Chaos' Heir - #659 - 659 Weak



Monica’s political training was perfect. Her parents had noticed her talent early on, and she had surpassed their expectations time after time. She had also gotten used to the most annoying compromises, but all of that had started to waver after meeting Khan.

Desires Monica would usually be able to suppress had grown stronger and more predominant. She had never expected happiness, but Khan was giving it to her. She had never strived for freedom, but Khan had broken her chains, giving birth to feelings she didn’t think she could or should experience.

Monica now actively worked to protect Khan and their relationship, even going against her family and reputation. She didn’t care as long as she could defend the way of life Khan had created. She didn’t mind losing everything as long as Khan was with her, but that mood wasn’t completely pure.

The change had been gradual but relentless. Monica was willing to do anything in her power to help Khan but also had her own desires. She could sacrifice herself, but there were limits to that.

It all started when Monica woke up alone on the bed. Khan’s warmth lingered on the mattress, but he wasn’t there. The messy room made Monica smile, but Khan’s absence quickly killed that happiness.

Monica didn’t linger on her longing for Khan. She had developed a routine that could help endure his absence and didn’t hesitate to employ it. She activated the cleaning robots, sorted the estate’s items, took a bath, and settled in the living room to review the network and other relevant information.

Nevertheless, Monica soon realized that she couldn’t focus. Words landed on her eyes but didn’t reach her brain. She felt restless, and her gaze often went toward the elevator room.

The lack of response from the room pissed Monica off, and that feeling intensified until she couldn’t stay still anymore. She moved to the bedroom, stomping her feet, but the wardrobe claimed her attention before she could jump on the mattress.

Monica threw her device on the bed before opening the wardrobe. Khan’s clothes filled her vision, and her hands moved when she spotted the shirt he had worn last night. She quickly retrieved it, and some calm arrived when she brought it to her nose.

The new mood allowed Monica to get back to work, which she did by settling on the bed on the side where Khan slept. She often hugged his pillow or shirt during the breaks in her studies, and that trend continued until the night arrived.

The flat’s silence eventually rekindled Monica’s annoyance. She left the bedroom and checked the elevator room, only to find it empty. Her stomach complained, but she didn’t want to eat. She leaned on the wall, and her back slid over it as she sat on the floor.

Monica hugged her knees, burying her head between her legs. She lifted it only to check the elevator, but its doors never moved. Soon, drowsiness arrived, and her mind began going in and out of the land of dreams.

Morning eventually arrived, but Monica barely noticed it. She had spent the night in the elevator room, and depression hit her hard when she realized that Khan hadn’t returned. She felt weak and lonely, devoid of any strength.

‘When did I become so weak?’ Monica wondered, sighing.

It was easier to deal with Khan’s absence when he was off-planet or on a mission. However, he was still in the Harbor now. Monica could go to him without needing to contact a ride, and holding back from doing that was killing her.

The depression lasted for a while, but Monica’s mood eventually changed. She couldn’t starve herself to death. She couldn’t let her longing freeze her. Khan wouldn’t like it.

Monica picked herself up and ate something before returning to her work. She knew that resolve would be short-lived, so she planned to make the best out of it, which she did.

However, as the night arrived again, Monica couldn’t help but worry. Khan had yet to return, and her phone didn’t show messages either. That was the norm when Khan was busy training, but Monica still wanted to check up on him.

Monica began writing a message before deleting everything. She tried again, but the result didn’t change. Her eyes remained glued to the phone for entire minutes while her resolve wavered and intensified. She longed for Khan but didn’t want to disturb his training, which eventually made her throw her device away.

Things didn’t improve when Monica went to bed. She wrapped herself in anything that carried Khan’s smell, but her brain continued to shout. She couldn’t fall asleep, and the night passed among occasional naps and stares at the ceiling.

Another morning arrived, but Khan still didn’t show his face. Monica felt sleepy, hungry, and pissed when she arrived at the elevator room and found it empty again. That was the third day, and her mood threatened to go wild.

Monica wanted to support Khan. She would do anything he asked, desired, or needed. There was virtually no limit to her devotion. However, she was no mindless drone or servant. Monica was Khan’s girlfriend, and that came with obligations and responsibilities.

Those thoughts grew louder inside Monica’s mind, putting her in an inescapable loop. She quickly convinced herself that she could annoy Khan whenever and however she wanted. That was her job and prerogative as his girlfriend, so she stepped forward, ready to leave the flat.

Still, Monica suddenly realized that she was ill-dressed for a trip outside. She was only wearing Khan’s shirt, with no bra underneath. It was actually lucky her underwear was on.

Monica quickly changed her clothes while keeping Khan’s shirt and stormed outside. She had called a cab, which arrived in a matter of minutes before accelerating toward the block of training halls.

After a short trip, Monica found herself before the training hall occupied by Khan. She had regretted her decision countless times by then, but here she was. She only needed to knock to see Khan again.

