The mad ones loved the dark. The darker it was, the better. Under the name of faith, they sought out every shadowed corner of the world, blinding countless eyes in the process.

“You’re smarter than I thought, Kailhart.”

That was why he had tried to unify the continent—so that no region would be left in the dark. If he could bind them all together, he might be able to wipe those bastards out.

“No matter how hard you try, how much you struggle—it’s useless. If we fail this time, we’ll just try again. And again. We still have lives to spare.”

The enemy he faced was not a person, but an entrenched belief that had been passed down through generations. A harsh, grinding sound emerged from between Kailhart’s clenched teeth.

He yanked the blade from the neck of a fallen foe and drove it straight through the ear of the next one who dared open his eyes.

“Your devotion will never be repaid—”

“I don’t care.”

His eyes rolled back, white showing, body bathed in crimson—and still, he kept thrusting the blade into them. Again and again, until the whispers of those deranged voices finally fell silent.

At last, when every last one of them collapsed into the dust at his feet, only the wind remained in the ravine—winter wind sweeping through the wasteland, slicing into flesh and gnawing at bone.

It felt like a warning. As if saying: the moment you leave even the slightest gap, we’ll slip in—and take everything you have left.

It mocked him, mocked his desperate attempts to protect Isabel.

But Kailhart only held her tighter.

Fine. Go ahead. Keep jumping from one host to the next, clinging to those cursed eyes. I’ll be the one to end it.

Once again, the world faded into gray, everything drained of color—except the woman in his arms. She alone remained.

Nothing else mattered.
It never had.
She had been the first light he ever saw as a child.

Although he had tied her to him through marriage, Isabel never saw herself as his wife. She played the part in public, but never considered him her husband.

But that didn’t matter.

‘Isabel, as long as you’re by my side—’
‘As long as I can protect you—’
‘As long as you want me in any form…’

‘That’s enough for me.’

🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁

“We were certain it was a rebellion, and yet… for something like this to happen again… We truly have no excuse for failing to join in time.”

On the surface, they had pretended to be rebels, but in truth, they were remnants of the cult who had harboured resentment and come back for revenge.

As his deputy confirmed in the report that the perpetrators were indeed from the same cult, Kailhart surveyed the area, which was now clear of the red mist. The entire ravine was deathly silent. The silence was so profound that the chaos from moments earlier seemed like a lie.

“Just as Your Majesty suspected, we found signs of a temporary outpost nearby. Judging by the traces, they must have been stationed there for at least two weeks.”

However, Kailhart immediately ordered his men to pursue the remnants, despite believing the threat had been eliminated. His foresight paid off, as they were able to pick up the enemy’s trail.

“Some had infiltrated the nearby village and were blending in under disguises. The rest took their own lives before we could capture them—”

From the beginning, they had split into two groups on purpose.

Their true target hadn’t been him. It had been Isabel.

The moment he realised that, Kailhart shook off those trying to hold him back and rushed down into the ravine in pursuit.

“As long as there are shadows, we will never leave you.”

Because of that, he had come face to face with the ghosts of the past once more.

It had been a race against time, but he hadn’t arrived too late. Thank heavens for that.

Nevertheless, he grew anxious at the faint warmth of Isabel’s body in his arms, stirring in the cold wind. His heart pounded madly in his chest.

She was breathing — barely — but she was breathing. Her complexion was pale, and her lips were split at the corners. Her cheek was swollen, as if she had been slapped while being dragged away.

Kailhart’s fingers tightened.

“Goddamn lunatics.”

“They’re not even human. They’ll stop at nothing. Honestly, we should’ve known when they poisoned that village’s drinking water a few years ago… That should’ve been the sign.”

The deputy shook his head as he recalled the incident that had occurred two years earlier. It had taken place in a remote border village of the Empire, where the cult had poisoned the local water supply, claiming it was a miracle cure. Many unsuspecting villagers fell victim to the scheme, resulting in devastating casualties. The cult had done this to stage a miracle and secure the loyalty of their members.

It was inhumane, but merely the beginning. After their homeland of Saint-au fell, they did far worse while searching for a new host.

Sacrificing innocent people — and even their own followers — meant nothing to them. As long as it served their greater vision, they were more than willing to use human bl＊＊d as paint for their so-called masterpiece.

