I’ve walked with a limp for as long as I can remember.

We visited countless doctors, but they all said the same thing: that it was congenital and incurable.

Nevertheless, my father, a retired Royal Army soldier who lost an arm in service raised me without ever making me feel inadequate.

Our circumstances were humble, but I never thought my life was unhappy.

After all, I had two people I loved beside me: my father and my husband.

“Don’t worry so much, Sarah.”

A large, steady hand gently wrapped around mine. I turned my head and saw the man beside me smiling — a soft, reassuring curve of the lips.

My beloved husband, Carlos.

He was the man who had become my missing leg, the one who had taught me the meaning of happiness again.

“It’ll be all right.”

He said in his calm, even voice.

Hearing his words, I forced myself to smile, pushing away the dread that had been welling up inside me.

Yes, he was right. Everything would be fine.

No matter what happened, he would always be by my side.

Or so I wanted to believe.

But when faced with reality, no amount of resolve could stop my heart from trembling.

“The symptoms have already spread to the knee. If this continues, it’s only a matter of time before they reach the rest of your body.”

The doctor’s grave voice made my stomach drop.

The pain that had recently begun in my leg was more than just pain. It was the first sign of misfortune creeping into our lives.

My hands were shaking uncontrollably, so Carlos tightened his grip on them and asked the doctor on my behalf.

“Is there any way to stop the symptoms?”

“We can’t say for certain,” the doctor replied, his voice subdued. “Since we still don’t know the exact cause, there’s nothing we can do at this stage.”

He couldn’t bring himself to look me in the eye as he added, bitterly.

“If it continues like this, the symptoms will reach your heart within a year.”

He didn’t need to finish the sentence. I already knew what came next.

It felt as though my heart had dropped straight to the floor.

But what hurt even more was the look on Carl’s face, drained of all color and as pale as paper.

His large hand, wrapped around mine, trembled ever so slightly. Seeing this man, who was twice my size and had once been so strong, looking so shaken and helpless caused my chest to tighten painfully.

I gently placed my small hand on top of his trembling one.

“Carl, I’m all right…”

But I wasn’t. Not at all.

I wanted to stay by his side, to have a child who resembled us both, and to watch that child grow up.

“Truly, I’m all right.”

In spring, I wanted to walk hand in hand with him alongside the lake and watch the petals fall.

In summer, I wanted to sit in the shade of green trees and read with him.

In autumn, I wanted to cook warm meals with the crops my father had harvested.

In winter, I wanted to relax in his arms by the fire and chat idly until we fell asleep.

There were so many more things I wanted to do with him, simple, ordinary moments that would never have grown dull, even after a lifetime together.

I swallowed my tears and smiled instead.

I didn’t want to burden him, especially since he would be the one left behind.

Even though my heart was breaking, I wanted his pain to be just a little less.

So I smiled, pretending to be calm.

Perhaps he could sense the turmoil beneath the surface, because he said nothing, merely tightening his grip on my hand while his sorrowful eyes filled with tears.

⋯ ❦ ⋯ ❦ ⋯ ❦ ⋯

“Please, don’t tell Father just yet.”

Carl’s hand, which had been gently washing my injured foot, froze mid-motion.

After a brief pause, he dipped a clean cloth into the warm water again, as if nothing had happened.

“All right. Tell him when you’re ready.”

“Thank you.”

Without another word, Carl continued to wipe my leg with great care and patience.

He never missed a day.

Every evening, he washed my leg himself, tenderly, as though warmth alone could restore sensation and dispel the pain with his touch.

He massaged it carefully, showing no hint of discomfort or weariness. Every single day.

Watching him do this made my chest ache for reasons I couldn’t explain.

I knew that someday, I would only leave pain behind for a man as kind as him.

But why did he have to meet someone like me, a woman with a failing body?

During our year-and-a-half-long marriage, rather than enjoying happiness, he devoted himself entirely to caring for me.

The thought made my heart grow unbearably heavy.

So I said something I didn’t truly mean.

“Carl, when I die, you should meet someone else.”

His hand stilled once more.

When he finally lifted his head, our eyes met and I saw a flicker of anger in his gaze.

“What are you saying?”

“I mean, I want you to find someone healthy and beautiful. Not someone broken like me.”

“Are you serious?”

Of course not. But I nodded anyway.

“I am.”

Even though I wished for him to remember me forever, I wanted him to remember me as someone who loved him selflessly, not as someone who held him captive in my grief.

