Ofilienne tilted Matyos's lowered chin upward with her fingertips. Careful, as though handling porcelain she feared might shatter.
Yet those same fingertips trembled faintly with suppressed rage.
When his head lifted, what was revealed was a vivid red mark spread across his pale throat. The impression of fingers that had squeezed. Where a thumb had pressed deep into the carotid, a bruise was slowly blooming purple.
The scene flashed back to life in her mind.
Thick fingers.
Veins swollen and coarse.
A grip tightening as if to snuff out breath entirely.
Measuring the handprint, it was unmistakably a grown man's. A large hand. And that hand, around this slender white throat—
*Ah.*
Her temples felt as though they were burning.
The edges of her vision darkened. Rage drove the blood upward until her breath came short. She wanted to find the owner of that hand this very instant and grind his face into nothing.
"I asked who it was."
Her voice dropped low and flat.
"Tell me. Now."
"…"
"Tell me."
Matyos did not open his mouth.
The eyes that had been clear as glass beads wavered with unease. His gaze slid from place to place, finding nowhere to land. Then, after a long moment, a small voice crept out as though dragged forward by the ankle.
"…No."
"No?"
"…It's none of your business, Sister. Move. I'm leaving."
Matyos pushed away the hand pressing down on his shoulder and tried to pull free.
"Ha."
A short laugh escaped her.
A mirthless one.
Ofilienne's eyes narrowed.
In one motion she drove him back against the wall. She seized both wrists and pinned them above his head, pressing her knee against his lower abdomen. There was no room to flee.
Matyos clenched his jaw and twisted his body. But an invisible force bore down on his limbs. As though the very air had solidified around him, her telekinesis sealed off his movement.
His breathing grew shallow.
"Why can't you say it."
Her face drew closer. Her eyes bored straight into his.
Frustration tore upward through her chest. Her voice rose before she could stop it.
"Tell me!?"
Flinch.
Matyos's shoulders jerked sharply.
Like a frightened animal. His lips trembled, and his eyes shook as though tears might spill at any moment.
The instant she saw it, something in Ofilienne's chest quietly broke.
Seeing him like that, her resolve softened.
"Haah…"
She exhaled long and slow, as though swallowing the anger back down.
She bowed her head and buried her face against the nape of his neck.
Skin still warm with lingering heat. A faint, familiar scent. The warmth of someone alive.
She breathed in, very slowly.
"…Tell me. Mati."
The whisper was nothing like the shout of a moment ago. It was fragile.
"Who did this to you. Tell your sister."
"…And if I do?"
His voice was cracked.
"I'll make them pay for it."
She released his wrists. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his waist and back.
Matyos exhaled against her collarbone, as though laying his breath there to rest. He hesitated — then finally opened his mouth.
"Cardinal Teo. He did this."
"Why on earth would that Cardinal—"
"…It's because of Sister Tiana."
"Mati."
Ofilienne tilted her head to the side and fixed him with a stare from close enough that their breath nearly mingled.
"That shepherdess again? I should have known the moment you said you were going to the church. What could you possibly see in that commoner girl that's worth picking a fight with a Cardinal?"
The warmth drained from her eyes.
The rage that had been aimed at whoever had strangled her brother now shifted direction — toward the foolish younger brother who had clashed with a high-ranking clergyman over some lowborn woman.
Stupid. Infuriating.
What was so wonderful about that provincial country girl.
When a woman of her own caliber was standing right beside him.
It wasn't jealousy.
It was the pure arrogance of rank, and the unpleasant sensation that her brother might be taken from her.
"…The Cardinal is targeting Sister Tiana."
"A Cardinal can have his dalliances."
"It's not that kind of thing."
Her eyebrow shifted slightly.
"Then what is it."
"…Can you believe what I'm about to tell you?"
"Just say it."
Matyos bit his lip for a moment.
His face was the face of someone deep in thought.
"The Cardinal intends to use Sister Tiana for an experiment."
"An experiment?"
"To restore the faith that has crumbled — he's going to make an angel out of her."
Silence followed those words, as though the world had stopped.
"Pfh—"
Ofilienne's shoulders began to shake with suppressed laughter. She lifted her face from where she had buried it against him and patted his shoulder.
"Mati… my dear little Mati."
She wore an expression full of mockery as she stroked his cheek.
"An angel? There's no way they'd do something like that. The people at the Holy See were satisfied with their position. But an angel — haven't you been reading too many novels?"
"…It's true."
"And do you have proof?"
"Not yet, but—"
"There you have it. You don't."
Ofilienne cut him off.
"Give it up, Mati."
"…"
"Women are everywhere in this world. It's not as though you'll die just because one worthless girl disappears."
"…Sister."
