A Night of Love
She threw back the sweat-drenched blanket and slipped out of bed. A delayed throb of pain radiated from the unhealed wounds on her wrist.
Paying the scars no heed, she summoned her maids to change her clothes. There was something she had to do.
As she watched their hands pin an array of medals onto her immaculate, pristine dress uniform, she spoke quietly.
"Stop. Do not pin the medals."
She made the maids take down even the ones they had already fastened.
Ever since witnessing those records, she had felt the entire world around her crumbling to pieces—and her illustrious military honors were no exception. When she thought of the sheer volume of blood he must have shed while she was racking up those accolades, the medals ceased to be a source of pride. Instead, they had become bitter reminders of Einzel's absence, etching her own burning shame deeper into her soul.
Tossing the medals aside, she pulled black leather gloves over her slender, pale wrists. A stark, bloody slash peeked between fair skin and dark cloth, vivid in its contrast. Setting out from the ducal manor, she made her way toward the Imperial Palace. After a brisk ride, she arrived at her destination.
She requested an audience with the Emperor, and before long, she was ushered into his presence.
"Welcome, Supreme Commander. What brings you before us?"
Outside the council chambers, within the private halls of the palace, the Emperor made a deliberate point of addressing her by her military office. It was undoubtedly meant to remind her that, Duke or not, she remained a subject of the Empire—even as that very Emperor constantly watched for an opportunity to cast her aside.
He stole sidelong glances at Sayne. Having practically proclaimed that he would grant Count Cerindel the paramount position in the military, it came as quite a surprise that the current Supreme Commander, the Duke of Luderan herself, had sought him out with business to discuss.
"...I wish to resign from my post."
She tendered her resignation from the hereditary office handed down through generations of her family.
"...Resign your post? Why?"
The Emperor stared at her, an uncharacteristic flicker of bewilderment in his eyes.
"My health has been poor, that is all. There is no greater motive behind it."
Yet the Emperor did not lower his guard.
"...Is that not an office passed down through generations of your house?"
It was hardly something to be said by a man who had semi-publicly declared his intention to oust her from that very position, but Sayne showed no sign of offense. Strictly speaking, he had never made an absolute promise. It would hardly be surprising if he later walked back his words and placated Count Cerindel with some modest compensation instead.
Besides, she had her own reasons. She was completely broken in spirit, worn to the bone, and knew better than anyone that she was no longer in any condition to command. Truth be told, she felt no lingering attachment to an office merely inherited through lineage. If anything, the family name had become nothing more than a suffocating shackle—not after she had witnessed how many times Einzel had been sacrificed to satisfy her father's obsession with restoring the house, and to appease her own selfish desires.
"Be that as it may, my failing health leaves me no choice but to step down."
"...We cannot permit this," the Emperor replied. "For someone performing her duties as admirably as you to abandon her post would be an immense loss to the realm. As the Sun of this Empire, I cannot stand by and allow it."
Sayne watched him with an impassive, indifferent gaze. He was likely terrified that if she stepped down right now, rumors would spread among the nobility that the Emperor was strong-arming the realm's foremost ducal family to impose his own will. In his eyes, the ideal scenario would have been to strip her of her rank only when Count Cerindel returned in triumph bearing the severed head of Einzel, the branded traitor.
And she had not the slightest intention of playing along with his grand design.
"...Say what you will, Your Majesty, but I can no longer carry out these duties."
With those parting words, she turned and made a swift retreat from the audience chamber. Yet as she vanished from the Emperor's sight and strode down the long corridor, she ran into Beatrice.
"...Ah, Sayne."
Beatrice hurried toward her with quick steps. Ever since discovering those records, Sayne had found it agonizing to look her comrades in the eye. To be precise, consumed by an unbearable awkwardness and shame, she had been keeping her distance.
A look of warm relief washed over Beatrice's face.
"...Is something the matter?" Sayne asked first.
Even if she had been avoiding her of late, Beatrice had always been like an older sister to the group. Seeing her here in the Imperial Palace naturally piqued her curiosity.
"Oh, it's nothing too serious. There were just a few ecclesiastical matters I needed to discuss with His Majesty and the Pope."
As the Saintess of the Goddess Religion, Beatrice served as the spiritual leader of the Church, but she did not rule alone. Alongside her stood the Pope. And it was precisely to confer with both the Pope and the Emperor that she had come.
In the distant past, the Goddess Religion had fallen entirely under papal dominion. Eventually, an emperor who grew weary of papal interference severed ties with the Holy See, claiming the mantle of supreme religious authority for the imperial throne.
