The Varkas Brothers And Their Princess のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 231 - チャプター 240

KROSS“Hello?”My voice came out rough, like I’d been holding my breath too long.The room was still warm from Sade. From us. The sheets were a mess. Her scent was everywhere, on my skin, in my lungs, in my head. I hadn’t moved yet. I was still lying there, staring at the ceiling, trying to convince my body that it was allowed to rest.“Kross,” a male voice buzzed through. It sounded clean, professional. “We have a new lead.”My chest tightened instantly.“A real one?” I asked.“Yes. On Sade’s mother.”Everything in me went cold.I sat up slowly, one hand pressing into the mattress. My heartbeat was loud in my ears. Too loud, like it wanted to escape.“Where?” I asked.“Greece,” he said. “Athens. But not where you’ve been looking.”I closed my eyes.Of course.There was always another door. Another shadow. Another truth waiting to hurt.“We need you here as soon as possible,” the man continued. “This lead won’t sit for long.”I didn’t answer right away.Behind me, I felt movement.Sad

KROSS I didn’t slam the file shut.I couldn’t.I sat there with it open on the desk, pages spread, as if they weighed more than paper. The lamp above me hummed softly, the room smelled like dust, bleach, and that sharp hospital-clean scent that never really leaves records, no matter how old they are. Smell I've become used to. The medical records were clear. Crystal clear. No mystery. Just straight to the point, no sugarcoating. This was the kind of honesty I liked, but right now it scared me. Long-term damage caused by stress. Malnutrition. Untreated infections.I read it again.And again.My jaw tightened until it hurt.“So this is it,” I muttered to no one, my words echoing in the heavy room. This was the truth Sade didn’t know. The truth I had been chasing across countries, hospitals, dead ends, and silence. The truth that had followed me into my sleep and crawled into my chest every time I looked at her.Her mother didn’t just disappear. She didn’t just “get sick”; She was

SADEI sat at my station and listened as Madam Valee spoke.“Two weeks. You’ll be given two weeks to prepare for this exam. You’re to create a scent. Something that tells the story of your life. You might try to lie.” She paused and looked around. “But I’ll definitely find out if you do. Your scent will tell me.”When she left, my thoughts wandered. I thought of how to begin. My life wasn’t something worth telling. It wasn't something people were supposed to know. My life wasn’t something people would love to inhale. I didn’t know people needed pain for a scent. “What are you going to do…?” Lina asked, nudging my shoulder. “I don’t know,” I sighed, rubbing my shoulder. “I guess I’ll tell my story whichever way. If it isn’t sweet enough, then I can’t help it.”“You’ll do great,” she said. “I know you will.”Everyone left for their stations, and I sat there thinking, calculating, and trying to come up with something. I picked up a lavender scent, but then I threw it back down. Too s

SADE After the flashbacks ended for a bit, I sat alone at my station again, my shoulders hunched, my fingers resting on the cold glass where all my bottles stood. I was still searching for the scent, the one scent that could explain my life without my saying a word. The smell that would tell Madam Valee the pain I passed throughout my life simply by inhaling. The lab was quiet in that way that made my thoughts louder, the low hum of machines, the faint clink of glass, the smell of alcohol and oils layered over each other until the air felt heavy, and I stayed there long after most people left, because if I left I knew my past would catch up with me again and I didn’t want to think. Not about Kross, not about Greece, not about Amelia and our stories… I just wanted to create the scent without bringing the past into the present. I picked up another bottle and pressed it to my nose, breathing in slowly even though my chest already felt tight.The scent burned, and my lungs reacted bef

SADE Mrs. Valee didn’t step away from the microphone after saying those words. Instead, she stayed right there on the stage, holding that vial like it weighed something more than glass and liquid, and when she looked at me again, her eyes were fixed on my face like she was trying to read my past just by standing close to my work.“I need to say something else,” she continued, her voice steady but emotional in a way that made the room go quiet again, “because scents like this don’t just happen by accident.”She turned slightly so she could face the audience, then looked back at me, and I could feel my throat tighten because I wasn’t ready for more, not when my heart was already stretched thin.“This scent,” she said, lifting it a little higher, “speaks of survival, the kind where you wake up every day and choose to keep going even when life keeps pressing on the same sore spots.”People shifted in their seats, some leaning forward, some blinking hard like they didn’t want to feel what