_______
Lucina
The weight of my father's request lingered long after his footsteps faded down the corridor. It wasn't heavy in the way grief was—sharp and crushing—but solemn, like a crown gently lowered onto my head. A responsibility born not of blood, but of faith.
"I look forward to the day your child grows up healthy and comes to the Great Temple."
His words echoed softly in my chest.
I reached out before I could stop myself, placing my hands over his—hands that were no longer preserved by divine radiance, but weathered, real, human. They trembled faintly beneath my touch, not from weakness, but from release.
"The Cardinal… no," I said quietly, lifting my gaze to meet his. "My father gave me this power because he trusted me."
The truth of it settled into my bones as I spoke. He had not given me strength to shine. He had given it to me so that others might survive.
"That's why," I continued, my voice steady now, "I'm going to help others just like you did."
For a moment, he only looked at me—really looked at me—and then he smiled. Not the distant smile of a holy man, but the gentle, proud smile of a father who could finally rest.
"Please," I added softly, squeezing his hands once before letting go, "tell me if anyone else needs my help."
When he left, the room felt emptier—but I did not feel alone.
Something inside me had changed. The ache was still there, but it no longer paralyzed me. I had cried enough. I had doubted enough. Now, the power burning quietly in my chest demanded purpose.
I would heal everyone I could.
Knock. Knock.
The sound was soft, hesitant, almost unsure of its own right to interrupt.
I turned toward the door. "Come in."
Creaaak.
The hinges whispered as the door opened, revealing a tall figure framed by the dim corridor light. Long black hair fell loosely over his shoulders, his posture rigid despite his attempt to appear calm.
Gillai.
The man who had caused so much destruction.
The man who now stood before me like someone waiting for judgment.
"My lady…?" His voice was careful, guarded. "What brings you here…?"
I stepped forward before he could retreat into that familiar shell of distance and restraint. There was no room for hesitation—not for this.
"Take your clothes off, Gillai."
The words left my mouth far more bluntly than intended.
"H—HUH?!" His eyes widened in sheer shock, his face coloring instantly as his hands flew up in reflexive defense. "W-Wait—what?!"
I blinked once—then immediately waved my hands in flustered correction. "N-No! That's not— I didn't mean it like that!"
Despite myself, a faint smile tugged at my lips. His reaction was so human, so unguarded, that it almost hurt to see.
"I want to treat your heart condition," I clarified, my tone firm now. "The curse. The damage it's done to you."
His shoulders stiffened.
"Oh…"
The single word carried a weight far heavier than pain. His gaze dropped to the floor, shadows creeping back into his expression like old companions.
"You don't have to do that," he murmured.
Then, quietly—too quietly—he added,
"Every time it hurts… it reminds me of the crimes I committed."
The words struck me harder than any accusation ever could.
That wasn't repentance.
That was self-destruction.
My hands curled into fists at my sides before I realized it. Heat flared in my chest, the holy power responding not to anger—but to resolve.
"Don't be ridiculous!" I snapped, the words sharper than I intended, the air around us vibrating faintly with restrained divine energy.
He flinched—not in fear, but in surprise.
I took a breath and softened my voice, stepping closer until there was no space left for avoidance.
"Hakan and I both know how deeply you regret what you've done," I said, meeting his eyes. "We know how badly you want to atone."
His jaw tightened.
"But suffering isn't atonement," I continued firmly. "It's running away. Living with the consequences—changing—that's what matters."
For a moment, he said nothing.
I raised my hand slowly, the warmth beneath my skin growing brighter, steadier. The power my father entrusted to me stirred, ready—waiting for consent, not command.
He was going to accept my help.
Whether he believed he deserved it or not.
---
My father's request lingered in the quiet air long after his words had faded, but the weight of it no longer frightened me. Instead, it steadied me—like a hand resting gently between my shoulders, guiding rather than pressing down.
The Cardinal… no.
My father.
He had given me this power because he trusted me. Not because I was perfect. Not because I was chosen by fate. But because he believed I would use it with compassion.
That realization filled my chest with warmth.
"That's why," I said aloud, my voice calm but resolute, "I'm going to help others just like you did. Please tell me if anyone else needs my help."
The moment the resolve settled into place, the world seemed to answer.
Knock. Knock.
The sound was soft, tentative—hesitant, even. I turned toward the door.
"Come in."
Creaaak.
Gillai stood there, framed by the narrow strip of corridor light. His long black hair fell loose around his shoulders, his posture rigid, as if he were bracing himself for rejection. Despite everything he had done, everything he carried, he looked… small. Vulnerable.
"My lady?" he asked carefully. "What brings you here…?"
I didn't give myself time to hesitate. Doubt was a luxury I could no longer afford.
"Take your clothes off, Gillai."
The words came out far too bluntly.
"H—HUH?!" His eyes widened in pure shock, color flooding his face as his hands flew up instinctively. "W-Wait—what?!"