That balance shifted when the first divinely chosen Saint appeared, spearheading a religious reformation. The imperial line was stripped of its spiritual authority, leaving the God-chosen Saints and Saintesses to govern the faithful as heaven's true earthly representatives.
Yet as the Empire expanded through wars of conquest, it swallowed vast territories formerly loyal to the exiled papacy. In the end, the Empire was forced to re-acknowledge the Pope's authority. The papacy and the Saintess came to co-lead the Goddess Religion, bringing an outward semblance of peace.
Beneath the surface, however, bitter strife raged between the faction loyal to the Saintess and the one backing the Pope. The animosity between the two figureheads ran deep—a rift evident in the simple fact that while the Saintess resided in the distant Holy Land, the Pope governed from the Papal Court nestled close to the heart of the Imperial Capital.
Sayne patted Beatrice gently on the shoulder.
"...It must be exhausting."
"Yes, it is... but what choice do I have?"
They exchanged a few more quiet words before Sayne prepared to take her leave.
"Wait... what is this?"
Beatrice suddenly caught Sayne by the wrist. The cuff had shifted, exposing the wounds she had carved into her own skin just yesterday.
"Y-You're hurt!" Beatrice gasped.
Her eyes widened as she recognized what she was looking at: shallow, repeated cuts etched deliberately across the wrist.
"...We must treat this immediately."
Beatrice began gathering her Holy Power, but Sayne hastily yanked her arm back.
"...No. I'm fine."
"If we don't heal it right away, it will leave a scar!"
"I said I'm fine."
Sayne remained unyielding, stubbornly refusing treatment. She wanted the scars. She needed them etched into her flesh so she would never, for a single moment, forget her crushing guilt.
Turning her back on Beatrice, Sayne walked away, leaving the Saintess to stare blankly after her retreating figure.
Returning to the ducal manor, Sayne handed her outerwear to a servant and walked straight to the entrance of the cellar.
This was the very place where he had died over and over again to save her.
She pushed open the heavy door. A cloud of dust billowed into the dim air.
Waving her arm to clear the haze, she stepped inside. One step, then another, she walked through the underground chamber, taking in every corner.
With every spot her gaze brushed, memories of him rushed back unbidden.
Here was where he had been impaled by soldiers' spears... and here was where he had drawn their attention away from me...
By the time she completed a single circuit of the cellar, her brow was furrowed in agony. She could almost feel the stone floor squelching beneath her boots, drenched in phantom pools of his spilled blood.
And over here...
This was where he and she had made their final stand against her uncle, Rupos Luderan.
Right here, mortally wounded beyond any hope of healing, they had met the end of their lives together.
Choked by the suffocating weight of the past, she began ascending the stone steps once more.
Emerging from the cellar, she made her way outside into the estate gardens.
Yes, here. The place where starlight veiled the whispers of trees, and the evening breeze caressed wildflowers.
This was where she had confessed her love to him at the very end.
'I'm sorry. It's all because of me.'
Even as she apologized.
'...Thank you.'
Even as she thanked him.
The reflection within the crystal ball had shown her concluding the final moments of that life by pouring her heart out to him.
What had she felt then?
What kind of love had prompted that past version of herself to smile even in bitter defeat, at the very threshold of death?
And what had he felt, swearing his oath—sacrificing himself for the woman whose blade had once pierced him, only to receive a confession of love in return?
In that past timeline, she had bidden him farewell wrapped in love.
Yet in this one, she had driven him away with venom and hatred.
"If only... if only I had..."
If only I had treated him a little better.
If only I hadn't lashed out in anger.
If only I had sent him off with a warm smile....
In the very spot where her past self had wept tears of joy and devotion while professing her love, Sayne now broke down in tears of suffocating regret and agony.
Once more, she choked out the words she had whispered a thousand times over in the dark.
"I'm sorry..."
Like the starlight piercing the night sky, his lingering trace still illuminated a corner of her shattered heart. And before the insurmountable chasm that now lay between them, she could do nothing but weep.
I had finally arrived.
Checking the map in my hands, I knew I had reached my destination. The memory of my hometown was so distant and faded that I had actually needed a map just to find my way back. Even the surrounding scenery felt utterly foreign.
Yet the moment my eyes took in the rolling landscape, something resonated deep within my chest, and I knew beyond any doubt.
"I'm here... finally..."
Einzel, the former Hero, had at last come home.