Scarlett found herself caught in a limbo of trying to map her own approach to the Stillwork while only being able to test it in fragments. Another drawback of Shattered Glass was that it was irreversible. Once started, there was no going back. Since she had no intention of permanently crippling herself, that meant she had to experiment very carefully.

With eyes closed, her awareness turned inward, tracing the intricate web of mana threading through her body. It wasn’t a clean network, but more like a lattice of half-bundled, dense strands that couldn’t decide whether to align or splinter. A mess, really, but the one she had to work with. The inheritance she’d received along with this body.

At one edge of the network, she slowly isolated a small section, constricting its flow using one of Jahror’s techniques. It reduced her total mana capacity—she’d confirmed that much via the system—but the practice was worth it. She’d experienced firsthand how tampering with her mana veins could cause internal damage, which was where having Rosa nearby proved useful.

Focusing, she located the stress lines within the isolated section and applied pressure, forcing the structure to yield.

The veins broke. Then shattered.

That much was reproducible by anyone, given the knowledge.

The Remaking was where things changed, and where Scarlett struggled.

Remaking required a sort of…surrender. The word bothered Scarlett, but it fit. The way she understood it, Shattered Glass could function as both a magical and psychological reconstruction. The physical act of reforging the mana veins required the practitioner’s sense of self to yield rather than resist. Jahror’s approach to solving that had been one of total detachment — he fractured his sense of identity deliberately until he no longer resisted the dissolution of identity.

Scarlett hadn’t realised that was what he had done at first, but it explained the hollow, almost nihilistic calm that clung to him. It was also an approach she found absurdly excessive and entirely unacceptable for herself.

Fortunately—or maybe unfortunately, depending on perspective—she already possessed the sort of fracture required. It was the divide between Amy Bernal and Scarlett Hartford. Her challenge wasn’t to break herself further, but to figure out how to use that division as a foundation for the Remaking.

She guided her mana towards the point where the veins had shattered. To her inner senses, the broken edges gleamed faintly, suspended in the dark like fragments of cooled glass. A subtle pressure gathered inside as she wrapped the fragments in her mana, guiding the motion as Jahror had shown her.

For a moment, they began to drift together, trembling strands of energy forming tentative bridges. Then resistance set in. The fragments remembered only one shape. Returning to it wouldn’t heal the cracks, so they would simply shatter again. She tried forcing them into a new configuration.

A sharp snap echoed through her mind as her will recoiled. Pain flared. The fragments scattered, dissolving into nothing.

Scarlett exhaled slowly through her teeth, steadying her breath. The failure left a dull ache behind, more mental than physical.

The music stopped.

“Still hitting the same wall?” Rosa asked.

Scarlett opened her eyes. The bard was watching her from her perch by the crates.

After a moment, Scarlett lowered her head. “Yes.”

She’d been stalled at this stage for nearly a week now. That was how long they had been within this Echo. She wasn’t too concerned that they were missing anything—she assumed time didn’t move here as it did outside—but they didn’t know how to leave on their own. Their best guess was that the Echo would release them either once Scarlett mastered the Stillwork, or when the world collapsed.

“Maybe I’ll have to start earning us some gold soon,” Rosa said lightly. “Never thought I’d be providing for a noble, but life’s got a sense of humour.”

“I will endeavour to ensure that does not become necessary,” Scarlett replied.

“It scares you that much, huh?” Rosa smirked, then pulled a small pouch from her cloak and gave it a shake, its contents rattling. “Don’t worry. We still have a few weeks’ worth of supplies lying in wait here.”

Jahror had provided everything they needed without asking for anything in return. Rosa was the one who ventured to the city to trade for fresh supplies while Scarlett stayed to practise. At first, Scarlett had been hesitant to let her go alone, but according to Jahror, despite their prejudices, the people of Vairenne rarely bothered to actively threaten the ‘impure’ they saw as beneath them. Rosa also attracted less attention than Scarlett did, and she was far better suited to haggling with unpleasant merchants.

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Scarlett would probably have caused a scene by the third day.

Curiously, Jahror himself had not left the caves once since they met him. Nor had he asked Rosa to bring him anything. In fact, Scarlett had barely seen him at all. Aside from the few occasions where he had guided her practice, he spent nearly all his time deeper within the tunnels, continuing his own Stillwork in solitude.

Presumably with far more success than her.

“Have you at least made some progress?” Rosa asked, setting her klert aside against the crate.

Scarlett regarded her for a moment, then shook her head. “I have not. It appears I am simply unable to release my sense of self.”

“Honestly, that does not sound like such a bad thing to me.”

“No. I suppose it does not…”

Rosa watched her. “But you think it is.”

