His swollen gl*ns pressed firmly against a sensitive spot inside, making her back arch and her toes curl.

“Ah!”

She felt his gaze watching her reach cl*max with rapture. His eyes, unable to hide their exhilaration, seemed to pierce through her skin.

The man soon kissed Rosaline with hot breath. He bounced his hips slowly as if savoring her spasming depths, then came. His body pressed down so heavily she could barely breathe. He pulled his lips away and whispered.

“…Ti.”

Ti? Rosaline puzzled over what was clearly a term of endearment. When their eyes met, however faintly, she realized she knew him.

The man who always followed her. Who carried his sword like a third arm, always reeking of blood, whose mere touch seemed to share his loneliness. Some days he was a mercenary, other days a knight, or else just a killer.

But she’d never met a man like this—how did she know him? How could he be a mercenary one day and a knight the next? Lost in her scattered thoughts, she met his red eyes. Desperate, urgent.

Am I afraid of him?

No, this isn’t fear……

He parted his lips to call her name again, but the bell tearing through the air drowned it out. He opened his mouth again, frustrated, about to repeat her name—

Rosaline woke up.

“Hah!”

The man was just a dream’s afterimage, but the massive bell shaking her body was real. She bolted upright and covered both ears without thinking.

Clang— Clang— Clang—

The bridge to Arsha had been opening more frequently lately, but they’d never rung the bell this many times at once.

The deafening bell rang three more times before stopping. The sound had been so loud that she needed time to register the sudden silence.

“The Crown Prince lost.”

An umbra who shared a room with Rosaline, spoke nonchalantly. Four of them shared the room, and this umbra was the oldest. Most of them were commoners, so they trusted this old umbra’s words—she’d surely been a chamberlain at minimum, or perhaps from military stock.

“Lady Jasmine will become the new king.”

“……Does that mean the civil war is over?”

Another young umbra, who’d been sitting dazed from the bell, asked. Old umbra nodded.

“It’s over, and we won. The outcome was decided the moment Prince William obtained Kata’s incarnation.”

The room’s atmosphere brightened visibly at her words.

The moment Prince William brought Kata’s incarnation into the succession struggle, it became a fight between the royal family and the temple.

This sparked conflict among the priests between the royalist faction supporting the existing Crown Prince and the conservative faction siding with the temple and William. Naturally, the umbra—little more than their servants—split into factions too.

Some umbra like Rosaline remained neutral, but those sharing this room clearly belonged to the conservative faction.

“It’s finally over!”

“If we’re lucky, we might even be freed.”

The kingdom traditionally returned names and freedom to some umbra when wars ended or kings changed. The umbra seemed to expect pardons during the triumphal ceremony or the new king’s coronation.

Rosaline exhaled with relief.

Not from hope of freedom. Prince William’s victory meant Romeo Montague, who surely fought on his side, was safe.

She couldn’t guarantee he was alive, but the man called Kata of the battlefield wouldn’t have died in a much smaller war.

He’d survived defiantly, no doubt.

“It’s not over yet.”

Old umbra clicked her tongue at the umbra who were excited but keeping their voices down.

“Not over?”

Rosaline, who’d been quiet until now, suddenly asked.

Not over? It had to be over so Rosaline could at least confirm his survival through Laurence. Old umbra raised her eyebrows, looking at the usually silent Rosaline with surprise.

“There are stragglers left. Looks like they plan to thoroughly eliminate any remaining enemies.”

Most umbra came from commoner backgrounds, so none fully understood her words. Rosaline was no different. The old woman laughed at these fools.

“Now comes the long period of purges.”

True to her words, when Rosaline went outside, she faced a temple turned battlefield.

Priests who’d walked the temple freely just yesterday were bound, and soldiers and holy knights mingled on the bridge to the tower, carrying supplies. All of them had come from the capital.

The clang of metal moving in unison and shouts of resistance pierced through the bitter winter wind. She stood stunned when someone grabbed her shoulder.

“You there.”

A holy knight in gray armor. He looked Rosaline up and down, gauging her position. Black tunic and a strangely coarse navy blue blanket. Their meaning was clear.

“An umbra.”

Rosaline nodded slightly. She avoided the disaster of actually saying “yes” aloud.

“You may speak. Have you ever served a priest directly?”

“No.”

“Where are you from?”

“……Valher.”

The holy knight was about to ask more when a priest suddenly emerged from the distance.

“Wait, Sir!”

It was Gabriella, supposedly Laurence’s fellow student from seminary. She stepped between the knight and Rosaline, shaking her head.

“I’ll vouch for this child’s identity.”

“……Why would you vouch for a mere umbra?”

“Good grief, Sir.”

She scoffed.

“Are you blind? Don’t you recognize an Arsha prioress?”

