Chapter 0
0. Prologue
The temple that had hosted a wedding the day before became a funeral hall the very next day.
The Duke, who had been the star of the wedding, was also the central figure at the funeral the following day.
He lay inside a coffin placed in the middle of the hall, quietly receiving the guests. The guests found some small comfort in the fact that the formal attire worn to weddings was the same as what one wore to funerals.
For most people, having both a wedding and a funeral held in a temple was considered the most ideal arrangement in life. Whether the Duke himself would have found it ideal to have both ceremonies at once was something no one could know.
The Duke had died suddenly during the wedding reception, and the Duchess attempted to take her own life the moment she confirmed his death.
Whether it was fortunate or unfortunate, the attempt failed. Two days later, when she finally regained consciousness, the Duchess appeared only on the final day of the funeral.
She had become a Duchess through the wedding, yet the husband who made her a Duchess was already gone.
Dragged down to the funeral hall the moment she awoke, the Duchess looked like a living corpse.
A priest approached and handed her a flower, giving formal instructions.
“Please say your final farewell to His Grace. Place one flower beside him, and throw the rest into the fire.”
Above the head of the Duke’s coffin stood a massive brazier, nearly as tall as a person. The flames inside burned fiercely, occasionally sending red tongues of fire flickering above the rim.
The Duchess had not yet recovered physically, and even standing was difficult. She had been pulled here the moment she woke and had no time to gather her thoughts.
As she staggered forward, whispers brushed past her.
“It would’ve been better if she’d just died.”
“Exactly.”
The Duchess approached the Duke’s coffin as if she agreed with them, as though they were speaking about someone else.
Looking at the face of the husband she had never seen while he was alive stirred no emotion in her.
You’re lucky. You died cleanly. That vague envy was the only thought that crossed her mind.
Smacking her dry lips, she placed one flower on the Duke’s chest and walked toward the brazier.
God, please let this life finally end properly. With the same casual feeling of tossing a coin into a fountain, she threw the flower into the fire.
The delicate petals were instantly swallowed by the flames, crackling as they burned. The priests began chanting in unison and bowed their heads. The other attendees followed their example.
The solemn ritual and ceremonial atmosphere drifted around her dull senses.
Her mind was hazy. The only thing she truly felt was how difficult it was to remain standing.
She was alive, yet the world remained colorless.
Then—
Boom!
Something exploded inside the brazier.
“Ah!”
Screams rang out throughout the hall. The sacred, solemn atmosphere of the funeral shattered instantly.
Boom! Boom!
The sharp popping sound didn’t stop with one blast. Sparks flew everywhere. Some of them even shot toward the Duchess.
A burst of fire flared right before her eyes.
“Get back!”
The guests scattered in panic, screaming as they fled. Even the priests who had been officiating the ceremony covered their heads and ran.
Only the Duchess remained standing before the brazier, where it was her turn to offer flowers.
The sparks were bursting from the very sacred brazier into which she had just thrown her flower.
No one tried to evacuate her, despite her being the wife of the Duke, the central figure of the funeral.
The Duchess herself simply stared blankly at the erupting flames.
Her eyes were unfocused. Watching reality drift past like something that belonged to someone else, she thought absently:
‘If I die from these sparks, that would be lucky.’
Boom! Boom!
More sparks scattered through the air.
The corner of her lips lifted slightly.
Maybe she really could die.
At last, rest.
A calm peace settled in her heart. She welcomed the shower of sparks gladly. After all, the pain of dying would only last a moment.
“…?”
But it wasn’t hot.
The sparks had clearly burst outward like a volcanic eruption. Even if she didn’t burn to death, at least somewhere on her body should have felt the heat.
Only then did the Duchess truly open her eyes and look down at herself.
There wasn’t a single burn on her body. She looked down at the floor.
Ashes should have been scattered there—blackened remnants of burned petals.
Instead, what she saw were flower petals that looked freshly bloomed, as if full of life. The petals, once plain white, now shimmered with brilliant colors.
It made no sense.
This was a phenomenon that could not be explained by even the most advanced science.
Her eyes widened in disbelief.
Magic?
The petals on the floor intertwined in intricate geometric patterns, as if someone had painstakingly drawn them one by one, forming a circle.
And at the center of that circle stood the Duchess.
“It’s a revelation!”
Someone shouted.
“A revelation? Those really exist?”
“My goodness—an oracle! Wasn’t that something that hadn’t appeared since the prophecy three hundred years ago?”
Whispers erupted like rain breaking through a dam.
And the Duchess remained exactly as she had been from the beginning, standing there blankly in the center of it all.
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