Even in that moment, Sirak’s thoughts were only of Iberis. Ah. I’m really going to die now. If I die, who will protect the one standing behind me? I hope she won’t grieve too much. I don’t mind dying, so I just hope someone will please save her. Those brief, tangled thoughts swirled together.

And then, a flash.

A miracle occurred.

‘Good heavens, my liege……’

He cannot forget that moment.

It was a truly beautiful sight. The power of the dragon that had lain sleeping, that awakening, was like a meteor shower falling from the sky.

It was a power so graceful it inspired awe, so tremendous it brought tears. Perhaps it was in that moment that Sirak surrendered everything, wholly and completely, to the one person he must never harbor feelings for.

Iberis. She was his liege, the purpose of his life, and his salvation. From the moment they met until now, she had saved him and given him reason to live more times than he could count.

And so the unrequited love he could never speak aloud burned through him all the more fiercely. It was torment.

‘How dare someone like you!’

Rage at himself surged up as well. The wolf therianthrope, not gifted with subtlety in matters of feeling, had fumbled helplessly and let fragments of that emotion slip through, until his liege had taken notice.

Not wanting things to become awkward between them, his liege had chosen to close her eyes, pretend she had heard nothing, and step back.

It would be a lie to say he was not hurt, but his loyalty came before all else. The knight began to cut away at his own heart. If he sliced it apart piece by piece and hid it deep in his chest, it would never find its way out into the world.

But the heart cannot move entirely at the will of reason. He had not known that.

‘D*mn it.’

The resentment that had surged when he brought the Grand Duke. The fury toward the one who dared speak crudely and act with insolence toward his noble liege. The sight of Iberis laughing at herself as she said she had to tumble with someone to break the curse, and the throbbing ache he had felt then.

Sirak knew.

That it was jealousy.

When he brought the Grand Duke. When he dug up information on the second man, the assassin who had been hiding. And finally, when he personally dragged in that mad mage who had been so rude to the emperor.

His heart had throbbed as though it would burst.

‘If only it were me instead.’

Rather than any of them, me.

He had been petty enough in his jealousy to think such absurd thoughts. He had hidden that feeling beneath his concern for his liege, but he himself knew the truth.

Was this his punishment for it?

Was that why this had come to pass?

When he heard that he was the final subject of the Oracle, Sirak’s mind went utterly blank.

It was as if confusion had exploded inside him.

Relief. Joy. Fear, guilt. Jealousy, deep loyalty, and self-reproach at feeling all of those things at once.

“Your Majesty.”

He was a beast.

His was a bloodline he feared might let suppressed instinct break loose even toward his own liege.

And he was to do what?

“Your Majesty, I.”

How could he dare do such a thing to her?

“I cannot. I cannot do this.”

Rationally, he understood that he could not refuse this command.

‘Have I lost my mind?’

He was the one who had said he would save the emperor by any means necessary. He truly had to do so, by any means.

‘This is not something she said lightly, either.’

So he could offer up this body of his any number of times. And yet what came out of his mouth was something entirely off the mark. Nonsense that startled even himself the moment he said it.

He had to say something now. He had to correct himself.

That he would gladly do it.

That he would simply follow the command.

“I. Cannot dare. Do this.”

But his body seemed to have broken down.

For some reason, the corners of his eyes burned.

Something traced its way down his cheek.

* * *

So she made him cry after all.

Iberis thought. This moment was the price for having cut apart the heart of that faithful man.

Even a sovereign who never wavered or feared had found herself quite at a loss when she arrived at her final guess.

‘Sirak.’

Sirak. Her right hand. A loyal retainer who had been at her side for a very long time.

He had been there through nearly every moment, joyful or sorrowful alike. In some ways Sirak was even closer to her than Maria, and it was only to her knight that she had shown both her weak side and her ruthless side.

He was someone she could trust even if the world crumbled, and precisely because of that, someone she never wanted to lose.