Monica patted her hair, straightened her shirt and skirt, and fiddled with her fingers. She drew her phone, but the screen was still blank. She turned to leave, but her feet didn’t move, and her eyes eventually fell back on the hall’s entrance.

Hesitation shone on Monica’s face, but her hand moved on its own, touching the entrance’s menu. She couldn’t open it on her own, so she added a message for the hall’s speakers. “It’s me.”

The door immediately unlocked, and Monica pressed on it to make it slide open. She jumped inside, allowing that entrance to close behind her back, and a mess landed in her vision when she lifted her eyes.

Piles of smoke rose toward the hall’s ceiling, and metal debris filled the floor. The bigger rubble gave Monica an idea of the number of training dummies Khan had destroyed, and she stopped counting after crossing thirty.

The figure sitting in the middle of the debris claimed Monica’s attention. Khan had removed the upper part of his uniform, and sweat shone on his skin, reflecting the holograms at his side. His eyes were on an intact puppet with strange marks drawn on its surfaces, but Monica knew his senses were on her. 

Seeing Khan filled Monica with vitality. She was finally with him. She could finally stop worrying, and a smile instinctively broadened on her face.

Monica couldn’t stress enough how magnetic Khan was. Even when sitting, his presence was overbearing. He owned every place he visited, and the air itself bowed to him.

Khan turned when Monica reached him, and his eyes fell on her clothes. He noticed she was wearing his shirt, highlighting her chest area, but her aura prompted him to worry.

“What happened?” Khan asked.

Monica didn’t reply. She giggled while sitting between Khan’s crossed legs. She made herself comfortable while reaching for the bottle before her. Khan had already drunk half of it, and Monica didn’t hold back in her sip.

“It’s been three days,” Monica exclaimed, leaning on Khan’s chest while sipping from the bottle.

“Really?” Khan gasped, drawing his phone to check the date. “I lost track of time.”

“I know,” Monica stated. “What troubles you?”

Khan inspected Monica. Her dark skin couldn’t hide her eye bags, and she felt lighter than usual. Something had clearly happened in those days, but she didn’t look inclined to talk about it.

“Nothing, really,” Khan sighed, nodding at the holograms to his left. “It’s not hard, just time-consuming.”

“What are you trying to do?” Monica asked, studying the bright Thilku runes in the air.

“Turning that,” Khan explained, pointing at the painted training dummy before moving his finger to the runes, “Into that.”

“Will you make it so it stops hurting you?” Monica questioned. She knew Khan’s techniques and had long since memorized those marks. It was hard not to when she hated them so much.

“We’ll see about that,” Khan replied, seizing the bottle from Monica’s hands. “For now, I’ll settle for something that works.”

“You’ll come through,” Monica reassured. “You always do.”

Silence arrived, and Khan couldn’t help but inspect Monica’s again while drinking. She wasn’t facing him, but her mana said a lot, prompting him to ask another question. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Monica replied, seizing the bottle. “I’m a weak woman.”

Khan forgot about the runes and reached for Monica’s legs to pull them, forcing her to face him. Yet, she kept her head lowered.

“Khan,” Monica called, lifting her timid eyes toward Khan. “You made me weak.”

Khan gently lifted Monica’s face from her chin, and her expression explained everything. He didn’t need to ask questions anymore. He understood what was going through Monica’s mind and knew words were useless. Khan could only hug her tightly to reassure her.

“You made me weak too,” Khan admitted, burying his head in those curls.

Monica bathed herself in that affection, but an unstoppable sob interrupted the silence and made Khan break the hug. He searched for her face, and she didn’t hide it.

“If we are in the same place,” Monica sniffed, “I want us to be together.”

Khan reached for Monica’s cheeks and wiped the few tears that had fallen from her eyes. He would reply, but Monica’s demands weren’t over.

“If you need to concentrate alone,” Monica continued, “I want a call every few hours. You can’t leave me on my own for days.”

“I totally forgot,” Khan apologized. He knew he had messed up. Usually, he would exchange a few messages with Monica at least, but the experiments had kept him too busy.

“I’m not done,” Monica added. “I want us to visit my family’s estates and have my parents, relatives, and representatives welcome you.”

“I thought you wanted to wait on forcing their hands,” Khan reminded.

“It’s not for our engagement,” Monica explained. “You aren’t a fling that must be kept away. You are my boyfriend, my future fiancé and husband, so they must show you respect.”

“Your mother won’t like it,” Khan pointed out.

“She would have offered that herself if you were a rich descendant,” Monica snorted. “I won’t accept this mistreatment.”

“Alright,” Khan nodded. “Let’s make a mess.”

“Not now,” Monica said, leaning on Khan’s chest again. “You must finish this first.”

Monica drank calmly but showed no intention of standing up. She would let Khan work on the runes without going anywhere.

“Go on,” Monica threatened. “Just try to send me away.”

Khan held back a laugh while wrapping an arm around Monica’s waist. She leaned on him even more, but nothing broke their silence. She respected his training, and he soon refocused on it.