“But still… I never imagined His Majesty would take down that many on his own…”

The deputy trailed off, shaking his head in awe. He said it reminded him of the old days—back during the Continental War—and that it stirred something in him to see it again.

Kailhart turned his gaze toward the approaching military doctor.

“Your Majesty, the preliminary test results are in.”

The doctor held a stiff sheet of paper and looked grim. Kailhart took the report and read it; instantly, his expression turned cold.

“As suspected, it’s a hallucinogen — completely different from ink-based compounds. We’ll need to analyse it in the Imperial laboratory to identify the exact ingredients, but it’s clear that—”

He meant that Kailhart had experienced hallucinations while fighting the remnants of the cult earlier. This was not surprising; it was exactly what Kailhart had anticipated. But now they needed to act fast.

“Prepare for departure.”

They had to return. As quickly as possible.

The palace wasn’t entirely safe, either. The moment they left its walls, this is what awaited them. It made him feel it all over again.

‘I really have no choice but to…’

The veins on the back of Kailhart’s hand, where it wrapped around Isabel, bulged faintly.

“And for now, it would be best to begin by easing the symptoms. I’ve brought a basic detoxifier.”

The doctor handed him a small vial hesitantly. Kailhart took it without saying a word, unscrewed the cap, and tipped the contents into his mouth. Then he pressed his lips to Isabel’s and let the liquid flow into her mouth.

He continued to try to revive her pale, barely breathing form until, finally, she coughed up red-tinted fluid.

She was still unconscious, but her breathing and pulse slowly began to steady.

Kailhart lowered his forehead to her shoulder.

His heart pounded wildly in his chest.

“Please… let Isabel go.”

It echoed alongside the voice of his younger self—crying, forehead pressed to the ground, weeping bl＊＊d.

🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁

Whenever Isabel thought of Isaya, butterflies always came to mind.

Even in the middle of winter, the air brushing her nose felt gentle, not cold. And yellow butterflies fluttered like gold dust around Isaya’s shimmering hair.

“Welcome.”

It had been Isabel’s first time entering a greenhouse. She was too young and naïve then to realize that it was a closed world. All she felt was comfort.

“I’ve been waiting for you, Sister.”

Her only bl＊＊d relative in the world sat at the heart of a fabricated paradise.

“You’ve all done well. You may leave now.”

“But Your Highness, His Majesty explicitly ordered that the Crown Princess must not be left unattended—”

“I want to be alone with my sister.”

With a firm gesture, Isaya dismissed the maids and turned toward Isabel.

“Just for a moment. Is that all right?”

She asked with a soft smile, eyes closed.

“And don’t just stand there—come a little closer.”

The midday winter sun streamed through the glass ceiling above her, casting light over her entire figure and the white bench where she sat.

“Um, are you…”

“Hm? Don’t tell me no one told you?”

Isabel silently sat beside her.

The maids who had escorted her had only whispered that she was on her way to meet the Crown Princess. Even while walking the strangely deserted path, all Isabel had thought was, ‘Was there a place like this in the royal palace?’

“I mean, they did tell me…”

“But it’s hard to believe, isn’t it?”

Even now, while sitting next to Isaya, her supposed half-sister, Isabel still found it difficult to accept.

Back then, she had only known Isaya as the untouchable crown princess. So she stiffened instinctively, showing no outward reaction.

Isabel had grown up in a remote region, so she had had little chance of hearing anything about the Crown Princess. After being forcibly brought to the palace, she was treated like a nuisance — nothing more than an inconvenient royal daughter. She had long since developed a habit of staying silent no matter what happened.

So even that morning, when the maids suddenly but politely instructed her to follow them, she didn’t protest. She simply clenched her fists and allowed them to lead her away, her face showing no emotion.

“I feel the same way.”

Isaya said, turning slightly toward Isabel and tilting her head.

‘Feel the same? What is she suddenly talking about…?’

“Just a moment ago, I couldn’t quite believe it either.”

“…Pardon?”

“But now I can feel it. That it’s really you.”

When Isaya opened her eyes, Isabel finally understood—those pale blue eyes, unable to focus or meet her gaze—Isaya was nearly blind.