“Advance preparation is what we mages do best. There’s no reason to get mad at me—all I want is my companion back.” Shizuku, who was a few paces ahead of them, watched on with bated breath. Just then, she felt something move next to her chest, and when she looked down, she noticed that the small green bird was beginning to stir. Mea had opened her eyes. “Mea!” In her periphery, she saw Nay forcefully raise his hand. Tearing through the white threads with sheer strength, he managed to unsheathe his sword. He swiftly cut through the threads with its sharp blade, then swung it down toward Erik. Thanks to the threads that were still in place, however, the sword didn’t move as quickly as it usually would have, and Erik had enough time to step back, causing Nay’s sword to slice through thin air instead. Nay took one step out of the magic circle, then mercilessly attacked Erik with his sword once again. “Erik!” Shizuku didn’t close her eyes. Instead, she found herself rushing toward her companion, as if she were being propelled toward him. She heard a high-pitched, metallic sound. As Shizuku watched on in wide-eyed shock, a fearless grin appeared on Nay’s face. “How amusing. You’re a sword wielder,” he remarked. “It’s not really my forte,” replied Erik. From the serious expression on his face, it was hard to tell whether Erik was being honest or not, but either way, he had parried Nay’s weapon with a slender thrusting sword. The young mage deflected the force of his opponent’s sword and pushed Nay back to create some space between them. From Shizuku’s perspective, however, it looked more like Nay had allowed himself to be rebuffed this time. Nay raised his longsword, preparing for a third strike, and Shizuku could sense he was channeling more force into this one. Erik scowled slightly, then lifted his own weapon and took a half step back. The odds weren’t looking good for him. But Shizuku stepped in just in time. “Stop that!” If Erik’s decision to parry Nay’s potentially devastating strike was a gamble, then Shizuku’s own judgment was, too. Considering the timing with which Nay had showed up, he probably didn’t realize that Varola would be standing in for her. Nay needed a bride, so he wouldn’t dare swing his sword at her. When she reflected on it later, she decided that this assumption was what had spurred her to act. In reality, though, she’d jumped in front of Erik on sheer panicked impulse. “You…” The momentum behind Nay’s sword weakened, and the look on Erik’s face changed as he pulled her close to him to shield her in turn. In his arms, Shizuku shouted, “Mea! Grab the flower basket!” The small bird on Shizuku’s chest responded to her master’s orders by summoning the little strength she had. There was a flower basket on top of one of the piles of boxes in the corridor, and it fell to the ground. It had been filled with colorful flower petals, and a flurry rained down on Nay, obstructing his vision. Shizuku used this opportunity to pull a rod out of one of the boxes, and Erik released her from his embrace. “Sorry!” Nay had never hit her and had actually been quite kind at times. But as she yelled her apology, Shizuku lifted the rod into the air—then brought it down, aiming not for Nay’s sword, but for his wrist. It took Nay only a moment to work out what she was trying to do, but white threads reached out from behind him to stop his movements. Shizuku could hear Erik chanting. The wooden rod stabbed the man right in his wrist. Although Shizuku wasn’t particularly strong, the impact carried all the way through his body and left Nay’s hand numb. It was just for a moment, but in that brief moment when Nay’s grip loosened, the white threads pulled his sword away, and as he instinctively reached out to grab it, Shizuku struck Nay’s hand again. The man winced in pain. A white ribbon had been tied around the wooden rod, and Shizuku held her weapon at the ready. Beside her, Erik snatched the longsword that had previously belonged to Nay, and the young mage shot him a cold glare. Having lost his weapon, Nay glanced at the pair, then laughed cynically. “How funny.” That was all he said. Unarmed, he took a half step forward. It was only half a step, but for some reason, it made Shizuku tense up with fear, and Erik pushed her behind him. “E-Erik!” “I’ll be fine. Just get out of here.” “Even if you run, you’ll be caught right away,” taunted Nay. “If you don’t want this man to die, then you’d better come back with me.” Nay raised a tanned finger in the air. It exuded an unsettling air of mystery, much like that of an ancient sword. Shizuku was on the verge of calling Mea’s name when she heard a cheer echoing in the distance. It was coming from the ceremony—a sign that it was about to start. Shizuku still stood behind Erik, and Nay narrowed his eyes in her direction. “What happened to your dress? Did you find someone to replace you?” “Yeah, Varola…” He’d