As if even the surroundings had grown chilly at this exquisite coincidence, Tereze’s body trembled while her mind raced intensely.

Prince Magnus possessed three divine objects, while Merche had two.

However, when comparing the two, Merche’s power was by no means overwhelmingly inferior to Magnus’s.

Rather, the gap was narrow. As if the scales could tip with just a little more strength added.

Furthermore, one more thing. While Magnus only possessed the remaining divine objects of King Iker, Merche had her own completely new divine object.

So if there were to be a great king surpassing the first monarch…

“Lady Merche is closer to being the protagonist of the prophecy.”

No, it doesn’t just stop at being closer. Tereze finally became certain.

The protagonist of the prophecy was Merche, not Prince Magnus.

When she awoke from her long slumber, Merche first saw Rude holding her preciously like a baby animal.

Rude was in such a deep sleep that he wouldn’t wake unless someone shook him.

His breathing was steady, and the arm embracing her back and waist was warm.

Mmm. A small murmur was heard. It came from Rude.

He originally had a habit of hugging pillows or blankets while sleeping. He shifted, hugging Merche again and lowering his head.

By chance, where his face touched was the nape where Merche’s neck and shoulder met.

Rude’s exhaled breath touched Merche’s skin. Then his lips pressed against it, almost kneading, and his breath seeped in.

“……”

She should push him away, but Merche couldn’t easily do so.

When he touched her, it felt as if even his body heat transferred to her.

Where his lips and breath touched, a ticklish heat rose as if flowers of warmth were blooming.

She liked it. Being in contact with Rude, this intimate touch, was strangely welcome.

When time passes and Magnus finds her, there won’t be moments like this anymore.

Rude’s warm body temperature, his childish actions and words reserved only for her, all of it… will disappear forever.

Thinking of the bleak future ahead, even Rude’s embrace that felt a bit suffocating was just endearing.

Merche reached out to wrap her arms around his neck, and like him yesterday, carefully kissed his closed eyes.

And at that moment, Rude opened his eyes.

“…Bite this a bit.”

He suddenly raised his hand and held up one finger. Merche stared blankly at that finger pushed towards her mouth.

“Why should I bite your finger?”

“I can’t tell if this is a dream or not. If you bite and it tickles, then it must be reality.”

Should she feel a bit hurt in her pride that he said it would tickle, not hurt? Or should she burst into laughter at the sight of this man who couldn’t even open his eyes properly while asking her to bite his finger?

She couldn’t tell which reaction to have.

Merche gently pushed his hand away and sat up.

“Two days have passed, so eight days remain.”

Grumbling that she was counting days as soon as she woke up, Rude followed suit and sat up as well.

“Are you an old man with your death day set? Just forget it. Whether that kid’s a prophet or whatever, they could make a wrong prophecy.”

“Iller has never made a single wrong prophecy until now.”

“So what? I don’t believe in that kid.”

“…Then what do you believe in?”

She became curious if there was actually anything he believed in this world. Rude pointed at his own chest once with his finger, then at Merche once.

“Me and you. …No, that’s too much.”

He pointed at Merche again with his finger and corrected himself proudly.

“You. I only believe in you.”

“…Even though you don’t believe in yourself?”

“I’ve got nothing in my head. It’s beneficial to believe in you who’s packed full of this and that.”

“Don’t disparage yourself like that, even if it’s about yourself.”

“Why, what right do you have when I’m calling myself an idiot?”

“I’m saying this as someone who likes you. If we’re talking about rights, I suppose there’s nothing more to say.”

Merche brushed past him, but Rude couldn’t react for a moment. Then belatedly, he rushed over and blocked Merche’s path.

“What? Who… likes who?”

“Rude, I like you.”

“…Who? …You like me?”

His fierce questioning was as if he was interrogating a criminal.

Merche simply nodded and answered despite his pressing.

“Yes. I like you.”

“Don’t lie.”

Merche, a bit dumbfounded, met Rude’s eyes exactly without avoiding his gaze.

He was stubbornly pressing his lips together, but seemed at a loss, wanting to deny what he had heard.

He even raised his eyes like knife blades and glared at Merche.

“…You think I’d fall for such nonsense and drool all over?”

