Inside the box lay a finely honed sword, neatly placed alongside a scabbard adorned with intricate embellishments.

Aveline couldn’t take her eyes off the sword, as if entranced. It might seem odd to describe a weapon this way, but there was something undeniably elegant about it.

It wasn’t just the ornate scabbard—it was also the slender blade, unlike those typically favored by knights, that contributed to the impression. At first glance, it might seem lacking in power, but for someone who specialized in thrusting rather than slashing, it was the perfect shape.

In other words, it was the kind of sword Serpina used to favor.

“The Guildmaster has a blacksmith he always goes to. I think he commissioned it after hearing you were training hard in swordsmanship lately,” Anika explained.

As Aveline examined the sword, her gaze paused momentarily on the slightly short hilt—not quite the length of a standard piece. She hadn’t held it yet, but she could tell it would fit perfectly in her hand, as if it were made just for her.

So then, was this a gift for Aveline Croeta? Or for Serpina?

She didn’t know. But perhaps there was no need to separate the two. Just like how it didn’t matter whether he was Luen Castaldia or Acheron—he was simply a cherished connection to her.

“Tell him I’ll make good use of it, and thank him,” she said.

Though she would likely send a letter as well, Aveline added a word of gratitude on the spot.

It was then that a maid quietly approached, disrupting the warm atmosphere.

“The Duke has arrived.”

When Aveline looked toward the door with widened eyes, the maids—taking her glance as a signal—opened it.

“Aveline.”

As Kazerre walked straight toward her, Aveline stood with a startled expression.

“When did you get back?”

“Not long ago. I just washed up and grabbed a quick bite on my way here.”

“Why didn’t you tell me beforehand?”

“You looked busy. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

As if he saw no one but her, he wrapped his arms around her waist and planted a light kiss on her rosy hair. Only then did he turn to acknowledge her guest.

Anika, who had already stood and had been waiting for her turn, finally bowed politely.

“It’s been a while, Your Grace.”

“Yes, it has,” he replied curtly.

Unlike the warmth in his voice when speaking to Aveline, there was not a trace of welcome in his tone. The truth was, Anika wasn’t someone he was especially pleased to see—not because of who she was, but because she belonged to the Crimson Merchant Guild. That accursed face of the man who reigned as its Guildmaster always came to mind.

“What’s that?”

Kazerre cast a glance at the table as he asked. Of course, he wasn’t really curious. As if he didn’t already know what that ornate sword was. 

Who it was for, and who that bastard had in mind when crafting it—it was all too obvious. It was that very transparency that irritated him to no end.

But even so, he had no intention of interfering with Aveline and Anika’s meeting. Not just because Anika was a key figure in maintaining ties between the North and South. More importantly, it was because Aveline cherished them. Both Anika—and even that sly man.

“Anika brought a gift from Luen. Apparently, he heard I’ve been immersed in sword training lately.”

“Yes, with me,” Kazerre added pointedly, as if to complete the picture.

He refrained from saying what he really wanted—that the man should mind his own business—because he understood how precious that man was to Aveline. Even if he still wanted to crush his face.

So instead of tossing the gift aside, he swallowed his frustration and quietly cursed in his heart.

“You’ll be staying for a few days, I presume?”

Rather than exposing his petty jealousy, Kazerre smoothly changed the subject.

“Yes, that’s the plan…”

Why was he asking that all of a sudden?

Anika looked puzzled, uncertain why Kazerre would inquire about her schedule. He had always remained indifferent to the dealings between the North and South, which were left entirely to Aveline.

As expected, Kazerre replied indifferently, confirming her suspicions.

“Then let’s wrap things up for today. There’s somewhere I need to take my wife—privately.”

Of course.

Anika quickly nodded in understanding. Edin, too, was already waving goodbye to Aveline as if he had anticipated this outcome from the start.

Only Aveline showed visible confusion at the sudden proposal.

“What is it all of a sudden?”

“You’ll see,” Kazerre replied, offering no further explanation as he led her away.

And Aveline, though still puzzled, followed him without further questioning.

Leaving behind the servants’ curious gazes, the two made their way swiftly out of the manor and into the back garden.

Only the dim lanterns scattered about marked the path; the beautiful scenery of the garden was veiled in darkness.

Aveline quietly followed along, tilting her head in confusion. Then, when he finally stepped into a small patch of soil tucked in a corner of the garden, she realized what he was up to.

Kneeling on one knee, Kazerre placed his hand on the wildly overgrown earth. Before long, a bluish glow spread from beneath his palm, and countless white blossoms burst into bloom, illuminating the ground.

Petals bloomed instantly, glowing with a snowy radiance. They were the same flowers he had once shown her on a moonlit night under a full moon—like a cluster of stars fallen to the earth.

“So this is what you were in such a hurry to show me?”

Seeing the beautiful field of flowers he had summoned without warning, Aveline let out a small, helpless laugh.

These flowers were extremely delicate. They would sprout anywhere, but to bloom, they required consistently low temperatures throughout all seasons.

Thus, in the North, where spring and summer now existed, it was nearly impossible to see the flowers unless one was in an area blanketed with perpetual snow.

Upon learning that, Kazerre personally arranged for the plants to be transported and planted in a corner of the garden. Then, whenever he thought she might want to see them, he used his divine power to make them bloom.

By the next sunrise, they would always wither away.

