Chapter 177
“Have you ever made a prayer? That one prayer you can only make once in your life.”
At the moment he said those words, Theogrim was not curious about the truth of the rumor about the prayer.
“Will you pray for me? Then I will take you to my world. I…”
“……”
“I’m going to have power.”
What Theogrim wanted was Arzeletta’s will.
If she would offer her one and only prayer for him, he felt he could tie his life to this girl with just that fact.
The girl caught in a trap seemed to serenely accept even the impending tragedy. It was not hard to imagine what kind of suffering she had been through to get to that point.
The girl, who looked up at him as if he were dazzling, slowly raised her arms.
At the sorrowfulness of that moment, Theogrim bit his lip.
He thought.
We might become something to each other.
“A single prayer, only for you.”
We might save each other.
“…I will live for you, breathe for you, and live for the joy of meeting death for you.”
…We might survive and reclaim what we have lost.
“Ah…”
A short breath escaped Arzeletta’s lips. Her deeply lowered eyelids and long, delicate eyelashes trembled faintly.
She was having a dream.
A moment on some night, when she had been led by an unknown force and had searched for someone.
The moon was high and the night was deep. Even as she was led to an unknown place by an unknown person’s voice, she was not afraid.
Even while she ran barefoot on the stone path, having even lost her worn-out shoes, Arzeletta felt as if she was dancing.
Arzeletta on that day did not doubt who would be waiting for her at the end of this mysterious power.
Theogrim.
My Theogrim.
The owner of her prayer.
The person who had led her to this harsh yet brilliant world,
The person who had hidden her life in a dark and damp place and gone on into the light alone.
The person who, with the fire that had burned Arzeletta’s wings, had scarred that beautiful, angel-like face of his own accord.
And…
“……”
The one and only person who had sworn to survive for each other through any suffering.
The place she had run to was the lakeside. Someone was standing there. Her pure white silver hair that resembled the moonlight, his violet eyes that looked down at her as if they were deeply wounded…
You are…
“My Lord…”
The one who had been waiting for her at the end of the pull was not her beloved Theogrim.
Arzeletta reached out her hand. The moment the broken pieces of the ground beneath her feet collapsed, she clasped Ragnar’s hand.
‘A maid from the slaughterhouse. The woman who left a scar on my successor’s face.’
…My Lord. A holy person, a great warrior who should be praised in the world of God.
‘Why on earth… are you doing this to me?’
Ragnar held Arzeletta, who was standing on her collapsing sadness that was sparkling like tears. His arm was firm, and his hand holding her was strong.
Enough to make her believe that the confusion in his violet eyes and the distinct pain transmitted through their clasped hands were all a delusion.
‘…I don’t know why you always look so sad when you see me.’
It’s the same for you, My Lord.
Arzeletta smiled as she said that. But soon, she realized that her cheek, which his hand had touched, was wet. Arzeletta had been unable to distinguish between smiling and crying for a while. It was especially so when she was with him.
‘Don’t cry.’
‘……’
‘When you cry, I cannot bear it.’
Arzeletta raised her eyes towards Ragnar, who was wiping away her tears.
In reality, when he had said this to her, Arzeletta had not been able to see Ragnar’s face because of the tears that were blurring her vision.
Just as she always had, trapped only in her own love, only in her own sadness. Trapped completely in that foolishness, that weakness, that selfishness.
But in this dream, Arzeletta could see Ragnar’s face.
He, too, was crying.
At this moment, Arzeletta could clearly see the tears that Ragnar could not shed outwardly seeping into his heart like blood flowing backwards.
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