Scarlett paused before replying. “…That would depend on what my sense of self truly is.”

If it were something stable—something she defined—then sure, she would prefer to keep it as it was. But she already knew it wasn’t. It hadn’t been since she woke as Scarlett Hartford. Even if the restrictions didn’t force her to behave as Scarlett anymore, that freedom hadn’t made her feel any more certain of herself. If anything, she felt less.

She was trying to release her sense of self without knowing what it was. How was that meant to work?

She wanted to understand who she was. Who she wanted to be. She wanted to define it, even if that definition simply proved to match who she already was.

And the Stillwork of Shattered Glass…

“Amy,” Rosa said finally, meeting her gaze. “Would you prefer if we gave up on this?”

Scarlett did not answer immediately.

“I am sure we could find another way out,” Rosa continued. “If you think this is too dangerous.”

Scarlett’s eyes lingered on the woman. “…Before, you suggested we cooperate in deciding where the line between Amy and Scarlett should be drawn. I believe this technique may help with that.”

“Assuming you get it to work,” Rosa said. “Without hurting yourself.”

Scarlett inclined her head. “Yes.”

“But you’ve got your doubts, don’t you?”

“I do.” Scarlett was quiet for several seconds. “As a solution, it feels…forced. Or convenient. Planned.”

“Isn’t that because it came from that system of yours?”

“Indeed. Convenience is only to be expected then, is it not?”

Everything provided by the system was convenient in some form, and Scarlett had never hesitated to use that convenience when it benefited her. Her skills, her magic, her standing — it had given her much, and she’d used all of it to reach this point. Whatever her doubts about The Other, ignoring what the system brought would be foolish, especially if it promised something that could significantly improve her mana reserves.

It was just that…somehow, the battles and threats she’d survived with its help felt distinct from the quiet fracture between Amy and Scarlett. Even though they were undoubtedly connected, the latter was more her. More personal. And it annoyed her how the system’s influence encroached on her search to find an answer. It had created the problem in the first place.

Maybe that was part of why she was struggling with this Stillwork.

Rosa stayed silent for a time. “Personally, I think it’s fine for you to squeeze every last drop out of that system until there’s nothing left to give. No guilt or overthinking required. After all the grief it’s put you through, it owes you. Isn’t there a saying about horse mouths and gifts?”

“In my old world, there was also a saying about being wary of Greeks bearing gifts,” Scarlett said.

Rosa let out an amused breath. “Let me guess. These Greeks weren’t very good at giving nice ones?”

“No. I believe it was a reference to an old legend,” Scarlett said. “They built a massive wooden horse and left it outside a city, pretending to sail away. Soldiers hid inside, and when the horse was brought inside the walls, they emerged and destroyed the city. The saying reminds one to question the motive behind a gift.”

Rosa blinked. “Huh. That’s clever. I could write a song about that.”

“Then do so.”

The woman smiled, but it faded as she studied Scarlett. After a pause, she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, curls slipping over her shoulders. “Do you think you need to be careful about what the system wants?”

“I naturally have to keep it in mind.”

Rosa nodded slowly. “Yeah, I guess you do…” She shrugged. “Still think it’s fine for you to take what it’s got to give.”

“And why is that?”

“Because if it came down to a contest of who’d come out on top when it’s all over, I’d hedge my bets on you each and every time.”

“…That is a very irresponsible thing to say, considering the circumstances.”

“Is it?” Rosa’s smile returned, faint but confident. “Doesn’t feel like it.”

Scarlett watched her for a long moment. “That is easier for you to say.” She reached into the [Pouch of Holding] next to her and withdrew ‘The Kept Hours’. The dove-grey book caught the light as she held it up. “You have read what is written within this, after all.”

She’d thought herself ready to accept whatever power the system offered, but since the reveal of The Other, Aurelian, this book, and everything surrounding them, some of that willingness had inevitably faded.

Rosa had read the book, and somehow that had convinced her about things.

Scarlett wanted to trust her. No, she did trust her. She had said as much before. But that didn’t make it any easier not to ask questions.

Rosa looked at the book. 𝗳𝚛𝚎𝚎𝘄𝕖𝕓𝕟𝕠𝚟𝚎𝕝.𝗰𝕠𝐦

“Are you still convinced that what is written inside is not something I should know?” Scarlett asked.

Rosa nodded. “I am.”

“But you cannot say why?”

“It’s hard to.”

“Why?”

Rosa turned back to her. “Because you’re smart, Amy. You can’t tell me you don’t already have theories. Anything I say is liable to cross off at least half of those.”

“And that would be bad?”

“I don’t know. Really. But I think it’s safer if I don’t give you the chance.”

