When Lita was the first to push open the heavy oak door, the mixed smell of herbs and blood immediately hit her.
The room was not large—a bed, a table, and two chairs were all the furnishings. This was a temporary room set up for the wounded, but really it was just for show; no one actually thought anyone would move in.
At that moment, Qiangsen was sitting at the head of the bed, his arm wrapped in layers of bandages. The trash can on the floor was filled with bloodstained bandages, and the part that should have connected to his forearm was now empty, with only mottled traces of blood still seeping through the gauze.
That was his only injury, yet it was enough to change a man’s life.
Qiangsen was shirtless, a thin layer of sweat still on his forehead. His usually honest eyes were now dim, staring blankly out the window as if he hadn’t heard the door open.
“Qiangsen.” Momoka spoke first, her voice much softer than usual. Even the ever-energetic her couldn’t act like normal now.
Qiangsen slowly turned his head, his gaze sweeping across the three of them in turn. Finally, he pulled at the corner of his mouth, as if trying to smile, but only managed a twisted, bitter arc.
“You’re here.”
Lita’s throat tightened. She still remembered Qiangsen from months ago, remembered how reliable he was when he helped her out of trouble in the black market, saw him drinking heartily in the tavern. But she had never seen him so lifeless. It was as if, in just a few hours, he had withered entirely.
Lita opened her mouth, wanting to say something comforting, but words like “It’ll be okay” or “Don’t be sad” felt pale and powerless now.
Promi stepped past Lita and placed two delicate little bottles on the table. “This is a blood-replenishing potion to help with your blood loss, and this is holy water that can dispel the effects of dark magic. Lita brought them both.”
“Thanks,” Qiangsen said quietly, his gaze drifting back to the window.
After a long moment, he added slowly, “If you want to sit, you’ll have to pull the chairs yourselves.”
Momoka pulled a chair directly and sat down. Promi pulled one for Lita as well, then leaned against the bed. Though Promi’s position would block some of the window, the view outside was only the night scene now. Qiangsen just frowned slightly and said nothing.
Momoka clasped her hands together on her knees, unusually nervous. “You survived. There’s always a way later.”
“A way…” Qiangsen’s voice was hoarse. “I lost an arm. There’s… no way for me.”
Qiangsen had more to say—at least, Lita sensed it. But Qiangsen was a man after all, and showing weakness in front of several young women wasn’t easy, so he swallowed those grievances.
Lita could feel it. Even if he didn’t say it, she knew what he was thinking.
She knew that Qiangsen’s goal in becoming a Holy Knight wasn’t just for power or money, but to have the beastification curse lifted from him in the royal capital. That was the only path open to him without wealth or status. But that path had now been ruthlessly cut off along with his arm.
“It doesn’t have to be so pessimistic,” Promi suddenly said. “The Church’s healing magic might still work. Also, there’s prosthetic technology now—like the famous Knight of the Silver Arm from the past…”
A faint glimmer of light flickered in Qiangsen’s eyes. “Opportunities are for those who qualify. It takes money, it takes connections. I have nothing left now…”
Promi was just trying to comfort him. Anyone could hear that. Ever since the incident with Lita, some within the Church suspected the royal family had used it as an excuse to kill their cardinal. So even without further conflict, both sides could only maintain a surface peace. The fact that the wounded hadn’t been sent to the Church—which was better at healing—already proved something to an extent.
But it was understandable. During the Holy Knight Examination, there were all sorts of people, and the Church feared someone might take the opportunity to infiltrate and harm them under the guise of healing. Even without that, if someone sneaked into the Church to harm the injured examinees, the Church wouldn’t be able to take responsibility.
“Focus on recovering first,” Lita said, speaking for the first time since entering the room. “The royal family won’t sit idly by when something like this happens during the Holy Knight Examination. You can rest assured—with me here, I’ll do my best to get you a satisfactory answer.”
“A satisfactory answer, huh…” Qiangsen laughed hoarsely, but rationality in his heart overpowered the beast named pessimism. Getting angry at Lita was meaningless—she came to help him, not to kick him when he was down. But his numb, despairing voice didn’t improve at all. He had heard too many promises. Putting hope in someone he didn’t know well would only lead to disappointment.
“Okay, thank you, Lita.”
The visit didn’t last long. Qiangsen needed rest, and the young women didn’t know how to continue this heavy, awkward conversation. Besides, none of the three who participated in today’s Holy Knight Examination had won. If it weren’t for Qiangsen, they wouldn’t have managed to gather here at all.
