"Huff… exhausting."
I slumped onto the front lawn of Helming Castle, gulping down a mouthful of cold water.
My lungs still burned from all that running around. Who knew that playing tag and throwing snowballs could drain me this much?
And yet, every time I tried to hit Nicholas, Rubert would step in and block the attack, as if his body were a shield made solely for his prince.
'That's unfair.'
It felt like he was abusing his privilege as a prince without even hiding it. Fortunately, Seth distracted Rubert long enough for me to bombard Nicholas with snow until he was practically buried in it.
'Wait… aren't I acting way too casual with a prince?'
After all, Nicholas was supposed to become a king in the novel's ending. Maybe I should start putting some distance between us instead of being so easygoing and friendly.
But still… it's strange.
Despite occasionally revealing a calculating side, particularly in his dealings with Keith, he generally treats me with warmth, almost as an equal.
Furthermore, there are moments when he appears far more childish than the regal persona he typically projects.
'We're not 8 years old kids anymore.'
When the snowball fight ended, Nicholas left to change his clothes, his garments soaked through with wet snow. Rubert trailed after him, stiff and composed. For a coachman, he carried himself more like a bodyguard.
'I do suspect something, but pulling at that thread now would be far too early.'
In 'The Way to Save Her', there is a shadowy organization remained unseen, Norven. Their presence unfelt until the final arcs when Nicholas found himself relentlessly hunted. The Royal Army, in shining steel armor, marched with a heavy tread, acting under orders from his half-brother.
"Done playing already, Keith?" Leyla's voice rang out.
She appeared from inside the castle, her face bright with a radiant smile.
"Would you mind taking a walk with me for a bit?"
Her invitation sounded so genuine, almost pure, it made me wonder—why was Leyla so intent on spending every moment she could alone with me? She had even hugged me earlier…
'Wait—she hugged me? And yet, my heart didn't race at all…'
I rose to my feet and nodded at her request. Truthfully, I think what Leyla seeks is more of a platonic, sibling-like bond.
That must be why she's been so determined to slowly mend the cracks in our communication.
Even so, I couldn't afford to act too friendly toward her just because Lady Cynthia wasn't around. That villainess always had her spies lurking in every Xerta residence across the Northern lands. Even if Epsilon wasn't watching me at this very moment, I couldn't lower my guard.
He saw that embrace earlier, which might have led him to believe it was a sign of betrayal, explaining his anger and sulking. That explains why he so angry back then.
'Yes… that's the only logical reason.'
I should never have let that happen. I've been far too relaxed, when in truth I haven't even escaped the death that still awaits me. And yet, I keep thinking my bond with Epsilon has improved—surely he wouldn't kill me as brutally as he did in the novel. Even though in the novel he also did that because lose control over his magic output.
"You seem troubled, Keith," Leyla said softly as she walked beside me.
Her boots crunched against the snow, sending up little puffs of white as she playfully kicked at the drifts. Her gestures were almost endearing, especially paired with her beauty.
Lately she'd often tied her hair into buns or braids—was it the effect of marriage?
"I'm not thinking about anything," I said.
"You're lying. You always say that. Do you remember… a few months ago, right after your birthday?"
'Is she really going to bring that up?'
"I had prepared a surprise party for you. Rajir, Father, and Yuvri were all there. But when I asked you to blow out the candles, your face went pale. Shocked. Panicked. And then you bolted out of the room."
'That was the day my memories as Jung Cha-ri came back… Please don't remind me. It's humiliating.'
I had reacted far too strongly, like I'd suddenly put on someone else's skin. I'd even vomited. No one ever knew the truth behind it.
"Every time I asked you what happened," Leyla continued, "you dodged the question. You wouldn't talk to me for two weeks."
"You still remember that? How embarrassing," I muttered awkwardly.
"But then, you suddenly acted fine again, as if nothing had happened. Only… you've been spacing out more often since then, always lost in thought. I just… wish you'd confide in me, Keith. I want to be the one you can talk to."
"You've already done enough, Leyla… I'm fine. Back then, I was just… shocked. I didn't expect anyone to throw me a surprise party for my birthday. I'm nothing special."
Her face fell, her lips parting but no words escaping. She looked at me with sadness in her eyes.
"You keep saying that," she whispered. "But I consider you family. Father does too. You're part of Nerwine."
"…Not anymore, right? Not after what I've done. I worked under Duchess Hemser, someone who not only bullied you but also manipulated the noble factions to obstruct the Count's business. She even sabotaged agricultural shipments meant for Viscount Elektra. And I sided with her. The Count must be despise me. He must regret ever taking me in."
I hadn't intended to be so blunt, but seeing the look on Leyla's face cracked something inside me. The bitterness spilled out before I could stop it.
"Keith…"
'Go ahead, Leyla. Scold me.'
Instead, she gently cupped my cheek with her hand. Her touch was warm against my cold skin.
"Don't wear that expression," she murmured.
