Chapter 11
Chapter 11
The Ill-Fated Relationship Between Roze and Sylvia
Looking back, it had already been seventy years.
Since the day Solomon died—
“You’re a commoner, so you can’t understand the heart of a noble! As a noble, I have to fight for my country!”
“You know this already, but I’m not from this world. I came from another world called Earth. The Aurelia Kingdom isn’t my homeland.”
“Good, then. So it doesn’t matter to you whether it falls or not, right? Then just leave! It was absurd from the start that someone like you—a commoner—was my guard knight!”
“But… you’re someone precious to me. At the very least, I want to protect you. Because I…”
“Hmph. You don’t understand anything. I have to go to the battlefield. I have to fight until I die! So just disappear! I don’t even want to see your face!”
That was the last conversation she had with Solomon.
Roze replayed those words thousands, tens of thousands of times.
Why had she said such things back then?
—She had to fight for her country.
Yes, that was true.
There was no greater honor than dying while protecting one’s homeland.
That was how she had been raised.
At the time, she truly intended to die for her country.
She had even been intoxicated by that resolve.
—She didn’t want Solomon to die.
Yes, that too was true.
Fighting against a million demons was a battle with no chance of victory.
The kingdom only expected her to buy time.
She didn’t want to drag Solomon into a battlefield where death was certain.
—But was that all?
No.
Roze had been afraid.
Even in that final moment, she lacked confidence.
Confidence that Solomon truly loved her.
Her low self-esteem was a chronic affliction.
All nobles undergo an evaluation of their magical aptitude at birth.
The so-called crystal ceremony.
When a child places their hand on a specially treated crystal orb, their magical talent is revealed.
But at the ceremony, held proudly before gathered relatives—
Roze showed no reaction at all.
The crystal remained unchanged.
In other words, she had no magical talent.
“A noble who can’t use magic?”
“How is that possible?”
“Magic talent is hereditary.”
“If the parents are mages, the child should be too.”
“Then isn’t this…?”
“A cuckoo’s child.”
Those words—
“cuckoo’s child”—
became a deep trauma for Roze.
Her mother, Bleure, had been a commoner.
She had been recognized for her genius swordsmanship and chosen as her father Laurens’ guard knight, eventually marrying him.
But the label of “commoner” followed her forever.
A child born of a commoner mother, unable to use magic.
If the father was truly a mage, how could the child lack magic?
Did that mean the father was also a commoner?
Was Roze an illegitimate child born from an affair?
If that were true, she wasn’t even a Count’s daughter—
just an outsider living in someone else’s house.
“That must be it. Otherwise, there’s no explanation.”
“Even Count Laurens keeps his distance from her.”
“He must suspect something too.”
“Will Miss Roze even be allowed into the academy?”
“It’s possible she’ll be rejected.”
“She doesn’t even have a guard knight…”
“If she’s rejected, she might even be thrown out of the house.”
Relatives, acquaintances, even servants whispered such things.
The possibility that she wasn’t a true noble crushed her self-esteem.
So she created a mask.
A cold, harsh personality.
The armor people called “tsundere.”
Behind it—
was a fragile, easily broken heart.
Like creating reasons to be hated before others could hate her.
That ugly truth made her reject Solomon’s sincerity until the very end.
Maybe he doesn’t actually like me.
Maybe… I don’t like him that much either.
We’re not even in a relationship.
He’s from another world—we could never be together anyway.
So—
so—
so—
“Go live like a dog without pride! That suits you!”
That’s why she acted cold.
That’s why she pushed him away.
That’s why she drove him out without hesitation.
“…Alright, Roze. This is goodbye.”
Watching his back as he walked away,
she had felt a strange sense of relief.
“This is right… this is the right choice.”
After just a small argument, he turned away with a frown.
That was all their relationship had been.
Roze convinced herself of that and tried to sleep, preparing for the battle the next day.
“He didn’t even like me that much anyway. That’s why he left. I don’t like him either. It’s fine… it’s fine…”
Even as she said that,
her tears wouldn’t stop.
The pain of parting, the burden of a battle destined for death, and regret for the past all weighed on her.
Eventually, exhaustion overtook her.
She fell into what might have been her final sleep.
And then—
she overslept.
No one woke her, even past noon.
That was strange.
She was supposed to depart for the battlefield at dawn.
“…What?”
Cheers woke her.
When she stepped outside, countless people were celebrating.
“Solomon defeated the demons!”
“He killed their commanders! The demons are retreating!”
“We survived!”
“A toast to Solomon’s soul!”
Roze couldn’t understand.
Solomon defeated the demons?
She found Evangelin and Sylvia, who had stayed behind for support.
“Solomon is dead.”
Those were Evangelin’s first words.
“He came to me yesterday and asked me to tell you this: ‘I liked you very much. Please live a long life.’”
“That’s a lie…”
She refused to believe it.
Solomon wasn’t the type to die for a country.
“He didn’t die for the country. He died for you.”
“Then why is he dead if he won?”
“He didn’t win. He inflicted enough damage to force the demons to retreat… and died in the process. Do you want to see his body?”
She had to see it herself.
At the Darta Plains, where the battle took place—
Roze collapsed.
Among countless demon corpses,
there was what remained of Solomon.
His body was mutilated beyond recognition.
Limbs severed.
Nose crushed.
Eyes gouged out.
Tendons torn.
There wasn’t a single intact part left.
“Ah… So-Solomon… Solomon… Aaaah!!! Is this really you?! It’s not, right?! It can’t be! You’re so strong! There’s no way you died to demons! This isn’t you! You’re handsome—there’s no way you’d die like this…!”
Then—
she saw it.
The pendant around his neck.
Inside it—
was a picture of her, smiling.
He had carried her to the very end.
That truth shattered her completely.
“You died for me…? Solomon… you died for me? If only I had been honest… if only I treated you better! I love you. I loved you from the very beginning. You shouldn’t have died—I should have! I should have died!!”
“Solomon died for the country.”
Sylvia suddenly interrupted.
Roze slowly turned her head.
“…What did you say?”
“There’s no need to cry, Count. He was just a commoner. He’s probably happy now—he saved the country with his life.”
“…You knew Solomon?”
“Yes. We knew each other since we were slaves. Her Majesty might even grant him a noble title posthumously. In that sense, he succeeded. You should be happy for him.”
“…Shut your mouth. Unless you want to die.”
From that moment—
though Sylvia herself did not remember it—
Roze began to hate her from the depths of her soul.