The sounds of shattering, breaking, and screaming filled the air, mingling with a sense of foreboding.
I stared at the locked door in front of me.
"…It’s a dream."
Originally, it took several days for things to reach this chaotic state.
Yet here, it ended too quickly, unnaturally so.
Heavy footsteps approached. Thud. Thud. Thud.
Then came the sharp, grating sound of metal hinges creaking open.
The library door swung wide, casting a long, ominous shadow across the floor.
I slowly lifted my gaze.
Standing there—
Was my mother.
Her entire body was drenched in blood, yet she was smiling.
"Now, it’s just you. You’re the last disciple."
Her twisted love was reflected in her eyes.
No—perhaps it wasn’t love at all. More like an obsession with God.
And then—
She crumbled into dust.
I stepped out of the library, scanning my surroundings.
There was no one in sight.
Lowering my gaze, I looked at my hands again.
This time, they were the hands of an adult.
"It’s about time I wake up."
I clenched my fist and shook my head.
Or maybe—there was still something I needed to do in this dream.
I hesitated, then decided to search for something to pass the time.
"Maybe I should look for 〈Fate〉."
Stopping before a mountain of books, I began digging through them.
That was the last book I had read before becoming Amy Royalsand—so it had to be here.
But no matter how hard I searched, the brown leather-bound volume was nowhere to be found.
Maybe it was never here to begin with.
Maybe—
This wasn’t a dream at all.
What if the place I believed was real had been the dream instead?
What if Siora Bonetti had never existed at all?
"Ah."
I suddenly tilted my head upward.
The temple was as massive, towering, and hollow as always.
And inside—
There was only one person.
Me.
Alone.
"…Siora?"
A voice echoed through the vast space.
My vision blurred—I instinctively squeezed my eyes shut and then opened them again.
And when my sight cleared—
I had finally woken up.
The first thing I saw was red.
Vivid, unmistakable red.
Cruello’s color.
"Ah."
For no reason at all—
I felt a strange sense of relief.
It was ridiculous, really. But somehow, I was glad the first face I saw after waking up was Cruello’s.
Of course, he had no way of knowing that. He only looked… a little caught off guard.
Why?
Wait—
Did I wake up at the exact moment he was about to assassinate me?
Just as suspicion crept in, I felt something wet slide down from my eye.
I reached up.
My fingertips brushed against damp skin.
I lowered my gaze, half-expecting to see blood.
Instead—
"…Tears?"
Did I just wake up crying from a dream?
Me?
The Harvest Festival was different—I knew those weren’t my emotions.
But this time—
I had no idea why.
I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d cried.
And the dream wasn’t even a nightmare—so what the hell was this?
Baffled and a little embarrassed, I wiped my eyes with my sleeve.
"…Did you have a nightmare?"
Cruello had already recovered, now sitting comfortably at the edge of the bed.
So at ease.
As if this was his own bed.
Of course, it wasn’t mine either.
"I don’t think so?"
If anything, that had been my home. I was going back there soon.
So it wasn’t a nightmare.
Ah.
Maybe I was homesick.
Now that made sense.
Satisfied with my reasoning, I nodded firmly.
"Why do you look so shocked, Cruello? Did you get caught trying to murder me or something?"
"You suddenly started crying, so I woke you up—and this is what I get in return?"
"My eyes were probably just dry. I don’t cry."
"Hmm."
"The Harvest Festival thing? That wasn’t me crying on purpose. It’s too complicated to explain, but—"
"Then why are you defending yourself?"
"Because you’re interrogating me."
Cruello shrugged, then casually reached out his hand.
His fingers grazed my forehead.
Cool.
"You still have a fever. Are you feeling unwell?"
"Mm, just a bit dazed."
"It’s the fever."
"What, are you worried sick about me? Is your heart shattering into a thousand pieces because I’m ill?"
"Yeah. I’m worried."
Fully grown Cruello wasn’t as fun to tease.
Tch. I gave up on the attack.
"We are engaged, after all. Shouldn’t I be?"
"Try remembering the divorce clause in our contract before you say that, partner."
"I never knew Darling would be so heartbroken about that. I’m touched."
"Alright, enough pointless chatter. How long was I out?"
"It’s been three days."
Whoa. That long?
I must’ve still been dealing with the aftereffects of the Nine Gates. No wonder my body had been in such bad shape.
That would explain the weird dream too.
Cruello began filling me in on everything that had happened while I was unconscious.
After the territory stabilized, the Elder Council—who had fled without looking back—started crawling back.
But public opinion had already shifted.
Several residents had witnessed the Elders running away.
And worse—Minuet had cleared Tempestas.
The Elders tried to claim Cruello had helped her pass, but—
"The Elders are all in prison. Well—except for the Second Elder. He went missing."