The knight’s insolent eyes dropped to the hem of her mantelleta. The hem was dyed white, marking her as an Arsha prioress. He must have taken her for a lower-ranking priest.

Gabriella smiled crookedly.

“What? Did seeing some blood under the incarnation make you think you’re Kata? You’ve forgotten that before the Lord, you and an umbra hold the same position.”

“……You had no attendants, so I thought……”

“Ah, treating clergy like worldly nobles. You need to be re-educated from scratch. State your affiliation.”

“……Your Grace.”

“Stay here until you can speak properly.”

Ignoring the ashen knight, Gabriella gestured to Rosaline. She looked tired.

“Umbra, go to Neche. Guests will arrive soon. Cleaning is needed.”

Neche was the central castle beside the small temple, where high-ranking clergy mainly resided. Even for cleaning, an umbra couldn’t enter alone. When Rosaline hesitated, Gabriella jerked her chin toward the priests following her.

“Follow that brother.”

“Your Grace!”

The designated priest looked aggrieved.

“You want me to take this umbra? To clean Neche, no less?”

“Half the seminary’s priests and servants are tied up—who else should I send if not an umbra? Will you scrub the floors yourself?”

“……My apologies.”

“F*ck, no one listens.”

She muttered something like “Laurence, honestly……” but no one heard. The hook-nosed priest grumbled and led the way.

“Follow me, Umbra.”

Moving with the priest, she saw everywhere transformed into camps for knights and soldiers. All kinds of noise and cursing assaulted her ears, but entering Neche silenced everything as if all sound had been blocked.

Inside Neche, familiar umbras and servants were mixed together, scrubbing the stone floors with rough brushes as the prioress had said. The scraping sounds echoing through the great hall alone revealed their extreme tension. Like standing on a lake covered in thin ice.

“What is this chaos? Her Grace has lost her mind too… Arsha becoming a military base……”

The priest climbed the stairs continuously, muttering—this must be where someone quite important would stay. Rosaline was equally distracted.

‘Romeo must be all right, surely?’

She’d planned to learn news through Laurence when his wounded voice flashed through her mind.

“Do you not love me?”

For a moment she couldn’t breathe properly and faltered. Do I even have the right to worry about him?

“What’s wrong? Are you ill?”

The priest ahead spoke gruffly when Rosaline stopped. Rosaline shook her head to indicate she was fine. He swallowed dryly and moved forward again.

“So you’re scared too. You’re an umbra, but you must have heard things.”

He sighed.

“……I heard everywhere Kata’s feet touched became a sea of blood. But think about it, Umbra. The sun is goodness and light. Would a god who must exist without personality take up a sword and kill people?”

If she wasn’t mistaken, he looked terrified. The priest kept talking while moving steadily until he stood before a massive door. He placed both hands on the thick door and slowly applied pressure.

“It must be false. Prince William’s scheme to start a war and seize control of the temple. Binding priests like tribute offerings. If we’d just maintained the status quo… wait, what is……!!!”

The rambling priest suddenly recoiled in horror. Through the slightly opened door came a terrible metallic smell. Before she could identify the smell, something hot and viscous splattered across Rosaline’s face.

Blood.

She blinked once to clear her eyes, then saw in sequence the wide-open door and a neckless body.

The priest who’d been talking just moments ago had his neck cleanly severed. His headless body collapsed like a puppet with cut strings. Not just the priest—beyond the open door lay multiple corpses with blood forming rivers.

“The time of purges.”

The old umbra’s words rang in her ears like tinnitus.

“The squeaking rat was too noisy.”

A bored voice came from beyond the door. Languid with a slightly raspy quality. Rosaline’s body, frozen in shock, began trembling with a different kind of tension.

Rosaline slowly raised her eyes. A drop of blood fell from her lashes, and the silhouette at the doorway began to form on her retina. Sinewy, solid forearms and a sun-bronzed chest visible through loose robes, blond hair matted with clotted blood and beneath it… red eyes.

Romeo.

The moment their eyes met, Rosaline recognized him. Though his eye color differed, this was definitely Romeo. Rosaline, who’d entwined bodies with him day after day, couldn’t fail to recognize him.

And he clearly recognized Rosaline too. She could tell from his black eyes that hid violent emotion beneath apparent indifference.

Rosaline felt not fear of Romeo standing in a pool of blood, but longing and joy pouring down like a downpour. Words surged up as if to burst from her throat. The moment she moved to walk toward him as if possessed—

A sticky, cold blade touched her neck. Romeo had raised his arm, holding his sword to block her path. His gaze passed over Rosaline toward something below and beyond her.

“What’s this?”

Behind Rosaline, Prioress Gabriella and the other priests who’d followed her were kneeling with foreheads pressed to the floor. Gabriella hadn’t expected the room’s master to return so soon, but she hid her dismay and spoke without trembling.