Why Does That Person Keep Coming to Mind?
“Holy Knight, was it?”
“Yes.”
Sebastian bowed his head as he answered. It had to be true. He wasn’t the type to spout nonsense just to tease someone.
“Why on earth?”
The words slipped from my mouth, born of sheer incomprehension.
“I heard it’s to become stronger.”
“To become stronger?”
“Yes.”
“Isn’t she already training under the captain of the Solarion Knights?”
“That alone must not be enough.”
“Bart Ram is insufficient? Is there anyone in the Holy Knights who could surpass him these days?”
“Are you truly unaware, or are you just pretending not to know to avoid the topic?”
Sebastian fixed me with his gaze. Those steadfast eyes drew a heavy sigh from me.
“Don’t look at me like that. I know it too.”
It was embarrassing to admit it myself, but she probably couldn’t forget me. That’s why she was training with the sword. And it still wasn’t enough.
‘She’s aiming to join the Holy Knights altogether, to make it impossible.’
Holy Knights, along with all who devoted themselves to the divine, could not marry—man or woman alike. Dedicating one’s body to the god was akin to marriage with the divine, rendering human unions impossible.
Emir joining the Holy Knights. It was a way to reject the endless stream of marriage proposals flooding the family, and her ultimate means of forgetting me. By forcing marriage off the table, she could slowly let go of her lingering attachment.
‘That can’t happen.’
Why? In the end, she was cutting off any possibility of marriage herself. If she became a Holy Knight, no one could force her into wedlock, and I wouldn’t have to worry about entanglements with her either.
But my—no, Morris’s heart began to pound fiercely.
Thump-thump-thump-thump!
My heart raced, my circles vibrating. The thought of Emir leaving completely, vanishing forever, had my body in full revolt, demanding I stop it.
Damn it all.
‘Is this for real?’
I glared down at my defiant, pounding body, repeating the question inwardly. This body, with Morris’s lingering memories from the past, showed no intention of letting her go.
“I do not wish to see you agonize over abandoning love for political reasons, my lord.”
Sebastian interjected.
“It’s not just politics.”
“I know. The conflict in your heart is much like politics as well.”
“A conflict of the heart, you say.”
I suppose one could put it that way. But it wasn’t so simple. It was that because of her, I couldn’t be myself. That she sowed confusion in my very sense of identity. It couldn’t be summed up with a mere word like “love.”
Sebastian didn’t know my turmoil, so he could speak so casually.
“So, you won’t stop her?”
Thump-thump-thump!
My heart hammered wildly, as if warning me to stop her right now. If I didn’t, it seemed ready to give out.
‘However.’
Wasn’t that too selfish? Refusing marriage for my own personal and political reasons, only to approach a woman trying to forget me and disrupt the hard choice she’d made?
Thump-thump-thump!
My circles spun wildly, heedless of such concerns.
‘Damn it.’
I clutched my chest.
“My lord, are you all right?”
“I’m... fine...”
“Your complexion is poor, and your mana feels unstable.”
“I said I’m fine.”
I gritted my teeth, calming the mana shaking my body from my heart. After focusing intently, the mana that had been twisting violently, as if to tear me apart from within, finally settled.
“Hah, hah.”
Sweat beaded on my forehead. The ferocious heartbeat had subsided somewhat from its peak.
“Are you truly all right?”
“Yes.”
“I sensed it last time too, but whenever news of Lady Solarion arises, your mana wavers.”
“That’s not for you to worry about.”
“I am your butler, my lord. Your health falls under my purview.”
“I appreciate that, but not now.”
“Why not pay Lady Solarion a visit?”
“What are you implying?”
“You still seem to harbor lingering feelings for her. Perhaps go to her now and shake off that final attachment? Or...”
“Or go confess?”
“If that is your wish.”
Sebastian bowed respectfully. It was sincere advice born of concern for my condition. Even I could see I didn’t look well.
I glanced at the mirror on the wall. Cold sweat streaming from my hair, face flushed red as if about to burst from my pounding heart, ragged breaths, and eyes with unfocused pupils. I looked like a pitiful man shattered by news of his beloved devoting herself to the divine.
That must be why Sebastian said it.
“What a wretched sight.”
I looked so frail it burned my gut just to see it. My [Perfectionist] trait activated, wrinkling my nose in disgust—I had to appear perfect to others.
“Will you go to Lady Solarion and dissuade her?”
Sebastian asked.
The Grand Temple, situated right beside the Imperial Palace. In ages past, before magic’s dominance, this holy site housed the Pontiff, whose authority rivaled the emperor’s.
Now, with magic ascendant and imperial power bolstered, the divine authority had waned, the Pontiff’s influence visibly diminished. The miracles once called divine power had weakened too.
Yet as the saying goes, even a fallen noble house endures three years. The Pontiff remained one of the few the emperor couldn’t touch lightly. The empire’s state religion was the Monotheistic Church of the Supreme God, believed by nobles and even the emperor himself.
Before such a Grand Temple, Duke Solarion regarded Emir.
“Are you truly set on taking the test?”
“Yes.”
“However... a Holy Knight.”
