Chapter 1
The land where death had gently settled was shrouded in silence. As if announcing countless deaths, the stench of blood pierced the nose like a sharp spear, mercilessly.
‘I want to rest…’
Only after cutting down every living, breathing thing in sight, only after his hands were drenched in fresh blood, could he finally stop.
The hero was confused whether the ground beneath his feet was earth or the bodies of the dead.
‘Now, I want to stop.’
The hero thrust the greatsword he had wielded effortlessly with one hand into the ground.
Like the heads of the enemies he had severed, the hero bowed his head. His cascading hair, red like blood, fell like a sigh at his feet.
The guardian of the empire.
The hero who protects the empire.
That’s what people called him. He had no proper name.
Because of that, regardless of his own will, whenever the empire fell into danger, the hero always had to face situations like this.
Using the hilt of his greatsword as a staff, the hero knelt on his trembling knees, overcome with exhaustion.
“Ha…”
Only after killing all the threatening enemies could the hero exhale a hot breath.
Along with the pride of having once again protected the empire from danger came a lukewarm wave of boredom.
‘How long must I…’
In times of chaos, there are heroes.
It was always the hero who prevented turmoil in the Belluise Empire and safeguarded peace.
He had always protected the empire in moments of life-or-death crisis.
The hero was a conqueror who had dominated battlefields for hundreds of years.
Even without any reward, not even a simple thank you, the hero had thrown his body into defending this place.
Even as children grew into emperors and died, and their children grew again, with the throne changing owners multiple times.
The hero was the empire’s dog, always obeying whenever the empire needed him.
“…Is it time to be sealed again?”
The hero’s hand, gripping the sword, began to turn transparent.
When the war ended and peace came to the empire, the hero had to return to an endless darkness.
The end of a long battle was always sealing.
“I wish I could at least see the stars.”
The hero looked up at the sky with unfocused eyes.
The ashes left from the burning filled the sky.
Was that the sunset, or destruction?
As red embers swirled chaotically around, the hero’s heart burned.
‘I want to be free.’
The wind brushing through his hair was so sweet he didn’t want to let it go to waste. The sensation of leaves grazing his fingertips and falling was so vivid he wanted to keep living and breathing like this.
Even if it was all burned to ashes, leaving only an unpleasant smell.
The deeply inhaled air was so refreshingly cool that, for a moment, the hero dreamed of a free and ordinary life.
With that unattainable dream as his last, the hero was sealed into deep darkness.
No one existed on the battlefield, and the credit that should have been hers went to someone else.
And exactly ten years later, the hero’s seal was broken. In a wedding hall, of all places.
＊＊＊
‘Where on earth am I?’
Blink, blink.
The hero rolled her eyes around.
At the tips of her wriggling fingers, instead of a stiff knight’s uniform, she felt soft dress fabric.
‘Why am I here?’
The seal had broken, and the hero opened her eyes. That meant danger had befallen the empire, and the emperor needed the hero’s help.
When the seal was released, the first thing she often saw was horrific scenes like mutual slaughter or invasions by monsters.
So, as soon as she opened her eyes, she hurriedly grabbed whatever was nearby. Naturally, she thought it was the greatsword that had always been with her.
“Miss.”
But what she grabbed wasn’t the greatsword; it was some fine brush whose purpose she didn’t even know. Moreover, it seemed coated in white powder, which scattered into the air.
Furthermore, there were no people shouting to kill each other, no monsters.
“…Miss? Me?”
“Yes. Who else is there besides you, miss? I brought the water you asked for. But what are you doing holding the makeup tool? Are you fixing your makeup?”
“…Huh?”
The hero dumbly echoed back, looking at the brush in her hand.
She had thought it was too small for a greatsword’s hilt—it turned out to be a makeup tool.
“Here’s the water. You threw quite a fit saying you wanted warm water. It was really hard to get, so drink it all.”
The maid snatched the brush from the hero’s hand and instead placed a steaming cup of hot water in it.
The warmth transmitted vividly to her palm. There was no way the hero, who had endured blazing flames, couldn’t handle this much…
“Ah, hot!”
