There were countless people, but Daphne was nowhere to be found.

Daphne didn’t come.

“……”

As if it were a lie, his heart settled.

At last, the man closed his eyes with a peaceful expression.

“Do you have any final words?”

The executioner standing beside him asked. It was a formality, part of the procedure to hear a condemned man’s last statement.

At the sound of his voice, Oswald slowly opened his eyes.

“Hah…”

A faint laugh slipped out, only to be scattered by the wind.

Final words…

He slowly shook his head.

There was nothing left to say.

The shade disappeared, and the sun emerged once more. With no choice, he lowered his head and stared at the ground.

But now, he no longer needed the shade.

On the wooden platform, his shadow—bound to the chair—stretched dark and long.

The sun was too hot.

So unbearably hot that—

After he gave a small shake of his head and said nothing at all, the executioner gestured.

The sniper raised the rifle.

“We will begin the execution.”

The murmuring of the crowd subsided.

Oswald lifted his head as well and fixed his gaze on the sniper.

Two figures stood beneath the shade.

The person beside the sniper folded their fingers, counting down the length of his remaining life.

Ten.
Nine.
Eight.
Seven…

In a pitch-dark space, Daphne—hands trembling violently—slid a bullet into the chamber.

To think that this would be the final use of the gun she had brought with her from Phozmeri after killing Douglas.

She loaded the single remaining round and closed the cylinder.

Click.

The sound of metal locking neatly into place echoed.

Outside, the noise was growing louder.

Oswald’s execution was only moments away.

“Hurry… hurry.”

Clack—when she pulled the slide, the unmistakable sound of chambering rang out.

She pressed the slender barrel to her temple and hooked her finger around the trigger.

No matter how long she had agonized before making the decision, fear always rose before death.

She inhaled. Exhaled. Again and again.

Her hands wouldn’t stop trembling.

Six.
Five.
Four…

Watching the executioner’s fingers fold down, Oswald weakly closed his eyes. Beneath his ears, the sound of his own breathing rang unnaturally loud.

For the last time, he thought of Daphne’s face.

Daphne, this is something I didn’t have the courage to say.

Thank you.

For loving me sincerely, and for making such a brave decision in my stead.

I should have gathered my courage. I should have told you thank you. Never in my life have I wanted to convey my sincerity as desperately as I do now. But my feelings will never reach you. I think that, too, is a punishment I must accept.

I hope you won’t let my death break your heart. If you suffer, then it will truly be unbearable for me. Please forgive me.

If one day I meet you again in heaven, I will gladly become your servant. I will be your subordinate, your captive.

Oswald smiled.

Three.
Two.
One—

Bang!

The gunshot rang out, and his world went dark.

***

Third Life.
Daphne’s Last Day.

After killing Douglas, Daphne went into hiding, eventually settling in a small, rural chapel. This was not far from the town where she had spent her childhood.

The region was slightly warmer than other parts of Astasha. The sun lingered longer here, and, above all, she found the snow-covered mountains most beautiful.

But now, they held no meaning for her.

As dusk drew near, Daphne came downstairs and looked around the chapel.

War had swept through this place. Following a bombing raid, the area had been left in ruins. Even though Astasha was the victorious nation, it could not escape the scars left by the war.

Everyone had abandoned the village, moving on to new places of refuge. With Astasha celebrating its victory, there was no reason to remain in such a heavily damaged region.

The only people left in the chapel were Daphne, a few priests and elderly people who struggled to move, as well as children who had lost their parents.

They survived on supplies distributed by the government.

Daphne took care of the elderly, carrying supplies without complaint whenever they arrived. She lived out her days one after another.

At a crude sink farther inside, she splashed cold water lightly over her face. The chill quickly numbed her hands.

“Daphne.”

“Father Boris.”

Turning around as she wiped her wet face with her sleeve, she saw the elderly priest standing there with a benevolent smile. In his hand was a single flower.

The priest stepped closer and held the flower out to her. In her palm, she could feel a small yet resilient vitality.

“A flower?”

“In this cold winter, on this barren land, a flower bloomed. If you go behind the chapel, there are a few more. This one had fallen to the ground, so I picked it up. I thought you might like it.”

“…Thank you.”

Daphne gave a faint smile and looked down at the flower in her hand. It was violet, its petals thin and soft. It looked so fragile it might crumble at a touch yet somehow it had bloomed in the middle of winter.

She brought it close and breathed in. A gentle fragrance reached her nose.

“Scents linger longer and deeper in memory.”

Daphne smiled at his words. The priest studied her quietly for a moment, then continued.

“It’s cold today. Would you like to offer your prayers inside the chapel?”

At the kindly suggestion, she shook her head.

“I’m more comfortable outside. There are many people inside who need a place to pray.”

“I see. You’ve always disliked being interrupted. Then I’ll see you later.”

“Yes. Thank you for your concern, Father.”

Daphne offered a light bow and turned away. As she’d said, she meant to finish her prayers before the sun set.

“Daphne.”

The priest called out to her from behind, stopping her in place.

When Daphne turned around, Father Boris was still watching her with the same gentle smile.

“It may sound belated, but the priest’s robe suits you very well.”

“……”

“When I first saw you, it was painfully clear that your soul was shattered.”

“……”

“But now… it seems as though you’re slowly getting better.”

“That’s thanks to everyone here…”

“Yes. Go on, then. The sun will be setting soon.”

When she stepped outside, she could feel the cold air brushing against her cheeks.

Beyond, the scenery was bleak. What had once been a beautiful garden was now nothing but rows of yellowing, withered flowerbeds.

As she always did, Daphne walked towards the statue.

It was a statue of the V*rgin Mary, her hands folded as she gazed towards the heavens in prayer. There were small cracks and chips here and there, but its form remained largely intact.

Daphne placed the flower that Father Boris had given her at its feet, then knelt down carefully. The cold wind seeped through her black priest’s robe, but she no longer paid it any mind.

She clasped her hands more tightly.

‘Please let me meet that man again someday. Even if it’s just before death, just for a fleeting moment. Someday, please give me the chance to tell him that I truly loved him. That I did not betray him. That everything I did was for my love…’

She let out a small breath. She held her fingers near her mouth and felt the warm air touch them.

As always, the statue remained silent.

After finishing her prayer, Daphne rose from her knees. Dust clung to her black clothes here and there. Just as she brushed it away, she sensed someone behind her.

Turning around, she saw a face that took her by surprise.

“Oswald?”

The man’s face was devoid of expression.

Daphne blinked.

Had God answered her prayer? But it was far too soon. The timing was wrong.

“Have you been well, Daphne?”

This wasn’t a dream.

Daphne slowly stepped backward.

There was only one reason he would have come here.

“How… did you find me?”

“It took some effort.”

Despite the ominous premonition rising in her chest, a shameless yearning threatened to surface. She forced it down with all her strength.

She had already come too far back.

She and he still stood on opposing sides.

Her prayer had been answered, but too quickly. This was not the moment she had wished for.

“…Are you here to kill me?”

“There’s something I want to ask.”

Daphne clenched her fist tightly. She already knew what question was coming.

“Did you really kill Commander Douglas?”