I Will Never Love Ania Brontë
I raced toward the village as if my life depended on it.
The Brontë family mansion stood atop the hill, and the snow made the path so slippery I nearly fell more than once, yet I never stopped running.
I couldn't explain why, but I felt certain that if I were even a moment late, something terrible would happen.
Something so terrible it could never be undone.
Ania…
I didn't know what had happened.
In the original novel, Edward never attended the harvest festival with Ania.
I recalled the ominous gaze I had felt last night at the eve festival.
I had dismissed it as some amateur who couldn't even hide their killing intent properly.
But now I cursed myself for thinking that.
Was it a mage…?
What I had thought was faint killing intent might have been mana all along.
Mana is one of the fundamental elements that make up this world, so it cannot be hidden, and mana itself cannot carry killing intent or hostility.
Faster… just a little faster…
The purple mana was growing more distant.
Was it heading toward Ania?
Perhaps it had already found her.
Ania, following behind Yuren, first sensed something amiss when the village scenery began to recede farther and farther away.
She had thought there was some problem at the harvest festival, yet Yuren's steps were leading them steadily outside the village.
Moreover, though Yuren had promised to explain on the way, she offered no explanation at all as she widened the distance between them.
As they passed through alley after alley and the streets grew deserted, Ania stopped and looked at Yuren.
"Yuren."
Sensing something off about her presence, Ania called her name slowly.
Yuren halted without turning around.
"Where are you taking me?"
At Ania's question, the back of Yuren's head tilted slightly to the side.
"Didn't I tell you, young lady? There's been a problem."
"Explain. What problem requires us to head outside the village?"
"......"
Yuren trembled her shoulders in silence.
"Explain! Right now!"
"Ahaha!!"
The trembling of her shoulders grew stronger, and a mad laugh burst from Yuren's mouth.
"I never thought it would be this easy."
As her laughter subsided, Yuren slowly turned to face Ania.
Ania drew in a startled breath at the expression on Yuren's face.
That face, which had seemed like an ordinary village girl, was now twisted with a wicked smile.
"You're truly naive, Lady Ania."
"Who are you?"
Yuren began approaching Ania one step at a time, and Ania slowly backed away in turn.
"Is that what you're curious about?"
Yuren drew closer and closer.
Ania felt something touch her back and turned her head.
It was a dead end.
"My name is Yuren. I've come to kill you."
"Why…?"
"You have so many questions, young lady. You don't need to know the reason. You're simply being sacrificed for a greater purpose. That's all you need to understand. No matter how much I explain, a foolish person like you wouldn't comprehend it anyway."
The corner of Yuren's mouth curled up smoothly.
"Still, it's a pity. To have to kill someone as beautiful as you."
Yuren's hand, now right in front of her, stroked Ania's cheek like a snake.
"If I didn't have to kill you, I'd want to keep you by my side forever."
"Shut up!"
When Ania's hand struck Yuren's arm away, Yuren's eyes widened as if surprised, then she laughed again.
"An arrogant and haughty woman. Just as the rumors say. Your appearance is truly beautiful, but that personality of yours doesn't please me at all, young lady."
When Yuren snapped her fingers, men who had been lurking in the alleys slowly revealed themselves.
They were knights of the Brontë territory.
Ania was momentarily glad to see them, but soon sensed something was wrong.
Their pupils were vacant and empty.
"These are the territory's knights. But right now, they're under my control."
The sword-wielding knights approached awkwardly, like marionettes on strings.
"I've ordered them to kill you."
"......"
Watching Ania's flustered expression, Yuren stroked her chest with her hand.
Using Detect magic to peer into the mana within Ania's heart, the blue mana was gradually dyeing itself indigo.
It was a truly beautiful color.
Incomparable to anything else in the world.
"Have you fallen into despair? Your heart is turning pitch black."
This was the moment Yuren enjoyed most.
The moment a person's heart dyed itself black.
That despair of the moment was the purest medium for black magic.
And Ania's despair glittered beautifully.
Its sparkle was different from anyone else's despair.
If only I could keep this heart forever.
Yuren frowned with regret.
But attachment was an emotion only for the foolish.
One who would awaken to the truths of the world must decide as if cutting with a single stroke of the blade.
"It's a truly beautiful heart, but you must die."
The knights gradually closed the distance and raised their swords high toward the sky.
Yuren set aside her regret and decided to leave the village.
Lingering any longer would only breed more attachment.
"Don't resent me, Ania Brontë. You are being sacrificed for the truth."
When Yuren snapped her fingers, the knights' swords flew toward Ania.
With this, the mission Yohan had entrusted to her was complete.
She didn't know what he intended by killing Ania, but he must have his reasons.
However, just as she turned to leave, Yuren furrowed her brow.
She had clearly swung the swords, so she should have heard the sound of flesh being sliced, but instead, a sharp sound like swords clashing rang out.
Yuren whipped her head around to look at Ania.
A light of bewilderment leaked from her eyes.
Someone had blocked Ania's path, his figure standing tall between the knights and Ania.
"Are you all right, my lady?"
Brown hair, a well-trained physique, a man covered in sweat, catching his rough breath.
Yuren knew that face.
Ania Brontë's husband.
Edward Radner.
It was truly a matter of a hair's breadth.
If I had found her even a little later, if I had slowed my steps with a moment's hesitation, Ania would have lost her life.
I blamed myself.
I had nearly ruined everything with a momentary emotion.
I had nearly strangled myself with a childish, immature heart.
But no matter how calmly I thought about it, no matter how I resolved to look at it coldly, the moment I stood before you, my heart raced like a child's…
Ania Brontë, do you know?
You probably don't.
And you must not know.
You must not notice my heart.
That moment would be our end, the final stop of our relationship.
"I nearly arrived too late."
"Edward…"
So let's keep it just like this.
A distance where I don't love you enough, where you don't love me enough, just that much distance.
"I came to keep my promise, my lady."
"A promise?"
"I said I would protect you. This time, I will keep it."
So the reason I ran here to protect you is not because I love you.
Not because I fear losing you.
Not because the regret of losing you would destroy my life.
Not even because I'm sorry for forgetting our long-standing promise.
It's to keep the promise.
The promise to protect.
Our relationship is bound only by that promise.
Our marriage began as a contract from the start.
"Edward Radner…"
When I turned my head toward the voice, a black-haired girl was glaring at me.
It was a girl I was seeing for the first time, but I knew who she was.
"You've come to interfere at just the right moment."
Yuren.
A madwoman obsessed with black magic.
A woman who falls for Yohan's schemes and eventually destroys herself far in the future.
If my memory is correct, Yuren appears when Yohan's subordinates attack the mansion.
So has the flow of the story changed because I came to the Brontë territory?
Or has it changed regardless of my actions?
I no longer know.
Nor do I particularly want to know.
Even if I knew, it wouldn't be something I could stop, and even if I didn't know, it wouldn't matter.
– It's the heart, young master.
Rictman's words came to mind.
If you have a heart you want to protect, you can become strong…
He had definitely said that.
At the time, I didn't understand what it meant.
Perhaps I had known and deliberately ignored it.
That this villainess who toyed with men's hearts, this wife who always did as she pleased, had at some point slipped right into my heart.
So I will not convey this heart.
I will not acknowledge it.
I will hide it deep in my heart and never show it to anyone.
It's a heart that can never be fulfilled anyway.
Like a story with a predetermined ending, our relationship will someday meet its catastrophe.
I will simply protect.
If that alone keeps Ania Brontë from leaving my side, that alone is enough.
Because I don't love her.
I will never, ever love Ania Brontë.