…It shouldn’t have been, but the mere glass of water was too scalding, so she leaped to her feet and hurled it away.
‘Why is this hot?’
The hero stared at the water spilled on the floor with bewildered eyes. Steam was rising thickly from it, yet something like this should have been nothing at all.
“Miss! You almost burned me!”
The maid who had handed over the hot water cried out. Only then did the hero realize that something was going terribly wrong.
There was one thing more important than this peaceful everyday scene she was witnessing for the first time.
“…Give me a mirror.”
Come to think of it, the voice was strange too. From commanding battles and shouting so much, her voice should have been hoarse by now, but the one reaching the hero’s ears sounded like a nightingale’s song.
“Is your face the priority right now? Oh, right, it’s the wedding, isn’t it? You were so against getting married…”
Wedding?
“The vanity’s over there—check it yourself!”
With an uneasy, ominous premonition, the hero moved toward the vanity.
And the face reflected there belonged to a woman with pale platinum blonde hair, as if the color had been drained away, and cool blue eyes. The hero’s red hair was nowhere to be seen, and the features were entirely different.
“Is this my face?”
As the hero spoke, the woman in the mirror moved her small lips delicately.
Her large, doe-like eyes sparkled as if stars had been set into them, and her lips, murmuring softly with each word, were as endearing as a rabbit nibbling on grass.
Cheeks flushed with a rosy tint, a small but elegantly upturned nose. Skin so white it seemed she’d been locked away her whole life, slender wrists that looked as if they’d never gripped a sword, and soft palms.
On top of that, instead of a uniform designed for easy movement, she was in a voluminous dress she was wearing for the first time.
A woman so beautiful that merely gazing at her could make anyone fall in love at first sight.
The hero slowly lifted a hand and pressed firmly against the face. The sensation at her fingertips was sharp and real.
That’s when it happened.
“Ugh.”
A pain surged in her head, one she hadn’t even felt when stabbed by an enemy’s sword. Startled, the hero clutched her head with both hands.
Memories flooded into the hero’s mind, crammed in like luggage stuffed beyond capacity into a small wooden box.
“What is this?”
They were the memories of the woman in the mirror—Roshanne’s.
“So today’s wedding is Roshan—no… my wedding?”
The hero—no, Roshanne—turned and asked the maids in a dumbfounded tone.
“Of course it is. What else would that dress you’re wearing be, if not a wedding gown?”
The maid eyed Roshanne up and down with suspicion, finding her behavior unusually odd today.
Roshanne Railaten.
The illegitimate daughter of Duke Railaten.
It was said that a commoner woman, after spending a single day with the duke, gave birth to Roshanne and then abandoned her. Duke Railaten took in the child who carried half his blood, but he offered no warmth or kindness.
Roshanne was the empire’s one and only ducal daughter, yet her life was nothing short of utterly unfortunate.
Like any child, Roshanne wanted to win her father’s favor—the Duke Railaten’s. She longed and yearned for him to turn his gaze toward her. Even knowing that this desire was eroding her from within and nurturing a sickness in her heart, she couldn’t stop.
Today’s wedding was the outcome of her choosing to sacrifice herself for the family’s honor and gain.
No, was it fair to call this entirely her own choice? She had walked toward it, knowing the end was a sheer cliff, all to earn the duke’s love—so didn’t he bear some responsibility too?
Roshanne’s final memory was of collapsing, overwhelmed by the pressure, struggling to breathe as she fell.
In her fading vision, Roshanne’s wish was singular.
‘…I just wanted to be loved.’
Roshanne had craved love. She hungered for affection. She yearned for arms that would hold her warmly and hands that would soothe her gently.
‘Child.’
The hero gazed steadily at Roshanne’s reflection in the mirror. It seemed as though inexplicable tears were gathering in those downcast eyes.
‘I’ll love you.’
The hero patted her own shoulder with her palm, as if offering comfort.
To an outsider, it might look comical—someone consoling themselves—but there was no trace of a smile on Roshanne’s face.
‘I’ll love you—love myself.’
