After the chaos subsided.
Arthur sat on a cold stone, silently watching the bandit's corpse, half-sunk and half-floating in the murky water. He reached into the lining of his chestplate and took out the flower.
The white flower was already completely withered and shrunken. Its petals, having lost all their color, were twisted and curled like the shriveled wings of a dead insect.
'A wildflower?'
The Knight's soulfire flickered. In his world, constructed from fragmented memories and an Undead's obsession, this flower was the only thing that had stubbornly grown in those lightless ruins.
'It's not just some wildflower.'
It was the most unique existence, and the most precious color.
Just like him.
An Undead who possessed the ability to think, vague memories and emotions, and a belief in nature.
He even remembered he had a sister.
Alice.
Brown braids, like amber honey. A crisp laugh, like a wind chime… She must be the cutest… skeleton in the world.