'What expression? What did my face shown?'
"I'm glad, Keith. Glad that you're finally showing me your emotions. That you're telling me your frustrations."
'Who said that I was frustrated?'
"You should've done this long ago. Listen, Father doesn't hate you—not at all. He was proud when you received that insignia from the king, when you were recognized as a High-Ranking Royal Knight, equal to the leaders of the Kingdom's knight divisions. You make him proud."
"…"
"He was grateful for what you did at the church too. You saved me, you saved him, you saved countless others. You prevented casualties even when someone summoned an advanced fire spirit like Prometheus."
"…"
"So hold your head high, Keith. From the very beginning, you've shone too brightly to ever rot away as just my personal knight. I'm glad you left for Hemser, where your status is higher. I'm glad you left my side. Because maybe… that's what I truly wanted."
"…"
"I want you to spread your wings higher, to shine brighter. You have talent. Even without mana, without the ability to sense or regulate it, you absorbed Rajir's teachings and mastered aura swordsmanship so quickly. You're gifted, Keith."
I didn't understand. Why was she saying this? Why did her words sound like a farewell? Was she… cutting our bond off completely, right here and now?
Leyla exhaled softly, her breath misting in the winter air as her hand stilled on my cheek.
"From the start, I never wanted you shackled by my existence, bound by an oath to protect me. Lately, I've seen how much you've been forcing yourself. That's why I thought… maybe you resented me. Maybe that's why you let go and walked away."
"Keith." She smiled faintly as she spoke my name. "From now on, whatever it is you're planning—stop. Stop protecting me. Start thinking about your own happiness."
'What? Leyla, what are you saying? Keith's entire character was written for you! His story has always been about protecting you. You know that—he even dies for you in the middle of story!'
"Somehow… I've begun to understand you a little more, Keith. You must have a reason for serving Cynthia. Maybe you're trying to expose her, maybe to foil her plans. But don't. Stop it, Keith. That woman is more cunning, more dangerous than you realize."
Without noticing, I had been clenching my fists so tightly they ached. Leyla gently took my hand in hers, stroking the back of it with tender insistence.
"Stop," she pleaded, her voice trembling. "If you keep going… you'll die. And I don't want you to die."
After I pulled my hand away, Leyla flinched, clearly reacting to my rejection.
"Are you done talking?" I said.
I hadn't meant to sound so cold when I asked it, yet her eyes widened, revealing a look of shock on her face.
"If you are," I continued, "then I'll take my leave."
With that, I turned and walked away, leaving her behind, her expression frozen, as if she were about to cry.
'You're wrong, Leyla. My life is dedicated only to you—the main character. What would happen to you if I abandoned my post?'
My steps grew heavy as I trudged across the snow, head bowed. That's when I felt something brush against my boot. Startled, I glanced down.
A faint mound, stained crimson, bled through the pristine white. My chest constricted as I knelt, chilled air stinging my face as I brushed away the icy crystals. The exposed horror before me made my stomach lurch.
'A… hand?'
I staggered two steps back, heart pounding, and lifted my gaze. The courtyard lay littered with bodies—four guards, strewn lifelessly across the snow. Their blood seeped out, staining the white ground with dark crimson.
'What the hell—?!'
My instincts screamed: Run. Run, now!
But what about Leyla?!
I whipped my head around, breath clouding in the frigid air. A deafening roar shattered the silence. The sound rattled through my bones, feral and thunderous.
"Damn it."
My hands shot to the ground, seizing a sword half-buried in the snow. My grip tightened around the frozen hilt as I sprinted toward the sound.
I crested the rise of the courtyard just in time to see it: a monstrous silhouette, wings spread wide like tattered sails, scales glinting with frost and blood. Not just any beast—its jagged frame and crimson maw were unmistakable.
A wyvern.
Its fangs dripped with gore, and in front of it stood Leyla, frozen in shock.
I lunged, slashing across its flank with all my strength. The steel sang against scale, sparks flying, but before I could press forward, another shadow loomed.
The whip-crack of a massive tail struck my side and hurled me across the snow. My back hit the ground with a jolt of pain, the cold searing through my clothes.
"Keith!!" Leyla's cry pierced the chaos.
'Shit—wyverns? Here? They're not supposed to appear in this arc, the difficulty doesn't make any sense!'
Wyverns—dragon kin, but not true dragons. Smaller, more savage, and they hunted in packs. That was what made them so dangerous. But how had they crossed the border? Unless…
I forced myself up, teeth clenched, and turned toward the southeast, beyond the looming spires of Castle Xerta. The wyverns must have come from there. That cave—the one where the necromancer was supposed to lurk. i remember there is also one village there, Triwheel.
'No… it can't be. A necromancer shouldn't be able to control living wyverns. Someone else is behind this.'
Frustration coiled in my chest like fire. None of it added up, and yet I couldn't afford hesitation.
Another roar tore the air, shaking snow loose from the rooftops. I darted forward, sliding into position between Leyla and the beasts.
