——The final hours passed gently, with a quiet that was almost startling.
"...My star."
The way he said it—his tone was flat, and yet it carried an affection so overwhelming it could not be contained. Iris Yorna trembled her long lashes and gazed up at the man beside her.
A simple, unremarkable word. It felt as though he had called out to her hundreds, thousands of times during this miraculous reunion—and yet, this particular moment made it feel special.
No—more precisely, every call was special if you isolated that single instant. But the specialness of this moment was different from all the others.
Because this call signified the end of this miraculous stretch of time.
"Yes, Your Excellency."
Meeting the gaze that looked down at her, she returned a love-filled call of her own from her lips.
Her voice did not waver, and she silently congratulated herself that no womanly urge to retreat had spilled out. The last time they had parted, Iris Yorna had been unable to leave him with words. But with each cycle of reincarnation, each time she looked back on that era, she had thought over and over—if only she could have one more chance.
If only she could, she would never, absolutely never, leave behind the tearful words of a weak woman.
"This time, the opposite is true. I will depart before you."
"That is so, indeed... How fitting that we exchange roles. Your Excellency has learned the malice of the world, I see."
"I have. I learned a great deal. No—I was taught. By you, and by the many others who walked alongside me."
"............"
Narrowing her elongated eyes, he—Yulgard Volakia—recalled the old days, the people who had been there, and the light in his gaze softened tenderly. Yorna felt her chest tighten.
He was always a man with a stern expression, save when he was before Iris.
Because he was that kind of man, after Iris was gone, was there ever a single moment when he could relax the tension from his cheeks, from between his brows?
And from here on, after he departed for that place between sky and earth, he would— "Do not worry, my star. I have been blessed beyond all measure."
"Ah..."
"Meeting you gave me life. Walking with you gave me blessing. Parting with you—and even the mistakes I made—this reunion with you has given me the chance to set them right."
Yulgard's words—his beloved voice, counting each blessing one by one—gently melted away the anxiety and fear inside Iris Yorna, unwinding them with the tenderness of a loving embrace.
The Law of Errors, the cascade of tragedy left behind by Yulgard's hatred, burned white-hot after he lost his beloved Iris in that ancient age—that law had been promised repeal by the current Volakia Emperor, his descendant, known as the "Sage Emperor."
To lift the curse that had bound the werewolves and the earth rats—that was Iris Yorna's dearest wish, and Yulgard's final concern before death. Finally, they could return this world and this era to those who deserved to live in it.
And so—for that purpose—, "That applies to you too, my star. You have done the same."
The words from Yulgard, whose arm had gently wrapped around her, caught Iris Yorna's breath. She felt as though the contents of her heart had been incised with perfect precision, as accurately as was humanly possible.
"Your Excellency... I... I... we..."
"Even if what I gave you came in a form you did not wish for, I can easily imagine how you have worked to weave bonds across every era. Certainly, you are the same now in your current form. — Fulfill that duty to the fullest."
It was a gentle embrace of a choice—the choice of Iris Yorna, who had been lost about where her unnatural existence belonged, choosing to move toward a form of life that was easy to understand.
Yulgard was always right.
Not because he was wise, nor because he was strong. But because he was an emperor of tender compassion—one who sincerely considered, respected, and wished for the happiness of whoever stood before him.
The emperor whom Iris Yorna loved—the so-called "King of Thorns," feared by all—embraced her with a love too vast to contain, and sincerely considered, respected, and wished for Iris Yorna's happiness.
That was why Yulgard's words were always right, for Iris Yorna.
And the fact that his words were also right for everyone other than Iris Yorna meant—, "Then... I have no choice but to spend the rest of my life proving it."
"A fine answer."
Yulgard smiled as he responded to Iris Yorna's resolution.
At his habit of saying little, Iris Yorna narrowed her eyes ever so slightly, then gently raised her hand, cupped his cheek, and pressed her lips to his.
"............"
Lip met lip, and the distance between the man and woman—who had died in that age and, by all rights, should never have reunited—came closer than anywhere else in the world.
"............"
The closest touch in the world continued for a moment, and another, and another, until slowly, the distance between them eased apart—and the eyes of Iris Yorna and Yulgard met.
Then—, "My star. I love you."
"And I you, Your Excellency. Always, for all eternity, without a moment's fading, I love you."