spoken to her in the same calm tone of voice he’d used during the several days they’d spent together, and Shizuku had answered it without thinking. Hearing Shizuku’s response, a slight frown creased Nay’s face. Yet a moment later, he smiled. “I should have known that woman would be up to something…” It wasn’t a cheerful sort of smile—there was a twisted gloominess to it. Shizuku wasn’t sure how to react to seeing his smile for the first time, and when Nay noticed her looking at him, he waved his hand as if to shoo her away. “You should just go, then. Your life has been spared. Now you and that man can live the rest of your days together.” “Huh?” As Shizuku stood there in astonishment, Nay simply turned around and walked away, leaving Shizuku and Erik alone in the narrow hallway. A few moments later, Shizuku finally looked up at Erik. “Are we safe?” “Seems like it. Let’s go before it’s too late.” Erik stuffed the sword he’d confiscated into a random box, then started running down the hallway. Shizuku followed him, and as she did, she looked back over her shoulder, but nobody was there. Daytas had yet to receive any notice of Lord Deseuah’s arrival, and Nay still hadn’t come back. Despite his growing frustration, Daytas stood up straight and strode confidently into the nave of the church. Six brides were already lined up behind the altar, with the rightmost spot reserved for the woman who would become his wife. Some of the upper-class attendees observed the talented young man through a lens of self-importance, while others looked on in admiration. Regardless of the spectators’ views, Daytas held his head up defiantly as he walked straight down the long aisle. He was so close to making one of his numerous boyhood fantasies come true. “One day, I’ll become somebody those fools won’t be able to ignore. I’ll stand before them a self-made man.” When a young Daytas had made this pledge to his sick, bedridden mother, she’d looked at him sadly. These weren’t the words of a boy voicing his childish ambitions, but an indication of his extreme, deep-rooted obsession. His mother had passed away shortly after that, and Daytas had lived a solitary life ever since. He couldn’t understand why he’d been unable to overcome the dark loathing lurking within him. So many people on the vast continent had suffered greater misery than him, yet his own life was all he knew. He couldn’t find solace in comparing his situation to that of others. Daytas turned his gaze to the women standing behind the altar. Five of them would refuse to listen to him. Only one would respond. Yet that was all just a part of the myth. In his real life, not even one person had ever bothered listening to what he had to say—apart from his attendant, that is, who harbored a similar resentment. Why did he need to tell his story if it wasn’t going to get through to anyone anyway? It was ludicrous. Everything was fake. Everyone else sneered at others as they came to mutually beneficial compromises—trivial things like that were enough to make them happy. Daytas, however, couldn’t bear the thought of ending up like them. Standing before the altar, he turned around and bowed to the attendees. Then he turned back and positioned himself in front of the woman standing on the far left. Clutching her gloved hand, he asked, “What is your name?” She didn’t answer. Comforted by this reaction, Daytas took the hand of the next bride. Daytas would never forget the first time he saw Varola. It had happened in the back garden of the lord’s residence. Daytas had lost his way when the two of them happened to cast eyes on one another. He’d hardly been able to believe that a creature as beautiful as her existed. In spite of her immaturity, she was perfect, and she felt completely unattainable to him. He’d wanted to try speaking to her but had fretted over it nonstop. In the end, he managed to approach her, shaking with nerves all the while. Varola had looked up at him questioningly, then smiled at him. He asked for her name, and he gave her his. Then the pair took each other’s hands. It felt like the natural thing to do. The time they spent together was as sweet as sugar—but it ended almost as quickly as it had begun. When Daytas had told her that he was marrying someone else, Varola’s only response had been “Okay.” She probably knew that her father had intervened. The pair hadn’t seen each other since, and yet there she was, standing right by him, just one of the many people who wouldn’t listen to what he had to say. Daytas took the hand of the fifth woman. He knew that this was Varola’s role. However, as he recited his line, his expression shifted—the woman’s hand didn’t feel quite right. He looked up and peered through the heavy veil, and although he couldn’t really see the woman’s face, judging by the faint lines around her mouth, it was clear she wasn’t Varola. Daytas’s face tensed up with anger. She’d