Sarg spoke with unfathomable wretchedness. The hands that had been gripping her shoulders cupped both of Hyderlin’s cheeks.
Hyderlin closed her eyes. When vision was blocked, hearing became sensitive. His trembling breath, his rapid heartbeat, the sound of blood rushing—all could be heard right nearby.
Sarg gently kissed above her eyelids. It was a kiss so careful it was reverent.
Actually, it was a touch too modest to even be called a kiss. Unlike the trembling hands that held Hyderlin’s cheeks and ears, the tips of the man’s lips barely touched the surface of her eyelids.
The breath faintly escaping between his lips seemed to wet her eyelashes.
The lips that had been touching her eyelids moved past the brow bone to her forehead. He kissed her forehead respectfully. His lips slowly brushed past her brow, the bridge of her nose. Every place they touched seemed to warm up lukewarmly.
Suddenly Hyderlin thought she wanted to cry.
The lips that had lingered on the tip of her nose fell away. Soon Sarg tilted his head at an angle.
If Hyderlin raised her head just a little, their lips would touch directly.
She could do that. She wanted to. It would be okay.
But she didn’t.
Hyderlin sharply turned her head away. She put strength in her arms and pushed Sarg’s chest. Sarg was pushed back weakly.
He reached out his hand with an expression that could only be described as stupid. His rough, large hand carefully grasped Hyderlin’s fingertips.
“Hyderlin.”
Again, Hyderlin.
Her eyes seemed to grow hot suddenly. At the same time, anger also surged up. Hyderlin coldly shook off his hand and shouted:
“Sarg Gloriosa! You damn drunk bastard! Can’t you even recognize people!”
Sarg looked at Hyderlin like someone who’d been hit out of nowhere. He seemed hurt.
But she glared with black eyes. She walked forward and repeatedly pushed Sarg’s chest hard. Like someone picking a fight.
Hyderlin was quite strong, and Sarg, who had been in a daze, was pushed back weakly.
“That woman has been dead with her head cut off for a long time! Look!”
Hyderlin grabbed Sarg’s forearm tightly and dragged him to the window. Sarg staggered as he was dragged. Hyderlin pointed at her grave visible beyond the rain.
“Can you see that grave! That vile woman’s corpse is buried under that ground! Her flesh has rotted and been eaten by worms, and all that’s left in the coffin is white bones!”
Sarg didn’t look in the direction Hyderlin’s fingertip pointed. What he was looking at was Hyderlin’s fingertips. Her worn nails and callused fingers.
Sarg looked at the fingertips of the woman who had held a sword and murmured:
“Hyderlin. Why do you keep denying it?”
Sarg’s face suddenly turned. Everything before his eyes spun and he tasted blood in his mouth.
Hyderlin gripped the fist that had struck Sarg’s cheek and spat:
“Listen carefully. Sarg Gloriosa.”
Fierce flames blazed in Hyderlin’s black eyes.
“First. That woman worse than a beast is a corpse and I am that woman’s double.”
At that moment, Sarg felt some discordance. The woman who said Hyderlin was dead was speaking with the most Hyderlin-like attitude of anyone. Sarg found that sad.
“Second. You’re trash who sees illusions and acts drunk.”
“……”
“Third.”
The woman gritted her teeth.
“You shouldn’t do this.”
Hyderlin glared at Sarg with deep anger. Her blazing black eyes glared as if they wanted to tear apart the man who missed a dead woman.
“That woman set fire to Kroitze Cathedral, forced the saint to marry her, and destroyed everyone around her. Is that all? She was the one who turned your father Duke Gloriosa into half a cripple!”
That was her sin.
Therefore, Hyderlin had no right to resist the death sentence. The woman whose whole path was covered in blood looked at the holy knight who had hated her in life.
“That person was worse than a beast. Even demons would shudder before that woman.”
“……”
“Surely, wasn’t that so? But why. How could you, of all people, that woman…”
Sarg didn’t even make excuses. He just groped the cheek he’d been struck on and hung his head.
At that moment, an invisible force seemed to push Hyderlin. Somehow she felt like collapsing to the floor. Seeing the man who had been like a rustless sword now rusted, she felt like crying.
Was this also Hyderlin’s sin?
Was it her fault?
The sinful woman covered her face with one hand. She dared, moaned from unfathomable despair:
“How could you say you love that woman…”
6. Transgressions 1
“Princess!”
At the voice calling her, Hyderlin turned around. There was a young man with an unscarred, smooth face. Hyderlin smiled brightly at the man.
“I’d appreciate it if you’d call me Count Biche now, Sir Skalts Petaora.”