They exchanged a kiss, passed between them the sacred words of love, and those lips curving into a smile was the last. It was the true final curtain on the story known as "Iris and the King of Thorns"—a tale that began in an ancient age and had kept postponing its ending up until the present.
△▼△▼△▼△ ——One night had passed since the Volakia Empire was shaken to its foundations by the settlement of the "Great Calamity."
The threat of the undead that had rampaged across the empire had been repelled through the unity of its iron-blooded subjects, and at the forefront stood the towering figure of Volakia's Sword Wolf and its apex, Vincent Volakia, who had brandished the "Sun Blade" and clashed head-on with the enemy commander.
While the "Imperial Capital" Luginna served as the hub, damage had spread to Volakia's major cities—the "Fortress City"
For that reason, despite the deep scars it bore, the Volakia Empire was wrapped in the tide of victory.
Of course, thinking ahead, the leadership could not linger in triumph forever. Reports of damage from every corner poured in one after another, and matters demanding their authorization multiplied without pause—they had no time to sleep.
Amid those reports, one dispatch had slipped in as quietly as though it had been hidden there.
It was the death notice of a woman who had contributed greatly to the Volakia Empire's victory in the battle against the "Great Calamity"—a woman whose flame-like way of living had captivated so many.
Upon hearing that death notice in a room of the fortress city that had replaced the ruined capital as a temporary headquarters, Emperor Vincent Volakia—the man known for answering every matter with instantaneous deliberation—fell into a silence uncharacteristic of himself. After lowering his gaze for a long moment, he left behind a single word: "...So be it."
△▼△▼△▼△ With the battle against the "Great Calamity" concluded, people began to move to reclaim their former lives.
The empire had been devastated by the resurrected undead army, an unprecedented calamity that had ravaged its lands. Yet the people who lived on that earth raised their heads with fortitude, standing up one by one to begin the work of reconstruction.
Petra Rite could only be overwhelmed by the sight of those imperial citizens.
"I don't exactly love the empire or anything..."
Murmuring that, Petra stood in the streets of the fortress city, heart full of tangled feelings.
The bulk of why Petra could not bring herself to like the empire was anger—fury that this place had forcibly dragged away someone precious to her, her beloved,
Even setting aside that premise, if forced to choose, Petra's feelings toward Volakia leaned more toward dislike than like. And yet, even so, she had cooperated and struggled desperately to keep this country from falling.
She was glad that the "Great Calamity" had been repelled and the empire had been spared from destruction.
And yet—, "...Subaru."
In public, she addressed him with an honorific—"Master Subaru"—but now, speaking his bare name, Petra thought with all her heart of the one who had surely fought harder than anyone for this empire, harder even than the emperor himself.
Because Subaru was so kind and so compassionate, how much must his heart have worn down in this wretched empire? Petra worried about him so much she could hardly bear it.
And on top of all that worry, the final blow had been far too cruel.
"Lady Priscilla Bariel..."
That was the name of the woman who had carved the deepest, most painful wound into Subaru's heart.
In terms of position, Petra had never once exchanged words with her. There had been opportunities. Before the "Great Calamity" erupted, they had been on the same side preparing for the Battle of the Imperial Capital—plenty of chances to speak.
But Petra had deliberately chosen not to approach Priscilla.
Because she was, like
And that was something Petra now regretted.
Because she had not interacted with Priscilla, Petra did not have the right to mourn her—Priscilla Bariel's death. She could not stand beside Subaru and Emilia with the same feelings.
She could not tell the two of them, who were already so deeply hurt, that she understood how they felt.
That was, for Petra, an overwhelming regret— "Oh my, Petra, are you here alone?"
"Oh, Zikr."
Petra had been pressing her lips together and tensing her cheeks when the voice called out to her. She looked up to see
Zikr, who had served as one of the empire's "Generals" and played a crucial role in the battle against the "Great Calamity." He wore his rank without arrogance, treating Petra simply as a person—a quality she found endearing.
Given his performance, he would likely remain in an important role after the war. Yet it was unusual to see him alone in a place like this. As Petra blinked in surprise— "The initial troop reorganization is complete, so I've finally come out on my own feet to survey the damage. You can listen to all the reports you want, but there's nothing like seeing the real thing."