spurned him again, fleeing and taking her father with her. Even here at the end, she hadn’t been able to bring herself to stand before him. That was just the kind of woman she was. It was a show of arrogance that he couldn’t bring himself to forgive. Still, perhaps it was his fault for having such high expectations of her all this time. He was a fool for thinking she’d give him something in return. Daytas scoffed at the woman wearing Varola’s dress, then stood in front of the last person in line—the mysterious young girl he’d only just met. She was physically weak but strong-willed, and although she was scared of him, she sometimes seemed to look right through him. He figured that she must have had a pretty straightforward upbringing. While she wasn’t entirely naive to the hardships of life, it was clear that she’d been raised with affection and had a genuine urge to trust others. She was kindhearted, and despite all that Daytas had put her through, she still looked at him with concern. She’d never survive adult life with a personality like that. It would be best for her to go back to her family as soon as possible, before deceit and hurt caused her to change. Daytas took the last woman by the hand. He could feel it trembling slightly through the white glove, and he turned his attention beyond the veil to the woman wearing it. “What is your name?” he asked. There was a short pause. For some reason, Daytas felt a rush of nostalgia. Yet there was no way for him to get back what he’d lost. The woman gently took hold of his hand, and the warmth of her touch permeated their gloves—so much so that it was bizarre. It was a familiar sensation, and realizing why that was, Daytas found himself dumbstruck. Then the woman opened her mouth and answered him in a whisper. “My name is Varola Deseuah.” Her voice had once been serene and free of discomfort. To Daytas, it had sounded like the most beautiful thing in the world. Like delicate glasswork, she was pure, with an everlasting sparkle. Daytas did nothing but gaze at the last woman in line. This encounter was far more nerve-racking than their first. And far more sorrowful. Having broken free from Nay, Erik and Shizuku had run almost all the way to the exit. Following Erik’s directions, Shizuku turned a corner, but the next thing she knew, she was about to fall over. “Whoa!” She’d almost tripped over an empty plant pot that was sitting in the hallway, causing her to lose her balance. Shizuku placed a hand on the wall to keep herself upright, then promptly hopped over the pot. “Th-that was close.” “You need to be careful. You’re pretty clumsy at times.” “Thank you very much for that piece of advice.” Shizuku checked over her shoulder, but there was no one there. The pot she’d almost knocked over had reminded her of the white flowers, and she looked up at Erik as they dashed down the straight hallway. “That reminds me. Daytas hit me yesterday…” “He hit you?” “Y-yes.” Shizuku felt a bolt of static electricity zap through the air, but it had probably just been her imagination. Absentmindedly shrugging her shoulders, Shizuku continued. “There were all these white flowers in pots. They looked like wedding decorations, but now I think about it, they kind of smelled like gunpowder…” Shizuku was probably voicing the slight apprehension she had now because, subconsciously, she’d always been suspicious of Daytas’s motives. At first, she’d assumed he wanted to fill the vacancy left by the girl he’d accidentally murdered so that he could become a councilor without a hitch, but his plan was too far too unstable for that to be the case. What if people who knew the real Amabelle showed up? And what would happen when they paraded around town together? Daytas was constantly on edge—he wasn’t optimistic enough to believe it would all be over once they got through the ceremony. It felt like there was something else that was even more important to him. A motive for holding this ceremony, for example. That was why the smell of gunpowder was worrying Shizuku. It wasn’t just the unpleasant odor, but subtle and unpleasant premonitions that flickered through the back of her mind. “…So that’s what he was planning,” Erik responded plainly. Shizuku looked like she was about to come to a stop, but Erik pushed her forward. “Wh-what do you mean…?” “He snuck gunpowder in, then, didn’t he? That means he’s planning to blow the church up. There were strange ignition spells beneath the candlesticks, too. I think his plan was to place gunpowder on top of the magic circles so it catches fire.” “H-he’s going to blow it up?! Like a terrorist bombing?! But why?!” “I don’t know.” The pair turned a corner. They could see the door leading to the outside at the end of the hallway; however, as Shizuku set eyes on it, she started slowing down. Shizuku looked up at Erik, the worry in her eyes clear to see. “Then we need to put a stop to this… We