CHAPTER 16

“Oh my god, what do I do?”

A… child? That would take a whole process, wouldn’t it? A child doesn’t just appear out of nowhere.

The very thought was absurd. Satin shuddered. All she and Lubliay ever did at the academy was bicker — and even that, more often than not, was started by him.

It’s not like they were close like she was with Giyorn, who stuck by her side for years. There was no real connection.

After graduation, they were bound to bump into each other from time to time as members of the same Guardian bloodlines, but she’d never thought much of it.

He’d go his way, living his life. She’d live hers as Giyorn’s wife. That’s how it was supposed to be…

But then the wedding unraveled. And by the time she walked out of the chapel, it was with Lubliay holding her hand.

Now she was his wife — a title she hadn’t even dared to imagine — and back home, her family was already talking about heirs with obvious excitement.

“…I’m going crazy.”

It was a relief that Lubliay wasn’t here. For the hundredth time, Satin was thankful he’d gone on that extended mission.

Two months? Maybe two and a half, if it’s far?

Yes — two and a half months was a long time. And once he returned, they’d move ahead with the divorce as promised. There was no need to stress over something that wouldn’t happen.

Worrying by herself now wouldn’t change anything.

Satin shoved the small box back under her pillow and flopped onto the bed. Even the one night Lubliay had stayed here before leaving, they’d used separate rooms.

And judging by his behavior, that wasn’t likely to change.

Which was fine by her.

She pulled the covers over her head and closed her eyes.

Only two months and twenty-something days to go until the divorce.

Time was passing, slowly but surely.

Lubliay had arrived in the diocese overseen by a senior archbishop.

Locals turned their heads and stared at the knights in deep navy uniforms — the Holy Knights, protectors of the Pope, rarely seen this far from the capital.

Behind the cathedral was the bishop’s residence, and its gates were wide open in welcome. The archbishop, a man well into his eighties with a head full of white hair, awaited them.

“Thank you for coming such a long way,” the archbishop greeted respectfully.

Lubliay was much younger, but his standing — straddling both a Guardian house and high-ranking clergy — gave him more authority than most archbishops.

“Thank you for the warm welcome.”

“I heard you were recently married. Congratulations.”

It was a quiet, remote area — vastly different from the bustling capital and a full day’s ride away even by the fastest horse.

Lubliay was surprised that news of his wedding had reached even here.

“So word’s already spread?”

“Of course. Word of mouth travels faster than feet. The Del Mare family has always been known for its loyalty to the Pope and unwavering sense of duty. And with the Cardilon house producing a Paladin of your stature, it’s a remarkable match between two distinguished lineages.”

There was genuine warmth in the old man’s words — something Lubliay hadn’t expected.

In the capital, people murmured about how unfortunate it was for Selvio to lose Del Mare. They speculated about shifting power balances and worried about what might happen if the equilibrium among the five houses crumbled.

But here, the blessing felt free of calculation. A rarity.

“Thank you.”

The archbishop went on.

“It’s news we’ve long hoped for. Now that two of the five Guardian houses are joined, it’s a comfort.”

“Is that so?”

“Indeed. Personally, I wish the five houses would continue forming alliances — by marriage or otherwise. As if they were one great family. Strategic or not, marriage is still the simplest way to unite strength.”

The archbishop turned slightly and gazed off into the distance.

Join forces… That was no longer possible among the Guardian houses.

Two centuries ago, the ancestors of the five families had stood united against the Demon King, ready to give their lives. They had been like brothers.

But peace returned to Kaldebranca. And as prestige and wealth accumulated, the houses became consumed with growing their own power.

When the time for cooperation passes, rivalry begins. Helping each other was replaced by undermining each other. Brotherhood gave way to competition.

“Is there a reason the five houses should unite again?” Lubliay asked. As he said it, something became clearer.

“Your words sound like a warning, Your Eminence.”

The archbishop answered solemnly.

“Those who live in the capital or its surroundings may never know. But here, in these neglected outskirts, far from the city’s bustle… sometimes we see things we’d rather not.”

Lubliay didn’t interrupt.

“In the founding legends, the Demon King was terrifying in his own right, but it’s said evil spirits followed in his wake. Most of them vanished when he was sealed away — but some scattered and escaped.”

He paused briefly before continuing.

“Every once in a while, we see inexplicable phenomena. When we do, we call it the work of evil spirits. Of course, we have no proof, and we can’t alarm the people without reason, so we remain silent. But still… every ten, twenty years, something happens. Just enough to remind us.”

Lubliay suddenly remembered something from his academy days — something a professor had once said.

It had sounded like myth then. And it probably still was. But now, it crept back with chilling clarity.

“The Demon King sneaks in when humans let their guard down. He’s like a shadow. You don’t notice him until he’s already at your feet. Invisible in darkness, but under the light — unmistakable.”

What was supposed to be a simple, formal trip was starting to feel like it would drag on — and for unsettling reasons.

Indeed, life in the capital had made him complacent.

The Pope was there. The Holy Knights stood guard. It felt safe.

But out here, according to the archbishop, things surfaced — things no one wanted to see.

Lubliay couldn’t shake the words “evil spirit.”

After undressing, he lay down on the neatly made bed.

Other knights shared rooms, but as a Paladin, Lubliay had his own.

Which meant he could think or speak freely without anyone overhearing.

“I promised to return quickly…”

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, Satin’s face rose from memory.

“It’s fine. Don’t rush. Take your time and finish properly. It’s a state matter, after all — it deserves caution.”

So very like her.

Lubliay smiled faintly. She really was adorable. She had been at the academy, and she still was now.

At twelve, Satin and Giyorn had looked like a pair of pale, delicate kids sticking together.

Both were small and fair-skinned. Giyorn barely hit average height, and his skinny frame made him look shorter. He had that classic bookish air. Satin, with her naturally pale coloring, looked even more ethereal.

But spend a little time observing, and their personalities showed stark contrast.

Giyorn was gentle. Satin was capable.

Despite being the same age — and looking even younger — Satin often looked after Giyorn.

If he nodded off during morning prayers, she shook him awake. If he had a cough, she made sure he took medicine.

She even carried toffee candies because Giyorn hated bitter medicine.

Most new students came down with colds from the stress and change in environment.

Giyorn caught it. Satin did. So did Lubliay. No one could avoid it.

Fever earned you a day off class, but a cough? That wasn’t enough. The exams were too important.

So everyone dragged themselves to class unless they were really sick. Satin brought a huge cup of water with her every day.

Giyorn, sitting beside her, wasn’t nearly as prepared.

One day, in the middle of class, he started coughing. Even covering his mouth, it wouldn’t stop.

Satin quietly slipped a toffee into his hand under the desk. He unwrapped it frantically and popped it into his mouth.

But the cough was contagious. One student after another started coughing. Including Lubliay, sitting right behind Giyorn.

Without even turning around, Satin placed another candy near Lubliay’s desk.

She couldn’t help everyone, but she could help the person right behind her.

Lubliay had never even liked sweets. But that day, because of Satin and the cold, he ate one.

It was sweet enough to make his head spin. So sweet it left him dizzy.

Whether it was the sugar, the sickness, or Satin herself, he wasn’t sure.

She likely didn’t even remember it. For Satin, giving out a piece of candy was nothing — just a casual gesture of kindness.

She probably forgot about it immediately.

But Lubliay remembered. All throughout the lesson, he kept glancing at her silver hair, her upright back.

People usually remember others by sight, sound, or smell. But Lubliay learned that day that taste could be a memory too.

When he thought of Satin, his mouth still tasted sweet.

And even now, he could remember that candy.