An old promise, long forgotten.
In a chamber of the Helgner Castle, the afterglow of the magic-powered meeting with King Tembarl still lingered.
In the king’s study, only King Duran, his trusted aide Orgas, and the chancellor remained, as the discussion had concluded.
Duran, seemingly indifferent to such affairs, waved a hand toward his aide. “Fetch me wine.”
The aide, thirty-five and rugged-faced, was a taciturn man with a stern countenance. He obeyed the king without question, always silent, always present.
It was said that the scar across his jaw had earned him his position—earned by the king’s own approval. But since he never spoke of it, no one knew the truth.
“H-How… Your Majesty… what are you planning?”
The chancellor, barely past fifty, looked pale and slick with sweat. His face, etched with years of hardship, made him seem as though he’d already reached sixty—no one would’ve been surprised if someone said he’d turned the age of retirement.
Duran sat with legs crossed, utterly relaxed.
Olgas silently offered him a wine glass, pouring the wine from the bottle.
The soft gurgle of liquid filling the glass and the rich, heady aroma filled the room—yet the chancellor couldn’t help but wonder how someone like him could so calmly drink in such a moment.
Duran, silent, inhaled the scent, letting the wine linger on his tongue—clearly still savoring the aftertaste of the earlier meeting.
The courtier and the chancellor waited in silence, watching the king’s lips.
“Don’t you find it amusing?” the king chuckled. “That woman betrayed us… and then got betrayed right back. Honestly, that whole family never fails to entertain.”
The chancellor exhaled, a quiet sigh escaping him.
It all started with a long-smoldering spark between the two nations.
After years of tense standoff, King Tembarr had finally proposed the exchange program—just to break the deadlock.
To Helgner, sending over a cursed person was no joke. Amid calls to simply execute her as a warning, Duran found himself intrigued by the spirit’s curse.
“Wait. That woman… might actually be useful.”
The king’s grin made those around him pale.
Duran had this habit—occasionally, when he found something amusingly interesting, he’d smile like a child who’d just found a new toy.
Once he’d made up his mind, there was no point arguing. The crowd fell silent. Some, though, couldn’t help but feel a flicker of pity for the woman.
“We need to find out what kind of curse it is, before we kill her.”
“What do you mean?” someone asked.
“Don’t you find it fascinating? What the curse actually gives them?”
“…What exactly are you—”
“Imagine using her to spread the curse’s existence far and wide. Perfect, isn’t it?”
“…What?”
The deeds of the ancient Tembarr royal family were only passed down through stories—hardly any proof, no documents to speak of.
They’ve been calling it cursed lately, but it’s just gossip, really.
Still, the fact that only that country reaps such massive blessings from the spirits is downright infuriating.
If the people saw proof that the spirits of blessing had been harmed by the Tembarr royal family, they’d never forgive them. It’d be the perfect excuse for war.
“B-but… there’s no guarantee the curse won’t strike us… somewhere…”
“Worried? What good does that do? You won’t even be able to hunt down your prey with that kind of attitude.”
The subordinates flinched and lowered their heads, trembling slightly—agreeing with Duran’s words.
But the woman who actually appeared? She was, without a doubt, from that traitor’s family.
Durand laughed, amused, at the information and proposal she brought.
“So, what’re we doing with her?”
“Leave her be for now. Don’t move too soon.”
“…You think the Tembarrs will make a move?”
“Probably just hiding some herbs or something. Might’ve been playing dumb, pretending we’d rush off to the woman’s place or whatever.”
“……”
The chancellor was recalling the scene from the meeting they’d attended together.
King Tembarr had actually apologized—really, truly sorry.
‘Amiel was sightseeing, dragging your servants along with her. I’m truly sorry.’
“Wait… she’s safe then?”
‘We just got word she’s still staying with you. We’ll send her back right away. Just allow a few knights to enter your country for a brief moment—just an hour.’
“…An hour? Fine.”
Durand chuckled softly, amused by how short a time that was.
He gave a challenging look, as if to say, *If you think you can pull her back in just that long, go ahead and try.*
And King Tembarr had just smiled, saying thanks for the permission.
I won’t say I didn’t feel a chill about it, but I was curious—how exactly would a royal line stripped of spirit magic even try to pull this off?
“But if we just leave those women here…?”