still have time, don’t we?” “I don’t know. They wouldn’t wait until the end of the ceremony to light the candles—that wouldn’t make sense. So I can’t imagine we have much time at all.” Shizuku looked like she was about to stop, so Erik yanked her along by the hand. She knew what he was implying, but Shizuku couldn’t bring herself to run any farther. “I’m going back. For one thing, Varola’s there…” “You can’t. Escaping comes first for you. I’ll go instead.” Facing the door, Erik tapped Shizuku lightly on the back. Then, without a hint of hesitation, he turned and ran back the way they’d come. For a moment, Shizuku watched in astonishment—but it didn’t take long for her to follow him. “I’m coming with you!” “What’re you talking about? They’ll recognize you. And besides, you can’t even see magic circles.” “Uh, you’re right about that. Still…” Shizuku retraced her steps. She was scared, but she had no regrets. “It’s like people always say—two heads are better than one! Let’s hurry up and put out those flames!” What had Daytas seen in Shizuku’s gaze? What had he wanted from Varola? If Shizuku had really been Amabelle, she would have found herself in an even more confusing situation, but maybe she would have been able to change something, even if only slightly. Either way, Shizuku could only be herself—a passing traveler, and an outsider who wouldn’t listen to other people’s advice. She felt like she was all alone in the outfield. That didn’t mean she was entirely useless, though. She might not have been able to help the barren land inside Daytas flourish, but she could still help make sure he didn’t lose everything right here. Erik’s face had an unusually stern expression, but he wordlessly led Shizuku back down the hallway regardless, and they set off at a run. Before they knew it, the cheers had stopped, and the church had been plunged into a deep silence. “Why are you here?” At long last, Daytas had managed to muster a few simple words from his dry throat. “I thought I should be the one standing here before you. That’s all.” Varola had said her name during their exchange, but it had been too quiet for the guests to hear. They just sat there watching the frozen pair with looks of mild confusion. “What about your father? I heard he isn’t here.” “He’s gone,” Varola replied. “Gone…?” Daytas could barely see her through her veil. He wanted to shove away the fabric that was obstructing his view, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Part of him wanted to see her, but there was another part of him that was reluctant to. He didn’t want to see her jewel-like eyes become tainted with scorn for him. Varola tightened her grip, grasping his hand with her slender fingers. They were so delicate that it seemed like she’d never lifted a heavy object in her entire life. “I thought this marriage would make you happy. I hoped it might make me feel less guilty, too. But my father had other ideas. Yesterday, he started saying that he wasn’t going to make you a councilor anymore…and I couldn’t accept that.” Daytas listened in silence. He could have argued back, but he wanted to listen to Varola speak. “So I killed him. I killed him in the heat of an argument,” she muttered softly. Grasping the significance of her words, Daytas’s eyes widened, and he grabbed her shoulder with his free hand. “You killed him?” Varola didn’t reply immediately. She just smiled. “I wanted to give you a gift of some sort, and I thought that would make you happy. You always hated him, didn’t you? When I realized I’d killed him, I felt like I’d done something outrageous, but then I thought about the freedom it would give you, which made me happy… But you killed Amabelle, didn’t you?” Those words revealed to Daytas that his whole scheme had been exposed. This was why Varola was standing there in front of him, wearing a dress that belonged to someone else. She was clutching his hand, just like she had the day they’d first met. Now, though, it was the hand of an adult. Even touching her, Daytas felt a distance between them. They couldn’t remain as naive and innocent as they had been as children. “Daytas, did you decide to hold this ceremony and get an innocent girl involved just to exact your revenge? Is it because you resent the town that drove you and your mother away? Or do you resent me for throwing stones at you in the past?” The two of them just stared at each other. While the ceremony was going on, one of the craftsmen working near the entrance peered into the venue through a small window, a look of confusion across his face. “Don’t you need to light those candlesticks?” he asked the hired mage standing nearby. “They’re supposed to be lit when the ceremony is over—when the groom is giving his speech and the bride has gone to get changed.” “Hmm. Seems a shame not to light them now.” “Fancy folk tend to get all sorts of funny ideas,” said the mage, yawning. There were