[Alvar’s POV—The Garden of Celebration—Later]

I had imagined many futures with Leif.

Some full of laughter, some full of arguments, some full of lazy mornings and silent nights—but in every single one... he was alive.

But then....Everything was ruined.

The sound of celebration still rang in my ears. Laughter, music, clinking glasses, applause, and Leif’s soft, shy smile when I whispered let’s escape later .

I was holding his hand. I was right there.

And then —A scream.

"My lord—!!!"

I barely turned before I felt it —a shift in the air, a collapse of something fragile, a silence that swallowed the world whole.

Leif swayed.

Confusion flickered across his face—innocent, startled—and then something wet dripped onto his suit.

Trickle.

Trickle.

Red.

Blood.

For a moment, my mind refused to accept what I was seeing.

Not today... not on this day... not now...

Then Leif lifted a trembling hand to his lips. His fingers came away red. And my whole world stopped.

"Leif—" I moved—too slow, too far, too late.

He blinked once. And collapsed.

THUD.

The sound of his body hitting the floor was louder than thunder. The garden didn’t make a sound.

Not one. Not even the wind.

My knees hit the ground so hard I didn’t feel the impact. I gathered him into my arms—limp, heavy, cold—and every breath I ever had left my chest.

"Leif—Leif, look at me—" my voice cracked, wild, breathless, terrified, "open your eyes—!"

His head fell against my chest like a corpse. Blood smeared onto my hands.

Onto his veil.

Onto the neckline of his wedding suit—white turning red.

"No—NO—" my voice broke into something raw, primal. "Leif, don’t you dare—DON’T YOU DARE—!"

His fingertips twitched. Barely. And then nothing.

Everything inside me shattered.

I looked up—toward the crowd—toward the faces that stared back in shock and terror. Everyone frozen.

Everyone except—Princess Sirella.

Standing a few steps away. Veil of calm expression. But her eyes—wide. Her hands—trembling. Her lips—whispering something only she could hear.

And I didn’t think.

I didn’t breathe. With Leif in my arms and ROARED — "ERYNDOR — NOW!!!"

My mind rejected reality. It refused.

It fought it.

Because Leif wasn’t supposed to fall. He wasn’t supposed to bleed. He wasn’t supposed to look fragile again. Not on our wedding day. Not in my arms.

Not now .

"Leif, open your eyes—" my voice broke into pieces, shaking uncontrollably as I held his face between my palms, "you’re just tired, right? You’re just dizzy. Tell me that’s all it is—"

No response.

His eyelashes didn’t flutter. His breathing didn’t move against my skin. The blood dripping from his lips... didn’t stop.

I wiped it frantically with my thumb, as if cleaning it fast enough would undo the wound. As if refusing to let blood exist could stop what was happening.

It didn’t.

More red smeared across my hand. Behind me, I could hear voices—screaming, crying, running, looking for Eryndor—but they were distant, like echoes in another world.

Because my world was right here.

In my arms.

Going still.

"Leif," I whispered again, voice cracking so hard it hurt, "look at me... come on, love—look at me."

Nothing.

Nothing.

His head tipped limp against my shoulder. Something tore loose inside me so violently I nearly vomited. I pressed my forehead to his—desperate, trembling, begging—and the words slipped out without dignity, without restraint:

"Please don’t leave me."

A man like me—a Grand Duke, a war commander, a devil’s calamity on the battlefield—I shouldn’t have begged.

But for him, I begged.

"Please... please, Leif—I will do anything—I will kneel, I will bleed, I will burn—just stay with me."

His fingers—earlier curled around mine with love—now hung lifeless. I grabbed them and pressed them to my lips.

"Don’t go," I whispered between sobs I didn’t even realize I was making. "I just got you back. I just married you. You promised—you promised—you always come back to me..."

My voice shattered.

"You said... if I pushed you away again, you’d come back and make me apologize."

A broken laugh escaped me—the ugliest sound I had ever made.

"So come back," I begged desperately, "make me apologize—slap me—yell at me—step on LEGOs if you want—just wake up, Leif—please—"

Nothing.

His body leaned into me only because I wouldn’t let go.

I pulled him closer — so hard I felt his ribs under my fingers—as if I could hold his soul inside by force. As if tightening my grip would stop fate from ripping him away.

"Don’t do this," I whispered against his hair, tears falling onto his veil, "don’t leave me alone. Not again. Not now. Not today."

I kissed his forehead.

It was warm.

But it wasn’t alive.

