Chapter 21

Chapter 21
Jax's POV

The next morning, I stared at my buzz cut in the mirror, a mess of emotions churning in my gut.

The haircut was ridiculous—I looked like a deserter fresh out of the barracks, or one of those beggars haunting the docks. I raised my hand and ran it over my bare scalp, the unfamiliar texture under my fingertips making me even more irritable.

But every time that frustration threatened to boil over, Grandma's aged face would surface in my mind—those cloudy eyes filled with pleading, her trembling hands clutching my sleeve as if I were the last thing tethering her to this world.

I sighed and swallowed down all the resentment.

"Jax!" Grandma Briony's voice called from the next room. "Come here, I've got clothes ready for you."

I walked into her room to find a set of "decent" old clothes laid out neatly on the bed—a linen shirt washed so many times it had gone pale but still had no holes, dark trousers patched but pressed flat, and even a pair of old leather shoes polished to a shine.

These were things Grandma had dug out from her pitiful belongings, probably left behind by my father in his youth, or maybe borrowed from a neighbor.

"Put these on," Grandma said, then launched into her litany of instructions. "When you go to pray tomorrow, remember to be devout. Kneel properly. Show genuine repentance. And—" she paused, her gaze landing on the pair of green jade studs in my ears, "take off those flashy accessories. Before the goddess, you need to show humility."

I touched the earrings reflexively. They were the last thing my father had left me, and I'd never taken them off. But seeing the expectation in Grandma's eyes, I slowly removed the studs, walked to the cabinet, and carefully placed them in an old wooden box.

The jade glinted faintly green in the candlelight, like a silent protest.

"Good boy," Grandma nodded with satisfaction. "The goddess will see your sincerity."

I followed Grandma to Wind Plaza.

The sun had just risen, and already hundreds of believers had gathered in the square. They knelt devoutly on the stone pavement, hands clasped together, murmuring prayers under their breath.

The air hung thick with the smell of incense candles mixed with the briny tang of sea breeze, almost suffocating.

Grandma Briony pulled me into the crowd, found a spot near the front, and knelt down. Her prayers were filled with longing for Gideon and desperate hope for "the goddess's protection," her voice trembling in a way that broke your heart.

I knelt beside Grandma, head bowed in the appearance of prayer, but my eyes scanned the crowd—merchants, fishermen, beggars, prostitutes, all wearing the same urgent expression, as if the goddess could truly solve their suffering.

These people pin their hopes on a girl locked in a tower, thinking they can find salvation? I sneered inwardly.

Just then, a stir rippled through the crowd.

Celeste had appeared.

She wore that pure white ceremonial robe, flanked by several attendants as she slowly ascended the high platform. Her expression remained that "sacred and distant" mask, as if all the world's suffering had nothing to do with her.

But when her gaze swept across the crowd, our eyes met in midair.

In that instant, the corner of her mouth twitched, as if she were struggling to suppress a smile.

And I—I awkwardly touched my buzz cut, feeling my face flush hot.

Damn it, she's definitely laughing at how I look.

The ceremony began.

According to tradition, the goddess would personally distribute "divine gifts" to devout believers—actually bread, dried fruit, and a few copper coins prepared by the merchant guild.

This was one of Quillan's tricks to buy popular support, but for these poor people, these things were enough to earn their grateful devotion.

When my turn came, I knelt ramrod straight, hands raised devoutly above my head, mouth reciting the standard prayer—"Thank you for the goddess's protection, may the wind forever favor Free Haven"—but my eyes stared directly at Celeste.

She approached and looked down at me.

Taking advantage of everyone around me praying, I whispered, "I have urgent news for you!"

A flash of anxiety crossed Celeste's eyes, and she lowered her voice in response: "You idiot, don't stare at me like that, we'll be discovered!"

"Someone wants to hurt you!" I continued in a hushed tone.

Her expression instantly shifted to confusion: "What?!"

We conversed like this, maintaining the standard posture of "goddess bestowing grace" and "believer expressing gratitude" on the surface. But because she was too focused on our exchange, Celeste accidentally gave me two extra pieces of bread—something that had never happened before.

Whispers immediately arose around us: "The goddess especially favors that young man!" "He must have truly repented!"

Grandma Briony was moved to tears, gripping my arm tightly as if I'd truly received divine blessing.

And Quillan, standing at the edge of the platform, noticed Celeste's unusual behavior, his gaze sharpening.

Sensing Quillan's attention, I immediately bowed my head and knocked it hard against the ground, shouting words of gratitude loudly before Grandma quickly pulled me back into the crowd.

We stood at the plaza's edge, continuing to watch the rest of the blessing ceremony.

Grandma kept chattering on—"The goddess is truly merciful," "See how kind she is to you," "You must come pray regularly from now on"—while I could only offer perfunctory agreement: "Yes, yes, I know, Grandma."

But my eyes never left Celeste on the platform.

During the subsequent distribution, Celeste was clearly distracted, making multiple mistakes when handing out items—giving to the wrong people, incorrect amounts, even dropping coins on the ground.

This girl is terrible at acting, I sighed inwardly. If this continues, Quillan will definitely get suspicious. I need to divert his attention somehow.

Just then, a child in the crowd suddenly broke free from his mother's hand and ran toward the platform, wanting more food. Guards moved to drive him away, but I rushed out first, scooped up the child, and said with a laugh, "Little guy, don't trouble the goddess." Then I returned the child to his mother.

This little incident successfully drew everyone's attention, including Quillan's.

His gaze shifted from Celeste to me, his eyes carrying scrutiny.

The ceremony was drawing to a close.

Celeste began the final recitation of blessings according to protocol, believers responding in unison, the scene solemn and dignified. But my heart grew increasingly anxious—Time's running out! I still haven't found a chance to tell her about that scarred woman!

Just as I was growing desperate, I noticed a "prayer plaque" activity at the plaza's edge.

My eyes lit up.

While Grandma wasn't paying attention, I quickly scribbled on the back of a wooden plaque with charcoal: "Beware a woman with a scar on her neck. Meet at the old place tonight. —Your friend J"

I slipped the plaque into a child's hands in the crowd, whispering, "Help uncle deliver this to the goddess, I'll give you candy." Then I stuffed one of the dried fruits I'd just received into the child's palm.

The child ran cheerfully toward the platform, holding the plaque high above his head as he handed it to Celeste.

She took the plaque, flipped it over to glance at it, and her face immediately grew grave. She raised her head, her gaze searching through the crowd before finally landing on me.

I gave her a slight nod, then turned and disappeared into the crowd.