Chapter 22
“Dalin, put the gun down.”
“Lord Winter?”
While passing by the shooting range with a sense of unease, Winter froze the moment he saw Dalin holding a massive rifle and immediately rushed toward her.
He called out softly so as not to startle her and cause an accident, but Dalin turned her wide eyes toward him—pointing the muzzle directly at him.
“Wait, Dalin. Don’t move. Stay right there. Don’t twitch.”
“What’s wrong, sir?”
He’d meant to calm her down, but instead, Dalin looked even more nervous.
Damn it. Who the hell gave Dalin a gun? Firearms are supposed to be tightly controlled around here.
If that thing went off, Winter could very well die. No matter how tough a person is, if a bullet pierces a vital spot, death is certain.
And considering Dalin’s track record, an accidental discharge was more than possible.
At last, after approaching carefully, Winter managed to reach behind Dalin and swiftly snatch the weapon from her. The heavy gun lifted from her shoulder, and she staggered a little under its sudden absence.
I swear I lost ten years of my life just now.
After safely setting the gun aside, Winter looked at Dalin with a stiff, grim expression.
“Dalin, why were you holding that gun?”
No sane person would ever allow Dalin to handle a firearm. She was the unit’s most infamous troublemaker—legendary, even—and the idea of her armed with a gun was a disaster waiting to happen.
“Lady Ishina told me to try firing it once! She said maybe I’d be better with a gun than a sword!”
Winter decided not to bother correcting her complete disregard for formal speech. At this point, he should probably praise her just for managing to use proper sentence endings at all.
Instead, his brow furrowed at Ishina’s decision to hand Dalin a weapon.
What on earth was Ishina thinking?
“Am I… not allowed to shoot a gun?” Dalin asked, her orange hair trembling as she spoke in a small, tearful voice.
Of course, letting Dalin handle a gun wasn’t just dangerous for everyone around her—
“…No, you can’t,” Winter said firmly.
He simply couldn’t allow her to be anywhere near a firearm.
“Hing… So I’m really that useless, huh…?”
“…No, it’s just—guns are dangerous. I’m saying this for your own good.”
Yes. This was for Dalin’s sake, too.
The more she began to resemble Saruvia—the woman whose loss still haunted them—the harder it was for Winter to predict what he himself might do.
Breathe. Don’t take it out on her. It’s not her fault she looks like her.
But the longer he stood in front of Dalin, the more suffocating it felt. Eventually, Winter turned on his heel and went to find Ishina—to demand an explanation for why she’d given Dalin a gun.
He soon spotted Ishina near a corner of the building, chatting with Aquila.
“Ishina.”
“Oh, Lord Winter!”
Ishina saluted lightly. Winter acknowledged it with a curt nod and got straight to the point.
“You told Dalin to try using a gun?”
“Ah—yes, that’s right.”
“Why would you do that? Didn’t it occur to you what could happen if Dalin got her hands on a gun?”
At that, Ishina smiled awkwardly, her eyes curving softly. Judging by her expression, she’d had a vague idea of what kind of chaos might follow the moment Dalin picked up a firearm.
As Ishina avoided answering with that harmless smile, Aquila quietly interjected.
“Lord Winter, you stopped her, right?”
“Yeah. I told her never to touch a gun again.”
“Ah. Thank you. I should’ve said that myself.”
Aquila bowed his head slightly in gratitude.
Yes—of all of them, Aquila was probably the one suffering the most from Saruvia’s death. Even if he didn’t show it outwardly, seeing Dalin holding a gun would inevitably remind him of her.
But something’s been strange about him lately.
Winter couldn’t understand Aquila these days.
Karon trailing after Dalin made sense—he was clinging to the memory of Saruvia, whom he’d seen as a sister and family. He was simply trying to find traces of her in Dalin.
But Aquila’s behavior was… different. Unlike the naive Karon, Aquila knew perfectly well that Saruvia and Dalin were two entirely separate people.
The man who once couldn’t live without Saruvia had suddenly started doting on Dalin. Winter couldn’t make sense of it.
Then Ishina, hearing Aquila’s thanks, tilted her head curiously.
“Why? Shouldn’t she get used to handling a gun anyway?”
She raised one green eye and gestured lightly with her hand.
“When you use a gun for a long time, you build calluses, muscle in your arms, shoulders, legs… I thought it’d be good for her to develop those now. That way, when Saruvia comes back, her body will already be adapted.”
Winter narrowed his eyes in disbelief, looking between Ishina and Aquila. Aquila, however, seemed to understand perfectly.
“Why bother putting her through that? I’m bringing her back after I’m discharged anyway.”
Aquila’s crimson eyes gleamed faintly as he continued.
“Once she’s back, I’ll raise her gently in my arms. She won’t have to suffer anymore. All she’ll need to do is stay home quietly.”
