It was only a few days after he had learned that the woman’s name was Elicity Lawrence.

The old man who was supposed to marry Elicity misunderstood her relationship with Alex and unilaterally informed her of their engagement’s annulment.

Enraged to the core, her older brother, Calix, stormed into Alex’s house, demanding he take responsibility.

Reten was a small rural village, and rumors spread quickly. Amidst it all, Alex was a responsible person.

Moreover, the knights of Zeroden often said that only married men were true knights.

Considering all the reasons, Alex deemed it appropriate to marry Elicity—and so, they wed.

Looking back now, it all seemed like rationalization.

But, well, none of it really mattered.

He thought that a single flower had bloomed in his dull life—a delicate, beautiful flower that he had to protect, as if it would wither away at any moment.

Because of that, no matter how grueling the training was, he endured it. A baseless confidence filled his chest—that he would survive and return, even if war broke out.

His wife, who now bore his name, was that lovable and beautiful.

Alex trained even harder, honed his swordsmanship, and did whatever it took to earn the commander’s favor.

To do so, he had to remain at the Zeroden ducal estate as much as possible. The longer he stayed there, the more likely the duke would take notice of him, even if only briefly.

His efforts paid off.

The duke recognized Alex’s skill and began subjecting him to even harsher training.

Naturally, the time he could spend in Reten, that remote countryside, dwindled. Even when he visited, it was only for a day or two before he had to rush back.

Still, he thought his wife would be pleased.

Of course, he couldn’t fail to notice how her face darkened little by little each time he returned.

‘It’s because I can’t come often. Once this training is over, I’ll be able to visit home more frequently. I should bring her closer to the ducal territory.’

His promotion was just around the corner.

The problem was… he never expected a war to actually break out.

One day, an utterly ordinary day—

Salita invaded Madonia.

Naturally, Duke Zeroden received the king’s command and led the knights to war. Alex was among them.

War was something beyond imagination—horrific and merciless.

If hell could be replaced with another word, it would be “war,” Alex thought absently as he took in the scene before him.

What was even more absurd and horrifying was that he had become a demon reaping lives in that very hell.

The usually benevolent duke changed completely on the battlefield.

He placed skilled swordsmen like Alex at the very front, ordering them to mercilessly tear through the enemy’s limbs.

It was hard to believe this was the same man who had been gently petting a puppy at the ducal estate just months ago.

No matter how strong one was, a first battle froze anyone in place. Seeing the chaos before him, Alex stood rooted to the spot like ice.

But a few seconds later, as he registered the sight of his comrade collapsing in a pool of blood, he tightened his grip on his sword.

He couldn’t just stand there.

He couldn’t die.

His wife was waiting for him at home.

Fortunately, Alex was far too skilled.

Before him, the enemy fell like leaves before the wind.

He endured it all with a blank expression, but inside, he felt the exact opposite.

Taking lives was terrifying beyond imagination.

The terrified eyes of his enemies felt like nails piercing his entire body. Their voices, cursing him as they died, echoed in his ears like a haunting refrain.

In his first battle, Alex killed without even realizing what he was doing.

He was nineteen.

Once the battle ended, reality crashed down on him. Standing amidst a sea of blood and scattered corpses, he thought himself revolting.

Of course, he had known that, as a knight, he might have to take lives…

But this much? This easily? He had never imagined killing so many people.

The corpses piled up before him like a mountain—every single one slain by his hand.

Suddenly, he felt like vomiting. Nausea churned in his stomach, his insides twisting. His knees nearly gave out.

Then, a murmur spread through the ranks, and his comrades parted to make way.

To his astonishment, Duke Zeroden was approaching him. His eyes gleamed with excitement.

“Sir Alex Black, you were truly incredible! I watched you closely—you fight like a genius swordsman!!”

“See? My judgment wasn’t wrong. I really brought in a good one!”

It was the commander of the 5th Knight Order who had brought him that waved his sword in delight.

Alex felt his ethics and morals shattering as he received applause for having killed so many people.

“Alex Black, you’ve made a great contribution this time! You’ll be on the front lines again next time!!”

“A-Another… war?”

The duke looked at him curiously, as if wondering what he was talking about.

“What a ridiculous question. We have to fight until Salita retreats completely from this kingdom. It’ll take at least a year.”

A whole year of this?

Logically, he understood, but emotionally, he still couldn’t fully accept it. Alex barely managed to nod his head.

Half a year has passed.

News arrived that his wife was pregnant and resting.

He felt conflicted. While his wife was carrying a new life, he was out here taking them away.

Would God ever forgive him?

Alex wavered.

