Chapter 1 Part 1

The thick fog that had blanketed the harbor finally lifted.

And as it vanished, the figures of humans and spirits, standing in formation as if in a standoff, emerged from the mist.

A radiant light poured down upon them, as though to bless their reunion after centuries apart.

At the front of the spirit delegation stood Abel.

She stared at the thinning fog around her feet and took a deep breath.

Today’s meeting was more important than anything else—

A peace treaty had to be signed to ensure that war would never again break out during their stay in the human realm.

And it had to be done by her own hand.

You can do this.

At last, the fog was completely gone.

Lifting her head carefully, she did not offer the formal greeting she had prepared—instead, her brow furrowed at once.

Across from her stood a towering man, staring at her in a daze.

He looked like a soldier who had just come out of battle—rough and disheveled—

But his features were carved with such precision it was as if a sculptor had poured all their soul into crafting him.

Golden eyes gleamed beneath thick black hair, glinting like pieces of twilight itself.

Yet more than his striking appearance or piercing gaze, what unsettled her most were the tears running down his cheeks.

To some, they may have seemed like nothing but dry, indifferent tears—

But to her, they meant something different.

The moment she saw him cry, Abel felt a wave of overwhelming shame and unnamed emotion rise like bile in her throat.

Who is he…?

Though Abel was a half-spirit, her memories of living among humans had long since been erased.

Even if she couldn’t remember, her heart clearly recognized something.

There had once been a connection between them.

But—

So what?

According to her father, she had begged to have her memories erased, sobbing in pain.

Whoever this man was, their relationship could not have been a good one.

The shock hit her like a bucket of ice water poured over her head, bringing her mind back into sharp focus.

Behind her stood the spirit delegation and the ships they had arrived on—the first spirits to visit the human world in centuries.

She was their representative.

She could not allow confusion or sentiment to jeopardize the mission.

Steeling herself, she ignored the man’s tears, straightened her posture, and extended a hand.

“I am Abel Gloinmus. It’s an honor to finally meet you.”

To hide the whirlwind of emotion inside her, Abel forced every ounce of strength into drawing a polite smile.

The man’s eyes followed her—from her small hand up to the corner of her lips.

But the moment their eyes met, his gaze narrowed like a reptile’s.

He didn’t return her greeting.

Instead, the silence around them thickened with cold tension.

Then—

A whisper, barely audible, broke the heavy quiet.

“Abel Gloinmus?”

He spat out her name like venom, a faint sneer clinging to the edge of his mouth.

At that, even Abel couldn’t maintain her composure.

She prepared to reprimand him for his rudeness, intending to assert formality and demand respect—

But before she could speak, her wrist was seized.

Without a chance to escape, she was suddenly pulled into his arms.

His hot breath grazed her neck, and his sharp nose buried itself deep in her silver hair.

A chill spread over her skin, yet at the same time—

There was something unnervingly familiar about the way he held her.

It felt like a gesture repeated hundreds of times before.

With a deep exhale, his large hand traced the curve of her back, cradling the base of her wings.

His grip was firm, almost suffocating—but his hand trembled faintly.

The feel of his calloused palm through her clothes snapped her back to herself.

“What are you… Let go of me!”

She shoved at his chest and shoulders, but he didn’t budge.

Behind her, the sharp-eared spirits of the delegation had already drawn their blades.

Their ears trembled in outrage, interpreting the man’s behavior as a blatant insult to the delegation.

Abel clenched her teeth.

If she let this spiral further, she’d be deemed incompetent, a failed envoy.

Gathering all her strength, she twisted her body—just enough to create a gap between them.

She was still in his arms, but it was space enough to reach the dagger at her hip.

She drew the palm-length blade and pressed it against his neck, whispering coldly:

“I understand now. You must be the master of this place.”

Even a passerby could tell—this man was the leader of the human side.

The hushed tension of those around them, the arrogance in his gaze—it all confirmed it.

And yet, as she stared into his eyes, a sharp pain pierced her chest.

Startled by the unfamiliar sensation, Abel tightened her grip on the blade.

“Then at least show a minimum of respect before the delegation.”

“……”

“You don’t want a war… do you?”

Even with the tip of her blade pressed to his chin, he showed no sign of listening.

Desperate to regain control of the situation, Abel suddenly recalled his name—

Scrawled in rough handwriting on the carrier pigeon’s scroll…

“…Lord Alexander Bergritz.”

That seemed to work.

The shadow veiling his golden eyes beneath his dark hair began to lift.

Just hearing his name had struck something in him—his expression looked as if he’d been slashed with the very blade.

Relieved that he seemed to be listening now, Abel began to lower the dagger—

—until he tilted his head, as if to kiss her.

“Lord Bergritz!”

Her voice came out almost as a scream as she quickly turned her head away.

But she couldn’t escape his grip, and his lips brushed her cheek.

The warmth of his breath against her skin burned vividly.

He let out a faint sigh, as if this was enough—or perhaps not nearly enough—

pressing his lips down harder.

What he was doing now was closer to pinning her in place.

The blade grazed his neck.

It only barely cut him, but blood welled up along the split skin,

trickling down in jagged lines like a mountain ridge turned inside out.

Abel stared blankly at the blood when a low voice rang in her ear.

“You.”

He smiled through a strained brow, seemingly unfazed.

It was a stifled smile—chilling in its repression.

“Call me Alexander. That’s my name. You are…”

Then he whispered a name.

It wasn’t hers.

Had he mistaken her for someone else?

Stunned, she didn’t even react as he tilted his head again, as if seeking her lips.

Their breath was about to touch when—

“Enough!”