“Please. With Saruvia’s personality, there’s no way she’d sit still at home. She’d probably go stir-crazy if she didn’t get to cause trouble every so often.”
“If she throws a tantrum, I’ll handle it. If she wants to hold a gun again, I’ll let her. After all, it’s still the same Arcon body—it’ll regain its strength soon enough.”
“You’re still wearing those love-tinted glasses, huh? Saruvia’s personality wasn’t playful—it was violent and terrifying.”
Winter couldn’t follow their bizarre exchange at all. Just as he was about to ask what the hell they were talking about, a chilling realization hit him.
Aquila… I thought he’d finally moved on from Saruvia.
Recently, he’d stopped mentioning her entirely and seemed focused on Dalin instead. Winter had assumed his grief had finally eased.
But Aquila had just said her name again.
If Aquila didn’t truly love Dalin, then what exactly was all that kindness toward her?
“Aquila,” Winter said, his voice taut with unease, “why have you been treating Dalin so well lately?”
“So that when Saruvia returns, I’ll be able to treat her properly.”
Aquila’s answer was calm—too calm.
“Saruvia hates uncertainty. If she feels uneasy and I act awkward around her, she’ll get furious. Everything needs to feel natural, familiar. That’s why I’m practicing now.”
As he spoke, Aquila recalled the moment he’d held Dalin in his arms in that dark cave not long ago.
…It’s still hard to hold someone in bright light, but I’m getting used to the feeling.
If he didn’t accustom himself now, he could already imagine how Saruvia would react once she returned:
“What the hell, you’re the one who brought me back—why are you acting all awkward now? Seriously, are you trying to piss me off? Should I just go back to being dead?”
Watching him, Ishina sighed and shook her head. Dealing with Aquila and Saruvia had always been exhausting; being stuck between them was never pleasant.
“Wait—Saruvia’s coming back? What are you talking about?”
Winter fixed his gray-blue eyes directly on Aquila’s scarlet ones.
“Don’t tell me…”
And then, he understood.
“Aquila—you made a deal with a black magician, didn’t you?”
Even black magic couldn’t normally bring the dead back to life.
Except… with one impossible ingredient.
Only one material could make resurrection magic work—and the reason no one ever succeeded was that obtaining it was nearly impossible.
“The heart of a Black Dragon.”
Winter remembered—the heart of the Class-1 monster they’d slain not long ago. And it had been Aquila who was tasked with handling the corpse.
That meant…
“Aquila. You have the Black Dragon’s heart, don’t you?”
Winter’s face drained of color as he took a step closer.
“You’re planning to summon Saruvia’s soul into Dalin’s body.”
At that, Aquila lifted his crimson eyes to meet Winter’s. Though their hue was warm, something about them felt chilling, and goosebumps prickled across Winter’s skin.
“Why shouldn’t I? It’s the same Arcon body, similar age, same gender—and even looks quite alike. It’s the perfect vessel. Besides, Dalin already agreed to it, more or less.”
“Why would Dalin agree to something like that…? No, wait—you—!”
“Saruvia might complain at first, but I’ll soothe her. She’ll be fine.”
Aquila could already picture it—the moment Saruvia awoke, furious to find herself in another body.
He’d just tell her she was beautiful a hundred times, kiss her all over until she melted, and hold her in his arms until she went quiet again.
Saruvia couldn’t handle heat—when she got angry, he’d just embrace her until the fire went out.
When Dalin’s soul left her body, it would look like she’d died. Aquila would stage it as a casualty, then smuggle the body out of the unit when he was discharged.
Saruvia would awaken in the house he’d already bought in the capital. When she realized she’d been resurrected and that their military days were over, she’d naturally accept him again.
Saruvia’s life had no other path but him—just as he had always belonged to her, she had always belonged to him.
“You’re completely insane,” Winter murmured, closing his cold gray-blue eyes.
One look at Aquila’s face told him everything. Ever since Saruvia’s death, Aquila had been utterly, hopelessly mad.
“That’s what everyone always said to Saruvia, too,” Aquila replied with a crooked smile.
He remembered how the others used to whisper that Saruvia was insane—and smiled wider.
He wasn’t going to let her vanish like that. She’d always been part of his every day, every thought.
There was still so much of life they hadn’t shared.
He’d finally found love for the first time.
They were supposed to become a family, to experience the world together, to live the life they’d both been denied.
To end it all here, in the army—it was too cruel for both of them.
So Aquila had made up his mind to set things right.
He would reclaim everything Saruvia should have had—everything they should have had.
He would sit her on his lap, tell her she was beautiful, drink cocoa with her by the window when it snowed, dress her in a lovely gown and kiss her, crown her with flowers in the spring, love her, and love her again, and again…
“So yes,” Aquila said softly, smiling.
“I’ll bring Saruvia back into my arms.”