Hyderlin received her knighthood at seventeen and that same year subjugated the undead in the northern mountains. And this year, at twenty, she suppressed the rebellion of the southern lords.
The king was greatly pleased with his daughter’s achievements and made her Count Biche. Thanks to this, one more title was added to the end of Hyderlin’s long name. Her name was now Hyderlin Pharmasa San Lotsa-‘Biche.’
Having become Count Biche, Hyderlin preferred to be addressed as ‘Count Biche’ or ‘Sir Biche’ rather than princess.
Skalts Petaora, who had gone to battle with Hyderlin, knew this fact. But changing a title once it stuck in one’s mouth was not easy, so Skalts often made the mistake of calling her princess.
Of course, when Hyderlin corrected him, he would answer, “My apologies, Count Biche.”
But today was different.
“Princess.”
Skalts Petaora insisted on calling her princess to the end. He had no choice. The person Skalts had to deliver news to was the princess, not the knight.
The face of the young knight, who had been quite cheerful, was stiffly tense today. What clung to his eyebrows was deep sorrow and what hung at the corners of his lips was hesitation. It was ominous. Hyderlin erased the smile from her face.
“Sir Petaora. Don’t dawdle and speak directly. What is it?”
The knight said miserably:
“His Majesty the King and Her Majesty the Queen have passed away.”
It was a carriage accident.
The funeral was held in the cathedral. The king and queen lay in stone coffins decorated with red roses. The bodies were intact, unbelievably for people who had been in an accident.
Hyderlin, who had rushed into the cathedral, stared blankly at her dead parents. Despite having faced countless deaths since becoming a knight, she couldn’t accept death. She wanted to shout that there must be some mistake and wail.
But she couldn’t just stand there in a daze.
The funeral of the royal couple was different from other people’s funerals. It was an extension of politics. The king’s death meant the ascension of a new king.
The nobles attending the funeral hid their calculations while pretending to be sad. If she made even the slightest misstep, they would tear into her.
Having dismissed the nobles who approached under the pretext of consolation, Hyderlin looked back at her younger brother, two years her junior. Several nobles were consoling Chesa, who was kneeling before the coffin sobbing.
Hyderlin glared at the nobles.
Trying to worm your way into his lonely heart? Do you think I’ll just sit back and watch?
Hyderlin walked over with firm steps and made the nobles surrounding Chesa withdraw. Then she placed her hand on Chesa’s shoulder. Chesa looked up at his sister with a tear-stained face.
“Sister, Father, Father…”
Lowering her posture, Hyderlin whispered softly in Chesa’s ear:
“Don’t act weak!”
Chesa’s face hardened. Hyderlin continued:
“You must earn fear and respect from them, not pity and sympathy. Don’t show your weakness.”
“…Sister.”
“You are His Majesty’s son and will be the next king. Stop crying and raise your head.”
Chesa glared at Hyderlin with eyes red from tears. His sister showed not a single tear. She only looked down at Chesa with a face as cold as a freshly sharpened blade.
Isn’t sister even sad? How can a person be so cold?
He resented her terribly for not even giving him time to grieve. Chesa had not yet accepted the loss. He wasn’t ready.
Hyderlin soon straightened her upper body. And she stepped back one pace. She looked down at Chesa urgently, as if hurrying him.
Chesa, who had been glaring resentfully at his older sister, staggered to his feet. His eyes and nose were red and his wet clothes were a mess, but his attitude was at least princely.
Chesa, who had closed his eyes and tilted back his head, sighed deeply. When he opened his eyes, he looked more composed than moments before. Hyderlin put strength in her abdomen and throat.
“Beloved brother. Take me as your knight.”
In a voice strong enough for everyone in the cathedral to hear, yet without losing dignity. She spoke clearly.
“I will wield my sword for you all my life. I will clear away everything that blocks your path and bring you the glory of this world. I will be your most faithful sword. So, my lord.”
She knelt on one knee before Chesa. The sword hanging at her waist struck the floor. As she bowed her head, her fiery curly hair hung down like a curtain.
“Please become king.”
Skalts Petaora stared intently at Hyderlin’s kneeling back. He too knelt following Hyderlin.
“Become king.”
Where there are two, there will be three, four, five. The knights in the funeral hall, the nobles, everyone knelt and bowed their heads.
Everyone urged Chesa to become king.
Chesa’s face was deathly pale. He looked at Hyderlin as if asking for help. But Hyderlin averted that gaze. She could guess the pressure her brother would feel, but she couldn’t relieve it for him.
It was Chesa who had to become king.
Not Hyderlin.
