What? Why?

Because we went straight from winter to summer. Honestly, autumn was forced in too—it only lasted two weeks. Barely enough time to harvest crops.

I see. Then the North has never truly welcomed a vibrant spring.

“I’ve heard rumors that spring comes once every three or four hundred years, but no one knows exactly when. If you’re lucky, you might witness it once in your lifetime. Or you might not.”

As he spoke, Edan carefully grasped a lock of my hair.

“Spring, huh? I’ve never really thought much about it.”

One gentle coil—my hair wound around Edan’s fingers.

“If you want it, I can create an artificial garden for you.”

“If I want it?”

Edan loosened the strand wrapped around his finger, lazily closing then opening his eyes.

“Yes. Any flower you wish to see, any garden you desire—I can make it for you.”

My face filled his clear, crimson eyes completely.

The moment I realized this, I felt inexplicably embarrassed, my body heating up.

Thankfully, he was holding my hair—not my hand or neck.

Slowly lowering his gaze, Edan lifted my hair and pressed his lips to it.

“Whether one, two, or ten gardens—I’ll force flowers to bloom. Eventually, spring will come.”

Edan smiled beautifully, eyes closed.

I nodded vigorously, cheeks flushed.

“Yes.”

I hope spring comes to the North too.

Miraculously, within our lifetimes.

It truly felt as though the demon extermination in the North was nearing its end.

Edan stayed longer at the fortress and returned early even at dawn.

He still hadn’t asked for healing, but I wasn’t upset.

I knew it wasn’t because he disliked me or was trying to distance himself.

Having brought a magic book to read before bed, I placed it into the secret space and was heading to my room to change clothes.

“Oh? Sir Ruben.”

Ruben stood before Edan’s bedroom door—for the first time in a while.

“Lady Latieana.”

I bowed my head in return as Ruben lowered his shoulders respectfully.

“What brings you here?”

“Ah….”

For some reason, Ruben glanced anxiously toward the bedroom door.

“It’s nothing.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Well then.”

Rarely showing reluctance, Ruben turned to leave.

I quietly watched him go—until he suddenly stopped.

“…?”

Turning back, Ruben gazed at me for a moment, then walked closer.

“How has your condition been lately?”

“Good.”

“I’m glad. Though with the Archpriestess matters weighing on you… we’ve quietly made arrangements with the Temple, so you don’t have to shoulder everything alone.”

“Arrangements?”

Ruben pressed his index finger firmly against his forehead.

“Lord Duke’s spies aren’t limited to Maxim alone. They’re all long-trusted, reliable people—no need to worry about anything else.”

“I see. But… what did you ask the Temple priests to do? Is it about healing power?”

“No. Well, I did order them to gather such information too, but just in case…”

Ruben suddenly paused.

“More importantly, Lady Latieana.”

He hesitated again, like someone unsure how to speak.

“It’s fine. Please speak freely.”

Ruben pressed his forehead again, then continued as if resigned.

“Would it be difficult for you to use your healing power on Lord Duke?”

“What?”

What does that mean?

Staring wide-eyed and bewildered, I prompted Ruben to elaborate.

“Ah! Not right now, of course.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I mean, demon numbers have decreased. In urgent moments, the water or pepper you’ve prepared suffice—but just in case…”

Ah, he’s saying this because I haven’t used healing on Edan recently.

From Ruben’s perspective, it was natural to worry.

He’d heard me tell Maxim I felt like vomiting, and he couldn’t possibly be unaware that Edan cared for me.

Ruben, whose loyalty to Edan was life-or-death, was fully capable of asking this.

“Of course, Sir Ruben.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

I added something I’d originally intended to tell Edan first—but since Ruben was so worried:

“I don’t feel that way toward Edan. The ‘wanting to vomit’ part was about other people. So please don’t worry.”

Only then did Ruben smile more easily.

“I’m relieved. Honestly, I thought maybe Lord Duke recently fought demons without using his ability—so I wondered if… but if that’s not it, I must have misunderstood.”

“Wait!”

Ruben, awkwardly rubbing his neck, froze and looked down at me.

“What do you mean, Edan isn’t using his ability?”

“What?”

It was me who was startled—but Ruben’s eyes widened even more.

I’d never heard this before. I clearly told Edan it was fine—but he hasn’t been using his ability?

“Lately, Lord Duke has been handling demons with his sword rather than his ability… you didn’t know?”