"Listen to me, Leyla!" I shouted, raising my blade. "Get inside, now! The walls of Xerta will hold—the wyverns can't break through!"
Her wide eyes met mine, filled with fear. "You want me to leave you out here? Alone?!"
"Leyla, do as I say!"
"I won't!" she screamed, the raw desperation in her voice so close it made my ears ring.
I grit my teeth, blocking the wyvern's descending claws with a jarring clash of steel. My arms trembled from the force.
"I'll follow after you! But you need to call for reinforcements! I'm not telling you this to protect you—I'm telling you to bring help! Can you do that?"
She faltered, torn, before finally nodding. Relief washed through me just as my arms nearly buckled under the next blow.
Leyla turned, sprinting toward the castle gates, her steps uneven as if every stride was a battle.
Another roar split the air. The second wyvern's chest swelled, its throat glowing with an ominous light. I dove sideways as a gale burst forth—a slicing breath of wind that carved furrows into the snow where I'd stood moments before.
The shockwave threw icy shards into my face, stinging my skin raw.
The second wyvern attacked, claws extended, but I stood my ground. My blade met it, and with a single swing, I took off its forearm. Hot blood sprayed onto the snow, hissing as it hit. The creature let out an enraged shriek.
Golden light flared around my sword—the glow of aura sword. The energy hummed, vibrating through my arms, alive with power. But even so, I knew my strength wouldn't last.
'With just this, I can't hold out long. I need my real blade.'
Forged by the Royal Swordsmith, gifted by the queen herself alongside my insignia—the only weapon worthy of this fight.
I backpedaled, forcing distance between us as the wounded wyvern writhed in pain. My boots crunched over something stiff, and my stomach twisted. The dead guards. I forced my gaze forward, refusing to falter.
The uninjured wyvern took flight, its wings churning the air into a storm. Snow spiraled violently around me as it dove, its shadow blotting out the moonlight.
'I've never fought a flying enemy before… damn it!'
"Sir Keith!!"
The shout snapped my focus. My eyes darted back. Seth—running, breathless, clutching something in his hands.
"Seth!"
He hurled it toward me—a gleam of steel cutting through the air. My sword.
I caught it, the weight settling into my grip like a long-lost extension of my body. A familiar shiver of power coursed through me, grounding me.
'Yes… this is it. This sensation… this is mine.'
"First, I'll finish this one," I growled, turning my eyes back to the crippled wyvern clutching its severed limb.
With a burst of speed, I leapt. My blade arced in a golden trail as it slashed across the wyvern's wing, rending flesh and membrane in a single strike. The creature screamed, spiraling, its balance shattered.
"Sir Keith! I'll assist you!" Seth shouted, brandishing his spear as he charged at the second wyvern.
"Be careful!" I roared back, my blood pounding as the battle raged on.
But in the next heartbeat—
A howl. A breath.
The second wyvern's wind strike slammed into Seth point-blank. His body crumpled, flung like a broken doll across the courtyard. My eyes widened, breath stolen from me. I lost my grip, tumbling from the wyvern's wing where I had anchored myself.
"SETH!!"
My roar split the night, fury overriding reason. Blood sprayed across my face as I drove my aura blade into the wyvern's neck mid-fall. Blue light surged down the steel, lengthening it, sharpening it. With a single spinning strike, I severed its head clean.
The body collapsed with a quake that rattled the ground.
The other wyvern faltered, wounded and grounded, retreating. But there would be no escape. My aura sword blazed brighter, shifting from yellow to an azure flame.
I raised it high, then cleaved downward with all my weight. The strike split the beast vertically in two, gore staining the snow in a violent spray.
Breathing raggedly, I staggered forward. My ankle throbbed—I'd twisted it when I fell, pain sharp with every step. But I ignored it.
My gaze found Seth.
He lay still, limbs askew on the pristine white snow, the cold biting through his clothes. His head was twisted at a sickening angle, a stark contrast to the smooth, silent landscape. His skin was losing color, his lips turning a chilling blue against the stark white.
His eyes, now vacant, stared into the vast, empty, icy sky, reflecting the bleakness. Blood spread over the surrounding snow, staining the pure white a horrific crimson.
For the first time in my life, I looked upon the face of a dead man.
'This is the reality of it.'
This world had always been a tragedy. I knew it. I had braced myself for it. However, seeing Seth, a minor side character whose name wasn't even in the novel, lifeless before me still affected me.
'I knew. I knew it was inevitable. And yet… it still hurts.'
As I stared beside him, the cold seeped into my clothes, causing my knees to buckle. My breath hitched, clouding my vision with mist. Snow began to fall, blanketing his lifeless form.
"In the end," I whispered, "everyone eventually will die."
I stared at Seth's lifeless body, his eyes locked open, frozen in the ultimate terror of his last moments.
And deep within me, one thought rang hollow:
'In the end, this too will be my fate.'