The Embers of Darkness in Julie's Heart
A smoldering darkness clings to Julie's heart like embers from a dying fire.
It's the wicked impulse she desperately denied and rejected. The knightly duty she emphasized, vowing to live and die by the sword, burying the cursed emotions at the very bottom of her soul.
Julie dimly knows it all.
Even knowing, she deceived herself, pretending not to.
…Winters in Phairden always brought snow. The night winds were biting cold, and sleet assaulted the body like shattering blows.
Julie endured that bitter cold alone.
The daughter born a sinner, who killed her mother.
A remnant of bloodline with no qualification for the house, granted nothing.
Julie accepted her own utter meaninglessness.
At too young an age, she embraced a life of such worthlessness.
"…Julie. Will you try holding it?"
But on one piercing winter day.
The moment a sword was placed in her small hands.
The moment she felt the mana shimmering along its blade, the blue crystals blooming forth, and the mana drawing her in.
Julie realized.
If she had any value in existence, any reason to live, the one thing permitted to her as a Phairden.
It could only be this single sword.
"…It's a severe injury. You will never hold a sword again."
Thus, when she heard those words someday.
Julie's heart felt like it was shattering.
Her body trembled, consumed by resentment.
She regretted it dozens, hundreds of times a day.
She shouldn't have accepted Deculein's mission.
She shouldn't have protected him.
She should have abandoned him and fled.
It was all because of that man…
True emotions rising from the depths of humanity. Hatred with nowhere to go, long-fermenting grudges.
Yet Julie rejected them, denied them, and honed her sword. She blamed only herself.
Loading all faults onto herself was familiar.
She had lived that way until now, and would continue to.
"…A miracle. The wound in your dantian is healing. Of course, the curse remains, but if you avoid overusing mana, you can hold a sword again…"
Overcoming it was a miracle. On the day the family elder diagnosed her, Julie wore her brightest smile.
Zeit patted her back, praising her efforts, and Yuseffin silently embraced her.
Then Julie was certain.
Effort does not betray.
No, the sword does not betray me.
The dream granted to me still walks beside me.
"…Julie. The Yukline family is considering your engagement to Deculein. It's a good opportunity—think it over carefully."
In the days continuing her swordsmanship, on a clear spring day, Deculein appeared again.
Zeit called it a fine chance, and the elders pushed her forward.
Julie searched her heart. She thought of the man she had once resented.
But she could not refuse.
Zeit wanted it. Phairden wanted it.
For the first time, the house said, "We need you."
"…No more dangerous missions. Leave the Imperial Knights. I'll give you command of the Hadekan Knights. Build a record there for about three years, then live with me."
At the engagement meeting, Deculein demanded.
Quit the knights, live for your partner. Then he would give her everything.
Julie refused.
She had no choice.
Asking her to set aside her sword was no different from telling her to die.
"…Julie, withdraw from this mission. It's dangerous. Your fiancé will come looking again."
After that, Deculein bound her. He called it love while tightening a noose around her neck. He isolated her thoroughly so no knight could approach, excluding her from perilous tasks.
In the end.
"…Julie's quitting? Good. No point staying and making us suffer."
"Exactly. Finally, live like a proper lady. Hadekan's great, right? That resort…"
She lost her dream a second time.
Then, she could not help resenting. She could not forget that first time. She had no choice but to murmur it aloud.
…I should have let you die.
Emotions layered over long years.
Grudges sedimented endlessly, hardening deep into the earth's crust of resentment.
A ill-fated tie twisted from the very first button.
—But.
"I did such things to you."
…Returning to reality, Julie gazes at Igiris.
He claims that 'beginning' was all his doing, correcting the root of their tangled ill fate, then gently closes his eyes.
"From here, your world appears hazy. Everything feels distant. Even gaining this clear mind feels like less than a year ago."
The boundary between this world and the next. A place where souls unable to fully die wander.
For a knight, clinging so tenaciously to such a crevice must be dishonor itself.
"Julie. I, who told knights not to cling to regrets, became a ghost haunting the palace with lingering attachments."
Igiris tilts his face sideways. He murmurs like a sigh.
"But my regret was not resentment over my death—it was shame over my life."
Whoosh—
A faint wind stirs the candle on the wooden table.
"Back then, I was obsessed with what I thought was right. I believed I had to stop Dikailen's plan, and used you for it."
Julie's body does not move. Like wax hardened, unable to think or act…
"Deculein knew that too."
"…"
Julie blankly lifts her eyes. Hot breath gathers in her throat.
Igiris, meanwhile, lowers his face.
"Yet Deculein never told you."
Igiris knows.
Why Deculein seeks Julie's hatred.
Why Julie's healing manifests as loathing.
Watching him from here, he realized it.
"He simply wanted to save you."
"…"
"Julie. You possess a special power. You may not know it, but your emotions control it. You bear the Phairden bloodline thicker than any in our house."
The lord of winter, Phairden.
Just as Yukline writhes with demons and Ilayde with ambition, Phairden too has its 'proof of bloodline'.