Suddenly, Abel and Alexander were torn apart.

Someone had shoved Alexander’s shoulder forcefully.

It happened in the moment he had relaxed his hold as if trying to soothe her.

The one who came between them was Johannes—

One of the few gentle spirits, and Abel’s fiancé.

Holding Abel’s shaking shoulders, Johannes asked, unable to hide his anger,

“Abel, are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Really, I am.”

Abel quickly composed her expression and straightened her posture.

Johannes glanced at the dagger still in her hand and whispered shortly, “That’s a relief.”

Then he fixed his icy gaze on Alexander.

His blue eyes were cold.

“If that man really is Alexander Bergritz…”

“……”

“Then he’s the same bastard who used a dragon to threaten the spirits.”

The very reason the spirits had revealed themselves again was because Alexander had stirred the soul of a dragon that remained in the human world.

Dragons were sacred beings connected to the World Tree—

And the World Tree was the pillar that supported the spirit realm.

If the dragon’s soul was shaken, the spirit world would inevitably be disturbed as well.

How Alexander had come to know this was unclear,

but he had attempted to use the dragon to forcibly open the gates to the spirit realm.

It was nothing short of a declaration of war.

In response, the Spirit King had sent a delegation to the human world in hopes of forging a peace treaty.

But relations between the two races had long been severed—

They were like a powder keg on the verge of exploding.

And Alexander’s actions had been akin to lighting the fuse.

“Does he really want a war?”

A trace of contempt flickered through Johannes’s growling, blue eyes.

“Calm down.”

Abel grabbed his arm, sensing he was on the verge of drawing his sword.

“Johannes, you and I—and every spirit here—already expected he’d be unhinged. Our goal is to retrieve the dragon safely and finish the peace treaty.”

“If you want to finish it, then you mustn’t be swayed, Abel.”

His concerned gaze briefly swept her cheek.

He spoke quietly.

“And… it seems that man already knows you.”

“He clearly does. But what matters right now is whether or not we can complete the treaty safely.”

Abel gave a bitter smile.

She lowered her gaze for a moment, then looked up at him again.

“Johannes. I know you’re worried. After all, half of my blood is human.”

“Abel…”

“Just this once—trust me. Because I’m half human… this is something only I can do.”

In truth, Abel didn’t believe that her heritage would be much help in securing the peace treaty—

But she pushed forward regardless. This negotiation was her golden opportunity to be recognized by the spirits.

The spirit realm viewed half-humans—like herself—with deep suspicion.

To truly be accepted among them, she had to succeed in this treaty. Steeling her gaze, Abel looked directly at Johannes.

He, meeting her eyes, rolled his own with exasperation.

“Does that sound like just advice to you?”

His brows, twisted with frustration, had begun to flush red.

“I’m a man too, Abel. You—”

“Let go.”

It wasn’t Abel who spoke.

The voice came from Alexander, who now stood between them, casting a large shadow.

His expression was disturbingly blank, but his eyes burned with fierce, murderous intent.

The tears had long since dried.

With blood still streaked across his neck and his golden irises blazing,

he looked like a beast that had just torn out its prey’s guts.

He reached out slowly.

And Abel instinctively knew—if left unchecked, he would twist Johannes’s arm and break it.

“Lord Bergritz.”

The moment she called his name, he froze—

Like a trained hound instantly obeying its master’s command.

His gaze landed on her again, and she found herself breathless once more.

She took a deep breath and shifted her thoughts.

No matter what they’d been to each other in the past, if she could use that connection now, it might work to her advantage in the negotiation.

“Perhaps I should reintroduce myself. I am—”

“You keep pretending you don’t know me.”

“……”

“I know better than anyone—you’re no good at acting.”

His voice was terribly polite, which only made it feel all the more threatening.

“Have you lost your memory?”

He smiled faintly, as if urging her for an answer.

“I only ask because you seem not to recognize me.”

“My lord, I’m under no obligation to answer personal questions. And right now, I must focus on the treaty—”

“So you did forget me.”

Alexander’s voice cut coldly through hers. His gaze shifted to Johannes.

“And who is this man?”

He gestured with his chin, as though pointing at a worm.

“Ah—no, I don’t care who he is. What is he to you?”

“…His name is Johannes. He is my fiancé and the commander of the delegation’s guard. So I ask that you show some respect—”

The tendons in Alexander’s neck and jaw strained visibly.

He looked ready to pounce, but restrained himself— as if she were holding tightly to the reins looped around his throat. His head tilted slowly toward her.

“Do you love him?”

His voice was cracked and heavy, and his eyes burned with something close to desperation.

Abel firmly motioned for Johannes to stay back, then took a deep breath and parted her lips.

“My lord, allow me to ask in return. Were we… ever in such a relationship that we could speak of love?”

His eyes widened.

Across his finely sculpted face, a storm of emotions flashed—resentment, pain, deep regret—

and finally, a burst of trembling joy that looked as though it would shatter him.

It was an unfiltered flood of feeling.

“You…”

Before Johannes could react, Alexander suddenly dropped to one knee.

The black cape on his shoulders spilled across the ground like spilled ink.

He took her left hand gently, traced his thumb over the back of it,

and brought it to his lips.

Then, with a long exhale, he moved to her ring finger—

and kissed the spot where a ring should have been, as if to remind her of something missing.

“You were my one and only mate.”

His whisper scattered between her fingers.

“And your name… is not Abel.”

Alexander Bergritz looked up, smiling faintly through a haze of grief.

“You are—

Melissa.”

Melissa.

“‘Melissa Gallandia.’That is your name”, he added softly.