One Night of Love

"…Why on earth did you do something so reckless?"

Sayne’s voice trembled as she questioned Einzel.

"…I just figured our odds of surviving were higher that way," Einzel replied flatly.

"Don't give me that! Odds of surviving? If you had simply abandoned me, your chances would have been far higher! Why go to such lengths to help me? Aren't you afraid of getting hurt?"

"Of course I am. What human isn't afraid? But even when you're scared, there are roads you still have to walk. You came here because you knew that too, didn't you?"

"…"

Sayne looked at him, her eyes clouded with an unbearable tangle of emotions.

"…Why are you doing so much for someone like me?"

"…No reason."

Because I never want to see that grief-stricken face you made after driving a blade through my heart ever again.

Einzel swallowed the words before they could surface. His tunic was already heavy and dark with blood. He wore armor beneath his clothes, but against such force, light armor had offered little defense.

"…You're bleeding so heavily. What if it gets worse? What if you—"

"My Holy Power will be restored in a moment. I can just heal it then."

He spoke with absolute indifference. The sight of him calculating pure efficiency without sparing a single thought for his own pain was almost grotesque.

Sayne grimaced down at him as he lay resting against the cold floor.

"…I'll go keep watch outside for a bit."

She stepped through the doorway and surveyed the dim corridor. She cast out her sensory aura, searching the shadows, but found nothing yet.

Leaning her back against the heavy wooden door, she closed her eyes. Her thoughts were a chaotic storm. Why had he gone this far for her? If anyone should have bled, it should have been her. Yet he had thrown his own body into harm's way, abandoning his cleanest path to survival just to drag her out of the fire. The thought of the open wound carved into his flesh made her chest ache with hollow distress.

She knew she ought to feel gratitude toward him, but right now, a heavy, lingering sorrow drowned out everything else.

…Maybe I should have just gone through with the marriage.

The sudden thought made her let out a self-derisive scoff. Absolute nonsense. If she had surrendered to that political union, she would have either lost her mind in rage or taken her own life. And if none of this had happened, she never would have truly known him. She would have seen him only as an ordinary companion—vaguely kind, a daring gambler on the battlefield, nothing more. Who could have ever imagined he was someone so monstrously self-sacrificing?

The memory of him coldly rejecting the guards' final compromise remained vivid in her mind. Watching him turn it down had stirred an emotion within her unlike anything she had ever felt before. It lingered behind her ribs even now, sharp and heavy, fanning the flames of her grief.

Thump. Thump.

She could hear the steady rhythm of her own heart. The sound grounded her, bringing a fragile stillness to the chaos in her mind. For a brief moment, she simply allowed herself to breathe in the silence.

That silence did not last.

A thunderous rush of footsteps broke through the dark. Guards were advancing in overwhelming numbers. Sayne had assumed they would disperse to comb the underground chambers in smaller search parties, but knowing Einzel was wounded, the guards had reasoned the intruders could not have fled far. Instead of scattering, they marched in a dense, suffocating formation.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

She found herself facing a small army all at once.

Sayne tightened her grip on her hilt. A radiant haze of Sword Qi ignited along the edge of her blade.

"Kill her!"

At the captain's shout, the guards surged forward as one.

The bloodbath began.

The lead soldier had his throat cleanly severed before he could even register her motion. When another lunged from her flank, she sidestepped the thrust and drove her sword straight through his chest. Yet a steel blade grazing her cheek left a shallow crimson line, and with every passing breath, fine scratches began to multiply across her skin.

She did not care. She thrust, slashed, and impaled without a moment's hesitation.

How many minutes had slipped away? The muscles throughout her body began to scream in agony. The moment her footwork slowed, the wounds accumulated at a terrifying pace.

"Give up already," the guard captain said, his voice entirely devoid of feeling. Reinforcements still crowded the hall, seemingly endless, while she was visibly swaying on her feet.

"Never."

By all rights, this was a situation where surrendering was the only rational choice. Unlike earlier, there was no secret escape route left. She was completely alone, bleeding, and running on fumes. Why keep fighting? She knew better than anyone that she had no chance of winning.

"Come at me."

Yet a fierce, radiant smile broke across her lips. It was Einzel who had taught her never to surrender. He had taught her how to claw for hope inside the deepest despair. Even if she could find no hope here—even if there was no clever trick, no miraculous exit, no glimmer of light hidden in the dark—it did not matter.

There was still a reason to swing her sword until her heart stopped.