about five minutes until the mage was scheduled to activate the spells with his magic, but the ceremony didn’t seem to be proceeding according to plan. Strangely, the groom seemed hesitant to move away from his bride. By now, they should have been standing in front of the altar, signing their vows. What could have happened? “I’m screwed…” This was a meticulously planned upper-class ceremony, and the mage had expected everything to go smoothly. In fact, he’d been so sure it would end on time that he’d booked a transit ring slot immediately after it was scheduled to end. He had another job to take care of in the next town he was going to, and the mage looked at his watch and frowned. He’d been hired to channel his power into a spell at a specific time. Nothing more, nothing less. If the ceremony was running late, then that was his client’s problem. He told himself he’d get started at the scheduled time. Besides, the candles would look prettier lit. Then he yawned again. As shocked as he was, Daytas also felt somewhat relieved. Voice shaking, he asked Varola a question. “When did you figure out who I really was? Did your father tell you?” “No, I realized before that. I worked it out when you visited our mansion under a new name. You may find this hard to believe after all this time, but I always regretted what I did. I saw how much my mom was affected by the presence of your mother, and that made me do horrible things. But once you were gone, I regretted my actions. When I realized you were back, I was so pleased. I’d always wanted the chance to apologize to you…” “I got close to you because I wanted revenge.” “I know. I knew that right away.” Daytas could sense the guests behind him beginning to stir. They couldn’t work out why neither Daytas nor Varola was moving. Up until a few days before, Daytas had planned on setting them all on fire. He could still vividly recall how those supposedly sophisticated individuals had insulted and mistreated him and his mother, as if it had happened just yesterday. But right now, all of that seemed inconsequential to him. It was as if something was being washed away, leaving nothing but Varola’s voice reverberating inside him. Daytas stayed silent for a few moments before suddenly taking off his gloves. Then he took off Varola’s and held her hands, skin against skin. “When that man found out who I was, he called me a stray dog. He insisted that I was only making advances on you because I was a lowborn mutt.” “My father was blind—he never understood either of us. Though I’m no better than him in that respect.” Although he didn’t verbalize it, Daytas felt the same way. He’d never understood Varola and had convinced himself that she would never understand him, either. He told himself they had no common ground—that all that stood between them was a deep divide. And yet she’d been experiencing something similar, albeit in a different form. They’d both endured so much loneliness to reach this point. “I wanted you to be happy. I wanted you to have your freedom. But I guess we both made mistakes.” Varola’s voice was shaking. Daytas could tell that she was crying. He lifted her veil, and for the first time in a long time, he stared into her face. The tears rolling down her face were unusually clear. He touched her pale cheeks and wiped them away. She was right. He had gotten close to her to get revenge. He’d wanted to hurt her. He’d whispered loving words with a gentle smile on his face, but inside, he’d always wanted to rip her to shreds. But now, for some reason, that fervent obsession that had burned inside him had disappeared. He was looking at her through a pure, unaffected lens—just like he had when they first met. The other brides gawked at the unveiled bride in amazement. The commotion from the crowd grew louder. Varola glanced at the guests, who were beginning to rise to their feet, then gave Daytas a bittersweet smile. “There’s nowhere for us to go now, is there, Daytas?” “You didn’t have to join me,” he replied. Varola silently shook her head, and Daytas fell silent, understanding the meaning behind the gesture. Once upon a time, the pair’s hands had drifted apart. Their split was a decisive one. If only they’d held on to one another with the same childlike innocence they’d once had, frolicking and running around the garden together—perhaps their future would have been different. Now, Daytas held her tightly in his arms, and Varola didn’t fight back. She just sobbed against his chest. He kissed her head, then looked back toward the altar. His gaze fell on the guests, who were beginning to look angry. They were so foolish, believing that as long as they had power, they could manipulate any situation to suit themselves. Yet Daytas was no better himself—he had leveraged his influence to seek revenge. A self-deprecating smile played on his lips. Everything was futile. Nothing could bloom in a barren land. And