“I wish your kindness was reserved just for me. But that would be selfish of me. Unlike me, who will soon be gone, you must continue to live.”

I hoped that the path he walked would not be too painful because of me. All I wanted was for him to cry for me for a week, and then move on and live life to the full. If he occasionally smiled up at the sky where I was, that would be enough.

But the hidden, selfish emotion kept trying to force its way out. I bit my lip hard, afraid the feeling would escape. His gaze stung, as if he was asking if I was sincere, but I deliberately avoided meeting his eyes.

Looking intently at me, he lifted my foot and kissed the top of my instep.

Flustered by his sudden action, I tried to pull my foot away.

“Ca, Carl. It’s dirty.”

“There’s nothing dirty about any part of you.”

Gripping my ankle so that I couldn’t pull away, he gently moved his lips to my skin. Despite having no sensation in my foot, the spot where his lips touched it felt hot and flushed.

Staring intently at my reddened face, he slowly moved his lips up to my knee. When his lips touched my knee, which still had some feeling, I moaned softly without realizing it.

“Carl, stop…”

He kissed my leg reverently, as if worshipping a god. I realized that, to him, it was nothing short of perfect. The kiss continued slowly from my knee to the inside of my thigh.

Although we had been intimate several times before, perhaps because of my injured leg, he had always treated me with great care. This was the first time he had ignored my refusal; his desire was plain to see. I was flustered because this kind of contact was new, but beneath that, an indescribable excitement washed over me.

His lips finally lifted my skirt and sought out my most sensitive spot.

“Ah!”

I gasped with pleasure at the sensation, which I was experiencing for the first time, and my head unconsciously tipped back. He gripped the chair tightly in case I fell backwards, continuing to move his lips.

I shivered all over, unsure what to make of this unfamiliar sensation. Only then did he lift his head, pulling his lips away and letting out a ragged breath. For some reason, his gaze seemed different to that of the gentle husband I had known until now.

He stared at me as if he could see right through me; his eyes were deeply clouded. Carl spoke in a voice hoarse with excitement.

“You told me to meet another woman if you died?”

He kissed my inner thigh pointedly and kept his eyes fixed on mine.

“There will be no other woman for me after you, Sarah.”

Before I knew it, his hand had naturally slid between my thighs. At the height of my arousal, I gripped his shoulders hard enough to break them.

“Please stop that and hold me, Carl.”

But he only exhaled rough breaths onto my neck and slowly moved his arm. He did not grant my request.

“Hoo… No.”

It was only then that I realized why the usually gentle man was acting differently.

“He must be very angry.”

He was punishing me.

“The same goes for you, Sarah. You shouldn’t want any man other than me.”

“How could I possibly want any man other than him when I was about to die?”

“Answer me.”

I tried to question him, but I was soon consumed by the relentless tingling sensation digging into my core. Nevertheless, to avoid hurting my uncomfortable leg, he hooked it over his shoulder and moved his body roughly.

“Answer me, Sarah.”

Faced with his somewhat persistent demand, all I could do was sway helplessly and answer.

“I… I understand.”

His violent demeanor was unlike anything I had seen before. At the time, I simply believed that he was acting that way because he was as upset as I was.

⋯ ❦ ⋯ ❦ ⋯ ❦ ⋯

Marc Lamont, the former commander of a secret Imperial unit known as the Irregulars — gifted individuals trained by the Empire — had been hiding away in a quiet village for a long time, raising his daughter far from the court and other gifted individuals.

He gave her everything a single father could. Wanting his daughter, who had lost her mother, to grow up happy, he filled her world with love and care, teaching her to live gently yet strongly.

It was a modest life, yet a happy one.

But that life ended in ruin.

Marc lay cold and lifeless in their small haven, a dark pool of blood spreading beneath him on the stone floor.

Standing above the corpse, his boots stained crimson, was a man: Carlos, Sarah’s husband.

He looked down at the body for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he shook the blood from his hands and turned away.

Without glancing back once, he stepped out of the shabby cottage that had once been their refuge.

At the doorway, he stopped.

The sky was dyed red like the blood at his feet, the sun was setting.

He stared at it in silence for a while, then slowly began to walk.

When he entered the shadowed forest, he raised his hand to his neck.

With one hard tug, he tore off the necklace he always wore.

In an instant, his gentle brown hair and green eyes darkened, transforming into black hair and sharp, merciless features.

There was no trace left of the kind husband Sarah had known.

With an expressionless face and a devoid-of-emotion voice, the man whispered into the air.

“Target eliminated. Mission complete.”