Chapter 434
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 434
Chapter Title: That's That, This Is This.
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Snap, snap.
Even after crossing the snow-covered plains back to the Russian military base, Rimon didn't hurry.
As if merely taking a stroll.
Or sightseeing, perhaps.
He simply wandered the camp in silence.
The temporary relief center sheltering the civilians he'd rescued.
The soldiers desperately searching for ways to assist with rescue operations using unmanned vehicles and robots.
The Silver Dragon clansmen darting back and forth inside and outside Moscow at speeds invisible to the eye, saving citizens.
The recovery room where those who'd exhausted their stamina and psychics lay collapsed.
Or the temporary detention center housing revolutionaries and neo-revolutionaries who'd luckily escaped the curse but had nowhere else to go, now under military protection.
Sometimes he watched quietly.
Sometimes he just glanced past.
After touring the camp—vast enough to rival a small city—Rimon finally headed to the central area.
The place with the camper where Ekateriche lodged, the spots where they'd held meetings, and all sorts of tents and container vehicles clustered around.
Of course, plenty of guards stood watch nearby.
But neither the Russian troops
nor the Silver Dragon clan's experts
stopped him.
They simply let Rimon pass through the camp unchallenged.
Tata, the white-haired woman standing guard before an especially large and ornate tent, was no exception.
"Welcome, Sword Duke."
"Is the fool princess inside?"
"Yes. We've already cleared the area, so please speak freely."
And that was it.
No questions about why he'd come.
No need to ask permission.
After Tata bowed slightly and stepped back, the Divine Dragon Guard protecting the tent quietly withdrew as well.
Thus, the Mongolian ger fell silent.
Opening the ger's door, Rimon was greeted by an expressionless white-haired girl.
"Sorry I'm late."
"It's fine. I wasn't waiting long."
Clatter.
Aynsha, who had been sitting by the stove steaming hot in the center of the ger, picked up the perfectly warmed kettle.
She filled a prepared cup and offered it.
Rimon didn't refuse the thickly aromatic brew, which was more than just tea.
He drained the cup in one go.
Then bluntly opened his mouth.
"That talk from earlier—how much of it was sincere?"
"All of it, of course."
As if wondering why he'd ask something so obvious,
Rimon wore a heavy expression as he regarded the white-haired girl tilting her head.
"You're really going to use the Thousand-Li Foresight Style? To stop innocents unrelated to you from dying because of what they drank?"
"Yes."
"Even if it might erase your emotions entirely?"
A doll-like expressionless face.
A flat voice, like reading from a book.
The complete opposite of Ekateriche, whose emotions always overflowed to a fault—Aynsha showed no feelings at all.
But for now, it was fine.
That face and voice were just habits from her prophetic role.
Aynsha's emotions themselves were still rich, and aside from her expressions and tone, she expressed them honestly.
But mastering the Thousand-Li Foresight Style would change everything.
Not just her face—her heart could harden too, turning her into a true doll.
As someone who knew better than anyone—the Seven Dragon Society's archenemy—what fate awaited the White Dragon Princess if that happened,
Rimon couldn't easily accept her proposal.
Yet Aynsha showed no trace of unease.
She declared it boldly.
"It's fine. My emotions won't disappear."
"...What makes you so certain?"
Rimon furrowed his brow at her unwavering conviction, which felt too firm for bravado,
and Aynsha answered.
"The Thousand-Li Foresight Style is the supreme art created by the founder. But it's still just a technique."
Whether the great dragon's legacy
or profound principles were embedded within,
it was just a technique, she said.
Words that would have made the Seven Dragon Society's elders foam at the mouth,
uttered oh-so-casually.
Aynsha gently reached out her hand.
To take Rimon's hand and pull it close.
Squeeze.
She placed that large, firm hand over her chest.
The white-haired girl gazed at the white-haired man with quiet eyes.
"My feelings for you aren't so shallow that one technique could erase them."
"..."
For a moment,
Rimon couldn't speak.
Aynsha's clear, pure eyes.
And the hot pulse transmitting from her hand, utterly at odds with her expressionless face.
Even a Sword Master who'd lived ages couldn't dismiss her conviction as delusion.
"...It's reckless."
Still, Rimon had to call her foolish.
Because he knew.
No matter how intense the emotion, purity lasts but a moment.
Love more precious than life.
Rage that could burn the world.
Over time, they lose their luster, fade, or tarnish.
"What you're doing is endless tightrope walking."
Lovers who gave everything in youth but became bitter enemies after marriage.
A revenger who became a high official to punish criminals, only to take bribes and serve the enemy for more power.
The countless human changes he'd witnessed proved it.
How much more for the White Dragon Princess, whose prophetic powers already eroded her emotions—then learning the Thousand-Li Foresight Style?
It was more reckless than enduring a blizzard naked.
She might sustain pure affection for now, but the moment it wavered, her emotions would crumble entirely.
"The longer the tightrope, the harder it'll get for you."
Even if she preserved her love, problems remained.
Decades of unrelenting rage.
Lifelong unforgettable longing.
Eternal steadfast passion, and so on.
Rarely, some guarded a single pure emotion for years, decades.
But the results were more tragic.
The Sword Demon who became a butcher in rage.
The Sword Ghost lost to longing.
The Sword Man who waged war in passion.
Those who clung longest to purity met madness's apocalypse swiftest.
Stagnant water rots—like any emotion, excess destroys the self.
Even love is no exception.
Humans change emotions not from weakness, but to protect their hearts.