"Forget about her cleanly. Think of yourself before that woman. To me, you matter more than she ever will."
Ofilienne stroked his hair and turned away.
"…I'll deal with the Cardinal myself."
With those words, she disappeared into her room.
Matyos leaned against the wall and for a long while could not draw a proper breath.
* * *
Tap, tap, tap…
Ash-grey hair cut through the predawn sky as he ran.
It was Matyos.
Cold air drove deep into his lungs. Each inhale stung his chest; each exhale twisted his gut.
His breathing grew rougher, but he did not slow down.
His shirt was soaked through with sweat and clung to his back. His heart was pounding like something gone mad.
But if he stopped, he felt like his thoughts would catch up to him.
Last night's conversation had made one thing perfectly clear.
He couldn't count on his sister's help.
He turned the problem over in his mind, searching for another way.
To save Sister Tiana, he would ultimately have to go up against the Holy See.
Someone who could stand against the Holy See without losing.
*…The Sword Saint?*
Sword Saint Sharlot.
She could do it.
She had connections with the Emperor himself — her influence could pressure the Holy See.
She still owed him a debt, too. If he asked, she would listen.
*But that's a last resort.*
One misstep and it could escalate into open conflict between the Empire and the Holy See. He didn't want things to blow up to that scale.
Above all, he needed *proof*.
Who in the world would believe him if he claimed the Holy See was trying to manufacture an angel, without a shred of evidence?
Still — knowing that safe card existed loosened the tightness in his chest, just a little.
He turned to other options.
*Huana?*
Huana was a princess of Hispanya.
She held a certain degree of power.
*No. That's too much to ask.*
Huana was a princess without real authority. Even if she made the request, it would ultimately require the King of Hispanya to act — and he had no reason to.
*…I did ask Taibeon for help…*
Last night, before bed, he had sent Taibeon a message. Asking him to try to persuade Sister Tiana.
Taibeon had replied that he understood, but Matyos wasn't holding out much hope. This wasn't something that would end with persuasion.
Still — what choice did he have. He had to try everything.
"You could just step up yourself, you know."
As he kept turning it over in his mind, Shu tossed the words out casually.
"Step up how?"
"Lead the Noim Mercenary Band in yourself and fight."
"I don't have the strength for that."
"Why not?"
"Hm?"
"You underestimate the stars you carry, Matyos."
Her eyes gleamed.
"Honestly, that man from yesterday."
"The Cardinal?"
"Yeah. He's weaker than you."
His stride faltered for a moment.
"…Weaker than me?"
"To be precise — it's not that he's weak, it's that you're strong."
Shu circled around him in a slow loop.
"The stars you carry were once a power that made every demon tremble. The most destructive, the most radiant…"
She poked him in the chest.
"So stop shrinking."
"Thanks for the encouragement."
"Don't mention it. Which is why, first things first — train your body. It's still nowhere near capable of holding even the 1st Star."
He gritted his teeth. He ran.
His feet kicked off the sand, his breath split apart.
It was then.
"You're pushing yourself."
A dark shadow drew up alongside him.
"Professor."
It was Professor Vilhelmine.
The open collar of her shirt revealed the firm line of her neck.
The wind swept her ponytail back behind her. Her stride was light, but her pace matched his exactly.
As though she had been running at that speed from the very beginning.
The moment she appeared, Shu vanished instantly into the folds of his collar.
Vilhelmine's red eyes slid sideways to glance down at him.
"Something on your mind."
"…Nothing, ma'am."
"There is."
Her declarative tone made him swallow once.
"…Yes. There is."
"I won't tell you to speak of it — but the longer a worry is kept inside, the more it festers."
"So you are telling me to speak of it."
"That's your call."
The corner of her mouth rose by the smallest fraction.
"…I think I'm too weak."
He slowed his pace. His chest was still heaving.
Shu thought highly of him — but honestly, he had his doubts about his own strength.
"You are."
"How does one become stronger?"
"Why do you want to be stronger?"
"Because I'm weak, I always have to borrow someone else's power."
"That's what the weak must do."
"…But without someone else's help, I'm nothing. What do I have to do to become strong?"
"From what you've said, it sounds like you want to become strong as quickly as possible."
"Yes."
"Then it's simple. Train until you're nearly dead."
"…Is that so."
"And your mindset must change as well."
"My mindset?"
"That's how people are. If you want to achieve something, you have to be decisive about it. Whatever means it takes. A half-hearted resolve won't do."
He said nothing and stared straight ahead.
"Starting tomorrow — come to where I am, without missing a single day."
"Pardon?"
"I'll teach you swordsmanship. My swordsmanship."
Her eyes, the color of blood, gleamed as she spoke.
"I'll make you strong."