Scarlett searched Rosa’s expression. The woman’s gaze drifted off, and she sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Suppose it’s a bit much to ask a habitual distruster to just go along with things.”

She didn’t look offended. Only slightly tired.

Eventually, she looked back at Scarlett. “Do you really, genuinely, truly want me to tell you what’s there? Because I still will, if you ask.”

Scarlett continued studying her. Properly. She noted the dark circles beneath her eyes and the slump in her shoulders — unspoken proof of worries that leaving Scarlett alone to experiment with the Stillwork might end poorly.

It would have been nice if Scarlett could simply keep blindly trusting her on this without question. That was what she wanted, honestly. But the stubborn, paranoid part of her would find it harder and harder as time passed.

Her gaze drifted to the sconces along the wall, their light flickering in their crystal housings, painting the cavern in their light.

She could press the question, and Rosa would answer. Was it worth it? Would the woman fault her for giving up on their trust so soon?

“…If there is one thing you could say that would change my mind,” she said slowly, “what would it be?”

“One thing?” Rosa asked, sounding confused. “Like what?”

“I do not know. Something. Anything.”

“That’s…a hard prompt to work with.” Rosa let out a drained breath that might have been a laugh.

Scarlett turned back to her. “Yes.”

Rosa thought for a moment, leaning back against the crate more and staring up at the ceiling. Her hand unconsciously moved up to play with one of her curls. “It has to be one thing,” she muttered. “And you want it to be enough.”

“Yes.”

Rosa frowned at the stone above. Then she brightened suddenly, snapping her fingers. “Alright. I’ve got one.”

“Go on.”

Rosa looked back at her, face perfectly serious. “Hubba Bubba.”

Scarlett blinked. She stared. “…Hubba Bubba?”

A flicker of uncertainty crossed Rosa’s face. “…Yeah?”

Scarlett said nothing. She simply sat there, her mind trying to process what she’d heard.

And then—before she could stop it—her composure bent. It started as a small tremor low in her chest, rising until it broke free as a quiet laugh. That was all it took. Another followed, stronger. Within moments, she was leaning forward, shoulders shaking, a low, warm sound escaping her throat.

“That’s so stupid, Rosa.”

Now it was Rosa’s turn to stare. She hesitated before a lopsided grin spread across her face, and she chuckled. “Is stupid bad, or…?”

“Stupid is stupid,” Amy said, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye as she tried to steady her breathing. “Of all the things you could have said, you chose that? Do you even know what it is?”

“I… don’t, to be perfectly honest. I didn’t accidentally curse my entire lineage to eternal doom, did I?”

Amy shook her head as the last of the laughter slipped out, only for another snort to escape despite herself. One hand pressed to her stomach, she finally looked up at Rosa. “It’s a candy.”

Rosa’s eyes widened. “A candy?”

“Yes. It used to be my favourite when I was young.”

“Really? Then it must’ve been good.”

Amy snorted again. “Far from it. It was a type of bubble gum, which meant you couldn’t even swallow it. I only loved it because my parents never let me have it, so I decided it had to be special.”

“Oh.” Rosa tilted her head. “So…you’re saying you’ve always had poor taste?”

Amy shot her an amused look. “Only on two occasions.”

Rosa frowned. “Let me guess. This ‘Hubba Bubba’, and your affiliation with a certain dashing bard?”

Amy nodded. “You’re worth keeping around. At least for your brains.”

Rosa grinned. “Might be the first time you’ve complimented my intelligence.”

“Perhaps.” Amy drew in a breath, taking a moment to regain her calm as she watched Rosa.

…Hubba Bubba.

It really was about the last thing she had ever expected to hear. It was such an absurd answer. More importantly, it wasn’t something she’d ever told Rosa about before, so the mere fact that the woman somehow knew it…

Rosa was right. This crossed off more than half of Scarlett’s theories.

“You should consider yourself fortunate,” she said, brushing stray strands of hair back into place. “As ludicrous as it is, that is—shockingly—among the things you could have said to convince me. For now.”

Rosa wiped an imaginary bead of sweat from her temple. “Whew. And here I was worried I’d have to say something embarrassing.”

“You did. That name is plenty embarrassing.”

“Why? It’s fun to say.”

“It does not surprise me that you would think that.”

Scarlett shook her head again, still smiling, as a relaxed quiet settled between them.

“So…” Rosa said eventually. “Are we going to talk about what just happened?”

Scarlett’s smile lingered. “No. Not now. Though I do have to thank you. I suspect this was exactly what I needed.”

She closed her eyes, centring her mana inward. A thought took shape — small but distinct. Maybe she finally knew how to begin again.