After God’s touch had passed through the world, all that remained of his divine power was just enough to bloom the flowers in this small garden for half a day. Just as the darkness Aveline possessed only amounted to enhancing her running speed.

‘Don’t you regret it?’

‘What?’

‘Your divine power. It disappeared after you used it just once.’

Aveline had once asked the question gently. After all, it was the very power he had longed for so desperately in his past life.

‘This is enough.’

But he had smiled with deep contentment as he replied. Just being able to show her this tiny flowerbed from time to time was enough. Perhaps the divine power granted to humans had always been meant to be just that—and nothing more.

“That’s right.”

“You really brought me here just to show me the flowerbed?”

“Yes.”

When Kazerre nodded without resistance, Aveline narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

“Right now, of all times?”

He had always bloomed the flowers whenever she asked. So what was the reason for suddenly summoning her out of the blue?

As she silently pressed him with her eyes, he confessed with the air of someone who’d never meant to keep it a secret.

“Well, actually, there’s something else I wanted to show you.”

He rummaged through his pocket and handed her a sheet of paper. Aveline, curious, accepted and unfolded it.

“What is this?”

“A letter I never sent.”

“What?”

As she read, puzzled by his words, a serious light soon flickered in her eyes.

Kazerre, watching her gradually changing expression, opened his mouth again, referencing what was written in the letter.

“I didn’t realize it myself, but apparently I once thought of sending you these flowers. As a way to reciprocate the pressed flower you gave me.”

“…”

“Now that I think about it, it makes sense. I first saw a field full of these flowers during an expedition. They looked like something you’d really love, and since I had no other way to show them to you, I must’ve thought I’d send them instead.”

As he recounted his past, Kazerre’s voice was filled not with certainty, but with hazy recollection—like someone groping through long-forgotten memories.

“But I never sent it.”

Since she’d never received the flowers or the letter, Aveline knew what he’d said had never come to pass.

To that, Kazerre responded calmly, as if it needed no deeper reason.

“Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? These flowers are only beautiful when they bloom under moonlight.
Once picked, they’re just ordinary wildflowers.”

It was likely for such a trivial reason, he thought now in retrospect. Because he’d wanted to send her something even a little more beautiful. Because he kept putting it off, and eventually forgot altogether.

“I still should’ve sent it, though.”

His voice now carried a tinge of regret.

Even if, by the time it reached her, the flowers were nothing more than withered weeds, it would have been worth it had he also written how beautiful the sight was when he first saw it.

Before that scenery ceased to move his heart. Before even that pure wish to share it with her had faded completely away.

But that time had already passed, and he could never return to it.

Even while living days filled with overwhelming joy, there were moments like this—when he would be struck by a sudden pang of regret.

Even though he had already made peace with those regrets to arrive at the present. Even as he poured himself into each day with no room left for further remorse. Even when each moment felt perfectly fulfilling.

There were moments—sudden, without warning—when foolish mistakes from the past would surface and choke him.

Because there was no way to erase all traces of it, he would continue to be ensnared by these inescapable regrets. Like being thrown into a bed of thorns, left completely immobile.

“It’s okay.”

Just then, Aveline tugged his arm, drawing his gaze to her. His violet eyes, clouded with doubt, now began to shine again as they settled on her.

“You’re showing it to me now, aren’t you? So, in a way, your wish back then came true.”

Then, with a playful tone, she tapped the tip of his nose, still dazed, and added teasingly:

“Well, it’s a little late, though.”

Overwhelmed by an indescribable emotion, Kazerre could no longer hold back. He wrapped his arms tightly around her waist from behind.

The scent of wild roses filling his embrace enveloped him. His mind went numb with overwhelming joy.

Burying his face in her shoulder, Kazerre murmured with a hoarse voice.

“A little? It’s not just a little.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. It’s far too late.”

“But it’s still okay. After all, the wish of Kazerre Evuteren written in that letter came true—in a way far more perfect than some pressed flower ever could. So isn’t that enough?” she said with a clear, gentle smile. It was the kind of smile that washed away the stains of his regrets in an instant.

Whenever he was on the verge of being consumed by inescapable remorse, it was always Aveline—only Aveline—who pulled him back to reality.

So, just as she said, he would be all right. Even if his life was riddled with traps of endless remorse and regret. Even if the rest of his days were filled with the danger of never knowing when he might stumble and falter.

As long as Aveline stayed by his side, he would always, eventually, find his way back to the present—to live again. To live in the now, which they had built together—precious and radiant beyond words.

“I love you, Aveline.”

Kazerre pressed soft, fluttering kisses to the nape of her neck. Her laughter, bright and clear, rang out beneath the quiet night sky, as if the ticklish sensation had caught her off guard.

Amid her breathless laughter, at some point, her body had turned halfway to face him. Of course, not by her own will.

Kazerre didn’t look away from her eyes as they gazed up at him—so full of life. The light in them, more dazzling than the sun and more vivid than the moon, felt blinding.

He slowly leaned toward her. Watching himself fill her golden eyes, gradually and completely, he finally kissed her.

Feeling the burning warmth of her lips and the strong, rhythmic beat of her pulse, he realized—truly—that he was alive.

Perhaps, despite all his repeated regrets, the reason he had never let go of life was for this very moment. For this moment now, when they could hold each other and kiss as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

And so, he would go on living. Embracing that deeply human foolishness of living as if he would never die. And in doing so, loving her as if it would last forever.

Just as they had once longed for so desperately in that fading, fleeting life.

~~The End~~