I didn’t.

“I had no idea at all.”

I shook my head side to side.

“Well… I understand. He’s not one to make it obvious. Frankly, I assumed you were refusing to heal him—but apparently not.”

“I’d never do that.”

“My apologies.”

My fingertips gripping my skirt trembled slightly.

Even if demon numbers have decreased, the war isn’t fully over—how can he fight without using his ability?

Ruben telling me this clearly meant Edan was injured or suffering somewhere.

My mind went dark. How many days had it been?

I tried recalling Edan’s recent behavior—but found nothing unusual.

Judging by past patterns, with demon numbers this low, even indirect healing should’ve been enough to ease his headaches—as Ruben said, using what I’d prepared.

Then why stubbornly…

After Ruben left, I headed straight to the kitchen.

Manifesting my power, soft pink light filled the space.

More. Stronger.

Within the pale pink glow of healing power, sparkling pearls shimmered like ripples.

I poured it into a bottle.

Endlessly, healing power seeped into the water I’d pre-filled inside.

When it was done, the once-clear water had turned pink.

I hadn’t made potions before due to my conscience—it was illegal.

But for Edan’s sake, I decided I should prepare some, just in case.

Edan, absent all day due to winter-preparation meetings, returned to the fortress as the sun set.

“Edan.”

Waiting at the library desk, I looked up the moment the portal opened.

“Latie? Why are you here?”

Edan glanced lightly over me—obviously expecting me to be waiting—and tilted his head, frowning slightly.

He’d clearly spent the whole day in meetings.

Though wearing his winter cloak for going out, underneath he wore a light tunic and black trousers.

“What’s wrong? Why…”

Before he could finish, I boldly stepped forward and yanked up his tunic.

Sure enough—a fresh scar ran down the center of his abs.

“What are you doing?”

Not a deep wound, but skin clearly torn by something sharp.

“Latie.”

Edan brushed my hand away dismissively, pulling his tunic back down.

“Why aren’t you using your ability?”

Edan clicked his tongue lightly.

“That bastard Ruben.”

“I told you I was fine with healing you.”

“I know. Who said otherwise?”

Edan ruffled his hair carelessly and began unbuckling his cloak.

“It’s not because of you. I told you—I’ve got the things you prepared…”

“Then use them.”

Why do you keep coming back injured?

While waiting for Edan, I reached only one conclusion.

Edan’s behavior since I said I felt uncomfortable—keeping his distance, avoiding his ability—

This is practice. Practicing not using his ability.

Even if it’s fine now, demons might force him to use strong abilities again anytime—he’s clearly minimizing usage to reduce that burning pain, so I won’t need to heal him directly as much.

So my discomfort will lessen too.

“I promised to protect you. I said I’d keep you from going to the Temple. Why won’t you use your ability? If you get hurt like this…”

Edan dropped his cloak with a thud.

“You’re worried about that?”

I said nothing. That wasn’t why I was worried. It was just an excuse.

What I meant was: please, use your ability freely when fighting demons—just don’t get hurt. Don’t die.

Without his ability, Edan is merely a human slightly stronger than others.

Someone who bleeds and bears wounds from demon attacks.

Edan gazed silently at my face, then slowly leaned down, bringing his face close. The scent of soap mingled with early winter wind reached me.

“I’ll keep my word.”

“Really?”

Seeking confirmation, I asked again—Edan lifted one corner of his lips. His now fully healed lips curved, and his left eye narrowed slightly as if winking.

“Don’t worry. If it comes to it, I’ll resort to dark magic to protect you.”

Though spoken like a joke, hearing those words made my blood drain away—my body turned rigid as stone.

No. Don’t say that. That’s not what I wanted at all.

“Edan.”

“Hmm?”

“Please.”

“What?”

Lifting my gaze—previously fixed on the floor out of guilt—I met Edan’s eyes.

Calm, steady, unwavering crimson eyes.

“Don’t touch dark magic.”

“It was just a remark.”

His slightly upturned eyes curved beautifully.

“Still, I’m asking—promise me.”

I wished the unease would vanish. Absolutely no dark magic.

“Say you’ll never use dark magic, no matter what happens.”

I kept speaking toward Edan, who silently watched me.

“If you use that, you’ll become just like Ivy. Your skin will rot. You’ll stop being human—you’ll become a monster. Then…”

The scene from the original work—where Edan died—flashed through my mind.

Edan’s final form… was not human.