Dawn's Permission
The journey from Hessen Palace to Lenz took a full four days by train. On foot, it would have taken at least a fortnight. Even on horseback or in a carriage, a week was the bare minimum. Elizabeth headed first for the nearest platform to catch a train bound for Lenz. The path to the platform was blocked by a serene, deep forest known as the Black Forest. Without hesitation, she stepped into its depths.
The forest was quieter than expected, the grass yielding softly underfoot. In the distance, she heard the sound of running water. Following it led her to a small lake nestled among the trees. Sunlight shattered across its clear, transparent surface, illuminating the sand and pebbles glittering below. Elizabeth paused at the water's edge. Calming her breath to the ripple of the lake, she thought that while magic could cleanse her, nature's touch felt better right now.
She removed her ring, mantle, and clothes one by one, folding them neatly on a rock. Dipping her feet in, cool water seeped between her toes. She took a deep breath, then slowly immersed herself. The chill enveloped her skin like an embrace, and she cupped the water in her hands, carefully washing her body. As if rinsing away the emotions that had clung to her—anger, pain, confusion—all of it.
Emerging from the water, she washed her face, then brushed back her wet hair and stepped onto the shore. “….” Gazing at her reflection in the lake's surface, she gently touched the corners of her eyes. The gaze that had returned to its original gray was free of the Omangseong Blessing's traces. Elizabeth closed her eyes and reached for the power slumbering deep within. When she opened them again, the Omangseong flickered back to life—a faint, precarious glow that seemed ready to snuff out at any moment.
‘So that's how it is.’ She shook her head once and tucked the Omangseong away again. This power consumed an unbearable amount of stamina. It wasn't something to draw upon in ordinary moments.
She soaked the neatly folded clothes from the rock in the water and washed them. Wetting the shirt, she wrung it out like a twist of dough with her wrist's strength. As she picked up the mantle to wash it next, an odd sense of familiarity washed over her.
“….It's like new?”
The mantle had clearly been scorched by the emperor's flame magic, torn by blades, riddled with holes. Yet now it looked pristine, as if freshly received.
“It's a mantle woven from darkness and starlight.”
A familiar voice echoed from the ring. It was Oblivius.
“Nothing in this world can destroy it. Even if damaged, it repairs itself by nightfall.”
Elizabeth slowly unfurled the mantle. No matter how she looked, there were no traces. No rips, no burns. Just the serene shimmer of patterns blending black sky and starlight.
“People called that mantle the Night Sky. It's quite the coveted item.” Oblivius continued excitedly. “Self-repairing, it glides through the air. It has an ego for combat support, fits in subspace… and it's popular with my worshippers too.”
“….Worshippers?”
“Yes, those who follow me. I'll send them to you someday. Kill the Ten Demon Lords with them.”
Elizabeth draped the Night Sky over her shoulders without reply. The wet fabric clung to her body but began drying as if by magic. The sparkling star patterns flowed down from her shoulders like rivulets.
“Got it.”
She murmured quietly. There was no sincerity in it—just a perfunctory acceptance to avoid dampening his enthusiasm. She walked on. With the Night Sky draped over her shoulders, she resumed her path through the Black Forest. The woods fell silent once more, the lake left behind.
After leaving the lake and traversing the forest, Elizabeth walked through the night. Emerging from the woods, the path flattened out, and beyond the hills, the faint flicker of the railway platform's lanterns appeared. It was dawn. The sun lingered below the horizon, the sky quietly brightening at the border of navy and gray.
The platform was deserted. The tracks stood empty, the ticket office shuttered. Elizabeth gazed at the rails for a moment, then sat on a bench to catch her breath and opened the Night Sky.
“Four hours until the train…. ”
She murmured, staring at the dimming sky. Oblivius didn't respond. Only this dawn silence enveloped her.
And then.
Footsteps approached. She first mistook them for wind. But they grew nearer. Elizabeth looked up.
And saw him.
Leo. He was like an old shadow. Worn guilt, hidden compassion, unspoken love—all taking the form of one man, drawing near.