“It’s not a lie. It’s impossible that I wouldn’t know my own feelings, and what reason would I have to lie to you?”

“How would I know what’s in your mind? Maybe you just suddenly wanted to lie to me and see me flustered.”

No matter what you say, I absolutely won’t believe it.

With eyes and tightly pressed lips that said as much, even her bewilderment gradually dissipated. Merche blinked to organize her thoughts and nodded.

“If that’s how you feel, I won’t say any more.”

“Why aren’t you saying anything? Are you playing with me now?”

“Because you don’t want to hear it.”

“When did I? How can a person flip-flop like this? You just said you liked me!”

“…Rude.”

She called his name softly to calm him down. Rude caught his increasingly rough breathing in response to that call.

“I like you. Not as a simple fondness for a person, but a feeling close to falling in love.”

“…Prove it.”

“You can’t believe my words?”

“Of course I can’t believe it. You call that words? All this time, even when I came on to you like a beast in heat, you pushed me away with thorns like a cactus. So how can I believe you?”

“You said you believe in me.”

Merche smiled faintly. The corners of her eyes that had been stiff for days curved into gentle arcs.

“You said you don’t even believe in yourself, but in the midst of that, you uniquely believe in me. You said that, didn’t you?”

Somehow her body felt light. Just by saying she liked him and acknowledging it herself. That’s all it was…

Merche didn’t hold back the incredulous laughter that escaped and let it flow.

She really felt like an old person with their death day set.

Having lost so much, lost precious people, and soon to lose even this arduous life. When she let go of everything she had forcibly turned away from with stubborn persistence and emptied herself, a very clear fact appeared before her eyes.

Rude. She enjoyed the time spent with this man.

At one time he had been someone who drove her to the edge of a cliff and tormented her, but the bad ties of the past were already erased within her.

He was clumsy, loved her blindly to the point of crossing lines, realized it was his mistake and begged for forgiveness.

Even if she tried to resent him, Merche did not have a shred of such feeling left.

She wanted love, and Rude gave her that love.

In fact, the love she had desperately yearned for was fulfilled by Rude.

To the extent that no one but him could satisfy Merche.

If it wasn’t Rude’s love, Merche too was no longer satisfied.

“If it’s love, it might still be premature, but if it’s feelings of liking, it’s not premature. So I’ll say it.”

To Rude who had frozen like a stone statue, Merche declared.

“I like you.”

“…How much?”

Rude broke the long silence and asked back.

For something asked after being silent for so long, it was closer to a thought one might have at not even fourteen or fifteen years old.

Still, Merche answered quite seriously.

“Would it suffice to say that I want to spend my last moments with you?”

“What last moments, again. How many times do I have to tell you to stop saying such things?”

Rude was quite sensitive to Merche using words like death or last moments.

Just before, the corners of his mouth had twitched up to almost touch his ears at Merche’s confession, but they dropped straight down the moment he heard the words “last moments.”

Knowing that he despised and recoiled from it, but still having something she absolutely wanted to say, Merche continued speaking.

“If I were to face death, I at least don’t want to die by Prince Magnus’s hand. So Rude, if such a moment comes, please kill me before that person does.”

“I told you not to talk about dying…”

Rude, who was about to lose his temper right away, couldn’t quite manage it and clenched his fist instead.

Merche’s deep blue eyes looking at him, that deep and viscous color of a lake that seemed like it could swallow him alive at any moment, were too desperate to dare attach any words to.

Merche was pleading so desperately. To protect her death.

“…If I protect your death. Then what will you give me?”

Merche’s death was a horrific topic he never wanted to imagine, but faced with such eyes, he couldn’t even think of refusing.

He asked with a rumbling voice.

“If you have a wish for me, say it. If it’s something I can give, I will give it.”

“If I want your remaining life and death?”

“…I can give you my death. But my remaining life, no matter how long or short, must be mine.”

I knew it. Rude wasn’t even disappointed.

Merche is that kind of woman.

A woman who acts like she’ll give everything, but draws the line firmly in the end when you try to covet it, kind yet cold.

He knows it’s impossible to possess Merche.

He learned it painfully by doing countless stupid things, so he has no intention of acting stupidly again.

So,

“There’s nothing I’ll take from you. Instead, you take what I want from me.”