I Have 10,000 SSS Rank Villains In My System Space Chapter 376: Selena Pov

Selena POV

A few minutes prior to Razeal's arrival in the Empire

The training hall in the Virelan manor felt eerily silent.

Selena slumped halfway against the distant wall, her back pressed to the chilly stone. One leg extended casually ahead, the other bent and overlooked. Her head angled a bit skyward, eyes locked on the overhead ceiling. Around her, the vast, deserted training hall of Virelan Manor gleamed under the dim glow from the tall windows. Tiny dust particles floated idly in the motionless air, untouched by any stir, since no action had occurred in ages. The quiet had rooted itself so profoundly in the space that a subtle wooden groan from the ornate ceiling echoed far off, insignificant.

Her eyes stayed glued upward.

She had gazed at the ceiling for such an extended period that the stone patterns lost their form. They melted into vague forms, simpler to observe than recollections. Her stare held steady, unblinking. An observer peering closely would spot the tension in it—how her pupils quivered subtly, how her breaths remained light and cautious, as if a fuller inhale might unravel emotions she dared not confront anymore.

Behind that look, thoughts and feelings swirled in abundance, too burdensome for one so young to shoulder. Remorse, shame, bewilderment, yearning. These sentiments knotted so tightly that distinguishing them became impossible.

No escape existed for any of it. No closure. The weight had struck abruptly, fiercely, and uninvited, and she had never been meant to endure such things or granted the fortitude to bear them. Still, it lingered, devouring her silently from the core.

Footsteps approached the hall, steady and leisurely.

Marcella stepped in without haste. Her mere arrival typically commanded notice, yet today it altered nothing. Selena’s focus stayed put, unresponsive.

She halted a few paces from Selena, tracing the line of her stare toward the ceiling, as though seeking to grasp what captivated her so utterly.

Marcella let out a gradual breath from her nostrils, then addressed her.

"You’ve been fixated on that ceiling for a good while," she remarked, crossing one arm at her back. "I’m curious what—or who—you’re seeing up there so intently." A slight hesitation ensued, her gaze sharpening just a touch behind the rectangular frames. "Or maybe... who."

No reply came.

Selena neither blinked nor stirred. Were it not for the gentle heave of her torso, she could pass for a statue hewn from rock.

Marcella compressed her lips once more. Selena offered no glance her way, remaining inert with eyes pinned to the ceiling, her expression remote and hazy. Observing her in this state urged Marcella to exhale profoundly and futilely, but she held back, as was her habit.

Nearly two months had passed since Selena revealed the truth to Nova. Two months since Nova, enraged and hurt, abandoned her here in captivity. From that point, Selena had scarcely budged. She uttered no words. She refused meals. She merely reclined there, eyes aimed skyward, as if a vital part within her had silently ceased.

Marcella had attempted to nourish her initially. Several times. But Selena rejected every effort, leading Marcella to cease pressing. Selena’s sacred build and divine favors enabled survival sans sustenance; her form didn’t demand it. Even so, that fact did scant to soothe the unease churning in Marcella’s heart. Witnessing her this way struck as profoundly incorrect.

Perhaps due to the exceptional care Selena received from Merisa. To Marcella as well, she had never strayed far from Nova... or Razeal in significance. Though never overtly warm—herself ever stern, aloof, at times blunt—she had guarded them from youth onward. Silently. Dependably. Such devotion had forged an unspoken tenderness in Marcella she never voiced.

And now, beholding her diminished to this vacant immobility ignited an unwelcome stir within her, despite it mirroring the state since Selena’s deed, with them tending to her continuously thereafter. Yet this instance differed; Selena appeared in a far graver plight, having disclosed the truth, leaving Marcella deeply concerned despite her impassive facade.

Marcella straightened, one hand at her back, stance rigid in her Virelan attire, angular glasses snaring the subtle illumination. Her gaze dwelt on Selena’s silhouette.

Several seconds of quiet expanded between them.

At length, Marcella spoke anew.

"You know," she uttered finally, eyeing her sidelong, "you were correct. In your actions."

The statement fell gently, yet its effect struck at once.

Selena’s eyes shifted.

Deliberately, like the act demanded exertion, her attention detached from the ceiling and fixed on Marcella. Bewilderment sparked initially, then incredulity. Among all she anticipated hearing, this ranked lowest. She recognized her deed. She grasped the fallout. Those informed of the circumstances would label it treachery, frailty, or graver. She had condemned herself more severely than any outsider might.

And Marcella, of everyone, voicing this?

A figure who had nurtured Razeal from boyhood, prizing obligation and rigor over emotion—she ought to stand as the final to utter such.

Selena remained mute, yet her eyes posed the query plainly.

Marcella caught the shift right away. A subdued smile graced her lips, controlled and fleeting, serving more as recognition than solace. She adjusted her stance marginally, selecting her subsequent phrases deliberately, like navigating fragile frost.