Elizabeth didn't run or cry out. She simply rose quietly and gazed at him. Holding her breath, suppressing the storm within. She let the Night Sky fall. The mantle vanished—tucked into subspace.
Soon, it seemed Leo spotted her. He paused, looked at her, then strode forward and enveloped her in a fierce embrace.
Elizabeth surrendered to the longed-for warmth. Wrapping her arms around his waist, sharing their body heat.
“Where have you been….” His voice trembled. Not his usual steadfast tone. A fragile, insecure voice she'd never heard before.
“Dad was so worried… right? Where did you go?”
Leo stroked and rubbed her cheek. Gentle, warm touch—Elizabeth felt tears welling.
“….I'm sorry.”
“If you were leaving, you should've gone with Dad. Leaving just a note and heading to that dangerous place….”
“Is the capital that dangerous?”
“Well… politically unstable, you know? Worried something might happen….”
She wouldn't have known before. But now she could tell. His feigned concern, the fear masking truth.
“I wanted to sort out my feelings. I'm sorry. I won't go alone next time.”
“Promise. You promise.”
“Dad.”
“Yeah?”
“Am I really your daughter?”
Elizabeth asked one final time. In a restrained voice, all emotions suppressed.
Leo looked down at her quietly, then nodded.
Leo gazed at her steadily, then spoke.
“You're my daughter. No one can deny that.”
Those words were her final permission.
“I see….”
The moment he finished, something inside her snapped with a faint crack.
Elizabeth slowly raised her hand, placing her palm on Leo's chest. His heart beat warmly, humanly, weakly. She hugged him. Resting her forehead on his shoulder, burying her face in his nape, she whispered softly.
“Good.”
She was smiling. A tiny curve of her lips.
No more guilt now. She would isolate him, sever him, bind him. His world would narrow to her alone.
All ruin stemmed from that question. His answer was permission.
What remained was possession.
The sun hadn't risen yet, but the first hints of dawn faintly lit the alleys. Shutters rose one by one on the streets, early shops quietly preparing for the day. Leo returned to the platform from the corner shop with simple sandwiches. Elizabeth sat quietly on the bench. Sitting beside her, he unwrapped his mantle and draped it over her shoulders.
Elizabeth leaned her head on his shoulder without a word. Holding the sandwich carefully in both hands, she took small bites. Leo, meanwhile, devoured his in big mouthfuls, sating his brief hunger.
“All done?” he asked.
“Yes.” Elizabeth replied.
Leo tugged his sleeve to gently wipe the corner of her mouth. She looked up at his face. He smiled his familiar smile without a word.
The sky was gradually tinting pale pink. Gazing at the dawn light, Elizabeth asked quietly.
“Did you come right after I left?”
“Left that day.”
“There's blood on your clothes.”
“Ran into bandits. That's why I was a bit late.”
“You didn't get hurt?”
“Of course not.”
He patted her shoulder. Elizabeth closed her eyes and leaned deeper into his embrace.
Soon, the footsteps of people starting their day echoed on the platform. They bought tickets and boarded the train. Leo had reserved a quiet front car room. Elizabeth passed the empty opposite seat and quietly laid her head on his lap.
His hand stroking her hair was as warm and familiar as ever.
“Tired?”
“….Yes.”
“Then sleep. Dad'll wake you when we arrive.”
“Aren't you tired, Dad?”
“I'm fine. Not tired at all.”
Elizabeth gazed at his face a moment, then closed her eyes. That warmth wasn't far, his breath close by. Outside the window, the dew-kissed dawn sky flowed past.
The train hadn't moved yet, time lingering still.
She knew. Why he'd hidden everything, erased memories to protect her. How desperately he'd wished her to survive, no matter what.
But what he'd broken wasn't just memories. It was her reason to live, the purity of love, the legitimacy of existence.
His salvation had kept her alive—and twisted something slightly askew.
She recalled that fact now and then. Like an unremarkable dawn.
Like dipping hands in cold water.
Just like that. Quietly.