He's right behind this door. If I fall, he dies.

Her entire life had been defined by solitude. She had never received warmth or affection from her family; she had fought her entire life only to break free, thirsting for freedom and nothing else. But the man who had reached out his hand into that bleak isolation had given her a purpose worth dying for—even in a battle she could not win.

If nothing else, she would drag every last one of them to the grave with her so he could live.

Her sword began to sing with her soul.

The gratitude she felt for him. Her apologies. No—it was far beyond that.

She poured the love she had only just recognized straight into the cold steel of her blade. At the very edge of her mortal existence, she unleashed an undying devotion into the dark. If there was any reward she desired for this feeling, it was simply for the man who had bled for her to survive.

Confronted by an emotion she had never known, the narrow boundaries of her old world shattered to dust. For these final few minutes before her light went out, her entire universe reorganized itself around him.

Thank you.

She unleashed a strike. It was unrefined and desperate; her speed had plummeted, and her trembling arms barely held the grip.

I'm sorry.

Another strike followed. This one cut cleaner than the last. A terrifying surge of strength welled up from an unknown depth within her soul, shearing through an enemy in a single breath.

I love you.

A final, blinding slash tore through the air. Too fast for the human eye to track, the soldiers in front of her were sliced apart before they could even register the motion.

In that crucible of life and death, she understood that the truth she had unearthed had shattered every chain that had ever bound her. The freedom she had chased her entire life was finally hers.

Luminous, thread-like filaments of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠light began to weave tightly around her blade.

Sword Threads.

She realized it then. The depths of what she felt for him. The true freedom she had finally claimed. And the transcendent realm she had stepped into because of it.

Standing on the precipice of death, Sayne had broken through to become a High Expert.

A sharp, feral smile curved her lips. She could still fight.

She dragged the tip of her sword across the stone floor, carving a deep groove into the rock.

"Cross this line, and you die."

Blood and sweat dripped down her chin, but her golden eyes burned with terrifying majesty.

"Come on."

She leaped into their ranks like a starving beast. Golden threads of brilliant aura flared across the hall, reaping every scrap of life they touched without mercy. The young Golden Lion was unleashed.

Having finally restored enough strength to stand, Einzel pushed the door open. Sayne stood waiting on the other side, drenched in crimson from head to toe.

All around her lay corpses—piled wall to wall, severed and still. Not a single breath of enemy life remained in the corridor.

"I won," she whispered, her bloody lips parting into a tired smile.

Einzel rushed forward, immediately channeling an invigorating restorative spell into her. It did little for open cuts, but it revitalized her depleted stamina. Only after the spell settled did he register the staggering sight of the massacred guards.

Sayne stepped toward him and buried herself in his arms, wrapping her trembling hands around his back.

"I was so worried about you."

"I told you, all I needed was time to heal."

"Still... I'm just so glad you're all right."

Einzel gently patted the hair of the woman clinging tightly to his shoulder.

"We made it."

"Yeah."

"I'm glad you're alive, Sayne."

"Me too…"

After a quiet moment, Einzel stripped cloth and tunics from the fallen soldiers, tearing them into strips to bandage her wounds. Most were shallow lacerations; once the bleeding was stemmed, she would be fine.

"All right. Let's move."

It was time to finish what they had come here to do.

"Right."

She offered him a bright, radiant smile. Once she shattered her father's blackmail once and for all, there would be no talk of arranged marriages or political pawns. She would confess the pure, honest truth of her heart to him.

With their resolve renewed, they searched the basement rooms one by one ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠until they found a small leather-bound notebook tucked away in a hidden drawer. On its cover, written in an austere hand, were the simple words: Matters to Attend To.

Without expecting much, they flipped the cover open.

"What… is this?"

The pages laid out every conceivable political contingency, accompanied by chilling instructions on how to handle them. Put plainly, it was an exhaustive catalog of how to assassinate political rivals.

Three months ago: The man who insulted House Luderan was drowned in the river, disguised as an accidental drunken fall.

One year ago: The competitor contesting Luderan's commercial rights was abducted in secret, tortured, and disposed of.

Every completed murder was neatly struck through with an ink cross, marked with the cold notation: Executed.

Flipping toward the earliest pages, they even found detailed blueprints for how Jakov Luderan had orchestrated the deaths of his own flesh-and-blood brothers.

Their hands trembling, they turned to the very last page where ink was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠freshly set.

Standing side by side in the dim basement, neither of them could find the words to speak.