Arc 8: Vincent Vollachia
Arc 8, Chapter 29 "I Didn't Want to Love You"
TL note: Just a heads up. I haven't read any of the chapters that I didn't MTL so if there are things that seem off, that is why. Whenever I have time, I'll read a summary of those chapters just so I know any important context I might have missed out on.
I will be quite busy for the next month and a half, but hopefully I will be able to start pushing out chapter MTLs at a decent pace again.
Thanks for those that have been patient.
--Standing atop a hill, the man gazed out at the distant horizon.
The sun had already set for some time, and the cold village, with its scarce light source, was no match for the darkness of night.
The sight of a man standing in the dark was very strange to the girl's eyes, even more so when many of the men were injured and there were fewer bonfires than usual.
Wild thieves have been raiding neighboring villages, and the hometown that bore the brunt of their raids has just suffered a major loss of livestock and food, and men have been injured.
Still, it was a blessing in disguise that the village did not perish, and the person standing on the hill could be said to be part of such good fortune.
When the bandits attacked the village, the men who resisted were killed or wounded, and the women and children were captured one by one.
The girl was facing the possibility of being sold or worse, and then the soldiers sent from the capital, including the man on the hill, appeared.
They quickly surrounded the wild thieves and annihilated them with little resistance.
He was then stationed beside the village for protection and to help with reconstruction, and responded briskly, and the village gained a more robust enclosure than it had before it fell victim to the wild thieves.
Once the men's injuries are healed, the village will be safe for the time being.
The girls, like the adult women, were busy running around tending to the wounded, serving food to the soldiers, and taking care of the village children.
Theyfound the man on the hill on their way home after all of this had died down.
"----"
One could say that the sight of the man, silent and staring into the night darkness, was comical.
It is the height of futility to stare into the darkness where you will see nothing. Actions that do not lead to results are not valued, and that is the way of the harsh empire.
But in the girl's eyes, the man did not look ridiculous.
A man looking single-mindedly in the distance, seemingly trying to ascertain what he cannot see.
Because she was irresistibly curious as to what on earth it was that she was going to see.
"Isn't it more comforting to count the stars in the sky than to gaze into total darkness?"
She found herself saying that to the man's back.
The man who turned around had a slight surprise in his eyes, which made me somewhat proud.
--It was the meeting of a girl and a king that would become a fairy tale that would be told for a long, long time.
△▼△▼△▼△
--The reunion was unexpected.
It must be a trick of fate or a strange coincidence.
In the Vollachia Empire, which was exposed to unprecedented peril, almost everyone became aware of the full extent of the "Great Calamity" at the same time.
The march of the dead, who had risen as corpses, knocked every living person into confusion.
But there are those who taste the inevitable tumble into that mess and crawl back up.
They are the ones who stand up as mentally strong people, regardless of their physical strength or weakness--the ones who are seen as heroes and outstanding figures in the eyes of ordinary people. Such strong people are often physically strong as well, and their actions have greatly influenced the fate of the Imperial Capital.
The "Great Calamity" blow, the worst surprise attack on the living, resulted in far less than the simple assumption of the damage it caused.
But that does not mean the best outcome, even if it means a good fight for the living.
The first surprise attack had swallowed up what should rightly have been counted as an outstanding entity faster than it could crawl out of its initial chaos.
"--Ngh"
A faint exhale escapes from her lips, and her consciousness slowly begins to awaken.
Eyelids framed by long lashes tremble, and as the eyes slowly reflect the world like the sun fearing the dawn, once and again, the blue eyes blink--a moment later, the bubbling dream snaps open and consciousness is clearly established in reality.
"--"
She hurriedly raised herself up on the spot, and what she saw in her vision was a strange place.
The high-ceilinged rooms are first-rate, both in the materials of their walls and floors and in the skill of their craftsmen. The rooms are furnished in a manner befitting a superior room, and are instantly recognizable as a place of noble appearance.
The fact that she was lying on a soft bunk in a spacious room also added to this understanding, but the fact that she understood this was in itself bizarre.
It is a fact that is so unnatural in light of the memories that immediately precede it.
"I am in the battle for the Imperial Capital......"
She looks back at herself and said, "I would have participated."
The memory of the world, where both heaven and earth were dyed red, comes back to her as soon as she sees her. She remembers how she and her daughter, miraculously reunited, struggled to soothe the crying child.