"Eh? Just like that?"
"An anonymous informant reported the Elders' corruption."
"Would that informant’s initials happen to be C.W.?"
"Hmm. Hard to say. It was anonymous, after all."
Cruello smirked slyly.
Considering the Second Elder of Bonetti had gone missing, there was no doubt that Cruello had orchestrated this.
No complaints from me—after all, I still needed to confirm whether Ares was really the one behind all of this.
"Oh, and your sister officially became a Count as of yesterday. Given the circumstances, the succession ceremony was done in a simplified format."
"Ah-ha."
"And that Count asked me a question—why I came all the way down here."
"What did you say?"
"Mm, I gave a suitable answer, but let’s match our stories later."
…What did he say?
Why wasn’t he telling me?
A bad feeling crept up my spine, but I had no time to dwell on it.
"Shall we go eat now?"
Ah.
Nothing was more important than the current state of my stomach.
***
I got indigestion.
It made sense, I suppose.
Shoving steak into an empty stomach after three days of not eating?
Still, I felt wronged.
Who the hell gets indigestion from eating just a little meat?
I must have been scammed by my god when I reincarnated into this body.
"…"
I gazed out the window with a sidelong glance.
At least there was no storm, no howling wind, no thunder.
Hmph. Not that I was scared or anything.
In the end, I spent the rest of the day in the Count’s manor, bedridden.
Not that it mattered—we were leaving for the capital tomorrow anyway.
I half-expected Minuet to storm in and interrogate me about what exactly happened that day.
Surprisingly, she only watched me for a moment before saying nothing at all.
I had been preparing myself for it, and while I wasn’t entirely sure she would let it go, I was relieved that she did.
As for Gavotte, the one who had been acting strangely ever since we were in the capital—
"Hey… is it true?"
He stood just inside the doorway, talking to me from an awkward distance.
Whether he was standing there or inside the room didn’t make much difference to me, but it seemed important to him.
"What is?"
"The rumor. That you couldn’t ride a horse, so you dragged the Duke along to the territory."
…He really told them the truth?
I nodded without hesitation, but Gavotte frowned.
"Minuet told me to teach you how to ride."
"How could she say that?! Learning physical skills from you is an insult to my pride!"
"You can’t even ride a horse!"
"Not my fault. My family was too poor to own one."
"Wait… was it really that bad? No, I wasn’t actually trying to—"
…How has this guy managed to avoid getting scammed his whole life?
I stared at his bright red face with utter disbelief.
He must have noticed my expression because he immediately got defensive.
"Anyway… thanks."
"For what?"
"For helping Whistle."
"See? I’m still an outsider to you. If you really considered me family, you wouldn’t thank me just for helping our territory."
"What? Hey, that’s—"
"Sniff, sniff. I’m so hurt. My dear little brother still sees me as a stranger. The ostracization is too much—I’m suffering!"
"Siora!"
Gavotte, flustered, marched forward as if to grab me—then hesitated.
Realizing that this was my bedroom, he froze.
He stood there, hovering near the doorway, unable to step in or retreat.
Like a lost puppy.
I burst into laughter.
Gavotte glared, about to protest, but seeing how thoroughly amused I was, he ended up laughing too.
The warmth of that moment only lasted for a short while.
As the laughter faded, so did the lightness in his expression.
Gavotte hesitated, then spoke.
"…Siora."
He didn’t finish the sentence—instead, he watched me carefully.
That reaction told me everything.
He knew more than I expected.
Had Minuet told him? Or had he pieced it together himself?
Was that why he kept his distance in the capital?
I pretended not to understand.
"He’s in a better place now."
"…Yeah."
It was a shallow comfort, and we both knew it.
Gavotte lowered his head.
The carpet at his feet grew damp.
I saw the tears dripping from his face.
I pretended not to notice.
The distance between the bed and the door was enough that I could pretend I saw nothing.
And that was fine.
***
The moment we arrived back in the capital, Cruello disappeared somewhere.
He entered the drawing room of a monochrome mansion, where a deep masculine voice resonated.
"I know that the Second Elder does not share the Grand Elder’s opinions."
The person across from him was an old woman, dressed in plain robes, calmly smoking a pipe.
She was the Second Elder of White Desert.
"When you were young, you were the same as him. But at some point, you stopped interfering with me."
"Did you assume I had abandoned the cause?"
"Of course not. I imagine you simply believed that leaving me alone would yield better results."
"Are you judging me now? Enough with the roundabout talk—say what you want."
"Give me the key."
For the first time, the Second Elder’s gaze lifted from the floor, now locked onto Cruello’s.
Their eyes met.
The old woman’s thin lips curled into a smile.
"You want me to gather the keys myself and open the door?"