So far, the two had tested whether their strength returned through light kisses or holding hands.

But there had been no reason to proceed any further, as no reaction came each time they touched.

Moreover, there was always a lack of suitable time and place to conduct more in-depth tests.

Up to this point, Lakrahan had not established the concept of having his own room or study.

The places he occupied were freely accessible to the knights and the servants alike.

He had never felt the need to impose any restrictions.

The only space exclusively for him in Lakrahan’s castle was the library, and that area was thoroughly respected by everyone.

Given the circumstances, Lakrahan and Bercheria could not make use of their time alone in this vast castle.

One of the things that would have to change after the wedding was this.

Another crucial issue was Lakrahan’s state.

He was always overly tense in front of Bercheria.

This tension peaked when she was bitten by a snake in the forest.
He realized for the first time that sucking the poison from her chin could be more stimulating than a kiss.

‘I need to snap out of it now.’

He had avoided meeting women because he was afraid of losing someone.

But it made no sense to like someone when he knew they would leave.

It was an emotion he had to eventually fold anyway.

“Why on earth do we have to supply mana through contact? It’s driving me mad.”

Lakrahan ruffled his black hair and knocked on his room’s door before entering.

Bercheria was sitting on the edge of Lakrahan’s bed, looking out the window.

She tried to lightly pull up her energy, but the weather hadn’t changed a bit from before.

The most crucial power.

Even the ability to control the weather had not returned.

‘The wedding is tomorrow, and I need to recover at least one power before then.’

Only after regaining this power could he consider what to do next.

Suddenly, a sense of urgency welled up.
“Is there any official record of an Awakened one getting married up to now? My memory might not be complete, you know.”

When she turned her head, Lakrahan was undressing.

Then he paused for a moment and looked back at her.

“I keep forgetting we agreed to sometimes misspeak. You’ll get used to it in time, so please understand.”

“……Yes.”

His hand, which had reached for the shirt button, paused meaninglessly again.

The words he had blurted out were still lingering on the tip of his tongue, not fully digested.

Getting used to it.

Would the day ever come for us to get used to this marriage?

Ignoring the bitterness that spread through his mouth, he unbuttoned his shirt with a snap.

“What did you say just now? Did you ask if any Awakened ones have ever been married?”

“Ah, yes.”

Lakrahan unbuckled his cloak and belt, and placed them on the couch in front of the fireplace.

“Hmm.”

As he took off his shirt, pondering his memories, his expression revealed a tiredness that was unusual for him.

“As far as I remember, there isn’t. But that’s based on human records, so who knows what happened before that.”
Though he had turned away, his body entered her line of sight at a slant.

“I see.”

Bercheria was intently staring at Lakrahan’s back.

It was not the impressiveness of his masculine body, covered in finely toned muscles, that caught her attention.

It was the scars that covered his entire body.

Large and small scars filled his skin, as if carelessly scribbled on.

Among them, the most noticeable was a vivid and deep wound that crossed his spine and reached up to his neck.

“Is it that unsightly to look at?”

“Ah.”

She wanted to turn her head away for his sake, but even that was a failure.

The front was no different from his back, covered in scars.

Marks of cuts and stabs covered his smooth skin.

Lakrahan pulled on a generously sized white T-shirt from the neck down and walked towards her.

“People call me a war hero, but they have no interest in what I’ve been through to win that war.”

Lakrahan sat on the edge of the bed, next to her.
Her body tilted toward Lakrahan under his weight, then returned to its original position.

“Did it hurt?”

Lakrahan furrowed his brows as if questioning why she would ask such a thing, then relaxed his face with a light laugh.

He touched his chin with his fingertips, lost deep in thought.

As if he needed to give a profound answer to such a trivial question.

“The right answer would be that I didn’t even notice the pain. When colleagues are dying in front of you and bodies are scattered around, these small scars mean nothing.”

The horrors of war remained in Bercheria’s memory as well.

Though she hadn’t witnessed this war, wars occurred anytime, anywhere, and it was no exception for the Awakened of the past.

Lakrahan leaned forward, his cold body temperature brushed against her nape as he touched her face.

He looked at Bercheria, who was startled and touching her own wound.

“This could have taken your life.”

Her soft, small hand pressing on the pronounced scar felt excessively stark as it passed by.
Lakrahan reached back to grasp Bercheria’s hand.