"I see. Reorganization... I don't know the details, but you've worked hard."
"I appreciate the concern. Though compared to Generals Goz or Kahma, who have been moving about so energetically, my contribution was modest by comparison."
"I don't think hard work is measured by who worked harder than whom."
Zikr looked humbled by her remark, and only grew more so.
Meanwhile, Petra reflected that in pointing this out, she was recalling how she had just compared Subaru's efforts to those of others—the grim-faced emperor, specifically. She chastised herself.
She wanted to see things the same way as the people she loved, but she kept failing to, and that frustrated her.
"But the Generals really do have it tough. It's only been a few days, and they're already flying off to other cities."
"Yes. Each region has its Generals on the ground, but the direct presence of the top-ranking Generals has an influence that can't be ignored. For troop morale, and for the sake of intimidation, as well."
"I can see why the soldiers would be happy when someone they admire shows up, but intimidation..."
"Sadly, even in times like these... No—precisely because they are desperate, there are plenty of opportunists who would seize the moment to grab what they can, or pursue their ambitions."
"............"
Zikr's brow furrowed as he spoke, and at his answer, Petra lowered her round eyes.
In truth, Petra was secretly thinking, "I knew it."
The Volakia Empire had chosen unity to face the appearance of a great enemy. But once the national crisis—the "Great Calamity"—was gone, the perspective would shift from the nation back to the individual. People would scramble to take what was lacking, steal it, and in some cases try to force everything through with raw power.
The Generals Zikr had named were there to serve as a deterrent against precisely those problems.
"General Goz departed immediately upon confirming the safety of his lady, who had been in the Imperial Capital. General Kahma likewise left as soon as he received his promotion."
"That's pretty impressive, right? Everyone was surprised, too."
"In the empire, there are only nine seats for top-ranking Generals. This battle emptied several of them... The birth of a new General is one of the few bright spots in all of this. General Kahma knew that, which is why he accepted a rank he had previously declined."
"What about you, Zikr? Didn't you get a similar offer?"
"Me?"
At Petra's question, Zikr tilted his head. She had been wondering about the Generals he'd named and their bearing.
She had not witnessed the battles up close, so she didn't know how ferociously those Generals had fought. But in the sense of having seen his efforts firsthand, Zikr's own struggle had been no less impressive.
In the battle around the fortress city, there were those who had directed the big picture from the command post, and those who had fought alongside the soldiers against the undead with sword in hand. What Zikr had accomplished was bridging the two—ensuring coordination without surplus or deficit.
It was unglamorous work, but without it the whole structure could have unraveled and collapsed.
"My sisters and I served in the healers' corps, working behind the lines, so I feel it even more."
"That is... a welcome assessment, Petra. From a young lady, those words alone make Zikr Osman feel rewarded from the bottom of his heart."
"I didn't mean it lightly..."
"Of course, I know. But my feelings are genuine as well."
Sensing that he had let her point slide, Petra pressed further, and Zikr shook his head. Then, turning his round eyes toward the cityscape, his cheeks softened.
"If you are speaking of a reward, then this sight—this outcome—is the reward itself. His Excellency the Emperor escaped eastward, and I happened to be in the fortress city on assignment. Because of that fortuitous circumstance, I was granted the honor of accompanying him and of being present at the end. I am blessed beyond all measure."
"I don't know. I think you deserve more praise than that, Zikr."
"You don't? Well then, Petra—won't you use that clever mind of yours to think of someone you hold dear?"
At his sudden suggestion, Petra let out a small "Huh?" The image that dimly surfaced in her mind was the one that had occupied most of her thoughts until just moments ago: Natsuki Subaru.
Unable to help herself, Petra reacted exactly as he'd suggested, and Zikr nodded deeply.
"When the person you hold dear smiles because of the results of your actions—wouldn't that alone make you feel rewarded?"
"That's... yes, I suppose it would."
"It is the same for me. I am a General of the Volakia Empire—the scope of that 'person you hold dear' whose image you just conjured is probably larger than yours. And that is enough."
Zikr closed one eye and placed a hand on his chest as he smiled at Petra. There was no affectation in his manner, no attempt to deceive her.
