“And thanks to that, I’ve been given this chance to take my revenge, haven’t I?”

The man pushed the dagger in further with a triumphant sneer. Blood gushed from Karsten’s side. By all rights, he should have collapsed there and then.

Yet—

“I told you to speak clearly.”

Though stabbed deep in the waist, Karsten showed not the slightest falter. On the contrary, his blade pressed all the more firmly against the man’s throat.

The man gasped at the sight.

“Ha… just as they said, you’re a vicious one.”

“Seems you’ve heard a great deal.”

Without so much as a wavering breath, Karsten twisted the wrist that held the dagger. The man cried out and dropped the weapon. The blade remained buried in Karsten’s side, but he stood as if ready to cut his enemy’s throat at any moment.

“Your life must not mean much to you.”

“Wait—!”

Sensing death hanging over him, the man’s voice turned frantic, desperate to stop Karsten’s hand.

Karsten’s lips curved in a cold smile.

“What is it? Begging for your life now?”

“Don’t you want to know who gave me this information?”

“Information, is it…”

For a moment, Karsten’s expression showed genuine interest.

“But then again—”

Before the man could utter another word, Karsten’s blade sliced across his throat.

“I think I already know.”

Watching the fading light drain from the man’s eyes, Karsten whispered low.

“Pophia Palace.”

There could be no other place.

He dragged the lifeless body to the edge of the cliff and threw it down towards the Northern Knights below. His voice cut through the din of battle as he called out.

“Your commander is dead!”

The clash of steel ceased in an instant. The northern knights, especially, stared in shock at the cold corpse of their fallen leader.

Sensing the shift in momentum, Karsten’s knights leveled their blades threateningly at the enemy.

“If you do not lay down your arms at once, your lives will not be spared.”

The northern knights wavered, exchanging uncertain glances, then one by one dropped their weap*ns in surrender. The repeated clatter of steel rang out until Karsten’s men secured them completely.

Once the situation had somewhat settled, Karsten flung the dead man’s body to the ground.

“D*mn it.”

The curse slipped from his lips the moment the body hit the ground. Only then did he seem to feel the burning pain in his side.

With a grimace, he pulled the dagger from his waist. As the blade came free, blood gushed out uncontrollably. He tore a strip of cloth from his undershirt and tightly bound the wound.

“Ugh…”

The agony, far greater than he had imagined, engulfed his body. Staggering, he forced his way down the slope.

Just as he reached the ground—

“Your Highness!”

At the sound of Benon’s voice, Karsten collapsed heavily onto the earth.

“Your Highness!”

The sight of Benon rushing forward and his urgent cry seemed to play out in slow motion. Karsten’s vision darkened to black.

💙💙💙 💙💙💙

When he opened his eyes again, the world was washed in a pale haze.

‘A dream?’

Was this a dream?

Karsten hurriedly touched his waist. Strangely, no blood stained his hands. No—more than that…

‘Why is my body so small?’

It was as if he were looking at himself around the age of fifteen.

Puzzled by the sight of his shrunken body, Karsten glanced about. Then, a young girl stepped into his hazy world.

“Can you see me? Hmm?”

At her question, he faltered, uncertain how to respond.

But then—

“Who are you?”

His mouth moved on its own, against his will.

“I’m Breti. You collapsed, so I brought you here. How are your eyes? What do you see?”

Breti?

Karsten studied the girl who called herself by that name. Looking closely, yes—it truly did seem to be Breti. The sight of her so youthful nearly made him let out a laugh.

Yet—

“No… I can’t see anything right now.”

Though his eyes clearly took in everything around him, his lips kept uttering strange, contradictory words.

At his words—that he could not see—Breti grew startled and began stamping her feet in worry.

“What should I do… For now, will you wait a little?”

With that, she slipped out of Karsten’s hazy world.

Soon afterwards, Breti returned, soaking wet and clutching a handful of herbs.

“Here, try eating just a little. They say this is good for detoxifying.”

Her eyes, brimming with tears, reminded him of the tears she had shed when he left for the battlefield. This brought a sharp ache to his chest.

Karsten chewed the herbs as she placed them into his mouth.

“If you collapse here, how heartbroken do you think your parents will be!”

Her trembling voice, on the verge of tears, drew a faint smile from him.

After that, Breti did not sleep a wink, tending to him all throughout. Seeing how she was the same—both then and now—Karsten found himself smiling faintly.

“Breti.”

Once again, his lips moved of their own accord.

“What’s your middle name?”

“No. I’m not telling you.”

“If you do, I feel like I’ll be able to see something.”

At his near-petulant insistence, Breti hesitated for a moment before lowering her head and whispering softly into his ear.

“…You know you’re not supposed to tell anyone this, right?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Jena. It means ‘little bird.’”

Jena.

The moment he repeated her middle name, he had an realization. He had once briefly considered that name during the period when he was suffering from sleepwalking.

‘Ah… so that name was Breti’s. And…’

He now understood that this memory belonged to the time when he was a child and nearly died after being attacked by the Haerijis. The person who had saved him had not been a highly skilled physician. It was Breti.

Again, his lips moved of their own accord.

“Breti.”

“Hmm? Why? Can you see now?”

He longed to answer Yes, I can see clearly now as he gazed into her shining eyes. But instead, his mouth spoke another truthless line.

“No… not yet. I still can’t see. I’m a little tired, but I can’t fall asleep.”

“Then… um, I’ll sing for you.”

Clearing her throat, Breti began to sing.

“When the bright light that shone upon the earth fades,
A faint light rises.
Following that light, the wanderer walks on.”

In that moment, Karsten remembered—this was the very song Breti had once sung to Meliover.

“Wanderer, do not be lonely.
For I am always by your side.”

By the time the final verse reached his ears, Karsten’s eyelids grew heavy.

“Good night.”

Just before he drifted into slumber, he heard Breti’s soft voice bidding him good rest.

And then—

“Don’t be mistaken. This isn’t your memory—it’s mine, Karsten.”

As always, his own voice turned upon him.

“And both Breti—and your body—are mine as well.”

💙💙💙 💙💙💙

“……!”

Breti woke with a start, drenched in cold sweat.

She sat up and took ragged breaths for a long while before burying her face in her hands.

Lately, she had been plagued by recurring dreams. Dreams of Karsten, wounded and collapsing.

Once again, she had been forced to wake from that same vision tonight, her face blank with despair.

For days, she had been dreaming of him, his breath faltering and ceasing under the weight of his injuries.

‘Why do I keep dreaming this?’

Breti had started to dread opening her eyes in the morning.

It was the fear that a letter announcing Karsten’s death might arrive that tormented her most. Even the thought of such a message left her breathless, as if her chest were being crushed.

Pressing a hand over her heart, Breti shook her head.

‘No… it’s all right. He’ll be all right.’

Whenever she felt overwhelmed by anxiety, Breti would calm herself down by vowing to believe that Karsten would return safely.

She got up from the bed and walked over to her dressing table, opening a drawer. Inside were the pendant he had left her, a ring, and a folded note.

Breti stared at the items in silence before gently picking up the note.

[When I return, I’ll put it on your finger myself.]

That was what he had said. That he would return to place the ring upon her hand.

And never—not once—had he broken a promise. Which meant this time, too, he would keep his word and come back to her.

“You will return.”

Breti whispered it aloud, comforting herself as she stepped away from the bed.