The tower had always been quiet.
Kasha had never been a talkative person, but after she retreated to the tower, there were days when she had no occasion to open her mouth at all.
When will Simon come?
When the silence became too heavy to carry, she would say it aloud to herself deliberately.
Just hearing her own voice helped a little.
He came three days ago… so probably in about a week.
When even that became too exhausting, she would open the small tower window and look out at nothing in particular.
Whoosh.
The wind that came in off the horizon carried a thousand smells and stories with it.
On days when the winter chill arrived on the breeze, she would lean out the window and let it touch her, imagining she could smell something of home in it.
Bang. Boom. Bang.
That night was different. A distant sound pulled her to the window, and far off across the capital’s night sky, tiny sparks were being threaded through the darkness.
Red, blue, gold — magical fire.
Is tonight the founding day?
She said it to herself, without much feeling.
Simon must be busy.
He had said he would come before the holiday. He had been silent now for a full month.
The food is nearly gone.
She scraped the last biscuit crumbs from the plate and sighed.
She had been careful to make the stores last. And still it had come to this.
The previous winter, when heavy snow had blocked the road, delivery had been cut off for an entire week.
She had collapsed from weakness and ended up lying beside her own desk, and it was Simon who had woken her — by prodding her with the toe of his boot.
Hey, Kasha. Did you fall asleep? Did you finish correcting those blueprints I asked about?
Bang. Boom. Bang.
The fireworks going off in that distant sky were beautiful.
Like a dream.
The kind of dream that was simply not made for her.
Everyone else is happy, I suppose.
She said it to no one, breathing in the faint smell of gunpowder on the wind.
She didn’t know she was lonely.
Solitude had long since become too familiar to register as something missing.
And then.
Even now, in this moment, the beautiful lights exploding across that night sky reached her somewhere deep and aching.
She had just pressed her face into the arms she had folded on the windowsill when she heard it.
Clop, clop, clop.
Hoofbeats. In the distance.
“……!”
She lifted her head sharply.
Simon?
Crash.
He came in the same way he always did — kicking the door open with barely controlled irritation.
Kasha, Kasha! Where are you?
Simon! I’m — I’m up here, at the top!
Her voice brought him up to the highest floor, where he arrived already angry.
Why do you keep coming all the way up here? I told you to stay on the lower floors, it’s a climb to get up here. Are you ignoring what I say?
…I’m sorry.
The truth was that she came up to check the cistern that caught rainwater from the roof. The delivery cart always brought exactly enough drinking water and no more, so a wash once a day — face only — required supplementing the supply. And even the drinking water ran out with some regularity.
But Kasha didn’t explain any of this.
She was just glad to see him after so long. And yet he barely glanced at her as she approached.
Is this it? This is the magical detonator you mentioned last time?
Yes. But — I should tell you, this tool is very dangerous if used incorrectly. I was hoping we could add more safety features before making a prototype—
Oh, what are you going on about.
The moment he said it, the blood in her veins went cold.
The Duke of Tyrot’s ballroom. Kasha standing among the crowd like an animal that had lost its way. Odette’s contemptuous blue eyes.
Why are you hurting me with the same words she uses? Why?
S— Simon—
Stop mumbling things I can’t understand. My head hurts, I’ve been drinking. If this wasn’t here I could be out having fun right now—
Simon. I wanted to—
Thwack.
He batted her hand from his sleeve with open irritation.
Don’t cling. Didn’t I just say my head hurts?
…….
This good night I’m missing, god. Fine. I’ve got what I came for. I’m going back.
Already?
…….
He turned his back to her without answering and started down the stairs. No goodbye. He had taken only the blueprints. He had not looked at her face once.
The food. She suddenly thought of the food.
S— Simon! We’ve run out of food!
Bang.
The door slammed shut below.
Thud.
Kasha sank to the floor and pulled her knees to her chest.
Bang. Ba-ba-ba-boom. Bang.
She pressed her hands over her ears to block out the fireworks.
Why. Why—
She had not meant to cry. But her tear ducts, apparently, had not been consulted.
I’m… I’m hungry. I said I was hungry—
A sob she hadn’t intended broke free from behind her pressed-together lips.
I want to leave this place.
But go where?
There was nowhere in the world that wanted her.
She was weeping openly by the time she realized it — for the first time in eight years since leaving home, crying aloud with her voice.
“I said I was hungry… why…”
Sob.
The sound went on and on, coming from somewhere small and desperate, and with each breath her chest heaved. The pillowcase was soaked through.
“…….”
Leon looked down at her, unmoving, in the stillness of the room.
Kasha’s bedroom. Rüschino House.
He was sitting in the chair beside her bed.
I should go.
There was a pile of documents he owed the Knight Commander by evening.