The situation was literally hand-wringing, but the attempt itself should have been a success.
But she found herself in such a place. It was so inexplicable--,
"--My kimono..."
After thinking that much, she belatedly realized the unfamiliarity of the touch of her hand on her own chest.
Looking down at her own body in the bunk, she saw that her limbs were clad not in the kimono she was accustomed to wearing, but in a blue dress made of high-quality fabric that was also of a high quality.
Her hair, which had been tied up, was untied, and her hair and earrings had apparently been removed.
All of these things are irreplaceable to her--,
"--Wake up, my star."
Just as she was about to leave her bunk to look for her lost ornaments, she heard that voice.
"--ah"
The voice that unexpectedly struck her eardrums took away all of her brain activity without exaggeration.
The voice was uttered at the entrance of the room, where a variety of elegant and glittering furnishings were laid out in such a way as to attract one's gaze. But none of them caught her eye.
As if her ears were deprived, as if her mind were deprived, her consciousness is taken in that direction.
It was inevitable for her--for Yorna Mishigure.
"----"
Eyes wide, Yorna, who was in the bunker, stares at the figure standing at the entrance.
There he was, a small figure. He was much shorter than Yorna, who is tall for a woman, and had the thinness of a child, but his face was piercingly handsome.
His nearly shoulder-length black green hair and unhealthy-looking eyes with dark shades that suggest a moody mood seem to reflect his unapproachable personality.
But Yorna knows that he is not actually keeping people away from him just because they are afraid of him. --In fact, he did not try to keep them away from him.
That, even with his last moments in front of him, he sincerely refused to keep them away.
That is why Yorna knows that he is here now.
Because she knows--,
"......Your Excellency, is it?"
"You talk in a strange way. But I forgive you. I forgive you for everything your soul is involved in."
The small man responds to Yorna's question with incredulity.
The terribly blunt, sardonic, gloomy weight of his voice was packed with so much emotion that it seemed to tear away in comparison to his brief remarks.
It is an attachment that is too much for a person to handle, and the origin of that attachment is love.
The man in front of her loves Yorna Mishigure.
It was a strong emotion that was so obvious that it could be recognized by anyone else in the room, not because Yorna is a person with a gift specialized in being "loved".
But it would be absolutely impossible for any other person in the place to be there.
At any rate, this is--,
"We have been apart for nearly three hundred years. No one will stand in the way of you and me."
"----"
"Show me your face. I want to see you blink, no matter what you look like."
Yorna's heart trembles at the man's words as he slowly walks up to her and tells her so.
She doesn't even know exactly what emotions were responsible for this. Of course she had the urge to jump into the heart of the man, rejoicing in this impossible reunion.
But at the same time, there are three hundred years worth of reasons not to do so. The most recent decades, for the moment, are the biggest reason not to have made Yorna impulsive.
Therefore, Yorna's lips trembled with conflicting feelings for the man who walked up to him--,
"--His Excellency Yougard Vollachia."
Yorna's lips tightened as the other's feet stopped at his call.
If you stopped to look at him when he called her that, you were not mistaken. He could not have been mistaken in the first place. No one else could have mistaken him for anyone else, only Yorna could have mistaken him for anyone else.
Only Yorna--no, only this soul who began as a girl named Iris, could have made a mistake about Yougard, the "King of Thorns".
--Iris and the King of Thorns.
It is a fairy tale that has been told in this world for a long time, and at the same time, it is an old tale from history.
The story is known for its depiction of the encounter, parting, and tragic ending between a young girl named Iris and the Emperor of Vollachia, known as the "King of Thorns".
The soul of Iris did not ascend to heaven, but was bound to the land of the empire, and was reincarnated many times by Yorna Mishigure. And it was none other than Yougard Vollachia, the "King of Thorns," who bound Iris's soul to the land of the empire.
In other words, this is the story of what happened after "Iris and the King of Thorns", which was never depicted--,
"It's not a pretty story by any stretch of the imagination."
Shaking her head loosely to the side, Yorna suppresses the impulse in her chest.
It is fair to say that it was Yorna's long-cherished wish to be reunited with Yougard after their unwanted separation. In a sense, this was the moment when that long-cherished wish was fulfilled.
But it was different. The reunion that Yorna envisioned was not this way.
"I did not wish to see His Excellency with such a face and eyes."
Yorna looks at Yougard with sad anger at the viciousness of his mocking fate.
