The General's Daughter: The Mission-Chapter 117: The Weigth of Guilt
"Larissa... my brother—what he said to you. Don’t hold it against him."
Ares’ voice was quieter now, the earlier sharpness gone. His fingers still circled her wrist, firm but not painful, as though he feared she might disappear the moment he let go.
"It was really an accident."
Lara hummed faintly, her expression unreadable.
Her gaze dropped to the hand holding hers.
"Can you let go of my hand first?" she said calmly.
Ares blinked.
Only then did he realize he was still holding her.
He released her immediately, clearing his throat.
For a moment neither of them spoke.
Then Ares gestured toward the interior of the room.
"Come inside. I’ll tell you about my brother."
Lara hesitated at the threshold.
But hadn’t she already been alone with Ares before?
More than once.
In Shay’s bedroom. In the study.
And despite herself... she was curious.
About Asher.
With that thought, Lara stepped inside.
The room was spacious and quietly luxurious. A muted golden light spilled from recessed lamps, reflecting softly against polished wood and glass surfaces.
The far wall opened into a wide sliding glass door leading to the balcony. Beyond it, the city stretched into the distance, glittering with scattered lights beneath the night sky.
A cool breeze drifted through the slightly opened door, stirring the sheer curtains.
Lara chose a chair beside the glass doors.
The night air brushed against her skin, calming the strange tightness in her chest.
Across the room, Ares moved toward a wine cabinet built seamlessly into the wall. He pulled out a crystal decanter and two wine glasses. The deep red liquid glimmered under the light as he poured.
He handed one glass to Lara before sitting opposite her. Between them stood a small round glass table, the surface reflecting the wine like liquid rubies.
Lara held the glass lightly by the stem.
The gesture looked instinctively graceful—refined, almost aristocratic, as if she had spent years attending formal dinners and tasting expensive wines. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦
Her brows furrowed.
What does he mean by this? Is he trying to get me drunk?
Ares noticed the suspicion written clearly across her face.
"This is a fine wine," he said mildly. "Only thirteen percent alcohol."
Lara did not answer immediately.
Instead, she lifted the glass and brought it close to her nose. She inhaled gently, catching the aroma without swirling it first.
Then she gave the glass a slow, practiced swirl. Then leaned closer and breathed in again.
Ares had been watching her carefully.
"This was probably aged around five years," she said absently.
Ares had been watching her the entire time.
He didn’t even realize he had stopped breathing until she finished speaking.
"Looks like you’re a connoisseur of wines."
His remark made Lara pause.
She blinked.
Only then did she realize what she had just done.
The analysis had slipped out naturally—as if it were second nature.
"Probably," she said with a small shrug. "Maybe I worked in a bar before."
Her tone was casual, almost indifferent.
She took a sip.
The wine was smooth and lively on her tongue, the flavor bright yet balanced. It lingered pleasantly on her palate before fading into a clean, savory finish.
"This is quite good," she said.
Then she fell silent, waiting.
Ares lifted his own glass and downed it in one long swallow before setting it heavily on the table.
His expression darkened slightly.
"Asher suffered hip and leg injuries in that accident," he began. "He was also in a coma for two weeks."
Lara’s fingers tightened slightly around her glass.
"When he woke up," Ares continued, "his left leg never fully recovered. He was left with a limp. After that... he changed."
He stared at the wine in his glass as if searching for answers inside it.
"He became withdrawn. Quiet. The military forced him to take an indefinite leave."
Lara slowly lifted her eyes to meet his.
She didn’t interrupt.
"We sent him abroad to recover," Ares said. "Physically, he healed well enough. At least... from what I can see now."
Lara studied him for a moment before speaking.
"But he seems mentally scarred."
Ares hummed in acknowledgment.
"I didn’t understand how severe his psychological trauma was," he admitted. He poured more wine into his empty glass, the quiet sound filling the room. "Perhaps... I still don’t."
Lara tilted her head slightly, her expression thoughtful.
"It’s strange," she said slowly. "Wasn’t he trained as a soldier?"
Ares looked up.
"Then why can’t he handle it?" she continued. "His guilt... it looks like it’s devouring him."
For the first time that evening, Ares looked genuinely surprised.
How could she see through Asher so clearly?
She was supposed to be an amnesiac patient—someone who couldn’t even remember her own past.
Yet she had grasped something he himself had struggled to understand.
Ares leaned back in his chair.
"Asher used to be a soft, gentle boy," he said quietly. "He adored my grandfather and my father. He wanted to follow in their footsteps."
His voice softened with memory.
"So even though he wasn’t naturally strong... he worked harder than anyone."
He paused.
"He trained harder. Studied harder."
The city lights flickered beyond the balcony like distant stars.
For a long moment after Ares spoke, neither of them moved.
The silence was not uncomfortable—but it was heavy. The kind of silence that lingered after something important had been said.
Lara slowly rotated the stem of her wine glass between her fingers.
"And the accident?" she asked quietly. "What really happened?"
Ares’ jaw tightened.
He had expected that question.
He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees.
"It was a military escort mission," he said. "Routine. At least... it was supposed to be."
His eyes drifted toward the balcony doors.
"Asher was not supposed to drive that day, but he insisted on driving."
Lara listened carefully.
"There were three of them in the vehicle," Ares continued.
His voice grew slower.
"He was distracted by some scenery. He looked away for a second, and then the accident happened."
Lara’s brows drew together.
