The condemned man, his head bowed, looked more corpse than man.

He showed no sign of movement, like someone completely unaware that his body was about to be set on fire.

His arms, bound tightly behind the post, hung limply – his form eerily resembling a slaughtered piece of flesh.

In stark contrast, the crowd was buzzing with life.

When Freya saw the innocent eyes of a child, eagerly waiting for the flames to consume the man’s body, she nearly gagged and had to swallow hard to hold them back.

For everyone present – everyone except Freya and the Marquis Lambert – this execution was nothing more than entertainment.

Soon the presiding judge began to read the verdict, a mere formality.

After a brief summary of Lambert’s former status as a high-ranking nobleman of Havern, the charges would be read out in detail and then the sentence would be carried out.

“…Therefore, in accordance with imperial law, we apply the collective punishment clause to Carter Lambert, father of the criminal Christy Lambert, for worshipping an evil god.

And because of the gravity of his offence, the sentence is death by burning.”

The crowd erupted in jeers at the end of the sentence.

“Burn him already!”

“Send him to hell!”

The Emperor, who had watched the commotion in silence, slowly raised his right hand.

The signal for the execution to begin.

His expression was unreadable, unemotional.

But Freya could feel it.

She could feel it clearly.

How pleased the emperor was at that moment – Freya could feel it as clearly as the heat from the pyre.

“The fire is lit!”

At last, the long-awaited moment had arrived, and the crowd erupted in cheers.

“Ah…”

groaned Freya as she watched.

Thick, acrid smoke began to rise from the burning wood.

The flames, which had started at the base of the towering pile, quickly flared upwards, creeping closer and closer to the prisoner’s feet.

Then it happened.

The man, his head hanging low, suddenly looked up.

What is he saying?

He seemed to be trying to speak to her, and Freya’s chest hurt even more.

The Emperor noticed this and, visibly angry, gave a cold order:

“Pour more oil on him.

Now his body would really start to burn.

The celebration would continue until the Marquis was reduced to a pile of black ash.

Freya’s violet eyes, fixed on the flaming pyre, began to tremble violently, losing all focus.

“Ah…”

Another groan escaped her, raw and full of pain.

The Emperor turned to look at her –

But Freya didn’t care.

She clenched her hands and poured every ounce of her being into a desperate prayer.

Please… O Goddess…’

The bitter taste of blood filled her mouth where she had bitten her lip hard.

“Please… I beg you, spare him. I offer everything I have – my life, my soul – in this single plea. I’m asking for a miracle, anything to save him from this cruel death. Please, Goddess… I’m praying to you with everything that I am.”

Tears streamed endlessly from Freya’s tightly closed eyes –

And then it happened.

Swaa—

“It’s raining!”

“What the – where is it coming from?”

The rain came down in a torrent.

It wasn’t just a drizzle – it was pouring from the heavens.

Startled by the sudden downpour, people began to scatter in all directions, looking for shelter.

The rain, as if the heavens had been ripped open, was so intense that the crowd forgot all about the spectacle they had come to see.

Even the executioners, who had been standing firmly by the pyre, began to panic and move about in confusion.

Freya, soaked to the skin by the cold rain, seemed to feel nothing.

Her striking violet eyes, glistening with tears and rain, remained fixed on the prisoner.

The Emperor’s eyebrows shot up as he noticed her expression.

One by one, the torches that had illuminated the execution ground sputtered and died.

The fire that had consumed the pyre only moments before now hissed under the deluge, collapsing into plumes of black smoke and dying embers.

The high nobles, who had frozen in uncertainty at the Emperor’s side, finally broke ranks and rushed down the stairs in unison.

“Your Majesty! There’s shelter down there – please, quickly -“

An attendant, drenched and out of breath, hurried over with a large umbrella.

The flame he carried under it was the only light in the now almost pitch-black world.

Everywhere else, the torrential downpour had swallowed the light.

“Your Majesty?”

Rabion didn’t seem to hear the attendant’s voice at all.

He was completely focused on Freya.

Her face was so calm it was hard to believe she was standing in the pouring rain.

As he silently watched the heavy raindrops fall from her head and down her body, Ravbon finally spoke.

“I’m done here. Take care of the Empress.”

Ignoring the umbrella held out to him, he began to walk towards the stairs.

His steps were neither hurried nor slow.

After countless battles, it wasn’t difficult for Rabion to move through the darkness, guided only by instinct.

“Hmm…”

His eyebrows furrowed as he remembered what he had seen just moments ago.

He was sure – he had seen a faint light emanating from her body.

And right after that, the rain had started to fall.

‘Could she have an ability…?’

His fingers twitched subtly as he fell into thought, his expression unreadable.

‘Or was it just a coincidence?’

Back in her kingdom, Freya had always seemed like an ordinary human.

Yes, she had been strikingly beautiful, clever, and unusually captivating—

But never once had she shown signs of magic or divine power.

‘But to summon rain like this… could someone really do that with magic or divine energy?’

He considered the possibility of magic -but quickly shook his head.

It was too implausible.

Manipulating nature itself was an extremely high level of magic, one that even great archmages rarely managed.

And even then, the cost of such a spell was so high that it was almost never used.

Next, he considered divine power.

“She was born with a divine aura, but it faded as she grew older.”

“They say there’s never been a royal with such a delayed blessing from the goddess. Isn’t that strange?”