Realizing how it sounded, I stiffened, then immediately shook my head. "No—! I didn't mean it like that," I said quickly, waving my hands in flustered correction. "I want to treat your heart condition."
The shock drained from his expression, replaced by something darker. His shoulders sagged slightly as his gaze fell to the floor.
"Oh…"
Then, quietly—so quietly it almost broke me—he said,
"You don't have to do that."
He hesitated, fingers curling at his sides.
"Every time the pain comes," he continued, voice low, "it reminds me of the crimes I committed."
Something sharp flared in my chest.
"That's enough."
The words escaped me before I could temper them.
"Don't be ridiculous!" I snapped, the holy power within me responding instantly—thrumming beneath my skin, bright and insistent. "Both Hakan and I know how deeply you regret what you've done. We know how badly you want to atone."
I stepped closer, forcing him to meet my eyes.
"But suffering isn't atonement," I said firmly. "Living is."
Before he could protest again, I raised my hand.
The holy power surged forth—brilliant, warm white light edged with pure, unwavering blue. It poured from my palm like a living thing, filling the room with a low, resonant hum.
"Fsssshhh."
The sound of sacred energy meeting corruption was sharp and unmistakable, like water striking heated stone. Gillai sucked in a breath as the light enveloped him, his hair falling forward to obscure his face. I saw his chest rise—then slowly, gradually, relax.
Dark motes—oily, malignant remnants of the curse—peeled away from him, dissolving into nothing as the light burned them cleanly away.
The exertion was immense. My arm trembled, sweat beading along my hairline, but I held firm. This was the trust my father had placed in me. I would not falter.
Then—silence.
The light faded, leaving only the quiet rush of my own breathing.
I lowered my hand, swaying slightly. "I'm done," I said, brushing damp strands of white hair from my forehead. "How do you feel?"
Gillai lifted his head slowly.
His eyes—usually clouded by pain and restraint—were clear.
He pressed a tentative hand to his bare chest, fingers splaying as if he expected the agony to return.
It didn't.
"I…" His voice wavered. "I think I'm all better now."
He laughed softly under his breath, disbelief and relief blending together. "The pain… it's completely gone."
He stepped off the bed and bowed deeply, his posture precise, his gratitude unmistakable.
"I would like to thank His Majesty, Lady Adar—and you, my lady—for your compassion. I will never forget this."
A tired smile curved my lips. "What a relief," I said sincerely. "Now you can start afresh, too."
That night, exhaustion finally caught up with me.
I lay curled against Hakan's chest, the steady rhythm of his breathing grounding me as his fingers gently combed through my hair.
"…And," I murmured drowsily, "I healed Gillai as well."
"You did well," he replied quietly, his voice warm with pride.
"Hehe." The sound slipped out before I could stop it.
After a moment, his tone shifted, thoughtful.
"Isn't the Cardinal going back to Brion Kingdom tomorrow?"
"That's right."
"The Prince of Brion went to see him earlier. How did he react?"
I paused, recalling the solemnity of that meeting—the shock, the acceptance.
"He looked surprised," I said slowly, "but he accepted it quickly. I think he respects my father's decision. He's held that position for decades. It makes sense for him to step down."
I hesitated, then added softly, "He did ask for one favor."
Hakan's hand stilled. "What was it?"
"One of our children is destined to become a Grand Cleric," I said. "When that time comes, he wants us to send that child to the Great Temple. I think… he wants a successor."
Hakan was quiet for a long moment.
"While the Tayar tribe doesn't follow the Empero religion," he finally said, "we understand how great an honor that is. It should be our child's choice—but I don't see why we'd refuse."
Warmth bloomed in my chest at his understanding.
Then he pulled me closer.
"There's something else," he said.
"What is it?"
"The Wolf Tribe has agreed to help hunt down any remaining Shifters."
"The Wolf Tribe?" I frowned slightly.
"They stay hidden," he explained. "Because of their appearance. But they're good people. You don't need to be afraid."
I smiled, resting my forehead against his. "If you trust them, then I trust them too."
His gaze darkened, soft but intent.
"Now then," he murmured, leaning closer, "why don't we take care of some other business before it gets too late?"
"And what business would that be?" I asked quietly, my heart already racing.
He answered without words.
His lips met mine in a deep, loving kiss—and the world narrowed to warmth, breath, and the quiet promise of everything still to come.
My heart swelled with a quiet, steady purpose.
My father—no, the Cardinal—had made his request not as a command, but as a hope. He looked forward to the day my child would grow strong and walk through the doors of the Great Temple. When he passed that torch to me, it wasn't heavy. It was warm.
The Cardinal… my father… had given me this power because he trusted me.
That trust became my resolve.
"That's why," I said softly, feeling the holy power settle calmly within my chest, "I'm going to help others just like you did. Please tell me if anyone else needs my help."
Almost as if summoned by my words—
Knock. Knock.
The sound was hesitant. Careful.
"Come in."
Creaaak.
Gillai stood in the doorway, long black hair loose around his shoulders, his posture rigid as though he were prepared to be rejected. Despite everything he had done, the guilt he carried weighed visibly on him.
