Margaret stood with clenched fists, staring down at her comrade—her junior, her best friend, Johanna Raylin.
“….”
A person she had known for nine years.
A person whose growth she had witnessed since Johanna’s first year.
A person she had supported through the grueling Crusader License examination.
A person she had given a future to.
The one she always turned to when faced with problems she couldn’t grasp.
“….”
Memories flooded her mind.
The times they played League of Spirits together, laughing through their victories and groaning through their defeats.
The way Johanna always teased her for being terrible at cosmetics, helping her experiment with different shades of lipstick or eyeshadow.
The countless nights they stayed up, exchanging stories. Margaret venting about her responsibilities and Johanna listening in like a little sister.
The way Johanna always brought her coffee every morning, muttering that Margaret would probably collapse if left to her own devices.
The surprise birthday Johanna had orchestrated for her, where she’d gathered the entire Order despite Margaret insisting she didn’t want a celebration.
The small, stupid arguments—about which armor enchantments were the best, whether pineapple belonged on pizza, or whether a certain League of Spirits champion was overpowered.
Drip. Drip…!
Tears streaked down Margaret’s face as she crouched beside Johanna’s lifeless body.
A broken, animalistic sound tore from her throat, but she didn’t care.
“Johanna….”
She didn’t know if she was gasping, sobbing, or choking on the grief clawing at her chest.
Her trembling hands hovered over Johanna, hesitant to touch her, as if doing so would make this real. As if it would confirm the horrible truth she was refusing to accept.
“How could this happen….”
Margaret’s heart ached with each passing second. Those seconds stretched into minutes. She wasn’t sure how long she had been crying at this point.
“….”
Then, her fingers brushed against Johanna’s hand. It was cold, and shudder ran through her.
She had fought, struggled, endured everything thrown her way to protect the people she cared about.
Her people.
Yet now, Johanna lay dead before her.
Margaret clenched her jaw, her tears dripping onto Johanna’s unmoving fingers.
“….”
Then, something inside her snapped.
Her hands balled into fists and her nails dug into her palms as her breathing grew heavier.
“….”
Slowly, she lifted her head.
In the distance, Adrienne’s lifeless body lay beside an unconscious man. The same one Margaret had witnessed brutally slitting her throat. Margaret’s mind spiraled, struggling to make sense of what exactly happened.
“….”
But then, Vanitas’s words echoed in her head.
——What was I supposed to do… leave you to die?
It wasn’t word for word, but it was the same thing he had told her on the day he saved her.
“…”
A suffocating reluctance tightened in her throat as she wrestled with the thought.
Could she give him the benefit of the doubt? Should she?
“…”
Margaret looked around. There was no sign of the Dullahan, nor of Clevius.
Clenching her fists, she walked toward Vanitas.
His condition was poor, his lips were pale, and his eyes occasionally shut tight in a frown.
His coat was in disarray with his sleeves torn, and visible bruises marred his arm.
But worst of all was the large, open wound on the side of his torso.
Despite her attempts to staunch the bleeding with patched-up cloth, blood continued to seep through.
From the bruises, Margaret deduced it wasn’t the work of a mage. And with Clevius gone, knowing his open disdain for Vanitas, she could only assume that something had happened between them.
“He should be around here somewhere….”
Perhaps Clevius had lost to Vanitas and was lying unconscious somewhere.
….Or maybe Vanitas hadn’t spared him.
A thought flickered through her mind. What if it had been Adrienne? What if she had killed them, and Vanitas had single-handedly tried to protect everyone?
“….”
Indeed, she needed answers.
If she let Vanitas die here, the truth would die with him. And these people would never find their justice if Vanitas truly was the perpetrator.
Resolving herself, Margaret wiped her tears. Her eyes were puffy, and occasional hiccups still escaped her lips, but nevertheless—
Step—
As she regained some semblance of composure, a sudden realization struck her.
“….”
It was too quiet.
The battle, even at a significant distance, should have still been audible from here.
Moreover….
“Where are the demons?”
Not a single one was in sight, despite being in demon territory.
“Ah.”
Margaret stumbled. The damage from tanking the Dullahan’s attacks had left her with serious internal injuries. She could feel the sharp pain of shattered bones, but knights were built for endurance.
Gritting her teeth, she pushed through.
“…Vanitas.”
Hoisting Vanitas onto her back, she felt his weight press down on her. Despite the strain, she forced herself forward, running in the direction from which she had come.
“I’m sorry, Johanna…. Clevius.”
* * *
——Why did you save the Illenia Princess?!