And so, Petra quietly looked down, unable to say anything more—, "That said, His Excellency Vincent is a firm believer in rewarding merit and punishing failure. When someone who contributed greatly speaks so modestly, it becomes difficult for the soldiers to voice their own expectations. That is not something to applaud."
Speaking up on Petra's behalf, in her silence, a voice cut in from a different angle. Petra and Zikr turned toward it, and approaching at a leisurely walk was Selena.
The prominent white scar on her cheek did nothing to diminish the striking beauty of Selena Dracroy. At her side was Roswaal, an acquaintance, and the sight of him made Petra's lips tighten.
Selena and her companion did not miss that undisguised reaction.
"As always, I wonder how one manages to be so despised by someone half one's age. Deliberately keeping someone harboring ill will at one's side—if you get stabbed in the back, you've no right to complain."
"Anyone so short-sighted wouldn't have been hired in the first plaaaace. Whether she likes me or not is beside the point—I keep her because she's competent. Same goes for Petra and Otto."
"You'll find your feet swept out from under you with that attitude of yours one day."
Shrugging, Selena and Roswaal exchanged words with the ease of old acquaintances. Her cutting remarks spared Roswaal nothing, and in Petra's view, it was satisfying to hear.
But honestly, even that satisfaction was hard to feel right now.
"Lord Dracroy, you must be busy..."
"The same could be said of the Generals. Don't worry. I haven't slept in three days, true, but my mind is sharper for it. I can't even begin to drowse."
"That doesn't exactly sound reassuring..."
At Selena's fearless grin, Zikr shrank his shoulders sheepishly. As the exchange continued, Roswaal's gaze turned toward Petra.
Petra, who had been deliberately avoiding contact with him, stiffened slightly under that gaze.
"W-what is it, sir?"
"Don't be so guarded. Simply put, I'm concerned about you being alone and whether you're overworking yourself. Where's Frederica?"
"...Lady Frederica has been very busy, so she's resting now. I asked her over and over, and she finally agreed."
Petra remembered Frederica, who was barely breathing, asleep as though she had fainted.
Frederica had served in the healers' corps alongside Petra, and whenever the need arose, she would undergo beast transformation and race across the besieged fortress as a messenger. Her sleepless, tireless labor deserved the utmost respect, but as her younger sister, Petra could not stop worrying.
The only reason Frederica was resting now was that she had finally been worn down by
"I couldn't even manage to get Lady Frederica to rest."
"Frederica's sense of responsibility is soooo strong. It's not that she looked down on you, Petra."
"I—I know that much without you telling me!"
"Is that so? You're right, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything unnecessary. — Are you all right?"
"...The holy magic is working properly."
At Roswaal's somewhat deflating response, Petra frowned as she answered.
Petra had been learning magic from Roswaal and was steadily improving. She had been told that the nature of holy magic suited her—and its effects mostly involved strengthening and invigorating a target.
In Petra's case, she was still too anxious to use it on others, but she could reasonably expect it to supplement her own depleted stamina and sleep deficit. Of course, stamina did not spring up infinitely, so at some point the limit would come crashing down.
"For now, I want to push myself as far as I can. Are you going to stop me?"
"...No. I won't stop you. Everyone, while they live, will at some point have to push beyond reason and common sense with sheer passion—to go further than they should. If this is that moment for you, then I have no intention of taking it from you."
"...I still don't like you, sir."
Closing one eye, Roswaal regarded her with the blue one, and Petra turned her face away.
She could never forgive him, and yet Roswaal time and again affirmed her thoughts like this. The worst part was that it wasn't him currying favor—these were words genuinely spoken from his convictions.
If this kept up, it would be as though Petra could truly understand Roswaal's essence.
"A difficult master-and-servant pair. The way of things is much the same in the empire and the kingdom, wouldn't you agree, General Zikr?"
"A young lady of such remarkable intelligence at her age—it is only natural that Lord Meiza's dedication to her education would be intense. When sincerity meets sincerity, conflict is inevitable. And of course, Lady Dracroy's beauty has been tempered by a fierce way of life."
"My, my—so you really are an empire General. I thought you were decent, but there it is. Don't look at me with such a face that suits my taste and expect me to be pleased by it."
Listening to the exchange beside her, Selena smiled at Zikr.