Marcella’s tone held steady, deliberate, as if arranging fragile elements on a shared surface, guarding against any hint of verdict in her delivery. "The circumstances you faced... the choice you took—it held logic, in its manner." She averted her eyes from Selena at first, directing them to the opposite hall wall, as if the declaration needed separation to bridge them securely. "You cherished one pledged to another. And you acted as you deemed necessary to retain him."

"And the falsehood you uttered..." Marcella went on, halting briefly to note the response flashing over Selena’s features—the clench of her jaw, the momentary shutter of her eyes before reopening them. Marcella showed no softening or stiffening; she merely regarded. "It might have succeeded. Honestly, it nearly did. He was still youthful then. You mentioned atonement. You declared readiness to wed him regardless." Her voice stayed composed, objective, like detailing tactics over transgression. "At worst, he’d endure penalty. Even by the empire’s harshest laws. And I’m sure you foresaw that prior to proceeding."

Her gaze returned to Selena, keen through the frames. "You must have studied. Planned. Grasped precisely what such a charge would provoke. You trusted it wouldn’t shatter him irreparably."

Marcella breathed out gradually, her shoulders easing a fraction as her look wandered off once more. "And given your lineages... the shared past... and how you both matured, linked from early years... it formed a strategic step." A subtle, hesitant grin appeared. "Astute, even. I’ll concede that. For one your age to overlook the terror of an irreversible act... to embrace such peril, aware it might tarnish your reputation forever..." She inclined her head slowly, fatigued. "That’s beyond what most could muster. Not at your years. Not even many elder women or those far steadier than you."

"That demands a particular resolve. Or despair." A short quiet ensued. "Not to mention... the sort stemming from craving someone intensely enough to wager it all."

The subtle grin vanished completely.

"Truthfully, it would have succeeded," she murmured softly. "Save for that single hitch. You were merely unfortunate that Lady Merisa possessed... something that twisted everything into this mess." She sighed, the noise gentle yet weary, conveying fatigue over accusation. "This dreadful outcome."

Selena absorbed each syllable. None astonished her, yet every one burrowed further into an already tender wound. She continued eyeing Marcella, her face static initially, but fissures began forming at the borders. Her mouth opened, then shut, as though compelling speech past an obstruction in her gullet.

"No..." Her tone emerged faint, taut, scarcely even. She shook her head feebly, gaze dipping momentarily before rising anew, defiant amid the weariness. "It doesn’t matter. Don’t claim that." She gulped, the action evident in her neck. "It was incorrect. I was... a mindless idiot." The phrases seemed to pain her in voicing, each extracted with strain. "And the error I committed... it cost someone I cherished profoundly."

Her tone wavered toward the close, fading, the thought fragmenting before completion. She couldn’t voice it outright... to specify the harm her decision inflicted on him. Merely pondering it proved intolerable. The mere vision sufficed to constrict her chest until inhalation ached.

Marcella heard without interjecting. As Selena quieted, she nodded once, deliberately.

"I see why you say this," she responded after a beat. "But you might be misjudging yourself." Her manner gentled, not from compassion but control, like extending aid to one teetering near a precipice. "You’re plunging into a chasm and entombing yourself by your own efforts. It was an error. You were young. And now you’re dismantling yourself over it, envisioning yourself as some vile or hideous figure." She halted, scrutinizing Selena intently. "You aren’t."

Her voice dipped a notch. "Allow yourself opportunity. You possess a kind soul. You..."

"No."

The retort sliced abruptly, raspy, severing the air prior to Marcella’s conclusion. Selena’s head rose completely now, and for the first occasion, vigor laced her words, though it quivered underneath.

"No... it wasn’t that." Her breaths turned irregular, phrases surging quicker, harsher. "I’m not voicing this from deeming myself immature or treating it as mere error. No. That’s false." Her fingers clenched the ground, joints blanching. "I comprehend why I feel thus."

Her stare fell for an instant, as if unable to sustain contact while confessing. "Because it stemmed from my fault. I acted selfishly. I considered only myself... securing him." The confession emerged bare, devoid of shield. "I even doubt now... if I merited sainthood. If I truly loved him at all?"

"Because genuine love for him... would have prioritized his well-being. I would have pondered if this might harm him. If the tiniest danger existed." Her lips quivered subtly, anger and sorrow intertwined. "That’s the way of those who love. They safeguard. They don’t hazard lives merely to bind them close."

"I convinced myself he’d emerge unscathed," she pressed on, the acridness in her tone self-directed. "That his kin would shield him. That it’d amount to minor chastisement. That matters would resolve later." Her head swayed gradually, incredulity aimed at her former self. "How could I ignore that it concerned him as well? Not solely me?"

"What if graver harm had befallen him from my deceit?" she breathed. "That notion alone ought to have halted me. Immediately." Her digits shook, coiling firmer as if clutching stability. "But it failed to. Because I was... despicable. Because I simply desired him."

The final phrases scarcely escaped.

"And I... I just..."

She couldn’t conclude. The thought faded into hush, her eyes brimming with a subdued, devastating sorrow that concealed nothing.

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