yet—as twisted as it was—the wounds that the woman in his arms had suffered only made her shine brighter. Erik and Shizuku ran toward the entrance of the church, sure that the ignition spell would originate from there. If Daytas had been honest about setting Shizuku free, he must have been planning to start the fire after Shizuku had left the church. Even so, there wasn’t much time left. The bride would be present for only about fifteen minutes in total. After that, Daytas would offer his greetings to his guests, and the pair would be publicly unveiled. There would be crowds of people waiting to see the newlyweds, so the parade would take up the most time. Once Erik and Shizuku came out onto the first floor, they headed toward the doors, and a guard who’d spotted them from the other end of the hallway scowled. “What do you think you’re doing?!” he roared, his anger palpable. Erik didn’t slow down. Instead, his whispered some instructions to Shizuku half a step behind him. “I’ll buy us some time, so you go on ahead. There’s a door right next to the entrance that leads to a small room used by workers. The mage should be in there.” “Okay!” Shizuku replied. “Oh, but…” “What?” “I can’t tell who’s a mage and who’s not.” What if there were several people in the room? Magic circles were invisible to her, too. “Huh? Really? Can’t you tell just by looking at them? The mage will be the one dressed like a mage.” “And what does a mage’s outfit look like?” “The most simple description is that it’s all one piece.” “Ohh!” Now that he said that, it kind of made sense. Shizuku looked at Erik out of the corner of her eye. He always wore a one-piece garment with a belt at the waist. Shizuku just never paid much attention to what other people were wearing. As clichéd as it was, the phrase mage’s robes made her think of something loose and baggy. In fact, the mages who worked for Candela Castle had all been wearing that sort of airy robe, so it had never occurred to her that Erik’s tight clothing could also be characteristic of mages—which was strange, considering she’d already known he was one. Still, she couldn’t waste any time dwelling on this revelation. “Okay!” Shizuku replied immediately before quickening her pace. As the guard opened his arms wide in an attempt to stop her, Erik hurled something at the man’s leg. “Argh!” shouted the guard, looking down just before falling over onto his backside. Shizuku used this opportunity to slip past him. The entrance was right in front of her. Shizuku rushed into the reception area and brought herself to an abrupt halt, then scanned the area, spotting a small door. It had some sort of warning poster stuck to it, but she pushed it open, undeterred. “I don’t have permission, but I’m coming in anyway!” she called out. This sudden announcement prompted the five men inside the room to turn around in Shizuku’s direction. One man, who was dressed in a one-piece ensemble, looked startled by the sudden intruder—but he continued to lower his right hand toward the floor, and Shizuku lunged at him. “Don’t use your magic! It’ll explode!” “Explode?!” repeated the mage. “Don’t be so stupid, I’ve already been paid for this!” “I told you, don’t do this! It’s dangerous!” “Get away from me! You’re getting in my way!” The other four men were unsure how to react to this altercation—but then the mage shoved her out of the way, and Shizuku lost her balance and fell over. The man resumed the incantation, directing his hand toward the floor, but Shizuku cried out again. “Stop! There’s gunpowder in those white pots!” As Daytas held Varola in his arms, he gestured to the other brides to get down from the platform. Looking perplexed, they stepped back and left the room. Once Daytas and Varola were the only two people left standing on the altar, he whispered something to her. “You can still go back. Maybe you could still find a way to be happy.” Varola responded with a small shake of the head, and Daytas let out a deep sigh. Was this how the god Aetea had felt when he’d held his wife in his arms, too? They were the only two people in the world who could understand one another—the only ones who knew how the other person felt. Yet he didn’t feel lonely anymore. In a way, Daytas almost felt happy here in this moment. For an instant, the girl who’d fled crossed his mind. Was she already somewhere far away? Daytas certainly hoped so. With a bittersweet smile on his face, Daytas lifted his bride up into his arms, and Varola wrapped her arms around his neck, holding on tight. Then Daytas reached out toward the altar. Just as the mage was channeling his magic into the spell, he was stopped by one of the craftsmen in the room. The brawny man gripped the mage’s hand as he gazed out the small window, and the mage began to yell with bewilderment. “What?! Don’t tell me you believed the nonsense that girl was spewing!” “You were supposed to do this