Transmigrated Into a Cannon Fodder Phoenix, Stuck With the Ice Dragon-Chapter 67: Eighty-Two Percent

The room was swallowed in silence.

I blinked twice or more, trying to make sense of the words that had just left his mouth. "What the hell are you saying?" The question came out louder than I intended, edged with disbelief.

Lucian’s gaze didn’t waver. "I didn’t lie," he said quietly. "I really wanted to try using your flame to save my moth—"

"Your mother is dead!" I snapped, my voice echoing off the cold walls. "Dead, Lucian! My flame is not a God!"

My hands were shaking, fists clenched at my sides. "It’s not some miracle tool you can use to cheat death! You think I can just burn away death because you want it badly enough?"

He looked at me then, and what I saw in his eyes wasn’t coldness. It was grief. The kind that had been there long before me.

"She’s not gone," he said softly. "Not yet."

I froze. "What? Do you even hear yourself?"

Lucian’s expression didn’t change. His tone stayed maddeningly calm. "You wouldn’t understand."

I let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "You’re right, I don’t. Because what the hell does ’not yet’ even mean? She’s dead, Lucian! I heard you say the other day you already had her funeral!"

His jaw flexed, but he didn’t speak.

The silence stretched, heavy and thick, until I almost wanted to scream just to fill it.

"So what was it then?" I asked quietly, my voice trembling despite the anger burning underneath. "A lie? All of it? Even your bad relationship with your father? If yes, I really..."

The words trailed off as I looked up at the ceiling, trying to breathe through the mess in my chest.

"No," Lucian said finally, his voice low but steady. "My relationship with my father is as you see it... it is cold, distant, and barely tolerable."

He looked away, his hand brushing through his hair as he let out a quiet sigh. "But this isn’t about him."

"Then what is it about?" I pressed, my frustration breaking through the cracks of my voice. "Because right now, I can’t tell if you’re protecting someone, lying to me, or just playing with me!"

Lucian’s gaze flicked back to mine, sharp and unreadable. "It’s not about you either."

That one line... it cut deeper than anything else he could have said.

I forced a smile, even though it felt like my chest was collapsing. "Yeah," I muttered. "That much is clear."

Lucian’s brows drew together, the faintest crack in his composure. "Seraphina..."

"I mean it," I cut him off softly, forcing a small laugh that didn’t sound like one. "I’m tired. Really. My head’s a mess, and if I keep standing here, I might say something worse."

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. The silence between us deepened again, stretching thin enough to snap.

"So," I said quietly, my eyes fixed on the floor, "should you leave... or should I take another room?"

For a moment, he didn’t move. I could feel his gaze on me before he finally exhaled, the faint sound of it filling the space between us.

"I’ll go," he said at last, his voice low. "But don’t leave this manor."

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

I just stood there, staring at the floor, listening to the sound of his footsteps fading, one after another until the only thing left was the echo of everything we didn’t say.

The moment I was sure he had left, I slowly lifted my hand, staring at it as I whispered, almost to myself, "The flame that could heal someone on the brink of death..."

A faint shimmer answered.

Golden light bloomed softly beneath my skin, spreading through my fingertips like liquid sunlight. It was calm and warm.

The glow was beautiful... and terrifying at the same time.

I curled my fingers into a fist, the light dimming slowly until it vanished.

Ding!

"How’s your day, Miss Vale?"

I didn’t respond. My feet moved on their own, carrying me straight to the bed. Maya’s timing was... impeccable, as always, showing up at the worst possible moment with her cheery, robotic tone.

I sat down at the edge of the bed, letting out a long, unsteady breath. "You really know how to read a room, don’t you," I muttered, my voice flat.

Her hologram flickered to life near the foot of the bed, glowing faintly blue. "Was that sarcasm, Miss Vale?"

"Yes," I said dryly, lying back and staring at the ceiling. "Take it as a sign that I’m not in the mood for your system notifications right now."

Maya paused, the hologram blinking as if processing emotional damage. "Understood... switching tone to ’empathetic mode.’"

I groaned in annoyance, covering my face with both hands. "Oh, for God’s sake can you please get lost!"

Maya went silent for a beat, the soft hum of her hologram flickering in and out like she was genuinely... offended.

"Acknowledged," she finally said, her voice clipped, like she was trying not to sound sulky. Then, after a short pause, she added, "But Miss Vale, I don’t really get it... I gave you the warning. I told you Lord Drake couldn’t be trusted. Yet here you are... heart rate elevated, cortisol levels spiking because of him."

I dropped my hands from my face and sat up slowly, glaring at the floating blue projection. "Oh, thank you, Maya. I didn’t realize I needed a system to remind me I made bad decisions."

Her hologram blinked, completely unbothered. "You’re welcome."

Without thinking, I grabbed the nearest pillow and hurled it straight at her smug little projection.

The pillow cut clean through the hologram and hit the nearest table with a soft thud before dropping uselessly to the floor.

Maya blinked once, twice, as if genuinely offended by the gesture. "That was unnecessary, Miss Vale."

"You’re unnecessary," I muttered, crossing my arms.

She floated a little closer, her tone perfectly calm, which somehow made it worse. "Statistically, I’m essential to your survival in this world."

"Statistically," I shot back, "I’m five seconds away from finding your power source and pulling the plug."

Maya’s hologram flickered faintly, I swear she sighed. "Violence won’t solve emotional instability."

I stared at her blankly. "Neither will you, apparently."

For a moment, she said nothing. Then, in the most annoyingly even tone imaginable, she replied, "I detect hostility. I’ll adjust my approach."

I groaned, falling back onto the bed and throwing an arm over my face. "No, Maya. What you’ll do is disappear for the next... five hours. Minimum."

"I can’t, Miss Vale."

I froze, arm halfway down, blinking at the hologram. Her tone had gone flat, impossibly calm.

"What do you mean you can’t?" I asked.

Maya’s light steadied. "I came because the system has detected optimal conditions for you to fulfil your assigned objective." She paused like a metronome. "You might achieve the mission earlier than you expected..."

"Excuse me? What do you mean by optimal? He didn’t love me..."

Maya’s projection blinked, her tone sharpening slightly, almost clinical.

"Incorrect," she said, voice even. "Based on emotional data, behavioral observation, and recent interaction records," she said, "there is an eighty-two percent certainty that Lord Drake has begun to form a genuine emotional bond with you."

I stared at her, my pulse stuttering. "Eighty-two... percent?"

"Yes," Maya continued without missing a beat. "Which means this is the optimal window for mission completion."

My brows furrowed. "Mission completion? What are you—"

Her hologram flickered once, light growing faintly brighter. "It is the right moment to die for him, Miss Vale."

I blinked, the words not sinking in right away. "What?!"