He stopped and caught Yorna's gaze, the beloved emperor--his pale skin and golden twin eyes had changed so much from the man Yorna knew.
Specifically, it is not known what happened to him.
However, she could be sure that Yougard's appearance was not unusual and that it would never be a good influence on her or her loved ones.
The unfamiliar place where she woke up, if it was a room in the Crystal Palace, even the worst possibility crossed my mind.
It is possible that something tremendous has happened and the empire has changed its way of being.
"Your Excellency, what in the world has caused you to do this......"
The stories they want to exchange are like tears that never run dry.
But Yorna shook it off and tried to ask the question that needed to be asked.
However--,
"--My star."
Yorna's question was sealed by Yougard's gesture of holding up one finger.
The gesture did not have the power to seal Yorna's mouth. It was the sharp pain that accompanied the gesture that tightened Yorna's heart.
"Kah, ugh......"
A sharp pain pierces her heart's guts, and a moan spills from Yorna's throat instead of a question.
Yorna's chest, which she held reflexively, and if you look at it, you will see a design that was not on her dress before--gray thorns have been added.
The thorns swirled in the center of Yorna's chest, slipping through her white skin and reaching inward.
It thrusts a thorn into Yorna's heart, and a tremendous pain takes over her entire body. And when she tried to touch it with her hand, it slipped through Yorna's fingers and she could not even touch it.
In the midst of her pain-whitened thoughts, Yorna's mind wandered to the nickname of Yougard, the Emperor of Vollachia, who was called by various names for the way he ruled and for the great deeds he accomplished.
Literally, Yougard binds and subdues others with thorny pain.
The thorns of ineradicable instillation, with which Yougard was the great emperor who subjugated the people of the empire and used pain and fear to expand the empire's territory to its present form.
Yorna's throat quivers as she gasps in excruciating pain.
Then she remembered. --She remembered how she had been wronged in the battle for the Imperial Capital, after she had brought down the crying and violent Arakiya together with Priscilla.
It's nothing.
Yorna was distracted by the sight of Yougard, who appeared on the spot and was unable to avoid the thorny bindings. Then, with a bound Yorna and an unconscious Arakiya, Priscilla was confronted by Yougard and the many golden-eyed ones that followed behind her--,
"--Is Prisca all right?"
The question was uttered in intense, sharp pain.
The only thing that made the lips that spilled only grunts of enduring pain to ask a meaningful question was the fact that the feelings outweighed the pain.
In fact, the pain inflicted has not wavered in the slightest.
Yougard does not loosen the bonds of thorns. It is the same whether the opponent is Yorna or Iris. In the first place, Yougard's actions are not aimed at venting anger or chastisement.
Planting thorns and binding others is the same as breathing for Yougard.
As a man walks on two legs, Yougard binds others with thorns.
The cries and flowing blood of the person whose thorns are deeply pierced are only a means for him to be in touch with others.
So to be with him was to be with this pain.
When she remembered it, Yorna was able to ask the question with even a smile on the edge of his mouth.
"Are the two people who were there with me safe?"
"If they were with you, they are not in my eyes. Only you, my star, are in my eyes."
"Huh, is that so......?"
The answer to Yougard's repeated questions was not the one she wanted.
However, when Yorna's voice dropped for that reason, Yougard narrowed his eyes as if he had a thought in his mind,
"......But the Witch has let a living thing into the castle. Some of them may be the ones you speak of."
Yorna choked slightly when Yougard added that.
Unlike the indigo eyes in his memory, Yougard has a golden light in his black eyeballs, but the softness of his gaze on Yorna and his clumsy care for her are reminiscent of the same old him.
Besides, she felt a different kind of pain from the thorns, tightening in her chest,
"If so, I have a favor to ask of Your Excellency."
"A favor?"
"--. Is it the witch? I would like you to confirm that the witch who let me into the castle was with me."
She wants to make sure Prisca and Arakiya are safe.
For Yorna, who is not fully aware of the current situation, the top priority at the moment is the safety of the two girls.
If it can be done--,
"--You will give up death, my star."
The words uttered by Yougard, again, pierced Yorna's chest with another pain.
"----"
Yougard looks down at Yorna, who looks up at him without uttering a sound.
Yorna could not say anything in response to Yougard's words. Se could not say, "What nonsense!" It was unmistakable that Yorna had hit upon his true intention.