Thus, Rimon could declare:
"Someday, you'll regret this decision."
Months from now.
Or years.
If lucky, over a decade.
More certainly than any prophet, Rimon foresaw that day.
So when he heard Aynsha's reply,
his face hardened.
"It's fine."
"...Fine?"
"Yes."
If it meant she was the exception, he'd lament but understand.
But Aynsha meant the opposite.
"Whether my emotions vanish or I go mad like Ekateriche—that's for later."
"..."
"As long as I can love you until then..."
Gently,
an expression forms.
Faint, barely-there, yet utterly pure smile.
"Whatever the end, I'll accept it gladly."
Like a fool flooring the accelerator toward a cliff to leave insurance money for a debt-ridden lover.
Even if it led to her ruin.
Even if regret became impossible.
If it was the result of loving Rimon, then that ruin was her happiness.
Watching Aynsha speak with a transparent smile, utterly devoid of doubt or waver,
Rimon groaned.
"You, really..."
He closed his mouth, having opened it to confirm a possibility he'd suspected but now confirmed clearly.
After long silence,
he spoke again.
"What if I use you to seize the Seven Dragon Society?"
"Use me as much as you want. For you, I'd gladly be used."
"What if I conquer the world and build an eternal empire where all swear loyalty only to me?"
"Leave the Holy Alliance conquest to me. I'm confident."
"Even if I don't take you as a bride after?"
"Doesn't matter. If you don't accept me as a bride, I'll just try harder until you do."
"...I see."
Hearing her unhesitating answers, Rimon finally closed his eyes.
'So it's come to this, after all.'
He knew.
Her words held no exaggeration.
Aynsha would do anything for him and face any end with a smile.
Because he knew a woman who'd said something similar.
One who'd loved him.
Taken up the sword for him.
And died by his blade with a smile to the end.
His last disciple...
...and perhaps his last bride.
'Anastasia, another fool like you is here.'
Faces, personalities, pasts—all different.
Yet those clear, pure eyes alone evoked the Sword Empress.
Rimon sighed inwardly.
Just as the Sword Empress had,
no matter how he tried to stop her, Aynsha would learn and use the Thousand-Li Foresight Style.
She'd do anything for Rimon ahead.
Until the day she destroyed herself.
She'd never stop.
Aynsha was the White Dragon Princess.
One who saw the future and charged ahead, never looking back.
He'd vaguely known this, keeping distance subtly.
But it was too late.
This pure girl had long been blinded by love for him, tainted by desire.
No guilt.
But...
"You're cunning."
"Yes. I'm smart. The plan to earn your favor by helping you tons—no one else could think of it."
Mistaking his words for praise,
she puffed her modest chest proudly.
Rimon gave a wry smile.
This girl knew no good or evil.
Like a painting: masterpiece or scribble depends on the hand.
By his actions, Aynsha could become the world's kindest or commit atrocities guilt-free.
Such an Aynsha,
Rimon couldn't abandon.
Qualified as bride or not,
only he could take responsibility.
If he ignored her, she'd follow the Sword Empress's path.
'No, saying it's just responsibility is a coward's excuse.'
Rimon murmured inwardly.
Early or late, it was inevitable.
Like Yu Gong moving the mountain,
mocked by all, yet shifting it lifetime by digging dirt.
The girl who'd stubbornly loved Rimon and persevered had drawn too close to ignore.
'...Princess, you've asked me something tough.'
Clatter.
A brief sigh aside,
Rimon picked up the kettle Aynsha had set by the stove and refilled the empty cup.
He sipped half,
then slowly offered it to Aynsha.
"Aynsha, if your resolve is true, accept this cup."
Startled by his sudden use of her name,
or perhaps by him offering his own cup,
she tilted her head, expressionless.
To her, Rimon said lowly,
"But decide carefully. Once you take it, even if you want to leave me, you won't be able to."
Another tilt.
"...?"
A flicker of realization.
"..."
Then her pupils quaked.
"...!"
Her face still doll-like,
yet emotions shone through wondrously as she alternated glances between Rimon and the cup for a long moment.
Gulp.
Aynsha swallowed dryly.
Unlike her usual boldness, after brief hesitation, she slowly reached out.
Cautious as a jeweler crafting a priceless gem, relentless as an explorer finding long-sought treasure.
The moment Aynsha reached for the cup,
Bang!
"You two already starting?"
"..."
"Phew, good thing I'm not late. I rushed over worrying I might be."
The ger door flew open, letting in chill wind.
Rimon didn't turn to the silver-haired girl who blew away the room's air more fiercely than the north wind.
Pressing his temple with one hand, he asked lowly,
"Crazy princess, why are you here?"
"Why? Obviously for business."
"...Business?"
"Yeah."
Pillow clutched to her chest.
Thin traditional garb exposing her navel.
Bottles of booze packed up.
Anyone could see she'd come prepared.
Ekateriche declared brightly,
"It's weird for a big sister to steal the guy her little sister likes, right? Same for a brother losing his precious little sis."
"...Weren't you the one who said you'd kill anyone who made your sister cry?"
"That's that, this is this."
Her sister's happiness and her own grievance were separate issues,
she declared shamelessly.
Then Ekateriche smiled meaningfully.
"And I've got the perfect solution."
"I really don't want to ask, but for politeness' sake—what is it?"
"Simple."
As if wondering why he didn't get it,
Ekateriche grinned playfully, yet 100% serious.
"We all sleep together."
"..."