The reason she had coldly cut off and pushed away any expectation that might pass between a man and a woman, any tender feeling he had looked at her with, was because theirs was a bond she could never afford to lose.

An emperor could not single out one person and cherish them. That kind of relationship would surely wound that guileless wolf-blooded man. Wolves by nature take only one mate for life. If the feeling were not entirely mutual, it would deal a grievous blow to his soul.

And yet it was Sirak.

That a moment would come when she had to use the knight she cherished so dearly like medicine for a cure. The others had not been easy either, but Sirak was not an easy matter for Iberis herself.

‘What am I to do with you?’

She breathed out slowly.

“Come here.”

When she beckoned, he moved his body to follow the command somehow, despite the blank look on his face. He was a good man. A steadfast person who had never once disappointed her in all the time she had watched over him.

“Sirak.”

When she reached out her hand, he leaned his cheek into it with a naturalness that felt entirely unforced. The docile closeness, entirely free of any carnal expectation, drew a small laugh from her.

But once the initial shock had passed, relief settled in. Iberis acknowledged her own feelings.

‘It seems I’ve grown soft.’

If she had to give the end of this Oracle, the conclusion of this healing, to someone, she felt it would be better to give it to this man and no one else.

It was a tender thought, unbecoming of an emperor, unbecoming of the sovereign of a nation and the heir to the dragon’s bloodline.

“Sirak.”

Because she cherished him, she had hoped he would never be chosen. But if it could not be helped.

‘Then I will cherish him willingly.’

Was that not the last choice available to the two of them, now that they had crossed a line and could not easily return to a clean, uncomplicated relationship of sovereign and subject?

She reached out and wiped away the tears the man was shedding quietly, in a way that was almost pitiable. She had never truly doubted he would refuse. Even now, she had faith in that.

What that rigid knight needed was justification. And a hand to push him forward.

A small cough, and blood flecked through the air with it. The dazed look on Sirak’s face gave way to a sharp, clear expression, and she could see him clench his jaw.

Sirak, who knew her well, would have understood at that very moment. Why she had not returned right away. Why she had called for him when the Oracle’s deadline was bearing down on them.

Sirak had no choice but to choose. Setting aside every other feeling, he had to move, if only to save his liege.

‘That is how I will push you forward.’

She had pushed him away before, so it was only right that the same hand should now pull him close.

“Sirak.”

She lowered the hand that had been stroking his cheek and took hold of his collar. Without hesitation, she drew close the one she had never permitted any contact beyond a certain distance.

Right before her was a man with a gaze that looked ready to ignite. The one to whom she had entrusted everything, enough to call him half of her own soul. Her sword and her guardian.

‘My knight.’

A crooked smile rose to her lips.

“For the moments of contact required by the Oracle, I will permit you to let your heart loose. In those moments alone, we need not be the emperor of the empire and her subject. We could simply be an ordinary woman and a man.”

She murmured softly, watching his wavering eyes.

“What do you say?”

She watched his throat bob as he swallowed without meaning to, and tapped it lightly with the tip of her finger.

But the loyal retainer who had looked ready to fall forward reached out and carefully took hold of Iberis’s hand gripping his collar.

And pushed it away.

“Did you not say so before?”

Say what, exactly?

Iberis, who had been caught rather off guard by him pushing her away, opened her mouth, and the knight, who had grown gravely serious on his own, added quickly.

“You said I may cut off your arms and legs if you need it. That I may cut off what is mine and make it into a magical tool. Is it not enough if there is only physical contact? How could I dare, to Your Majesty.”

Sparks seemed ready to fly from Sirak’s eyes as he clenched his teeth.

Deep wounds, feelings that had to be suppressed, something like those seemed to swirl within him, or was that her imagination? The unfeeling emperor felt a pang of genuine sorrow.

Was that so? Had she been too indifferent?

“I cannot dare do this.”

And yet it was strange. He had occasionally shown her eyes full of longing, and yet here she had placed the opportunity plainly before him, and he refused. The sight of it twisted something in the sovereign.

How dare you refuse me.