As the dance ended, Lillith quietly made her way toward the castle gate, her steps hurried, her thoughts still spinning.
But just a few paces from the exit, she froze.
From around the corner, her grandfather's voice echoed—booming, pleased.
"Ah yes—yes, it would be an absolute honor! As the younger brother of our great king, having your son marry my granddaughter would be a most glorious union."
Lillith's heart dropped.
Her entire body trembled as the words sank in.
She didn't wait.
She bolted.
From a distance, Reginald—still waiting by the carriage outside—looked up just in time to see her rushing toward him.
Before he could react, she threw herself into his arms, hugging him tightly.
Startled, he stiffened. "Milady…?"
Her voice was barely above a whisper, fragile and trembling.
"Reginald… please… take me somewhere—anywhere—far away from all of this…"
His hands trembled as they hovered around her.
She clung to him, her emotions spiraling.
"I love you," she said, choking on the words. "I love you so, so much… Please… just tell me how you feel…"
Reginald's breath caught.
His trembling hands slowly steadied. He placed them gently on her shoulders… and with a calm, unreadable expression, he eased her back.
"I… truly appreciate your feelings, Milady," he said softly, "but I'm sorry. As a mere servant… I cannot return them."
Lillith's eyes widened, glistening with tears.
Her voice cracked.
"So that means… you're okay with me being married off to someone else?!"
Reginald's lips parted—just barely.
He hesitated.
Then, slowly, he said,
"…I would be happy to see milady marry someone who matches your noble status."
Lillith's eyes burned.
Without warning, she stepped forward and began striking his chest with her fists, over and over.
"Liar… liar… liar… liar!" she cried.
Her voice cracked with each word.
"If you're really happy, then why are you crying?!"
Reginald blinked, stunned.
He hadn't even noticed.
But sure enough, tears were trailing down his cheeks, quiet and unbidden.
Lillith's fists slowed. Her voice softened, trembling.
"Both Mom and Dad left me… before I even understood what it meant to be alone…"
She looked up at him, eyes filled with sorrow and something fiercer beneath.
"But you… you were always there. Always…"
Her hands curled into tight fists at her sides.
"You were the only one who stayed beside someone as pathetic as me… who helped me, protected me… who made me feel safe."
She took a breath—shaky, but resolute.
"I've had enough… of losing the people I care about."
Then, slowly, she looked into his eyes—directly, without hesitation.
"…Now it's my turn to protect you."
And from that day on…
Lillith changed.
She became exactly what her grandfather wanted—
Cold. Calculated. Composed.
A noble with sharp words and an even sharper gaze.
"I'll become what you want," she had told herself.
"But only so I can protect what matters to me."
Her mask never slipped.
People saw a perfect noble heiress—
Elegant, untouchable.
But behind the veil of pride and power…
"I hate this," she once whispered alone.
"I hate the way I talk to people… the way I look down on them."
"I hate what I've become."
Even as her name rose across nations,
Even as nobles bowed their heads to her—
"I'm sorry," she'd think quietly each time she hurt someone.
"I'm sorry for using you to look stronger than I really am."
Her popularity soared.
She made her own decisions, silencing even Azhrael.
But he said nothing.
As long as the Nightrose name thrived, he didn't care.
Now, she stood as a student of the prestigious Knight Academy.
Beautiful, brilliant, and bold.
But her true goal lay beyond praise or titles.
"If I win this tournament...
If I prove my strength with my own hands—
Then maybe…"
She looked down at her trembling fists.
"Maybe I can face him again.
Maybe he'll finally tell me how he truly feels."
But—
A soft wind slipped through the broken trees, brushing against fabric, carrying the scent of blood and silence.
Lillith sat with her legs pulled in, arms loosely draped over her knees, her back slightly curled as if something heavy had caved in from within. Her hair fluttered quietly, untouched, unnoticed.
She didn't move. She didn't blink.
Just a few feet away, the lifeless body of Reginald rested within the barrier, still, unmoving, cold.
And Lillith…
She wasn't crying.
Her eyes, once sharp and bright, stared forward with a hollow stillness.
They weren't glassy with grief or wide with shock. They were simply... dead. As though whatever light had been flickering inside her had finally gone out.
All that remained was silence.
And within that silence, the echoes of all the words she could no longer say.
***
The stadium was quiet.
Uncomfortably quiet.
No one moved. No one cheered. Not even the commentators had anything to say.
A massive dome of light now hovered across half the forest—its surface shimmering like heat over a summer road. It hadn't been there a minute ago. But now it pulsed with an unnatural hum, stretching far beyond the normal battlefield.
Host Rock stared at the display, blinking rapidly.
"H-Huh...? What the hell is that?" His voice cracked through the mic, awkward and unsteady. "That... that wasn't part of the tournament, right? Right?"
No one answered.
The crowd leaned forward as the projection screens flickered back to life.
What appeared next froze the entire stadium.
Dozens of students lay sprawled across the forest floor—some motionless, others barely twitching.
The trees were splintered and smoking. The ground was torn apart, as if a storm had passed through. Torn flags hung from broken branches like forgotten trophies. And blood...
So much blood.
Gasps echoed through the stands.
Someone screamed.
A mother stood up, pointing at the screen in panic.
"T-That's my son! That's my son lying there!"
Another father bolted from his seat.
"Let me through! I need to get down there! My daughter's in that forest!"
Chaos began to swell.
The nobles, once relaxed and entertained, were now on their feet, their eyes wide, faces pale.
"This isn't safe! I demand an escort out!"
"What is this madness?!"
"We were promised security!"
Supreme Knights leapt into action, appearing around the crowd, trying to contain the growing hysteria.
"Everyone remain calm! This is an emergency containment—do not panic!"
"Please return to your seats! The situation is under control!"
But no one listened.
The panic had already taken root.
The crowd spiraled into chaos.
Shouts overlapped. Parents rushed to the rails. Nobles barked at guards, demanding explanations. Host Rock looked helpless, gripping the mic like it might run from his hands.