[Leif’s POV—Raventon Camp—Midnight Spark]

The wriggly cocoon pulsed in my hands like some fleshy little money bag from heaven.

Cedric hung off my back like a terrified cape. Roland stared at me, confused but patient. Zephyy snored somewhere in sleep behind us with zero awareness that his master was having a life-changing financial epiphany.

I held the cocoon up to the firelight.

The glow hit its surface—A soft sheen spread across the silken fibers.

Not dull.

Not ordinary.

Not just silk.

But Spirit-Silk .

My pulse spiked. My brain short-circuited. My wallet did a full gospel choir performance.

"Oh my gods," I whispered. "This is... THIS IS MONEY."

Cedric flinched. "I—Is it dangerous money?"

"NO." I clutched it like it was a newborn child. "It’s BEAUTIFUL money. Precious money. Rare money. The type of money that makes kingdoms kneel."

Roland blinked slowly. "...My lord, should I be scared?"

"Yes," I said. "But not of the cocoon."

I grabbed his armor. "ROLAND. SHOW ME THE TREE."

He stiffened. "N—Now?"

"Yes, now!" I practically shook him. "Take me to the forest. Immediately. If there are more of these, we just found a goldmine—no—a silkmine."

Cedric loosened his death grip on my cloak, sliding down like a deflated carrot. "My lord... I don’t think I’m emotionally stable enough for discovery-related tasks—"

"CEDRIC," I snapped, "THIS CAN SOLVE OUR ENTIRE BUDGET CRISIS."

He froze.

Eyes wide.

"...Our dam budget crisis?"

"Yes."

"...Our wine yard budget crisis?"

"Yes."

"...Our redeveloping the territory budget Crisis?"

"Yes."

Cedric grabbed my arm with sudden seriousness. "Sir Roland, lead the way."

Even Roland stared. "...Cedric... your fear vanished."

"Desperation overrides fear," Cedric said grimly. "Let’s go."

. . .

. . .

. . .

Roland did not share our enthusiasm.

He stared at us, expression blank in that stoic, father-of-chaos way he had perfected over decades of managing irresponsible nobles.

"My lord," he said slowly, gesturing at the pitch-black forest, "we... we can go in the daylight. As you can see—"

"NO," Cedric and I screamed in unison.

He blinked, taken aback.

"Let’s go now !" we said again, pointing dramatically at the forest like two idiots about to fight a squirrel.

Roland exhaled through his nose. The same way a parent exhales when their children are arguing over which stick is cooler.

"...We shall go tomorrow morning," he said at last, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I promise. "

Cedric and I froze.

Looked at each other.

Realized Roland—unfortunately—was right. We were being unreasonable. We deflated simultaneously.

"Well... alright," we muttered.

Cedric still looked like someone told him his wedding got postponed, but he nodded sharply. "Fine. Morning." He spun around and strutted toward the camp like a knight on a mission of national importance.

"I shall prepare for collecting the silk mine!" he declared proudly. "I will begin drafting the budget immediately. I should calculate the profit margins! The taxes! The trade routes!"

He disappeared into his tent, muttering numbers like a cursed accountant possessed by greed.

A long silence followed.

I watched him vanish.

Then sighed.

"Don’t you think," I said slowly, "he looks more like an assistant than a knight?"

Roland actually snorted—very softly.

"I think," he murmured, "Sir Cedric chose the wrong profession, my lord."

I hummed. "Should I hire him as my assistant?"

Roland didn’t hesitate. "You already have, my lord. He just doesn’t know it yet."

I considered this.

"...Then let’s make him official," I said with absolute seriousness.

Roland gave a small nod of resignation—like a man who’d just accepted a bizarre destiny.But instead of walking away, he paused and looked directly at me.

"Are you alright, my lord?"

I blinked. "Huh? Of course I am. Why do you ask, Sir Roland?"

He studied me quietly, expression unreadable under the moonlight. "Since you and Lord Alvar... distanced," he said carefully, "I thought perhaps your mind wouldn’t be on work."

My breath faltered for a fraction of a second.

But I forced a small smile. "Why do you think we had a fight?"

He didn’t answer in words.

He simply gave me a faint, knowing smile—the kind older knights wore when they’d seen too much, understood too deeply, and pretended not to judge.

"Everyone can see it, my lord."

A simple sentence.

And yet it hit like an arrow.

He bowed. "I shall leave you to rest. Have a good night."

"...Good night," I murmured.

Roland walked away, his heavy boots fading into the rustle of camp activity.

Of course they could see it.

The man who used to hover beside me like a second shadow... now avoided me like I was cursed. The man who once reached for my hand without hesitation... now walked past me as if it burned to look.

Of course it was obvious.

I turned my head upward. The moon hung above—large, white, and unbearably bright. Too much like him. Too much like the way he used to look at me.

I swallowed, the cold night air burning my lungs.

"I miss him," I whispered.

The words left my lips softly... like they were afraid to exist.

And the forest stayed silent.Not comforting.Not cruel.

Just listening.

And I...?