“I know. But Father, I have no intention of marrying. My love... it’s been torn apart.”
Duke Solarion had witnessed his daughter’s pain from failed love time and again. Every servant had heard her stifled sobs. He knew it all stemmed from the broken engagement he’d orchestrated, yet as family head, he never admitted fault before her.
But hearing her renounce worldly joys for faith, he wrestled endlessly—should he confess everything?
Those who devoted to the divine forwent marriage and heirs. Even family legacies passed not to Holy Knights. Thus, it was typically the domain of noble youngest children, far from succession.
He’d broken the engagement yet loved and cherished Emir. He’d even prepared territories to bequeath her upon his death.
Why, then, would his daughter surrender to faith?
He mulled countless arguments to dissuade her, but what left his lips was formality alone.
“How can love alone define noble marriages?”
It was all his doing. With the secret proposals he’d relayed rejected by Morris Dmitry, he couldn’t promise the impossible.
He merely gazed at his daughter, calmly facing the temple.
“I’m sorry.”
Emir bowed her head. It was always thus. Whenever she trained to forget Morris, whenever she confronted her weakness, his protective silhouette rose in her mind.
He was strong. And... frustratingly dashing.
She recalled him saving her without question, when she’d fled to him.
She thought back to their first engagement.
‘Our first meeting was the worst.’
Arrogant, self-centered. He’d looked down on all, relying solely on his magical talent. The worst match.
His persistent advances, claiming he liked her, felt burdensome.
Then one day, he changed utterly. As if replaced, the selfish man began caring for those around him. No pointless pride. He immersed in magic.
From then, he no longer obsessed over her.
Emir hadn’t believed the sudden change in Morris. She thought it a facade to impress her.
But days turned to weeks, months. She accepted he’d transformed. Her heart stirred. Despite disliking him once, her gaze lingered, interest piqued. His magic-wielding research looked cool; his firm goals captivated her.
Then disaster struck. House Dmitry fell. Her father shattered the marriage, ending their bond.
She thought it over. Yet proposals from promising nobles—fine lineages, handsome faces, bright futures—all paled to Morris. He’d carved a place in her mind.
She met him again amid assassins sent by Seria Siegfried, her life in peril. He saved her, shone as an imperial mage in the civil war.
Then she realized.
‘I never forgot this man.’
The emotions she’d felt were love. That pull still tormented her.
Love blocked her path forward. So she chose Holy Knight.
Lest lingering thoughts make her forsake growing stronger. Lest she never escape Morris.
Thus, her choice.
“Hah.”
Duke Solarion sighed deeply at her resolute voice.
“Entry isn’t guaranteed. The priests are prickly, with rigorous selection. So...”
“It’s fine. Don’t worry.”
Emir was confident. She deemed herself qualified. Success certain.
“Go on, then. I must head to the palace.”
“Understood.”
Duke Solarion forced a smile, watching his daughter enter the temple.
“That concludes the faith interview.”
“Thank you for your efforts.”
The bishop, Holy Knights’ enlistment overseer, spoke. Emir exhaled in relief.
She’d proven her faith before three overseers. Their relaxed faces suggested passage.
“Now we’ll check if holy power suits you, if you resist it, and which holy relic resonates.”
“Yes.”
“If holy power fits your body, we’ll test fusion with a relic. Passing that equips you for enlistment.”
“Is that the end?”
The bishop shook his head at Emir’s question.
“Internal review follows. Finally, the Pontiff blesses your attuned relic; reaction decides.”
“Strict.”
“The path for divine seekers is thus. All may try, but few qualify.”
“Understood. Let’s begin.”
The bishop placed hands on Emir. Pure white holy power flowed through her. It softly enveloped her.
“Excellent. More than sufficient.”
Retracting the power, he produced a church relic.
“A sword blessed by the divine. Grip it.”
“What must I do?”
“Envision your image of the divine.”
“That’s all?”
“Yes. The relic will react.”
Emir nodded, grasping the sword. Eyes closed, she pondered.
‘My image of the divine.’
The divine was perfection incarnate. Omnipotent, forgiving. Appearing in crisis to save, comforting the lonely. Seemingly cruel only to threats against the faithful.
Amid these thoughts, in Emir’s mind rose Morris. Morris Dmitry.
Simultaneously, the relic blazed.
Fwoosh!
“Wh-what is this?”
Startled bishop’s voice; she opened her eyes. Dazzling light enveloped the sword, painful to behold.
“Truly remarkable! Light overflowing the chamber—unprecedented!”
The overseeing bishop exclaimed excitedly.
“We’ll proceed formally, but enlistment seems assured.”
“Is that so.”
“Expect good news.”
“Yes.”
Emir bowed impeccably, flawless. Yet unlike the beaming bishop, her expression darkened.
For good reason.
‘I came to forget, yet...’
Even proving holy power, Morris surfaced.
Exiting, she covered her face. Shame at envisioning Morris for the divine burned.
‘I’m insane. Truly mad.’
She must forget. Absolutely. Never think of Morris again.
Steeling herself, she lifted her head. Heading home, then—
‘A hallucination?’
A man like Morris stood at the temple entrance. Not illusion—truly Morris Dmitry.