And yet, why am I still here.
When he had caught Kasha Rüschino as she fell in the Imperial Library, his intention had been to hand her over to her waiting coachman and leave at once.
For that matter, when he had entered the library in the first place, he had firmly told himself he would process her book request as quickly as possible and go.
Why did things so reliably go somewhere other than planned whenever this woman was involved?
In truth, Leon had arrived at the library considerably earlier than she had.
Not to be punctual, he told himself — though in reality he had been unable to concentrate on work all morning.
Vice-Commander, your helmet — you’ve forgotten your helmet.
He had neglected to put on basic protective gear for a practice bout.
He had made a fundamental error in the warm-up footwork he had drilled thousands of times, in front of everyone.
Leon, what’s got into you? You’re not yourself today. Don’t forget the new knight selection documents and the assignment charts before you leave.
I apologize. I’ll step out briefly and attend to it.
What? When am I supposed to go home? Leon! Leon!
He had felt a slight twinge of conscience at ignoring the Knight Commander’s increasingly desperate calls, but only slight.
Shhff.
The moment he spotted Kasha at the shelves — sitting on the floor, turning pages with the focused urgency of someone who intended to consume the book by eating it — everything else slipped away.
She was nothing like a graceful lady. She was not attempting to charm him. And yet, in the library’s drifting dust and shifting afternoon light, she was inexplicably luminous.
Looking at her in that moment, there was no question: she was completely, utterly absorbed. There was not a fraction of her attention anywhere else.
So he hadn’t approached.
He had leaned against the shelf on the other side and pretended to read, turning pages that held no meaning, staying because he was unable to leave.
Aware, distantly, that the clock was well past five and closing time was approaching.
Then — at some point — she looked up suddenly from her book.
Leon stepped neatly out of her line of sight, as a knight’s reflexes required.
When he looked again a moment later, she had vanished. A few of the books she had been reading were left scattered on the floor.
Where did she go? She was so absorbed in those books — why did she suddenly—. Did she come looking for me?
An unexplained restlessness moved through him, and he had begun searching the library for her.
Then —
Kasha Rüschino! Are you seriously doing this?
A man’s voice, lowered in irritation, reached him.
“Sob… mmh.”
Kasha made another pained sound, pulling Leon back to the present.
She was still unconscious, still crying.
A nightmare, perhaps.
Exhaustion appears to be the primary cause. In these cases, a healer with holy power tends to be more effective than conventional treatment.
The Rüschino household physician had said as much after examining her.
I’ll go fetch one right away!
Before Leon could contribute a word, Kasha’s brother had bolted out of the room at a run.
I’m a Holy Knight.
Leon had said it half to himself. Only Kasha’s maid had caught it, and her face had lit up immediately.
Oh, truly, sir? In that case — might it be possible for you to share a little of your holy power with our young lady?
With Kasha being carried in by the coachman and Daryl in too much of a state to bother with introductions, Leon had hesitated — and then nodded.
The maid apparently assumed he was simply a righteous Holy Knight who had come to her mistress’s aid. Evidence: she had left the two of them alone in the bedroom while she went to fetch cool cloths.
Drip.
A single clear tear welled at the corner of Kasha’s eye, ran along her temple, and disappeared into her hair.
A sound of distress, soft and restless, rose from her throat.
Watching, Leon made his decision. He removed his gloves.
And then, without pausing, he removed the ring.
A ring set with a violet stone that matched his eyes. His mother’s legacy — the holy woman Larissa’s keepsake, which served as a kind of lock, keeping his holy power bound and contained.
“…….”
Freed of the ring, he opened his palm slowly.
The veins across the back of his hand pulsed red and full, alive in a way they hadn’t been a moment ago.
Before the curse, his hands had been his finest tools for channeling holy power.
But once he discovered that releasing his holy power made the curse intensify with it, he had chosen to keep it locked away behind the ring instead. That was the only reason he had been able to manage any kind of daily functioning.
After so long under the ring’s seal, the holy power flooded back through him the moment the constraint was removed — like water finally finding its channel.
…!
Alongside it, the vile, burning desire surged up from somewhere deep.
Perhaps I should stop.
But the sight of Kasha — pale and trembling, still crying — held him where he was.
If I apply the holy power and pull back immediately — it may work. And besides. She has always been different, with me.
He talked himself forward and reached toward her.
His fingers were visibly unsteady. He noticed this with something close to contempt for himself.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
His heart was hammering as though trying to leave his chest entirely.
He registered, distantly, that his own breathing had become dangerously uneven.
This isn’t going to work.
He understood the danger of the moment too late.
His hand was already moving toward the pale curve of her throat — with the purpose of something that has scented its prey.