After a few more simple words, the three silently left the room.
“Lady Lita, are you done?”
“Yes. Apologies for the trouble, Lady Mei Er. I swear by the Golden Tree and the Fourth Princess Cecilia, I will repay this kindness.”
“It’s fine. I’ll do my best to take care of him. But he probably won’t be able to continue the examination.”
Lita was silent for a moment, then answered softly, “He should be prepared for that too.”
The corridor was empty and quiet. The torches in the chandeliers stretched and shortened the girls’ shadows repeatedly. Just as they reached the corner, they ran into a familiar figure.
Albel, who wasn’t carrying his twin swords, appeared there. Seeing the three of them, Albel also showed a surprised expression. “It’s you. Are you here to see Qiangsen too?”
“You too?” Lita asked back.
“Yeah, that’s right,” Albel answered first. Albel was also participating in the examination, and she was the only victor among those Lita knew well. The reason was simple—she hadn’t challenged a Crest Knight, nor had she encountered those nine monsters.
She had seen Lita and the other two, but hadn’t said a word the whole time. Lita would be lying if she said she didn’t mind. But after all, they were different genders, and now that Lita was a Crest Knight, she certainly wouldn’t pick a fight over that.
“Yeah, we got to know each other in Solus City after all. I want to spend some time alone with him. We’re both men, so there might be some things that are easier to say.” Albel sighed. “It’s getting late. Let’s catch up another time.”
After parting ways with Albel, Momoka politely suggested they go for another drink. Actually, none of them were in a great mood. Even though the examination would continue the next day, the gloomy atmosphere really called for a drink.
When they entered the tavern, Lita deeply felt the truth: human joys and sorrows are not connected.
The beautiful pheasant Claire by the fireplace was singing about Lita’s heroic deeds today. It was based on the apocryphal story of Lita single-handedly taking on eighteen Holy Knights, but it actually sounded good. However, singing that in front of Momoka made her expression sour.
But luckily, Lita and Momoka truly had a good relationship. So Momoka, while calling for more wine, cursed Lita for not holding back—of course, it was friendly ribbing.
“You! You bastard! You hit me! And you took my spear! Hah… It’s just a spear! I’ll give it to you! It’s yours!”
Although the next day Lita did return the spear, she couldn’t deny that she was really tempted at the time.
Many people noticed the three sitting at the same table and came to toast. But it wasn’t the hypocrisy of social occasions; it was more like a “spot a celebrity and ask for a photo” mentality.
They drank until late. Brownie personally barged into the tavern with a scowl and dragged his drowsy sister back. Deprived of her drinking partner, Momoka staggered to her feet, and Lita helped her back to the inn.
When Lita returned to the royal palace, the night was already deep. The lamp in Cecilia’s room was still lit for her.
Lita gently knocked, then stepped inside. She saw Cecilia sitting at her desk, the candlelight reflecting off her golden eyelashes, slowly looking up.
“You’re back?” Cecilia asked softly. “How was the visit?”
“Not good,” Lita replied, then briefly recounted what happened.
“But you did well. At least you used action to uphold the dignity of the Crest Knights.”
Cecilia smelled the scent of fire and beer on Lita, but chose to ignore it, never mentioning her late return. She shouldn’t be too strict, especially when everyone was in a bad mood. Just as she didn’t dwell on Qiangsen’s severe injury or the Crest Knight who had died.
Cecilia was also troubled. During an examination where the entire royal family had turned out and most Crest Knights were present, a candidate losing an arm was one thing—similar things had happened in previous years. But a Crest Knight dying on the spot, even if the king’s oath had suppressed it, had significant repercussions.
A Crest Knight dying without resistance—that was the easiest way to shake the people’s confidence. If that Crest Knight’s opponent had been an enemy instead of a candidate, what then? Many must have thought about that.
Cecilia listened quietly as Lita finished telling the story. Then she slowly stood up. This time, she didn’t sit directly on Lita, but came behind her, wrapping her arms around Lita’s shoulders.
Cecilia was very light, like a butterfly alighting, so Lita felt little pressure. But she could feel Cecilia’s warm, faint breath by her ear, and a barely perceptible tremor.
“Lita.” She called her name, just as she had thousands of times before. “But some people might… Do you think my existence is really a mistake?”