On the sidelines of this conversation between two people who existed at a unique temperature within the empire, Petra sighed. It didn't matter what Roswaal's essence truly was. Having been forced into this face-to-face encounter with the Roswaal she had been avoiding, Petra had no choice but to swallow poison and all.
Steeling herself, Petra set her jaw, looked up at Roswaal, and said: "What are you going to do about Subaru, sir?"
"Hmm?"
"Answer me."
Petra's question was direct, yet lacked specifics.
Receiving it, Roswaal let out a quiet breath. He closed one eye again, and this time looked at her with the yellow one—the light that held so little humanity, the one Petra found difficult.
The unnatural quality of the relationship between Subaru and Roswaal was deeply impressed upon Petra's mind.
She had noticed that there was something different from—but akin to—what the two of them had been allowed to forgive: Roswaal's atrocities in
Looking at Roswaal's crimes and the pardon granted for them alone, the conditions were the same for the soft-hearted group of Subaru, Emilia, and Frederica. After them came
Naturally, Petra and Otto always interacted with Roswaal under a layer of tension. They didn't want to stir up waves, so that tension was more like a flame kept quietly smoldering. What irritated Petra about Roswaal was that he never so much as changed expression while it smoldered.
But the blue flame that Petra and Otto directed at Roswaal, and the heat that hung between Subaru and Roswaal—those felt fundamentally different.
It was an ugly way to put it, and she didn't want to admit it. But Petra was convinced.
Between Subaru and Roswaal there was a secret that neither she nor anyone else could penetrate. That shared secret was the reason for a different kind of tension.
And what that secret would bring would surely, almost certainly, bring Subaru misfortune.
"What am I going to do about Subaru, hmm?"
Under the hostility in Petra's gaze, Roswaal murmured in a slightly hoarse voice.
Gone was the usual air of deflection or mockery, she thought. But even without that clownish atmosphere, one could not afford to trust Roswaal carelessly.
As though to confirm Petra's feelings, Roswaal kept his one eye closed and said: "What do you think the right answer is, Petra?"
"...Are you making fun of me?"
"No, no—I have no such intention. In truth, I'm at a loss. ...What kind of attitude should I take toward Subaru as he is now?"
"............"
As he spoke, Roswaal raised both hands lightly, igniting different-colored light at his fingertips. A red glow in his right hand, a blue in his left—he was seriously weighing his next moves.
Which way those colors would tip, whether that would be a good thing for Petra—or rather, for the people Petra held dear—she could not say.
But if there was one thing Petra could do, even without knowing— "If..."
"Hmm?"
"If you make Subaru suffer any more, or make him cry any more, I will absolutely never forgive you. ...No, I will make you regret it."
Not forgiving him would mean nothing to Roswaal. She had served him for a year and a half now and knew that much.
And so, recalling that year and a half to the fullest, Petra said the thing Roswaal would hate most.
Yes—she would make him regret it no matter what. And for that— "I will stand in your way, whatever it takes. Everything you want to do, everything you're trying to do—I'll get in the way of all of it."
"............"
A beat of silence fell between Petra and Roswaal.
She had tensed her cheeks, meaning to set the fiercest face in her cute little life. Whether that fierce expression had contributed anything to Roswaal's contemplation during that silence, she could not say.
"...That would certainly be troublesome. You seem to be far more loved than I am."
"...Loved? By what?"
"By that strange force that I decided to defy, and have never once been able to beat."
Shrugging, Roswaal once again said something Petra couldn't understand. But the expression that crossed his face as he muttered it was not merely a joke—Petra was sure of that.
Roswaal was, without question, up against something he recognized he could not defeat. Being told that such a thing "loved" him meant nothing to Petra.
All Petra wanted was to be loved by the people she loved.
And she wanted those people to smile as much as possible, to be happy.
And so—, "I want Emilia to smile. I want Subaru to smile, too."
Pressing a hand to her chest, Petra whispered it like a prayer.
That this prayer, in its entirety, would hang over the people she loved like a cloud, and shield them from the torrential downpour—and she wished for it with all her heart.
——As this exchange between Petra and Roswaal unfolded, Selena watched the master and servant crackling with tension, then turned to Zikr with a smile.
"Well? Kingdom folk have some backbone after all, don't you think? Utterly complex and bizarre—just the way I like them."
"...The smile of a Lord Dracroy is a beautiful thing, but I can hardly call it good taste."