His soul was bound to the imperial earth, and each time he died, he would rise again with a new name in another body. --The wish held by Yorna's and Iris's who repeated it.
Yougard Vollachia has correctly spotted that.
"......Blood is something you cannot fight."
And the same thing was also discerned by Vincent Vollachia.
That is why Yorna chose to join forces with Vincent and throw herself into the battle to retake the imperial capital from the rebels. Of course, the collapsed Demon City also accounts for a large part of her decision, but Yorna believes that she is being dishonest when she is unsure of which side her true intentions lie on.
So Yorna nodded to Yougard's question.
"If those children's lives are spared, then my death is of little consequence."
"All right, I'll hear your wish, my star."
Yorna smiled through the pain, and Yougard nodded his head without changing color.
He resumed his once halted steps, came right in front of Yorna, and gently touched Yorna's cheek with his outstretched hand.
Despite his gentle touch, his fingers are cold, and the distance between them makes the thorns sting deeper.
"Wait a minute."
After saying this, Yougard turned away, releasing his hand from Yorna, who tasted the pain that pierced both her mind and body.
As always, the action that she decides to take is fast.
With these sentiments in mind, Yorna asked the question as his back was heading for the door to his room.
"What about the kimono I originally wore and the ornaments in my hair and ears?"
"It's not the kind of thing I'm interested in. But these are the things that adorned you. I have kept them."
With that, Yougard indicated a shelf by the bunk with his hand and finished his response to Yorna without spending any further words.
The indifference of Yougard as he left the room was exactly the man Yorna knew. Before his death, he was always in such a hurry to live that he was always pressed for time.
Iris wanted to tell him that there was no need to rush, so she lined up next to him--.
"......Like a feeble pussycat."
Shaking her head loosely, Yorna slipped out of her bunk and reached for a shelf.
When she opened the drawer, she found her kimono and obi carefully folded, along with a drawstring that held her hair and ear decorations, and she breathed a sigh of relief.
Perhaps because the relief was so great--,
"--ah"
An uncharacteristic, thin sound escaped from her throat and heat spread across her cheeks at the same time.
"Khh"
Bending forward, Yorna bit her teeth and sobbed.
No tears should be shed. It is a curse that pulls the firmly built up "Flamboyance", the Mistress of the Demon City of Yorna Mishigure, back to Iris, a mere village girl.
To return to Iris means to focus on only one thing that she loves.
It means that for the past three hundred years, she has been someone's child, someone's parent, someone's wife, and she pretends that all the days she spent doing so never happened.
"Why, Your Excellency, why......, why now?"
She want to remain the person that she is, that she can love Prisca, the inhabitants of the Demon City, and the many things that live in this empire.
The pain of thorns claiming thorns in her chest tries to make her forget that.
That sweet pain that he missed so much that he could go crazy was horrible for Yorna.
He couldn't resist.
Arc 8, Chapter 29 "I Didn't Want to Love You"
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TL note: Just a heads up. I haven't read any of the chapters that I didn't MTL so if there are things that seem off, that is why. Whenever I have time, I'll read a summary of those chapters just so I know any important context I might have missed out on.
I will be quite busy for the next month and a half, but hopefully I will be able to start pushing out chapter MTLs at a decent pace again.
Thanks for those that have been patient.
--Standing atop a hill, the man gazed out at the distant horizon.
The sun had already set for some time, and the cold village, with its scarce light source, was no match for the darkness of night.
The sight of a man standing in the dark was very strange to the girl's eyes, even more so when many of the men were injured and there were fewer bonfires than usual.
Wild thieves have been raiding neighboring villages, and the hometown that bore the brunt of their raids has just suffered a major loss of livestock and food, and men have been injured.
Still, it was a blessing in disguise that the village did not perish, and the person standing on the hill could be said to be part of such good fortune.
When the bandits attacked the village, the men who resisted were killed or wounded, and the women and children were captured one by one.
The girl was facing the possibility of being sold or worse, and then the soldiers sent from the capital, including the man on the hill, appeared.
They quickly surrounded the wild thieves and annihilated them with little resistance.
He was then stationed beside the village for protection and to help with reconstruction, and responded briskly, and the village gained a more robust enclosure than it had before it fell victim to the wild thieves.
Once the men's injuries are healed, the village will be safe for the time being.
