Chronosa parted her lips as if to speak, but instead she gazed at Anankeus in silence for a long time.

Tiny droplets from the sunshower falling from the clear sky gathered on his rain cloak. One by one, each droplet became too heavy to remain in place and rolled softly to the ground, shattering into countless sparkling beads.

His silver hair, damp with moisture, clung to his forehead. Even from a distance, the unwavering conviction burning within his strong, golden eyes was strikingly clear.

And yet…

Whose wish had Protogenos Chronosa herself been born to fulfil?

Her mother, Ishtar, had died without ever truly knowing her.

To her father, the people he had taken into his heart were far more precious than his blood-related daughter.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

—”It’s nothing…”

Lost in such pointless thoughts, Chronosa let her words trail off.

Her crimson eyes met his directly.

Those thread-thin pupils.

The woman’s unfathomable gaze reflected him as though it were a mirror.

—”Is that the kind of future you dream of?”

It felt like a question as gentle as a spring breeze.

For some reason, it even seemed as though Chronosa was smiling ever so slightly.

Compared to before, her noticeably softer attitude and behavior pleased him all the more.

“What about you?”

Anankeus naturally asked in return.

Chronosa blinked once, as though wondering why he was turning the question back on her.

“I wasn’t the one who brought it up.”

—”I never expected you to answer so earnestly.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

Anankeus also let out a quiet laugh.

“Really?”

They had talked about the strangest things, about a future that might never come to pass.

Although they seemed to have nothing in common, ultimately, they shared one thing: they were both among those who ruled.

Neither of them had ever had the luxury of thinking about satyrus.

Nor had they ever paused to consider their own futures.

Instead, they had spent their lives chasing the brutal reality of war, their eyes fixed solely on the unforgiving present.

The only future they had ever envisaged was one in which their nation emerged victorious.

There had never been room for themselves in that future.

In many ways…

Talking about the future was a truly unfamiliar experience.

Chronosa slowly reached out her hand.

This slight movement caused the rain cloak to slip from their shoulders and fall softly onto the horse’s back. Neither of them paid it any attention.

Her hands, reddened by the winter cold, gently cupped both of Anankeus’s cheeks.

—”You know…”

Her beautiful eyes curved into delicate crescents.

Thump.

Someone’s heart skipped a beat.

Anticipation came like the spring that had yet to arrive, rolling in like waves, lingering lazily within his chest before quietly drifting away.

—”Within my little cage… you are the most… radiant of all.”

Like the moon hanging in the night sky.

She walked alone, guided by the gentle light that illuminated her path through the darkness.

Before long, their lips met.

Above them, the clear sky and the quiet rain falling beneath it.

These were the only things coloring the world they shared.

***

Recently, he had found himself reaching for hard liquor more and more often.

Late at night.

He would sit alone in his office, completely drunk.

Instead of eating, he smoked cigarettes to accompany his drink.

As he drew on the pipe between his lips, thin wisps of smoke curled unevenly from its tip.

They drifted through the cold winter breeze, slipping in through the open window and scattering before quietly fading away.

At last, the ash dropped onto the floor.

A grey pile had already gathered there.

Ephraim weakly brushed it aside with his foot.

It scattered into the air like smoke itself before slowly settling once more.

Without giving a second thought to cleaning it up, he lifted the bottle again.

He pressed its mouth directly to his lips.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed.

The fiery liquor burned its way down his esophagus.

It was so strong that it felt as though it would burn him alive from the inside.

Beyond the window, the full moon bathed the world in a warmth that felt almost cruel.

That painfully gentle moonlight reminded him of his daughter, who had once stood by those tall windows, gazing silently up at the moon.

That dark silhouette.

Those crimson eyes.

That sorrowful, haunting beauty…

Ephraim’s hand began to tremble uncontrollably.

Clunk.

At last, the bottle slipped from his grasp and hit the floor.

The clear liquor spilled across the carpet, soaking it through.

As the sharp scent of alcohol slowly spread throughout the office, Ephraim silently whispered a name in his heart: Chronosa.

It was a name he could no longer utter after publicly denying that he had a child.

Would he live as Ephraim…

Or as the Great Lord Belphegor?

This…was the consequence of a choice he had made long ago.

As a father, he had been weak.

As the Great Lord, he had placed far too much blind faith in others.

Ultimately, he lost everything that mattered most: His beloved wife, Ishtar.

His dearest friend, Beroe, who he could open up to.

