“Just an umbra who arrived a year ago. Not a rat who defies Kata.”

“Ah, an umbra.”

The word “umbra” from his parting lips sounded like a song echoing in a cave. But no one present was entranced by his song.

“A living sacrifice offered to me.”

He lowered his sword. Ignoring Rosaline standing there stupidly, he revealed his drowsiness.

“Clean it up.”

The heavy door closed as he entered the room. With a thud, the knights behind the prioress moved in unison. Some removed corpses, others stood guard at the door. One grabbed Rosaline and dragged her toward the stairs.

Staggering to match the knight’s large strides, Rosaline whispered.

“Is that person Kata’s incarnation?”

She deserved immediate execution, but the knight thought the umbra had lost her mind from shock and was babbling. So he didn’t punish her. Too many had already died, and more would die. In his mercy, Rosaline released a low breath.

The lover she’d abandoned had become a god.

The god she’d long pitied and felt sorry for.

The kitchen had been chaos these past few days because of the hundred-odd knights who’d descended on Arsha. Only at the end of a busy morning could the servants catch their breath and huddle together to chat.

“I can’t believe we’re at war with the Horad. Arsha is so peaceful……”

The story went like this.

During the succession war, while Prince William allied with the temple, the deposed Crown Prince formed an alliance with the barbarian Horad beyond the northern border.

When Prince William ultimately won, the deposed prince fled to Horad lands, and Kata’s incarnation came to Arsha—close to Horad territory—with the stated purpose of punishing the deposed prince for allying with heathens. It had become a forward base of sorts.

Knights belonging to the incarnation and the holy war were stationed in Arsha, while Prince William’s forces were garrisoned in the territories below Arsha.

War with the Horad broke out swiftly upon their arrival and had already been going on for over two weeks.

Kata’s incarnation fought battles beyond the border and returned, bringing nothing but victory. But no matter how overwhelming the victories, war was still war.

“Yesterday they fought close enough to see from Arsha. You could see it right from the outer wall.”

A servant who’d witnessed the battle creating fog and smoke on the rolling horizon trembled in fear. Just imagining it, the war’s characteristic rotting smell seemed to *ssault her nose.

“It felt like watching it right in front of me, I swear. I heard the Horad tie their enemies’ hair to their spear tips. If they catch me, I’m done for.”

“What the hell are you worried about? Kata’s incarnation doesn’t get hurt, and even if he gets wounded, he recovers right away… They say even if his neck gets cut, it reattaches. There’s no way he’ll lose.”

“Ugh! But wouldn’t it still hurt?”

“Shh! Do you all want to die?”

A one-eyed servant recoiled in horror, stopping the others.

“Watch your mouths. Everyone they assigned as attendants to Kata got their ears cut off. Keep blabbing and you might get punished.”

“What? I heard they had their eyes gouged out.”

The servants huddled by the warm fire, telling each other to be careful, to shut up—complete chaos.

“……Whether it’s eyes or ears, I’d better be really careful if I don’t want to lose them.”

Rosaline half-listened to their conversation while scrubbing the nearby floor until her hands blistered.

For a week, she’d thought only of Romeo.

First came denial. Romeo Montague as Kata’s incarnation? She must have seen wrong. But the incarnation she’d glimpsed from afar was Romeo himself, aside from those alien eyes.

That naturally raised another question.

Did Romeo, now Kata, remain the Romeo she knew?

Incarnation meant a god descending into a human body. Personality, character, the very soul should change. Yet he was still Romeo. Though they hadn’t exchanged a single word since he came to Arsha and she’d only watched from afar, she could tell.

That characteristically bored expression and his long, rough strides, even those red eyes couldn’t hide their particular gloom and youthful intensity. He radiated an atmosphere more chilling—cruel even—than a year ago, but he was still Romeo.

Which meant Romeo had been Kata’s incarnation from the moment she regressed. Countless coiled questions stretched awake.

Did you hear my prayer to save Juliet? Did you send me back? Why did you choose Romeo’s body of all people?

If I’d chosen you when you were Kata from the start, would I have needed to leave you?

Do you… hate me terribly?

Tears rolled down Rosaline’s cheeks. She raised her shoulder to wipe her wet chin.

Perhaps it would be better if he hated her. Reality was worse—he showed not hatred but not a speck of interest. He was the great Kata, and she was an umbra at the very bottom of the temple. Yet even knowing this in her head, she wanted to see him somehow.

Once the tears started, they wouldn’t stop easily. It had been like this constantly since Romeo came to the temple. Rosaline would think of him even sitting still, spending her days in silent tears.

