Once the floodgates opened, the words poured out without hesitation.

“I want to know. What you were to me.”

“……”

“What feelings we had for each other…”

Strangely, her heart ached and throbbed. It was as if her heart remembered something important that her head couldn’t recall.

Because that sensation couldn’t be a lie, Vanessa was certain that something more must have happened in the past. Her abandonment of ‘RauÐi’ might not have been voluntary. No, she dared to assert that it wasn’t voluntary.

Then what was the truth? Who could have done such a thing — separating RauÐi and herself, causing a huge misunderstanding, and even burying her memories…

‘…Could it be Father…?’

…Though she didn’t think it likely, the most suspicious person was still her father. After all, her father had always been overprotective of her.

If her father had disapproved of ‘RauÐi’, a battle slave with peculiar red eyes, being close to her…

“…What if I didn’t abandon you, but it was all a misunderstanding?”

At Vanessa’s tentative addition, Jurgen’s eyebrow twitched slightly. The corner of his mouth rose in a spasm, forming a crooked arc. His golden eyes were filled with nothing but distrust.

Seeing that expression, Vanessa became certain once again. My true feelings really don’t reach you, do they?

“Now, after all this time…”

He closed the distance and lowered his head. As her chin was caught in his overwhelmingly large and rough hand, she found herself looking straight into his eyes.

Without a chance to avoid it, she met those golden eyes that glinted with a madness as sharp as a sword tempered over long years.

“Do you want to say that you did nothing wrong? If that’s the case, you shouldn’t have saved me then, Vanessa. You should have left me to die.”

Vanessa didn’t know exactly when ‘then’ was, or what specific incident Jurgen was talking about. She could only intuitively sense it. The nuance in his words was just like…

“…Did you want to die?”

At the question she asked without thinking, Jurgen’s gaze wavered for a moment before returning to its stern coldness. He roughly released Vanessa’s chin and stepped back a few paces.

Vanessa felt chilled to the bone by the cold air emanating from him.

“I told you, Vanessa.”

A bleak smile spread across his lips. No, could that even be called a smile? It was more like… the expression of a beast baring its fangs.

“Nothing will change even if you remember.”

“That’s—”

Vanessa’s lips moved, but Jurgen coldly turned his back on her and left the room without looking back even once.

The words she couldn’t utter caught on the tip of her tongue.

‘That sounds like you’re saying you’re already completely broken.’

And so there’s no way to repair it.

Neither you, nor the severed past, nor this relationship…

✦ ✦ ✦

“…A plague in Drake territory?”

At the unexpected news delivered early in the morning, Declan raised an eyebrow in surprise but slightly curled up the corners of his mouth.

‘I thought so…’

Three days ago, the spy he had tried to plant in Drake’s duchy had sent word that the castle’s entry and exit were being controlled.

It seemed Jurgen had tried to thoroughly conceal the information about the plague, but it had leaked out anyway.

“I’d like to mock him for receiving divine punishment for his arrogance… but that doesn’t seem to be the case.”

Escal Drake. There was no doubt that man was behind this incident.

‘Spreading a plague timed with Jurgen’s return to his territory’… It was exactly the kind of thing that vile man would plan.

‘He seems to have made up his mind, so it’s probably not the kind of plague that can be easily cured. But Vanessa… that girl is in Drake territory…’

As a divine word user of life, Vanessa should be able to easily cure the infected. …The fact that this seemed like a fate bestowed by God to protect Jurgen made Declan’s insides twist even more.

‘If Vanessa gains fame as a saint for her contributions during this crisis, and if she tries to raise her status in Astra by forming ties with the Lavinian religion…’

Without a doubt, it would become a great threat to Declan himself. After all, Vanessa would seek revenge against him.

‘I can’t eliminate Duke Evanwood right away, nor do I have a way to get rid of Vanessa. What on earth should I do?’

Growing anxious, Declan abruptly stood up from his chair and paced the empty throne room. On both sides of the throne room, which was covered with a red carpet, hung masterpiece paintings he had collected according to his taste, arranged with perfect regularity.

Declan fiddled with the splendid royal scepter he had newly commissioned when he ascended to the throne. A crimson cloak embroidered with gold thread fell from his shoulders to his ankles, and a golden belt studded with the highest quality rubies and sapphires elegantly adorned his silk tunic.