The chancellor’s face was grim. Some cursed thing had multiplied in ways he hadn’t expected, and it was getting on his nerves.
“They’re useless now. Best to kill them—would be better for everyone…”
But then he remembered: if he went through with it, he might end up giving away Amiel’s location. His fingers twitched. He couldn’t afford to move too fast.
It was like he’d suddenly lost the ability to shift a muscle.
A weird unease crept in. He took a breath, told himself it was just his own mind playing tricks, and forced his thoughts back into order.
“…Are you alright?”
Orgas asked sharply. Durol just waved it off, said nothing was wrong.
“Damn. I wish I could’ve told that woman she’s been replaced.”
If he’d known the plot had been exposed and the woman betrayed in return, Duran thought with a faint pang of regret, he might’ve gotten to see her face twist in shock.
“But not now. Wait.”
“…As you wish.”
The chancellor and his retainer bowed in unison.
The chancellor left immediately, but Duran could feel Orgas still lingering at the edge of his vision.
Duran took another sip of wine, and began sorting through the situation in his head.
(What… is this nausea?…)
He felt a strange illusion, as though something indescribable were surrounding him.
The king’s cryptic, loaded words.
The unsettling certainty in the phrase—“I’ll save her in an instant”—which somehow felt… off.
(…Why an instant?)
Normally, you’d have to clear entry procedures before going to fetch her. Depending on the location, it could take months by carriage. In fact, when they’d assembled the reconnaissance team, they’d already budgeted three months.
Durran looks down at the wine glass he’s holding.
He downs the last of the wine in one go, then slams the glass onto the table with a clatter.
“Shall I fetch more?”
“Go ahead.”
Orgas pours wine into the glass.
Durran frowns, eyes narrowing, lost in thought as he glances sideways.
＊＊＊
High above Helgner, dozens of presences stir—spirit beings from this land dart skyward, bewildered.
“What… what is this?!”
They sense something unnatural in the silence of the great spirits standing motionless above.
This has never happened before. Why are so many great spirits encircling the country like this?
Shaking, the spirit forces itself to wait for an answer.
“Who are you?”
The spirit swallows hard, throat dry, as one of the great spirits speaks.
“I am a spirit that dwells in this land.”
"This land...? Then you might know something, then?"
The spirit was thrown off guard, caught flat-footed by the sudden question. When it asked what was going on, it only got a reply: "Looking for something."
"What... are you looking for?"
"A cursed one. Haven't you heard?"
"A cursed one...? You can't mean... that old story..."
"Exactly. The descendant of a human who broke the taboo. That one's scheming something foul—targeting our princess."
"W-what?!?"
The spirit blurted out without thinking. Immediately, it bowed low, murmuring an apology for its outburst.
"I thought if I wandered the surface, I'd eventually sense their presence... But the queen forbade us from descending. She said the land would wither in an instant. How infuriating."
The great spirit glared down at the earth, muttering curses under its breath. The smaller spirit trembled all over.
"Why does something like that even exist here!?"
“Hmm... what was it again? Ryu...? Oh well. Seems they swapped out a human or two.”
“A human swap!?!”
The spirit’s eyes widen—too many plot holes to count—but the Great Spirit just sighs, exasperated.
“The one who betrayed us, teamed up with the ruler of this land, and tried to ruin our princess.”
The spirit freezes. Eyes wide.
“W-what... what kind of treachery is this...?”
Trembling uncontrollably, the spirit flinches as the Great Spirit suddenly smirks—like something just clicked.
“You know this place well, don’t you? Then help us.”
The spirit snaps to attention.
A look of disbelief crosses its face. The Great Spirit chuckles.
“We don’t like dragging our feet. Honestly, we’d rather just erase this whole place right now.”
The Great Spirit smiles—but the eyes don’t. The spirit shudders, frozen in dread. Can’t stop trembling.
How dare you try to steal our treasure... could I ever forgive that?
I could feel each of the great spirits scattered across the sky, their inner cores burning with fury.
If we keep going like this, this entire land—humanity itself—will be erased.
The spirits felt dizzy.
Memories surfaced—ancient, distant.
The gentle face of that person who ran a hand over me, unafraid, even as I was wrapped in black.
We made a promise.
I swore—forever, always, I’d protect it.