If possible, she wanted to pour out the truth to him and apologize. No, even if she couldn’t do that, if she could just see him up close……

Rosaline moved her arm mechanically, scrubbing, when someone blocked her hand and her movement stopped abruptly. She hastily wiped her tears and looked up to find Gabriella gazing down with a complicated expression.

“Get up.”

The servants shuffled out of the kitchen at the high-ranking person’s arrival, and Rosaline also composed herself and stood, waiting for what would come.

“Your name is Rosaline, correct?”

“……”

“Answer.”

“Yes.”

The prioress swept her troubled face.

“Rosaline, we’ve been assigning perfectly fine priests to Kata’s side, and they all come back maimed. Same with the umbra assigned as attendants.”

She shook her head as if greatly annoyed. The gesture was directed more at Neche’s new master than at Rosaline. Kata owned everything in the temple.

“But we can’t not assign anyone. This is troublesome.”

Kata, the sun god.

Looking at records of his past incarnations, most had no real personality—they merely served as the temple’s voice.

An obedient, most sublime puppet, or perhaps the most sacred cuckoo—that was Kata’s incarnation.

But a god leading the charge in war?

When Gabriella first heard Kata’s incarnation had involved himself in the civil war, she’d strongly suspected the prince had manipulated the incarnation for personal gain. But after seeing Kata in Arsha with her own eyes, she abandoned that thought.

A sensation like being strangled, someone trampling on her back.

She wasn’t overwhelmed by charisma from his posture or appearance. The moment they met, an invisible, intangible force crushed her entire body. That wasn’t all. When purging the Crown Prince’s remaining faction in Arsha, his unchanging expression—as if he’d done this hundreds, thousands of times—felt utterly inhuman.

Beautiful ennui. Tedium without even minimal enthusiasm. Faint contempt toward base things.

After that, she decided not to question anything. There was no need to wonder whether he who should love even the lowliest human was truly divine.

He wielded something akin to long-vanished magic and healed from any wound within half a day. Whether he was god or monster, as long as everyone called him Kata, she judged there was only death if she didn’t submit immediately.

But bowing to Kata’s incarnation and serving him well were different matters.

She’d carefully selected people at Prince William’s request, only for him to cut out tongues because voices grated on him, slice off ears because he disliked the sight, gouge out eyes for making eye contact. Just last evening, a priest whose ears had been cut off died after languishing. Yet she could do nothing about it.

“I can’t lose any more of my people.”

The prioress muttered into empty air, then stared at Rosaline. When she told William she couldn’t keep anyone near Kata, the prince had specifically mentioned Rosaline.

[Send the woman named Rosaline who became an umbra a year ago. He’ll kill her if he kills her, but won’t maim her.]

Whether he meant send her or don’t was confusing, but ultimately it meant send Rosaline to Kata. Though she was the child Laurence had requested protection for, a prince allied with His Holiness was more frightening than a mere Valher priest.

“You must be at his side.”

Rosaline didn’t seem surprised. Rather, her calm acceptance sparked momentary curiosity, but the prioress said nothing more.

The bathroom with walls entirely covered in white marble was luxurious for something in Arsha. Hot water in the tub created steam that blurred visibility terribly, but since Kata’s incarnation supposedly bathed first thing after battle, everything had to be fully prepared.

Rosaline clasped her hands tightly before the tub, recalling Gabriella’s warning.

“Refrain from unnecessary words. Your mouth will be cut. Keep your head down. If you happen to meet his eyes, your neck might be severed.”

The warnings about Kata’s incarnation—Romeo, that is—didn’t really resonate with Rosaline. Her beloved Romeo had rough edges but wasn’t heartless.

But now that she’s actually meeting him, she grew anxious. Even if he was still Romeo, to him Rosaline would be in a worse position than the priest who’d lost his ears.

If she had any shame, she should keep her head down and say nothing, as the prioress instructed.

She could do it. If she knew her place, surely……

“What makes the prince so anxious that he keeps assigning people to me?”

Strong force gripped her chin and jerked it up. A fierce gaze stabbed down like a flaming arrow.

“Must I really kill someone before they’ll listen?”

Romeo. She hadn’t even sensed his presence, yet he stood before her as if he’d sprouted from the ground. Rosaline stared at him blankly.

Sun-darkened skin and a solid body visible between the tunic exposing his chest. Chiseled cheeks and jaw with slight dimples. His eyes had changed color but remained hollow. His face and chest were stained with blood of unknown origin, but rather than frightening, he was lovely.

Shamelessly, tenderness surged through her. During her year in Arsha, she’d thought all anger, affection, and lingering attachment had died. Yet the moment she faced him up close, her desolate heart vanished and it was like a flood descending on the barren wasteland of her heart.