The girls, like the adult women, were busy running around tending to the wounded, serving food to the soldiers, and taking care of the village children.
Theyfound the man on the hill on their way home after all of this had died down.
"----"
One could say that the sight of the man, silent and staring into the night darkness, was comical.
It is the height of futility to stare into the darkness where you will see nothing. Actions that do not lead to results are not valued, and that is the way of the harsh empire.
But in the girl's eyes, the man did not look ridiculous.
A man looking single-mindedly in the distance, seemingly trying to ascertain what he cannot see.
Because she was irresistibly curious as to what on earth it was that she was going to see.
"Isn't it more comforting to count the stars in the sky than to gaze into total darkness?"
She found herself saying that to the man's back.
The man who turned around had a slight surprise in his eyes, which made me somewhat proud.
--It was the meeting of a girl and a king that would become a fairy tale that would be told for a long, long time.
△▼△▼△▼△
--The reunion was unexpected.
It must be a trick of fate or a strange coincidence.
In the Vollachia Empire, which was exposed to unprecedented peril, almost everyone became aware of the full extent of the "Great Calamity" at the same time.
The march of the dead, who had risen as corpses, knocked every living person into confusion.
But there are those who taste the inevitable tumble into that mess and crawl back up.
They are the ones who stand up as mentally strong people, regardless of their physical strength or weakness--the ones who are seen as heroes and outstanding figures in the eyes of ordinary people. Such strong people are often physically strong as well, and their actions have greatly influenced the fate of the Imperial Capital.
The "Great Calamity" blow, the worst surprise attack on the living, resulted in far less than the simple assumption of the damage it caused.
But that does not mean the best outcome, even if it means a good fight for the living.
The first surprise attack had swallowed up what should rightly have been counted as an outstanding entity faster than it could crawl out of its initial chaos.
"--Ngh"
A faint exhale escapes from her lips, and her consciousness slowly begins to awaken.
Eyelids framed by long lashes tremble, and as the eyes slowly reflect the world like the sun fearing the dawn, once and again, the blue eyes blink--a moment later, the bubbling dream snaps open and consciousness is clearly established in reality.
"--"
She hurriedly raised herself up on the spot, and what she saw in her vision was a strange place.
The high-ceilinged rooms are first-rate, both in the materials of their walls and floors and in the skill of their craftsmen. The rooms are furnished in a manner befitting a superior room, and are instantly recognizable as a place of noble appearance.
The fact that she was lying on a soft bunk in a spacious room also added to this understanding, but the fact that she understood this was in itself bizarre.
It is a fact that is so unnatural in light of the memories that immediately precede it.
"I am in the battle for the Imperial Capital......"
She looks back at herself and said, "I would have participated."
The memory of the world, where both heaven and earth were dyed red, comes back to her as soon as she sees her. She remembers how she and her daughter, miraculously reunited, struggled to soothe the crying child.
The situation was literally hand-wringing, but the attempt itself should have been a success.
But she found herself in such a place. It was so inexplicable--,
"--My kimono..."
After thinking that much, she belatedly realized the unfamiliarity of the touch of her hand on her own chest.
Looking down at her own body in the bunk, she saw that her limbs were clad not in the kimono she was accustomed to wearing, but in a blue dress made of high-quality fabric that was also of a high quality.
Her hair, which had been tied up, was untied, and her hair and earrings had apparently been removed.
All of these things are irreplaceable to her--,
"--Wake up, my star."
Just as she was about to leave her bunk to look for her lost ornaments, she heard that voice.
"--ah"
The voice that unexpectedly struck her eardrums took away all of her brain activity without exaggeration.
The voice was uttered at the entrance of the room, where a variety of elegant and glittering furnishings were laid out in such a way as to attract one's gaze. But none of them caught her eye.
As if her ears were deprived, as if her mind were deprived, her consciousness is taken in that direction.
It was inevitable for her--for Yorna Mishigure.
"----"
Eyes wide, Yorna, who was in the bunker, stares at the figure standing at the entrance.
There he was, a small figure. He was much shorter than Yorna, who is tall for a woman, and had the thinness of a child, but his face was piercingly handsome.
His nearly shoulder-length black green hair and unhealthy-looking eyes with dark shades that suggest a moody mood seem to reflect his unapproachable personality.
But Yorna knows that he is not actually keeping people away from him just because they are afraid of him. --In fact, he did not try to keep them away from him.