He was determined not to let anyone take away the authority he had established. He was willing to do anything to ensure that.

Was it because his desperation resembled a prayer? Though God might have turned a deaf ear to his voice, a demon seemed to have heard it.

Something happened before Declan’s eyes that could only be described as such.

“W-What! Who are you?! Reveal your identity!”

The figure that suddenly appeared in the empty space directly in front of him had long white hair so bright it seemed to bleach one’s eyes, contrasted by pitch-black eyes.

The plain dark gray clothes without any patterns or decorations gave an otherworldly impression, and the glimpses of arms and neck were tightly wrapped in bandages.

“Hey! Guard Captain! An outsider has infiltrated the throne room! Is nobody there?!”

Declan desperately tried to call for help, but his voice seemed to hit an invisible wall and merely echoed around the throne room.

Right now, in this space, there were only two: himself and that stranger. Declan gripped the royal scepter tightly, ready to swing it if necessary. It was a mistake not to have come armed, thinking the throne room was a safe place.

“What is your identity… Who sent you?”

Declan guessed this white-haired person might be an assassin sent by a political rival. It was unusual for an assassin not to cover their face, but if they were confident enough in their skills, it wasn’t strange.

‘Judging by appearances, they seem to be a mage…’

Mages were tricky opponents. Even if one were fully armed, it would be difficult, but with only the royal scepter in his hand… there was little hope of overcoming this situation by force.

‘Stay calm. I can’t die like this.’

Declan narrowed his eyes fiercely and asked the presumed assassin mage with feigned composure.

“Who sent you? Duke Evanwood? Marquis Guillaume? Or… it couldn’t be… Vanessa?”

The chances were slim that Vanessa, who should be preoccupied with the plague crisis in Drake territory, would have hired an assassin to send after him in the meantime, but one never knew.

That woman sometimes showed behavior that defied common sense.

“Answer me! Who…!”

“…No one.”

The voice that finally came from the other party was quite different from what he expected. It was a quiet and beautiful tone, as if reciting poetry. It was a voice more suited to an artist than an assassin. And above all, there was no sense of hostility.

Didn’t they come to kill me?

Most assassins were mercenaries from assassination guilds, without loyalty, moving only for money like materialistic beings.

So Declan had planned to persuade this white-haired person with money. He was half-certain that if he offered more money than whoever commissioned his death, they would immediately switch sides.

But the opponent before him was different from the numerous assassins Declan had seen before. …No, to be precise, they gave off an alien feeling that wouldn’t mix with any human.

‘Just what is their identity?’

As Declan stared intently with this question in mind, the other party answered as if reading his thoughts.

“My name is Saskia. I am a mage belonging to Master Leroy.”

“…What did you say?”

Declan was more than surprised. He was dumbfounded by this unexpected identity. Letting out a bitter laugh at the absurdity, he questioned the other party warily, for a different reason than before.

“Why has Leroy Terevron’s mage appeared before me?”

“We need your help, King of Roengreen.”

Saskia’s manner of speech was politely drawn out, yet somehow gave off an arrogant impression.

Declan had a feeling that she was hiding powers other than magic. People with such attitudes, subtly unyielding even while making requests, usually had something to rely on.

In any case, it was time to take a step back.

“I can’t help the king of Terevron who was judged according to His Majesty the Emperor’s will. You should know that well, right?”

Helping the remnants of Terevron, branded with the mark of sin, would be treason against the Emperor. If he wasn’t careful, the Roengreen royal family might face extermination this time.

“I understand. However… once you hear what I have to offer in return, you will surely change your mind.”

This mage called Saskia asserted with great confidence. Wondering what on earth she was relying on to be so bold, Declan probed further, intending to see what she had up her sleeve.

“What could this compensation be?”

Saskia seemed to hesitate for a moment, then finally answered while grasping the end of the bandage wrapped around her forearm.

“…Just once. When you wish it.”

The white bandage unraveled like a ribbon, revealing pale skin densely inscribed with black markings.

Declan’s eyes widened like full moons as he recognized those markings — no, those ‘sentences’.

“I will lend you the power of death that dwells within me.”