after the bride left. Why are you trying to light the candles now?” “It’s already the scheduled time.” “Whether there’s gunpowder in there or not, don’t just go making up your own rules.” The other craftsmen were eyeing the flustered mage with disapproval as his gaze darted around anxiously. That was when Shizuku sprinted out of the small room. “Wait! I’ll put a stop to this!” She could buy them some time. She just needed to win Daytas over and get him to rescind his earlier order. It didn’t matter if he hit her—this time, she had no intention of backing down. Shizuku went back to the entrance of the church, then pushed open the doors to the ceremony hall. She stepped onto the carpet that the brides must have walked down. At the end of the long, straight aisle, there was an altar, and behind it stood Daytas, holding Varola up in his arms. He reached out toward the altar, then picked up a lit candle. The pair turned to the audience. At the back of the altar lay countless white flowers, and Daytas stepped into their midst. As people looked on in confusion, Daytas lifted the candle into the air. Shizuku, the only person in the church who knew what he was doing, let out a near-shriek of anger. “Daytas!” He turned around. Varola caught sight of Shizuku. They both stared in shock, and for a moment, it was like time had frozen. Then Daytas gave a strained smile, a cynical look in his eyes—and hurled the candle at his feet. The white flowers, which must have been artificial, burst into flames. The hem of Varola’s long dress caught on fire, which she noticed with a smile. As the petrified audience watched this dramatic twist unfold, Shizuku tried to run up to Daytas and Varola, but someone grabbed her hand from behind. When she turned around, she saw Erik glaring at both her and the couple behind the altar with a stern expression on his face. “Don’t go.” “But there’s still—” Shizuku had wanted to say, “There’s still time,” but in the moment that followed, the deafening sound of an explosion buffeted her, and she was struck by the ensuing blast, debris hurling toward her. She couldn’t understand what had caused it. Turning back toward the couple at the altar, Shizuku found she could hardly see them, as the area behind the altar was almost completely obscured by smoke. “Why…?” Scream after scream echoed through the church, and people rushed toward the entrance, all trying to flee. Despite the horde rushing toward her, Shizuku just stood there in a daze. Erik put his arms around her and tried to drag her outside. “Let’s get out of here. Things aren’t looking good.” “But what about Varola and Daytas?” “We can’t do anything to save them. They’re already dead.” “Why?” A fleeing man bumped into Shizuku, whose eyes were still glued to the back of the church. As she teetered around, trying to keep herself upright, Erik gave her a bitter smile. “I’m sorry,” he murmured simply. He took out some kind of medicine and made Shizuku swallow it. As he held her in his arms, she quickly lost consciousness. Then he turned back to the altar one last time. The church had already been abandoned. It was perfectly still and quiet, in stark contrast to the uproar that was going on outside. The explosion on the last day of the festival was written off as a double suicide with two casualties. In the investigation that followed, the bodies of Lord Deseuah and Amabelle Lyshkariza were discovered, leading to the prevailing opinion that Daytas and Varola had been opposed to the marriage and killed them both, then themselves. The nobility, who’d had a narrow escape, tried as hard as they could to search for the girl who’d acted as Amabelle’s initial stand-in. Fearing that relations between them and Amabelle’s birth family would deteriorate, they wanted to frame her as Amabelle’s true killer. However, hardly anybody knew what she looked like—and in the end, they failed to capture her. Not only that, but the hand marks on the neck of Amabelle’s corpse were those of a man, so the hunt for the young girl was called off. Daytas’s attendant also went missing after the incident and, much like the young girl, could not be tracked down. All the blame was quickly assigned to the deceased couple, and the town went back to its original peaceful state. Shizuku found all this out two weeks later, in an inn three towns away from Laobbe, when she’d made Erik read the newspaper article out loud for her. Once she heard the full story, Shizuku looked down, her eyes brimming with sadness. “Part of me wonders whether I could have done more, but I guess that’s arrogant of me.” “I don’t know. There’s nothing wrong with feeling that way, but I’d advise you not to dwell on it too much. You have a tendency to let other people’s emotions burden you.” Shizuku nodded and closed her eyes. The image of Varola smiling happily in her final moments flashed through her mind, then vanished.
Chapter 21
31 min read