And the hero had awakened as none other than Roshanne Railaten, embarking on a new life.
Roshanne accepted this reality swiftly.
Only after adapting could she finally take in the waiting room around her. To others, it might appear utterly stark and desolate, but to Roshanne’s eyes, it was the very essence of the peace she had longed for so desperately.
‘No sword…’
Roshanne sat on the sofa, rolling her round eyes around the room.
‘No corpses, no blood…’
These were not thoughts that suited such an adorable face.
‘Not sealed away either…’
Roshanne gazed at her own clear hand.
The palm, which had never once held a sword, was as soft as a child’s.
‘To be able to walk freely under such a clear sky like this.’
For the first time, she felt this peace, and it seemed as if tears might well up and spill over any moment.
“The world is…”
Roshanne murmured tearfully, parting her lips. The maids, who had been distracted with other tasks, all turned to look at her simultaneously.
“The world is so vibrant like this.”
The world was so beautiful that it made her previous thoughts of wanting to rest after killing everything seem utterly insignificant.
To the point of forgetting to breathe for a moment, completely entranced.
Unable to contain the overwhelming emotions surging within her, tears streamed down Roshanne’s cheeks.
The things she had longed for over hundreds of years were so incredibly precious.
If this was a dream—if it really was a dream—she hoped never to wake from it. She didn’t have the confidence to endure the despair of opening her eyes and returning to that blood-drenched reality.
“…What’s with her?”
“…I don’t know. She seems to have gone strange ahead of the wedding.”
The maids whispered to each other, watching Roshanne quietly sobbing with bated breath. It was right at that moment.
“You.”
Roshanne, sniffling as she wiped away her tears, beckoned to the whispering maid.
“Yes?”
“Go open the door. The duke is coming.”
“…Yes?”
Suddenly announcing that the duke was coming? It was utterly incomprehensible.
But Roshanne offered no further explanation, focusing solely on wiping away the tears she had shed.
As the maid furrowed her brow, deliberating whether to open the door or ignore the command, the door burst open with a bang.
“Roshanne.”
And through the opened door stepped Roshanne’s father, the empire’s sole duke—Duke Railaten.
“…!”
As the duke truly entered through the open door, the maids, startled, hurriedly bowed in a flurry.
But the duke, striding boldly into the waiting room, didn’t spare the maids even a single glance.
“Were you crying?”
No sooner had Duke Railaten confirmed Roshanne’s smudged makeup than he let out a sigh.
“Roshanne. Can you really go through with this marriage?”
At first listen, his tone almost seemed dismissive.
“You said you’d do it, so we’ll proceed, but in my view—”
Roshanne looked up at the duke with an indifferent gaze. When their eyes met, Duke Railaten clicked his tongue in irritation and turned his head away.
His gaze toward his daughter on her wedding day was far too cold and far too apathetic.
“The wedding ceremony will start soon. Fix your makeup first.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
At Duke Railaten’s curt nod of his chin, the maids—who had been ignoring Roshanne all this time—moved swiftly.
“Duke.”
Roshanne lightly blocked the maids’ hands and parted her lips.
Roshanne was the hero who safeguarded the empire and its greatest conqueror.
Which also meant that in her lifetime, she had never once lowered herself to anyone.
“You’ve aged quite a bit.”
“What?”
The last time she had seen him was ten years ago, during the sealing of the mad dragon.
Roshanne calmly recalled Duke Railaten from ten years prior.
Back then, she hadn’t heard any mention of Duke Railaten having an illegitimate child, so Roshanne’s lineage must have been revealed afterward, allowing her to join the family.
“Duke. I’m sorry, but today’s schedule needs to be changed.”
“Roshanne, right now, to me…”
“Today’s wedding is canceled, Duke.”
The daughter who always trembled in fear whenever she looked at him, unable to meet his eyes properly, was different today.
She was staring straight into his eyes and voicing her opinion assertively.
“The other party, Viscount Zichelia, is a pervert, and I don’t like perverts.”
Roshanne simply hoped that this freedom she had finally attained would no longer be subjected to any oppression.