And yet, the duke and the commanders continued to praise his abilities every day, promising rewards when he returned.

Eventually, Alex made up his mind.

‘Let’s end this as quickly as possible.’

He would kill without making them suffer. He would display overwhelming strength. If he did that, the war would end sooner.

And so, a year and a half passed.

The war was over.

After the war, discussions about meritorious service began.

Alex, who had wiped out an overwhelming number of enemies, was undeniably a war hero, but opinions were divided on the rewards he should receive.

For one, he was a fallen noble with nothing to his name.

In this world, it was common for the merits of those who went unnoticed to be claimed by those above them. No matter how many battles Alex had won, his achievements naturally became those of the duke who had brought him here.

Fortunately, the duke was quite fond of Alex. Having no children of his own, he wished to adopt him as his heir.

More importantly, there was no guarantee that Salita wouldn’t invade again, so the duke argued that the knight order needed him.

The Duke of Zeroden told him that he would send a messenger to bring his family to the ducal territory, where they could rest comfortably in his estate.

But Alex wanted to go home himself, as soon as possible.

He wanted to see his wife and the child who had been born with his own eyes, to hold them both in his arms and bring them back himself.

After persuading the duke respectfully, Alex rode out alone, heading quickly toward Reten.

However, he found that he simply could not sleep.

It wasn’t because of discomfort. Every time he closed his eyes, nightmares tormented him.

It was as if, even after the war had ended, he wasn’t allowed to rest—as if the dead he had slain had cursed him.

He dreamed of the battlefield over and over again.

Severed limbs twitching in agony.

Among them were young men crying for their parents, others searching for their lovers as they sobbed that they didn’t want to die, and soldiers calling out their wives’ and children’s names over and over again.

And towering over them all was Alex himself, standing firm like an immovable tree.

He was still shackled to the battlefield.

Worse, the nightmares began manifesting into destructive symptoms.

More than once, he woke up to find the bedside table shattered or the lantern on it broken.

The physician called it post-traumatic stress disorder.

“Sir Black, correct?”

The doctor clicked his tongue in pity.

“It’s a stress disorder that can occur after experiencing traumatic events.”

“……”

“When people suffer severe shock, they often expend energy trying to escape from it—even unconsciously. That can sometimes manifest as violence.”

His father had been an alcoholic with a terrible temper. When he lost at gambling, he would take out his anger on Alex and his mother, often beating them.

Alex despised that man.

And now, he was at risk of becoming just like him? Because of the horrors he had endured on the battlefield…?

Alex barely held himself together as he asked,

“I’m on my way home now. My wife and child are there. Not just when I sleep—could I… lose control and hit them while awake?”

His voice trembled with desperation, as if his insides were being torn apart. The doctor’s face was filled with sympathy.

“That’s unlikely. But first, find a proper healer and take the prescribed medication.”

“Will it get better?”

“If you have the will to recover. However…”

The doctor hesitated before adding,

“For now, it would be best if you don’t share a bed with your wife.”

The closer he got to home, the louder his heart pounded.

Alex had never been this afraid before.

—P-Please, spare me… I beg you!

—Monster! Stay away!!

—I-I’m scared… M-Mother…

He was a killer.

He could take a life as easily as breathing. A butcher. A slaughterer.

Eyes filled with terror, trembling limbs, gazes looking at him as if he were some wild beast—

What if his wife looked at him like that?

And his child?

His child would be even more terrified.

The rain began to fall.

The droplets quickly grew heavier, soaking his clothes.

Still on horseback, Alex quietly bit down on his lower lip.

For the first time, he was afraid to go home.

In the end, he couldn’t bring himself to enter his house.

Instead, he turned his horse toward the city.

He needed a drink—something, anything—to calm himself down before going home.

He sat in a secluded corner of a tavern when he saw her.

A slender woman, pale and delicate, walking past with an umbrella.

His wife.

It had been years.

She hadn’t changed.

Her warm brown hair, her amethyst-like violet eyes.

The face he had longed for—missed so desperately.

The truth was, Alex hadn’t killed for wealth or glory.

He had wielded his sword, fought to survive, just to see that face once more.

And yet, he had become a butcher.

‘Elicity…’

Alex stared at his wife in a daze.

He wanted to call her name, but his lips wouldn’t move.

Then, it happened.

A burly man beside her called out her name—the name Alex himself couldn’t even bring himself to say.

Though the tavern was noisy, he could still make out the man’s tone, laced with crude amusement.

The way he spoke made it clear—he was harassing her, mocking her for being without a husband.

Alex saw red.

His vision blurred, his mind blanked.

The next thing he knew, his fist was already flying toward the man’s face.