I just stood there a little longer. Missing someone who wasn’t even gone from my heart yet.Someone who was only drifting farther in ways I couldn’t touch.

I lifted my hand, letting the moonlight catch on the ring wrapped around my finger.

Yellow gold. Bright. Warm. Almost hopeful. I raised my hand higher, stretching it toward the moon. The ring sparkled harder than the sky.

"It’s beautiful," I murmured.

Beautiful in a way that hurt. Because a ring was supposed to mean something permanent. Something promised. Something shared.

But then—

Alvar’s voice echoed back to me. Cold. Steady. Final.

"I will find a way to stop this marriage."

The air left my chest. My smile faded—quietly, gently—like it had never truly belonged on my face to begin with. I lowered my hand, staring at the ring that had suddenly grown so heavy.

"I really... wanted to marry him," I whispered to no one.

The moon didn’t answer. The forest didn’t breathe. Even the night seemed to hold still—as if afraid to touch this truth.

"I wasn’t expecting forever," I said softly, "just... a moment. A small one. A place where I could stay by his side without guilt. Without lies."

My fingers brushed the ring again.

"But forcing someone to stay," I whispered, "isn’t love."

The breeze blew gently through my hair, cold enough to sting but not cold enough to numb.

"If he doesn’t want to spend his life with me..." My throat tightened, but my eyes stayed dry."...then that’s okay."

The words felt like swallowing a blade.

"Yes. It’s okay," I repeated, quieter.

Trying to believe it. Failing.

"After all," I said with a humorless laugh, "first love always hurts, doesn’t it?"

The wind didn’t argue. It just passed by me, soft and lonely, like it understood and I walked inside my tent.

***

[Alvar’s POV — ThorenVald Estate — The Next Day]

"...So you’re saying there is no way we can end the devil?" I forced the question out, my voice strained, as I sat on the couch.

Priest Caldric—aged, robed in white and gold—smiled serenely from across the table. "Only a Seraph King can."

Seraph King. That cursed name again.

I exhaled sharply, rubbing my temples. "Why... why does Leif have to be the one who sacrifices himself?"

Caldric’s eyes warmed—not with sympathy, but with blind faith. "That is the destiny of every seraph bearer, Grand Duke."

My jaw tensed.

Destiny.

Such an easy word for those who never bleed for it.

"But the devil is weak right now," I argued, leaning forward. "He has no vessel, no full power. If we strike now—if we gather forces—we could end him before—"

Caldric lifted a hand. "Grand Duke, it is useless."

My breath hitched. "What do you mean, useless?"

"A devil destroyed while he is weak..." Caldric said softly, "is merely sealed temporarily. A wound. A pause. Not an end."

I stared at him. "But—"

"But when the devil grows stronger," he continued, "when he unleashes all his power... ending him then ends everything. His power, his cycle, his return."

His smile never faltered.

"And once gone at full strength, he will never awaken again."

A slow, icy dread spread through me.

"So you’re saying..." My voice felt like gravel. "We have to wait for the devil to grow stronger?"

"Yes," the priest said simply.

My pulse spiked in panic. "But the world— the corruption—"

He interrupted again. His tone gentle. His words unforgiving. "Not until the Seraph King is alive, Grand Duke. He is the protector."

I froze.

Alive.Not after.

"And if the devil is not destroyed this time," Caldric added lightly, "someone else may awaken him centuries later. And another bearer will suffer the same fate."

The calmness in his voice made something inside me snap.

"So you suggest," I said slowly, numbness creeping into my limbs, "that we let the devil grow stronger... and then sacrifice the Seraph King to finish it."

Caldric bowed his head slightly.

"Yes."

My breath shattered. Something inside me erupted before I could control it.

" THEN WHAT ABOUT MY LEIF?! "

My voice echoed off the stone walls.

"Why—" My throat tightened painfully. "Why does it have to be him? Why must he carry this alone?"

My hands curled into fists until my nails dug into my palms.

"Why must he fight something that should have never existed? Why must he be the one to die? Why... why does the world demand so much from someone who asked for nothing?"

The priest’s expression softened, but his words stayed merciless.

"Because fate chose him."

"No," I whispered, a tremor running through me. "He didn’t choose this world. He didn’t choose this destiny. He didn’t choose—"

"He was chosen," Caldric said firmly. "That is the difference."

I stared at him.

I hated that difference.

I hated fate.

I hated the gods.

I hated every force that pointed its finger at the man I—

My voice cracked as I whispered,

"...Why must the one I love be sacrificed?"

I closed my eyes.

Truth was cruel. Truth was a noose. Truth was a knife pressed against Leif’s throat.

And I was expected to accept it.

To stand still.To watch.To survive.

My voice trembled, thin and breaking.

"...And what am I supposed to do?"

Caldric did not answer. Because there was no answer. No comfort. No miracle.No alternative.

Only fate. And Leif’s life hanging at the end of it.

The silence filled the room—heavy, suffocating, crushing.

I whispered, barely audible, "...I don’t want to lose him."

But the silence said otherwise.

And destiny did not care.