“Caliburn Soulnon Pendragon!”

  The painting was almost a carbon copy of Man, as seen through Burn's eyes, right before she cried his name. Evidently, this was the most indelible image he could jure up of her.

  And now, fronted with a painted echo of herself, Man couldn't help but wonder what had been c through her mind in that frozen moment.

  "You had the power to kill him," Man mused under her breath, "Yet, you chose not to."

  After everything that happened, Man had made the decision not to forsake the world—or him. For if she had, she would be bereft of any purpose in this world.

  Yvain was no more, and the world had lost its luster, especially after what happehat day...

  As the memory of the sky tearing open invaded her thoughts, Man ched her eyes shut. Her face riddled with sorrow and rage.

  But…

  "You have seen with your own two eyes what the world will be three years iure," Man sighed, lifting her head to face the painting again. "The world Calibured."

  Man today had seen it too, as she read through Burn’s mind. The world after he took it over was…

  Not bad.

  "You didn't kill him because you had seen it from your own perspective, and then watched him finish it all by himself?" she asked.

  The man standing alone on that battlefield that day, after defeating and killing everything in sight, painted as the ultimate vilin of every soul’s life…

  Was lonely.

  Even though what he did—every sihing, was… necessary?

  "You stood in front of him, with hatred seething in your heart, yet you saw how he would fix this world," Man murmured. "And you sent him bae to help him perfect it."

  A man stained with sin, and she baptized him anew. Simply because she could, and out of sheer spite.

  Man suddenly smiled, crossed her arms and cocked her head sideway. “Ck, ck,” she hummed, “I’m proud of the shit I do.”

  But most importantly…

  Iure, on that same battlefield, wouldn't it be a hoot if she could spot them huddled around that lonely man?

  On that battlefield, where the only color in the palette seemed to be shades of age—it'd be just peachy if he was grinning arrogantly like he was always, and not a soul would call him a vilin.

  Man chuckled, "...even though he might deserve it."

  To be called a vilin.

  Suddenly, Mahe urge to return to the ba hall and chat with him again. She couldn't deny how much fun she had discussing seemingly muhings with him.

  Not that the White Dwarf and the future of the war were mundane, but... she giggled again.

  Wait a minute.

  She had lost her veil, hadn't she?

  Immediately, she stopped. Her aose, stopping mid-step as she sighed helplessly, looked quite silly, but in no way did it diminish her beauty.

  She scratched the back of her head. “He did tell me that I am too distrag…”

  The dress and the veil had been prepared by Gahad because she couldn't access her own treasures yet, and her personal belongings were go some point.

  "Hmm, I didn't eveo drink anything," she murmured. But then, she shrugged. "Oh, well…"

  She turned in the opposite dire and raised her hand as if holding a wine gss. "Well, a toast to myself, for saving the people of Edensor and Elysian from Burn the Vilin."

  Though most of the unlucky ones ended up as sves…

  On that thought, Man lowered her imaginary gss, wearing a weary smile. But at least, they were alive! Haha…

  As she ambled down the grand corridor, Man sidered retreating to the soce of her room.

  The or doors and flickering wall sces cast a hypnotice of shadows that guided her path. The ba's past echoes were now repced with a hushed silence, ing the castle in a f b of tranquility.

  Just as the thought of her cozy room began to lure her, something curious caught her eye near Burn's chamber.

  She decided to indulge her curiosity, pressing her boot lightly against the room's slightly ajar door. The room was dim, save for the moonlight that filtered in through the window—and her face morphed from casual curiosity to sho an instant.

  ***

  Burn decided to grace the party with his fleeting presence, up a toast to his loyal men. It was a strategic move, really. A sprinkle of charisma here, a dash of camaraderie there, and voi—he'd successfully stoked the embers of their loyalty, all while ensuring they didn't feel like ed housepnts.

  He surveyed the room, his gaze falling on each of his knights in turn. Even Yvain seemed to be relishing his moment, drinking his own e jui the table in front of him. Nothing was out of order when it hit him. Man was yet to return.

  Perhaps that was for the best.

  Even with her fatirely hidden and modestly dressed, her striking presence was undeniable. Amid the lively music, carefree ughter, and grand pomp of the party, her voice remained distinct, melodious, and smooth.

  The way she carried her words was impeccably graceful, even when she spouted words like 'bollocks' or 'fuck', or her casual exit line, "I'mma dip."

  "Pfft," Burn masked his ughter with a sip of his wine.

  He pulled his wine gss away from his face, his thoughts turning to the fact that she hadn't even had a dri. Burn raised his eyebrows, but shrugged it off just like that. Maybe she—

  Oh.

  That's when he spotted the noblewoman who had been apanying him, reappearing in the hall carrying a cloth awfully simir tan's veil.

  Burn strolled back to his former seat, p himself anss of wine. As the noblewoman cheerfully settled back down beside him, the cloth was o be seen. It could've been discarded somewhere on the dance floor betweerand his seat.

  Man didn't return because of him.

  Even wheood there merely sippiea, she would divert the attention of the men deliveris for him. Even whe there simply admiring the flowers, the servants and the gardener would gather and watch her from a distance, abandoning their duties.

  She was a fug nuisance. And the worst part was, it wasn't even her fault.

  Now, with her veil snatched away, she might have opted to retreat to her room instead of returning here. He should have appointed someone who could provide her with a rept veil in such situations.

  "A maid... no, a dy in waiting would be more suitable," Burn muttered.

  Marissa raised her eyebrows at Burn's sudden, unprompted words. "...For what, Your Majesty?"

  "For our little Miss Momo," Burn sneered. She wasn't even capable of finding a new veil herself. Not that Burn would wao wear a tablecloth on her face.

  As he teased Marissa's , pulling her closer and delighting in her puzzled response, he hummed. His voice was low, dark, and thick like bck honey, "You are perfect. From now on, you will be her servant."

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