"When you hate or loathe someone, your mana turns cold. Cold enough to freeze the world."
That frigid mana now grips the curse swirling in her veins. It sustains her life.
"Knowing that, Deculein demanded your hatred. Wishing for you to live."
Suddenly, the candle flame flares wildly.
"…Enduring becoming the object of hatred from the one he loves, accepting the pain of wounding you, that is how Deculein has lived."
The spark reflects in Julie's pupils. Shadows waver.
"With only the wish that you live."
"…"
Her body sags powerlessly.
It feels like suddenly plunging into the sea.
"Julie. I am ashamed of myself. And you shame me too."
Igiris speaks of shame.
In that moment, something surges wildly within Julie.
Whether tears or rage, she cannot tell—
"…Father."
Julie murmurs, clenching her fist.
"Did Father never, not once, love me?"
Igiris does not avoid Julie's glaring eyes. He meets them squarely and says.
"Yes. I always resented you. You who killed my wife."
Julie's breath stops.
Her lips tremble.
A hollow laugh escapes.
Her heart feels like crumbling.
"You should never have been born."
All those piled emotions over long years, the thick crust of time, in an instant…
So futilely.
"…Ah."
Julie blankly looks up at Igiris. A single clear tear trails down. She grinds her teeth, groaning.
"But why… you."
She grips the sword at her waist. Glaring at her father with a twisted face.
Thud—!
Julie topples the chair rising. She draws her own sword.
Sneering at her, Igiris says.
"Because it was not I who wanted it, but your mother. The mother you killed."
"…!"
Then, boiling rage incinerates reason. Her eyes bulge bloodshot. The world dyes crimson.
She raises her sword high.
"———!"
She unleashes a beastly scream unwittingly, toward her father lingering as a ghost…
"…Why hesitate."
She cannot strike. The blade hangs in air, tip quivering like paper.
Julie bows her head, tears falling. Blood drips from bitten lips.
"I know… it's a lie."
Igiris frowns.
"A lie? Foolish child. When did I ever—"
"Even if not a lie, I'll deem it one. Or else… I cannot…"
Thud—!
In a flash, the sound of a cane striking the floor.
The precarious tension calms instantly. Julie and Igiris turn simultaneously.
"…Deculein."
Igiris murmurs lowly.
Julie's doll-like face, smeared with blood and tears.
Deculein looks between them, shaking his head.
"Cease this. It is over."
He approaches slowly, lowering the sword in Julie's hand. He embraces her staggering form.
"Julie will not harm you. That is not Julie. You know this."
"…"
Igiris exhales wordlessly.
In the candlelit room amid shadows, crimson shade falls across his face.
"…Hmph. What a tangled fate."
In the cramped room of the old mansion.
Sophien watches Deculein and Julie now. Another Deculein—the 'professor in memory'—projects the scene through the crystal orb.
"Professor. Are you not disappointed? Deculein is with Julie."
Sophien asks not-Deculein. The professor replies calmly.
"It is his due."
"I am disappointed."
Sophien shakes her head. Her chest feels needlessly tangled.
"They seem to end up together."
"They cannot. Your Majesty knows this."
"…"
Deculein loves Julie.
Yet he always keeps his word. The ending Deculein promised was broken engagement and parting.
Thus, those two are fated never to join.
"The sun will rise soon."
"Yes."
Sophien looks out the window. Dawn slowly breaks.
She asks the professor.
"What will you do now?"
He turns to the emperor.
"As I said, I am memory. Now, Your Majesty's decision is needed."
"…Decision?"
"Yes."
The professor points to Deculein in the crystal orb.
"If I meet that Deculein there, our memories will merge. The memories I shared with Your Majesty in the Devil's Mirror—he will have them too."
"…"
Suddenly, Sophien's eyes widen. An uncharacteristic emotion ripples within.
"But what becomes of the Deculein who remembers, I do not fully know."
"…That is my decision?"
"Yes. As your subject, I follow Your Majesty's will."
The professor says.
Yet his gaze clings to Julie in the orb.
"Hey."
Sophien nudges his shoulder.
The professor clears his throat—ahem—and turns to her.
"Thus, it is Your Majesty's decision now. Do you wish me to unite with you? Or…"
It was then.
————!
A roar shakes everywhere; windows shatter. The ceiling groans—crunch—and collapses.
"You've come all this way. The Altar scum."
Sophien smiles. The professor nods silently.
"I see."
"But continue speaking."
Sophien cracks her neck—pop.
She is no powerless emperor to submit meekly. She will not play the cripple under protection.
Rather, having diligently trained in magic and swordplay, Sophien now wonders at her own realm.
"Professor, if you merge with that Deculein, what happens?"
The professor preheats his mana. Facing the external threat, he says.
"Likely, death."
Death.
At that word, Sophien's face hardens. But Deculein remains serene.
"Explain in detail. What do you mean by death…"
Kwaaaaaang——!
The room's wall crumbles entirely.
The Altar horde surges in like waves.