"My lady?" he asked. "What brings you here…?"
I didn't hesitate.
"Take your clothes off, Gillai."
"HUH?!" His eyes widened in pure shock, hands instantly flying to cover his chest.
Realizing how it sounded, I hurriedly waved my hands. "Ah—no! I didn't mean it like that. I want to treat your heart condition."
His expression changed immediately. The surprise faded, replaced by something darker and heavier.
"Oh…" He turned his face away. "You don't have to do that. Every time I suffer from the pain, it serves as a reminder of the crimes that I committed."
Something snapped inside me.
"DON'T BE RIDICULOUS!" I planted my hands on my hips, the holy power responding sharply to my emotion. "Both Hakan and I know how deeply you regret what you've done and how badly you want to atone. You don't need to atone by suffering."
I stepped closer and raised my hand near his chest.
The light surged from me—pure, radiant, undeniable. A powerful GLOW filled the room, warm white edged with steady blue.
"Fsssshhh."
The sound echoed softly as the holy power met the corruption inside him. I felt it burn away something old and twisted, something that had burrowed deep into his heart.
When the light faded, my breath came slightly uneven.
"I'm done," I said quietly. "How do you feel?"
Gillai pressed a trembling hand to his chest.
"The suffocating feeling… it's disappearing," he whispered, disbelief thick in his voice. "I think… I'm all better now. The pain has completely subsided."
He bowed deeply, his gratitude unmistakable.
"I'd like to thank His Majesty, Lady Adar, and you, my lady, for your compassion. I will never forget this act of kindness."
A tired but genuine smile spread across my face. "What a relief. Now you can start afresh, too."
That night, I lay nestled against Hakan, his arm wrapped securely around me. The exhaustion finally caught up with me, but it was a peaceful kind.
"…And," I murmured sleepily, "I healed Gillai as well."
"You did well," he said, gently stroking my hair.
"Hehe."
After a moment, his tone shifted. "Isn't the Cardinal going back to Brion Kingdom tomorrow?"
"That's right."
"The Prince of Brion went to see him earlier. How did he react?"
I thought back to that meeting—the shock on the prince's face, the way it quickly turned into acceptance.
"He looked surprised, but he respected my father's decision. He's held the position for decades. It makes sense for him to step down."
Then I took a breath. "There's something else."
"What is it?"
"The truth is, the Cardinal asked for a favor when he gave me his power."
Hakan waited.
"One of our children is destined to become a Grand Cleric. When that happens, he wants us to send that child to the Great Temple. I think… he wants a successor."
Hakan was quiet for a long moment.
"While the Tayar tribe doesn't follow the Empero religion," he finally said, "we understand what an honor that is. It should be our child's choice—but I don't see why we'd refuse."
Warmth spread through my chest.
Then his expression turned thoughtful again. "I have something to tell you as well."
"What is it?"
"To make sure no Shifters remain in our kingdom, the Wolf Tribe has agreed to help hunt them down."
"The Wolf Tribe?" I frowned slightly.
"They rarely interact with outsiders," he explained. "Their appearance makes people fear them. But they're good people. You don't need to be afraid."
I smiled and nodded. "If you say so, then I trust them."
He leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear.
"Now then… why don't we take care of some other business before it gets too late?"
My voice came out husky. "And what business might that be?"
He answered by kissing me—slow, deep, and full of promise.
"MMM…"
His hand slid to my chest—but then he pulled back slightly, glancing toward our sleeping child.
"We can't," he murmured. "What if we wake up our daughter?"
The next day, the Brionian army departed, the Cardinal riding among them. I watched until they disappeared beyond the horizon, my hand pressed to my chest where his trust still burned warm.
A few days later, the Wolf Tribe arrived.
Hakan and I met their chief in the royal courtyard. He was tall and striking, with reddish hair, sharp golden eyes, and unmistakable wolf ears atop his head.
"I didn't expect to see you so soon, Hakan!" he laughed. "I'm honored to meet you. I'm the Chief of the Wolf Tribe—Karl."
He leaned in slightly, winked, and whispered, "…The real reason is because I have a favor to ask of you, my lady."
I tilted my head, surprised.
Hakan burst out laughing. "I already told her, Karl. You don't need to be so secretive. You could've played along. HAHAHA!"
Karl scratched the back of his head, sheepish but smiling.
"Don't worry, it's not a difficult request. My wife is unwell, and none of the treatments have helped. I was hoping you could see her."
"Where is she right now?" I asked immediately.
"To keep her safe, she's waiting inside the carriage."
"It's fine, Karl," Hakan said calmly.
Before anyone else could speak, a man came limping forward, panic clear on his face.
"EVELYN!"
A woman emerged from the carriage, heavily pregnant, her body surrounded by a faint, shimmering blue glow. She was pale, but her gaze was steady as she was guided toward us.
She gave a small, polite smile.
"It would be rude if I didn't introduce myself properly."