An enraged scream echoed through Chae Eun-woo’s mind, piercing the haze of his darkened consciousness.
’F-Father… I didn’t know….’
A child’s voice, trembling, scared, and on the verge of tears, followed soon after.
Crackle—
The sharp snap of a whip cut through the air, followed by a heart-wrenching cry of pain.
The child screamed in agonizing pain.
Crackle—
Again.
Crackle—
And again.
’Father, please! I should’ve known better!’
Each lash sent searing pain through his small, fragile body. His fingers curled against the cold, hard ground. His nails clawed at the dirt as he gasped for breath between the sobs.
“….”
It was Vanitas Astrea.
Crackle—
——Because of you, I had to compromise.
Crackle—
——Because of you, I was given a warning.
Crackle—
——Because of you, they almost took my head.
’Father, please!’
Chae Eun-woo felt every sensation. The searing pain, the raw terror, the sorrow, the helplessness, the violent tremble of a child’s body too weak to resist.
Every lash burned into his skin as if the wounds were his own. His breath hitched, his muscles locked in place, his heart hammered against his ribs.
The cold ground beneath him felt real, and the air thick with the scent of blood and dust.
There was no escape.
And no mercy was given.
Only the relentless, suffocating pain.
Crackle—
Another crack of the whip sent his body recoiling, but his lips refused to part.
——Vani.
A different voice this time.
A woman’s.
A sensation unlike the pain before spread across his body, wrapping around him in a comforting embrace. The darkness receded, and in its place, a blinding white consumed everything.
His body felt lighter and for a moment, there was nothing but warmth.
“….”
Then, his vision slowly adjusted.
Before him stood a figure, bathed in light, a long white coat billowing in an unseen breeze.
Her presence felt both familiar and foreign, as if buried within a memory he couldn’t grasp.
….Memories that weren’t his.
——What are you writing, Vani?
’It’s a diary, mother.’
——Oh? Let me see~ Let me see~
It was Clarice Astrea, Vanitas’s mother, wearing a lab-coat.
She leaned in, her amethyst eyes fixated on the notebook resting on young Vanitas’s desk.
Vanitas instinctively pulled it closer, shielding it from her view. “It’s private.”
But Chae Eun-woo could see it.
“….”
The trembling in his gaze. He was clearly lying about privacy.
As if the act of writing wasn’t a choice, but an order.
Chae Eun-woo realized it then. This was something imposed upon him, a command given by Vanir Astrea, his father, telling him to write, and write, and write.
Omit. Falsify. Write. Write.
Document—as if his life depended on it.
——One day, humanity will lose itself. Therefore, history defines one’s existence.
Vanir Astrea’s words echoed in his head.
As if he had always known.
As if he had foreseen that Vanitas Astrea would one day disappear.
That he would be erased.
That something—or someone—else would take his place.
——Know your place. I’ve made you an Astrea only because of your mother. Mention any of this to her, even hint at it, and I’ll make sure you regret it, you bastard child. Do you understand? You are Vanitas Astrea because of me!
“….”
——You…. who are you this time?!
Or perhaps, it had already happened?
“….”
A shiver crawled up Chae Eun-woo’s spine as several theories formulated in his head.
Personality disorder?
Was it the stigmata?
A trauma response?
How many Vanitas Astreas had been there before him?
“….”
It was then.
“Haah…!”
Chae Eun-woo jolted awake. His vision was dark, slowly adjusting before settling on the figure before him—staring at him as if she had just seen a ghost.
“Finally awake,” she said.
Vanitas tried to sit up but immediately groaned as pain shot through his body.
“….”
His gaze dropped to the layers of cloth wrapped around him, acting as makeshift bandages.
Reaching into his coat, he pulled out the heirloom Karina had given him. What once was a vibrant blue had faded to a dull gray.
It had clearly activated on its own—perhaps during the fight with Clevius.
Vanitas stared at it for a moment before shifting his gaze to Margaret.
“….”
Her figure was smeared with dried blood.
“….Where are we?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
“Inside a magic space,” she replied. “You’ve been out for three days.”
“….I see.”
Silence hung between them.
Vanitas exhaled slowly, feeling his mind still sluggish from exhaustion. Three days. His body felt like it had been through hell—because it had.
Margaret sat across from him, arms crossed. Her eyes were puffy, as if she had been crying every day.
“Margaret,” he started, but she cut him off.
“Explain everything. I’m trying to understand. I want to understand….”
Her voice wavered slightly. It sounded like she had pieced together parts of the truth, but she still needed confirmation.
Without hesitation, Vanitas responded.
“Like I told you back then,” he began. “You had a traitor.”