That, even with his last moments in front of him, he sincerely refused to keep them away.
That is why Yorna knows that he is here now.
Because she knows--,
"......Your Excellency, is it?"
"You talk in a strange way. But I forgive you. I forgive you for everything your soul is involved in."
The small man responds to Yorna's question with incredulity.
The terribly blunt, sardonic, gloomy weight of his voice was packed with so much emotion that it seemed to tear away in comparison to his brief remarks.
It is an attachment that is too much for a person to handle, and the origin of that attachment is love.
The man in front of her loves Yorna Mishigure.
It was a strong emotion that was so obvious that it could be recognized by anyone else in the room, not because Yorna is a person with a gift specialized in being "loved".
But it would be absolutely impossible for any other person in the place to be there.
At any rate, this is--,
"We have been apart for nearly three hundred years. No one will stand in the way of you and me."
"----"
"Show me your face. I want to see you blink, no matter what you look like."
Yorna's heart trembles at the man's words as he slowly walks up to her and tells her so.
She doesn't even know exactly what emotions were responsible for this. Of course she had the urge to jump into the heart of the man, rejoicing in this impossible reunion.
But at the same time, there are three hundred years worth of reasons not to do so. The most recent decades, for the moment, are the biggest reason not to have made Yorna impulsive.
Therefore, Yorna's lips trembled with conflicting feelings for the man who walked up to him--,
"--His Excellency Yougard Vollachia."
Yorna's lips tightened as the other's feet stopped at his call.
If you stopped to look at him when he called her that, you were not mistaken. He could not have been mistaken in the first place. No one else could have mistaken him for anyone else, only Yorna could have mistaken him for anyone else.
Only Yorna--no, only this soul who began as a girl named Iris, could have made a mistake about Yougard, the "King of Thorns".
--Iris and the King of Thorns.
It is a fairy tale that has been told in this world for a long time, and at the same time, it is an old tale from history.
The story is known for its depiction of the encounter, parting, and tragic ending between a young girl named Iris and the Emperor of Vollachia, known as the "King of Thorns".
The soul of Iris did not ascend to heaven, but was bound to the land of the empire, and was reincarnated many times by Yorna Mishigure. And it was none other than Yougard Vollachia, the "King of Thorns," who bound Iris's soul to the land of the empire.
In other words, this is the story of what happened after "Iris and the King of Thorns", which was never depicted--,
"It's not a pretty story by any stretch of the imagination."
Shaking her head loosely to the side, Yorna suppresses the impulse in her chest.
It is fair to say that it was Yorna's long-cherished wish to be reunited with Yougard after their unwanted separation. In a sense, this was the moment when that long-cherished wish was fulfilled.
But it was different. The reunion that Yorna envisioned was not this way.
"I did not wish to see His Excellency with such a face and eyes."
Yorna looks at Yougard with sad anger at the viciousness of his mocking fate.
He stopped and caught Yorna's gaze, the beloved emperor--his pale skin and golden twin eyes had changed so much from the man Yorna knew.
Specifically, it is not known what happened to him.
However, she could be sure that Yougard's appearance was not unusual and that it would never be a good influence on her or her loved ones.
The unfamiliar place where she woke up, if it was a room in the Crystal Palace, even the worst possibility crossed my mind.
It is possible that something tremendous has happened and the empire has changed its way of being.
"Your Excellency, what in the world has caused you to do this......"
The stories they want to exchange are like tears that never run dry.
But Yorna shook it off and tried to ask the question that needed to be asked.
However--,
"--My star."
Yorna's question was sealed by Yougard's gesture of holding up one finger.
The gesture did not have the power to seal Yorna's mouth. It was the sharp pain that accompanied the gesture that tightened Yorna's heart.
"Kah, ugh......"
A sharp pain pierces her heart's guts, and a moan spills from Yorna's throat instead of a question.
Yorna's chest, which she held reflexively, and if you look at it, you will see a design that was not on her dress before--gray thorns have been added.
The thorns swirled in the center of Yorna's chest, slipping through her white skin and reaching inward.
It thrusts a thorn into Yorna's heart, and a tremendous pain takes over her entire body. And when she tried to touch it with her hand, it slipped through Yorna's fingers and she could not even touch it.
In the midst of her pain-whitened thoughts, Yorna's mind wandered to the nickname of Yougard, the Emperor of Vollachia, who was called by various names for the way he ruled and for the great deeds he accomplished.
