Hands trembling, and surely the heart as well.
Ophelia drew back the curtain, her gaze fixed on the ever-shifting street scenes outside the window.
Leaving the capital to return to the North… and then? What comes next?
According to her father’s plan, the wedding would be held as scheduled in a month and a half, marrying that Karat.
Don’t be ridiculous.
Ophelia’s eyes drifted toward Anna, who sat a few seats away.
She was like a broken clockwork doll, silent, unmoving, her gaze fixed unblinkingly through the gaps between the wooden planks of the carriage walls.
Anna—what on earth is she thinking?
“Run away with me.”
That absurd thought flashed through Ophelia’s mind in an instant.
But… no. If she really did that, Yegor would undoubtedly kill Anna.
Someone, anyone, please tell me what to do.
God—yes, Almighty God—please don’t separate me from Anna.
Ophelia prayed sincerely within her heart.
Yet until the wheels of the carriage rolled over the coarse, barren, thinly snow-covered Dark Land, no deity answered her plea.
The biting wind howled outside the window, carrying the familiar scent of the North.
A roughness that even the wind could not escape.
The endless snow-capped mountains, the scorched patches of Dark Land still bearing the scars of fire, the frozen rivers—these were Ophelia’s memories of home.
She neither cherished this place nor hated it. She once thought that snow could never suppress the vitality of the Dark Land, but this time, coming back, all she felt was suffocation.
The snow was like an inescapable net, heavy and oppressive, weighing down Ophelia’s heart.
Since leaving the capital and entering the North, nearly two weeks had passed, and Anna had not uttered a single word.
She hadn’t even bothered to move. If not for Yegor forcing her to eat, she would have starved to death on the way.
This version of Anna felt like a stranger to Ophelia.
She tried calling Anna’s name. At first, Anna would lift her head, looking back with eyes like a trapped beast, neither dead nor alive.
Later, she would still habitually raise her head, but those eyes seemed to have lost their ability to see.
Anna was like a broken clay jar with its lid shattered, filled to the brim with drowning despair.
If only she hadn’t gone looking for Anna then, if only she hadn’t established that connection.
At least then, Anna wouldn’t have completely broken.
But in the next moment, the joyful, bitter, fleeting, and suffocating memories of their time together branded themselves onto Ophelia’s heart like a scar.
Those memories seemed to have merged into Ophelia’s blood and bone, inseparable from her.
It was those memories that gradually filled the gaps in the soul called “Ophelia.”
So… Anna, can you come save me?
“Anna.” She tried calling once more, but still no response.
“Anna.”
If she didn’t reply before the carriage arrived at Neuschwanstein Castle, there would be no chance left.
“Anna!”
Tears rolled down Ophelia’s cheeks. Anna’s head turned stiffly like a rusted, clumsy doll.
At last, she spoke—the first words on this entire journey.
“Ophelia…”
Her voice was hoarse, as if her throat had been scorched by embers.
Any response was enough.
Ophelia, like a madwoman, threw herself into Anna’s arms.
She clung to Anna like a starving ghost, her nostrils twitching rapidly as if trying to steal Anna’s scent completely.
“You promised… you would always stay by my side.”
Ophelia’s sobbing voice was like a key, prying open the rusted lock on Anna’s heart.
Anna’s world was a formless, intangible darkness.
Suddenly, a lightning bolt tore through the boundless dark sky.
A tiny spark appeared in the black veil. Anna reached out, chasing the flickering light that flew farther and farther away.
She sliced through the darkness just to embrace her light.
That very light had once pulled her out of the mire.
She once swore she would always stay by that light’s side.
So why now—why is she letting go?
It was a hard-won happiness, the person she had painstakingly grown to love.
She refused to hand over this feeling to anyone else.
Ophelia was hers. She could only be hers.
“Ophelia… don’t cry anymore.”
Anna’s hand covered Ophelia’s face, gently wiping away the tears clinging to her cheeks.
She made up her mind—she wanted to be brave once more.
She swore she would rescue her princess.
“Ophelia… wait for me. I will never leave you.”
“Anna…”
Ophelia knew all too well Anna’s determination, but that meant she would be at odds with the entire North!
“Ophelia, do you still remember our Vow?”
A kiss landed on the corner of Ophelia’s lips—this was their unique way of exchanging vows and affirming their hearts.
Ophelia knew there was no stopping this little lioness, reborn from the flames called Avenger.
“Mm, I believe you, Anna.”
The kiss landed on Anna’s lips. The Vow was sealed.
“Before I marry… Anna, you must come and take me back.”
Ophelia pulled down the second button of her blouse and pressed it into Anna’s palm.
“Is this an order?”
“Yes, Anna.”
Anna’s hands enveloped Ophelia’s cold ones but quickly withdrew. Then she half-knelt, deeply kissing the soft hand suspended in midair.
“As you command, my Lady Ophelia.”
Yegor took all of this in, tightening the reins in his hand until they were taut, almost snapping.
Is the duke really doing the right thing?
Yegor, who had sworn loyalty to his lord since their days in the army, suddenly began to doubt him.
He had watched Ophelia grow up and was the closest person to her aside from the duke and his wife. He knew her better than his own child.
He saw the unabashed love in the girl’s eyes, saw her near-mad attachment to the swordswoman who had broken her sword.
Could they really be separated?
Forcing Ophelia to marry a man she neither loved nor respected—was that truly protection?
The lady’s death had extinguished all the duke’s ambition.
Once a brilliant general shining like the Sun, he now locked himself away inside Neuschwanstein Castle.
To protect his daughter, he erased all traces of his beloved wife from their shared castle, forcing everyone to stop mentioning her.
To prevent Ophelia from sinking deeper into grief and doubt after her mother’s death, he sent her to the capital.
Now, in the name of “protection,” he planned to marry his daughter off to a man she despised.
The duke—is he really doing what’s right?
He was pushing away the people closest to him.
If only the lady were still here.
He recalled the genius swordswoman he once admired, the brave lord who had fought beside him, whose thoughts were worlds apart from this one.
He remembered the Holy Sword hidden away in the dark chamber of Neuschwanstein Castle, unseen by the light of day.
If someone could grasp that sword again… he would not hesitate to lend a hand.
So, he chose to keep what he saw and heard locked deep within his heart.