And I finally broke.

Not with rage.

Not with anger.

With fear.

Paralyzing, suffocating fear—the kind I had never known on the battlefield, never known against beasts or assassins or gods. Because nothing in this world ever terrified me as much as the thought of losing him.

I rocked him gently—as if he were sleeping—as if motion could keep him tethered here.

"Stay with me," I whispered, again and again, my tears falling onto his skin like tiny apologies. "I don’t want this world without you. I don’t want anything without you."

Footsteps thundered—and then:

"WHAT HAPPENED?!"

Eryndor’s voice.

He rushed into the scene—then froze, color draining from his face the moment he saw Leif limp in my arms.

"Eryndor..." my voice cracked—no pride, no authority, just raw desperation — "save him... please... I beg you..."

Eryndor didn’t hesitate.

"Move him into the chamber," he ordered sharply. "We need space—and silence."

I nodded so violently my vision blurred. I scooped Leif into my arms and ran—ran—faster than I’d ever run from or toward anything.

People followed—horrified, crying, praying—but all I heard was the silence of Leif’s breathing not returning.

We reached the chamber. I laid him on the bed—gently, carefully—as if he would break if I let go too quickly. Eryndor’s hands hovered over Leif, glowing green with detection magic.

Seconds passed.

Then his eyes widened—in terror.

"Something poisoned him," he whispered.

I felt my heart stop. He continued with a shaking voice:

"I... I can feel it—but it’s not physical." He swallowed hard. "It’s attacking his soul ."

Everything inside me collapsed.

Soul.

Soul.

The word punched through me like a blade.

If his body died... if his soul shattered... the real Leif would return to his original world — and I would lose him.

This Leif.This soul.This Renji.This love.

No—NO—fate couldn’t take him now. Not now.

"What do we do?" Lord Viktor demanded behind me, his voice shaking.

Eryndor’s breath stuttered. "I... I don’t know."

A silence—sharp and murderous—filled the room.

My rage snapped.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON’T KNOW?!" I roared, grabbing Eryndor by the collar and slamming him backward. "You’re an elf—YOU KNOW MAGIC, YOU STUDY POISONS — FIX HIM!! SAVE HIM!"

Eryndor didn’t push me away. Didn’t defend himself.

His voice cracked instead, "If I could fix it—I would’ve already."

I shook him—desperate, broken.

"You have an answer for everything! Don’t lie to me now. SAVE MY LIFE—I DON’T CARE HOW—I DON’T CARE WHAT IT TAKES — I JUST WANT HIM—"

Eryndor tore free of my hold and yelled back—eyes shimmering with fear:

"The poison is UNKNOWN, Grand Duke Alvar!" He pointed to Leif’s chest—where faint cracks of light flickered and crumbled like glass. "I have studied every poison, every soul-curse, every binding — but THIS—"

His voice trembled.

"—this is SHATTERING HIS SOUL slowly."

My blood turned to ice.

"He is being broken from the inside," Eryndor whispered, hands shaking over Leif’s heart. "Piece by piece... memory by memory... until nothing remains."

I couldn’t breathe.

"This is my first time seeing such poison," he said—helpless, horrified. "I don’t know how to stop it."

Silence swelled—heavy, suffocating—until my voice came out in a whisper I barely recognized, "His soul is leaving... isn’t it?"

Eryndor clenched his fists. "Not yet. But soon."

No air left my lungs.

No heartbeat reached my ears.

The world was losing color around me—breaking apart—except for one thing.

Leif.

Still lying there.

Still warm.

Still wearing his wedding ring.

And the one person who could destroy me had already started slipping away.

I fell to my knees beside the bed, taking his hand with both of mine and pressing it to my forehead like a prayer.

"Leif..." I whispered, voice shredded and hoarse. "I won’t let you go. Do you hear me? I won’t."

My tears landed on his fingers.

I didn’t care who else was watching. I didn’t care if I screamed. If I tore the world apart. If I had to burn nations, break destiny, or shatter gods, I would do it.

I lifted my head slowly—locking eyes with Eryndor.

My voice was not loud.

It was quiet.

Quiet in the way a storm is quiet before it erases everything.

"Tell me," I said, "what must I destroy to get him back?"

Eryndor went white. Because he understood: I was no longer begging. I was declaring war.

On the world.

On fate.

On any god or devil who stood between me and the man I loved.

And somewhere—unseen—something in the air laughed cruelly.

The real battle for Leif’s life... had just begun.