And his precious daughter.

In the end, he lost them all.

He had lost them all.

“Haha… ha…”

In the end, Ephraim let out a hollow laugh.

The crushing weight in his chest was almost unbearable.

If only…

On that day…

In those final moments when he had last seen her…

He could have held his daughter close and told her how grateful he was that she was safe.

If only he had whispered one last time that he loved her.

He searched his memories, trying to remember the last time he had sincerely told his daughter those words.

Her father’s love had always come with a cruel poisoned chalice.

She knew it was a burden he should have borne himself.

She did nothing but gaze silently at the blood-red cup.

That look in her eyes…

It must have been her way of rejecting him.

She had never wanted to hear empty words of love.

All she wanted to do was ask…

Could he not choose her, just this once?

Trying to save everyone was hypocritical.

Yet Ephraim had embraced that hypocrisy willingly, convincing himself that he had no other choice.

But in the end…

This was where those choices had led him.

Humans, the descendants of Epimetheus, were foolish creatures who only realized the truth after it was too late.

And so, even today, Ephraim continued to dwell on his regret and anguish.

An endless torrent of ‘what ifs’ echoed through his mind.

If only…

If only he had made a different choice.

Late in the night, as the gentle moonlight began to fade…

A shadow under Ephraim’s command silently appeared before him while he remained lost in his drunken haze.

“Your Grace, Great Lord… something is amiss within Arboas.”

This wretched war…

Still…

It had not come to an end yet.

He had no idea how much longer it would continue.

He had struggled so desperately.

Ultimately, however, Ephraim had failed to protect anything that truly mattered to him.

He was growing weary.

“What do you mean by ‘amiss’?”

“It appears they have changed their strategy.”

They had changed their strategy.

Hearing this made it feel as though his heart had plummeted to the pit of his stomach.

Ephraim held his breath instinctively.

Although the alcohol still lingered in his system, he was still able to think clearly.

Perihilion had always been fiercely aggressive.

Just like Aaron and the Great Lord Beelzebuth.

Whenever the two of them clashed, bloodshed was inevitable, and the losses on both sides — among their soldiers and innocent civilians — were always devastating.

Could it be…?

Had they done this before?

Just as they had on the day time was first turned back?

Had they decided to take down Belphegor first?

That was the first thought to come to his mind.

Aaron had been right.

Belphegor Ephraim was a hopeless coward.

Having once tasted the intoxicating power of absolute strength…

Ephraim no longer had the courage to continue the war without Chronosa.

“The High Priests have withdrawn from the front lines. Rumors are also spreading that the position of the High Priest of the Sky has become vacant.”

Fortunately…

The news was the exact opposite of what he had feared.

Secretly releasing a sigh of relief, Ephraim clenched his fist tightly.

His hand trembled uncontrollably beneath a tension no one else could see.

“Unlike before, they are no longer aggressively crossing the border to raid our cities. Instead, they appear to be focusing all their efforts on defending their current territory.”

The man, who had always been so warlike, had now adopted a defensive strategy.

He had now adopted a defensive strategy.

Something had undoubtedly happened in the Holy Arboas.

Ephraim almost stood up and yelled Chronosa’s name, but he managed to keep his composure.

“Just like us?”

The shadow lowered his head deeply in silent affirmation.

Then he continued cautiously.

“They have also sealed every border leading into Iades.”

“Iades?”

Arcadia and Arboas were locked in a bloody war.

Yet Iades had always been closer to becoming an ally of both nations than an enemy.

In fact, neither Arcadia nor Arboas had ever shown much interest in Iades.

Likewise, Iades had declared its neutrality and remained completely uninvolved in the war between the two countries.

So why had they suddenly decided to blockade every route leading there?

Unless they had lost their minds, there was no reason to make Iades an enemy as well.

All of these facts pointed to only one conclusion.

The drunken haze vanished from Ephraim’s mind as his crimson eyes darkened.

The shadow drove the point home.

“Everything began after Lady Beroe was executed.”

“…”

Yes, including the brutal execution of Beroe.

No matter how badly the negotiations had gone, killing a hostage of Beroe’s calibre was tantamount to making an example of her.

Perihilion was no fool.

He must have done it to send an unmistakable message.

Ephraim could only reach one conclusion: Someone had killed the High Priest of the Sky. And they were now fleeing towards Iades.

Furthermore, the whereabouts of Princess Chronosa were unknown.

She had disappeared.