* * *
The Blood Moon had ended two days ago, and when the group sent to subjugate the Dullahan failed to return, a search began.
A relentless, never-ending search that stretched across the days, consuming time and effort.
Doubt began to creep into the minds of those who had committed themselves to the rescue.
Among them were the very people whose lives had been saved by Vanitas Astrea.
Whether it was the traps he had set, his strategic foresight, or even the small sacrifices, his actions had not gone unnoticed.
They were grateful.
Especially Commander Albrecht.
Seasoned knight and mages surveyed the perimeter. Yet, there were no signs of Vanitas Astrea or the others.
No sign of the Dullahan either.
——There’s no way Second Inspector Adrienne lost.
——Shit. But something must’ve happened….
Among those searching were the Grimreapers, combing through the forest in search of Adrienne.
Meanwhile, Margaret’s Crusade Order pressed on.
Out of all the search parties, it was the Illenia Knights who refused to rest.
They searched relentlessly—day and night.
For their Grand Knight, Margaret.
For Clevius, their second-in-command.
For Johanna, their senior knight.
And for the truth.
The deeper they searched, the heavier the silence became.
Something had gone terribly, terribly wrong.
As some of the search parties returned to the fortress, which was battered and damaged from the final wave yet still standing, Commander Albrecht found himself caught off guard by an unexpected announcement.
“Yes? Professor Astrea’s sister is here?”
Charlotte Astrea had arrived at Amesticross. Alongside her was the professor’s assistant, Karina Maeril.
“Shit, wait. Bring them to the guest room.”
As if the guest room was anywhere near luxurious enough to accommodate the professor’s little sister.
“….”
….For some reason, Commander Albrecht felt a strange second-hand embarrassment.
* * *
“Hoo…”
Margaret let out a slow breath.
Vanitas had told her everything, and whether she chose to believe him or not was entirely up to her.
It was hard. Really hard.
“….”
She turned her gaze to Vanitas, who stepped out of the cave where they had been resting.
“Let’s go,” he said.
Margaret hesitated, her eyes lingering on him for a moment even as he moved ahead. Then, with a nod, she followed.
Their first stop was the battlefield.
The moment Margaret laid eyes on it, her stomach churned.
“….”
Perhaps it was from hunger, or maybe it was something else entirely. But as Margaret’s gaze fell upon Johanna’s lifeless body once more, a wave of nausea washed over her.
“….”
She swallowed the bile rising in her throat, forcing herself to move forward.
Then, her gaze shifted to Adrienne, and immediately, she frowned.
Vanitas stood beside her, watching her reaction before speaking.
“I had no choice. It was her life or yours and mine.”
“I understand,” she said, turning to him. “Just like you had back then, you protected me.”
“….”
Vanitas remained silent, neither confirming nor denying.
“Do you believe me?” he asked.
“A blade was lodged in Johanna’s torso, but you don’t have a sword. And there’s no sign of a Dullahan anywhere…”
Her body shook as she went on and on. Vanitas placed a hand on her shoulder, steadying her.
“Let’s go,” he said.
“….”
Margaret swallowed hard and nodded, falling into step behind him.
It didn’t take long before they reached the battlefield where Vanitas had fought Clevius. The destruction was clear to see.
“Ah.”
Craters and cracks marred the ground. Uprooted trees lay scattered, some split in half. The terrain itself had shifted, earth jutting up in jagged formations while other areas had sunk lower. Scorch marks blackened the soil, and deep gashes scarred the surrounding landscape.
“….”
And there, in the distance, a massive figure lay motionless. At first glance, one might mistake it for a Dullahan. But as Margaret stepped closer, her breath hitched, and her fists clenched.
Even without looking too closely, she couldn’t deny the obvious truth.
“Clevius…”
There was no doubt. Demon blood ran through his veins.
“….”
Margaret froze. She hadn’t expected this. She couldn’t have expected this.
She wanted to deny it. Wanted to reject what was right in front of her. That struggling boy she had met all those years ago….
How did it come to this?
Where had it all gone wrong?
Her heart twisted, guilt clawing at her chest. Had she failed him?
“Stop blaming yourself!”
Vanitas’s scream reverberated in the air, grounding her before her thoughts spiraled.
“….”
Margaret turned, her eyes widening as a single tear slipped down her cheek and falling soundlessly to the ground.
“….What am I supposed to do now, Vanitas?”
Her eyes pleaded with him, saying the words she couldn’t bring herself to say aloud.
’Please, tell me.’
At that moment.
“….”
….Vanitas pulled her into an embrace.