Christy’s disgusting voice echoed in his mind, as if she were speaking right next to him.

Whenever Rabion tried to avoid her, Christy would often bring up Freya –

forcing the conversation with stories about her, whether he asked for them or not.

As a result, he’d heard a lot of trivial gossip about Freya.

He didn’t know how much of it was true.

‘Could it be connected to the goddess Remior…?’

Still deep in thought, Rabion descended the last of the stairs—
only to pause in surprise.

‘Hmm?’

The rain had stopped. Just like that.

Not a single drop touched his skin anymore.

The cold downpour had vanished as if it had never happened at all.

‘It feels like I’ve been bewitched.’

Cold water still dripped from Rabion’s soaked body, a reminder that this was no dream.

Then, as the surroundings brightened, his gaze lifted to the sky.

‘The moon?’

A round, golden moon shone brightly above him.

Now that he thought about it – it was a full moon tonight.

Rabion stared silently at the night sky, bathed in moonlight.

It was so bright that the surroundings were clearly visible, even without relighting the torches.

Just then –

“Hey! The prisoner’s gone!”

At someone’s startled cry, everyone instinctively turned towards the pyre.

“It’s true! He’s not there!”

“Where did he go?”

“Find the prisoner – now!”

Rabion’s sharp command echoed through the chaos of the execution site.

❖ ❖ ❖

She had a long dream.

A sweet dream – so sweet that she never wanted to wake up from it.

The girl stood with a pout on her lips, her mouth smeared with chocolate ice cream.

Beside her, a boy sighed softly and looked visibly troubled.

“Your Highness, it really is time to go.”

“I told you not to call me that! When we’re alone, call me Freya.”

The girl gave a little cough after speaking.

“If you say, ‘Let’s go, Freya,’ I’ll come right away.”

She gave him a slightly mischievous smile as she looked at him.

Her plump cheeks puffed out even more.

The boy tried to reason with her again, politely and firmly.

“You insisted on having ice cream here, so I brought it, but we really can’t delay any longer.”

“Aaron…”

“If we’re found out for sneaking out of the palace, both Christy and I – who helped you – will never be allowed to see you again.”

The girl’s eyes, once crescent with joy, fell sadly.

“Please, Your Highness.”

As the boy gently urged her in a friendly voice, the girl finally gave a small nod.

Seeing this, a small smile appeared at the corner of the boy’s lips.

“Princess.”

His eyes were filled with tender affection.

“I’m here to protect you.”

Perhaps it was the blinding sunlight –

but the boy’s brown eyes, focused solely on the girl, shimmered with a strange golden glow.

“If anything happened to you… I could never forgive myself.”

“Aaron?”

The girl’s eyes widened in surprise.

“When I grow strong enough to protect you on my own, no matter what the situation…Then you’ll be free to go wherever you want.

So please, just wait until then.”

His sure voice and steady gaze made the girl’s heart race.

A young man with sun-kissed skin, broad shoulders and a strong, well-built frame knelt before her.

He looked up at the girl with a hand on his chest and a determined expression on his face.

“In the name of the goddess Remior, I swear with all my heart to always be at your side, to protect you and to live as your loyal servant.”

It was the vow of a royal guard.

As the man gently kissed the back of the woman’s pale hand, she whispered softly,

“Stay by my side forever, Aaron.”

“Have you ever truly cared for me?”

The twisted curve of the woman’s lips bristled with resentment.

“Are you here now as Captain of the Royal Guard to offer your condolences on the passing of His and Her Majesty?”

“No.”

The man said quietly, shaking his head.

“Right now, at this moment… I am here as one who cares for you. I have come to comfort you – not as a soldier, but simply as myself.”

For the briefest of moments, a flicker of light seemed to return to the woman’s vacant gaze.

“Your Highness… please do not grieve too deeply. They are at peace now, resting in the embrace of the Goddess.”

As a thin tear ran down the woman’s cheek, her lips trembling in silence, the man stepped closer -and whispered in a cracked, tender voice.

“Lean on me.”

As the woman’s small shoulders finally began to tremble, the man gently pulled her into his strong embrace.

Her face, framed by the pure white satin dress, glowed brightly.

The man watching her wore a look of overwhelming joy.

Soon, in keeping with ceremonial tradition, they both pricked the ring fingers of their left hands and stamped their blood at the bottom of the marriage oath.

Standing side by side, they recited their vows:

“In the name of the goddess Remior, we promise to look only at each other and to spend our lives together.”

Cool holy water was poured over their heads.

Then warm lips met in a kiss.

“Until the day my breath is gone, I will live only for you, Your Highness.”

At the man’s tender voice that followed the kiss, the woman smiled with joy.

In the beautifully decorated bridal chamber, the two lay facing each other on the bed, their eyes filled with endless affection.

“Will we… really be able to stay together forever?”

The woman asked with a hint of fear in her voice.

The man replied gently,

“I am yours forever, Your Highness.”

“I love you, Aaron.”

Without saying more, they reached for each other.

Their breathless, eager sighs soon filled the room with heat.

‘You… left me.’

‘You were the one… you were the one who left me first.’

Her lips continued to move, mouthing the words silently.

Clear tears streamed down her cheeks from her closed eyes.

The soft sound of her breathing soon gave way to small, choked sobs.