Literally, Yougard binds and subdues others with thorny pain.
The thorns of ineradicable instillation, with which Yougard was the great emperor who subjugated the people of the empire and used pain and fear to expand the empire's territory to its present form.
Yorna's throat quivers as she gasps in excruciating pain.
Then she remembered. --She remembered how she had been wronged in the battle for the Imperial Capital, after she had brought down the crying and violent Arakiya together with Priscilla.
It's nothing.
Yorna was distracted by the sight of Yougard, who appeared on the spot and was unable to avoid the thorny bindings. Then, with a bound Yorna and an unconscious Arakiya, Priscilla was confronted by Yougard and the many golden-eyed ones that followed behind her--,
"--Is Prisca all right?"
The question was uttered in intense, sharp pain.
The only thing that made the lips that spilled only grunts of enduring pain to ask a meaningful question was the fact that the feelings outweighed the pain.
In fact, the pain inflicted has not wavered in the slightest.
Yougard does not loosen the bonds of thorns. It is the same whether the opponent is Yorna or Iris. In the first place, Yougard's actions are not aimed at venting anger or chastisement.
Planting thorns and binding others is the same as breathing for Yougard.
As a man walks on two legs, Yougard binds others with thorns.
The cries and flowing blood of the person whose thorns are deeply pierced are only a means for him to be in touch with others.
So to be with him was to be with this pain.
When she remembered it, Yorna was able to ask the question with even a smile on the edge of his mouth.
"Are the two people who were there with me safe?"
"If they were with you, they are not in my eyes. Only you, my star, are in my eyes."
"Huh, is that so......?"
The answer to Yougard's repeated questions was not the one she wanted.
However, when Yorna's voice dropped for that reason, Yougard narrowed his eyes as if he had a thought in his mind,
"......But the Witch has let a living thing into the castle. Some of them may be the ones you speak of."
Yorna choked slightly when Yougard added that.
Unlike the indigo eyes in his memory, Yougard has a golden light in his black eyeballs, but the softness of his gaze on Yorna and his clumsy care for her are reminiscent of the same old him.
Besides, she felt a different kind of pain from the thorns, tightening in her chest,
"If so, I have a favor to ask of Your Excellency."
"A favor?"
"--. Is it the witch? I would like you to confirm that the witch who let me into the castle was with me."
She wants to make sure Prisca and Arakiya are safe.
For Yorna, who is not fully aware of the current situation, the top priority at the moment is the safety of the two girls.
If it can be done--,
"--You will give up death, my star."
The words uttered by Yougard, again, pierced Yorna's chest with another pain.
"----"
Yougard looks down at Yorna, who looks up at him without uttering a sound.
Yorna could not say anything in response to Yougard's words. Se could not say, "What nonsense!" It was unmistakable that Yorna had hit upon his true intention.
His soul was bound to the imperial earth, and each time he died, he would rise again with a new name in another body. --The wish held by Yorna's and Iris's who repeated it.
Yougard Vollachia has correctly spotted that.
"......Blood is something you cannot fight."
And the same thing was also discerned by Vincent Vollachia.
That is why Yorna chose to join forces with Vincent and throw herself into the battle to retake the imperial capital from the rebels. Of course, the collapsed Demon City also accounts for a large part of her decision, but Yorna believes that she is being dishonest when she is unsure of which side her true intentions lie on.
So Yorna nodded to Yougard's question.
"If those children's lives are spared, then my death is of little consequence."
"All right, I'll hear your wish, my star."
Yorna smiled through the pain, and Yougard nodded his head without changing color.
He resumed his once halted steps, came right in front of Yorna, and gently touched Yorna's cheek with his outstretched hand.
Despite his gentle touch, his fingers are cold, and the distance between them makes the thorns sting deeper.
"Wait a minute."
After saying this, Yougard turned away, releasing his hand from Yorna, who tasted the pain that pierced both her mind and body.
As always, the action that she decides to take is fast.
With these sentiments in mind, Yorna asked the question as his back was heading for the door to his room.
"What about the kimono I originally wore and the ornaments in my hair and ears?"
"It's not the kind of thing I'm interested in. But these are the things that adorned you. I have kept them."
With that, Yougard indicated a shelf by the bunk with his hand and finished his response to Yorna without spending any further words.
The indifference of Yougard as he left the room was exactly the man Yorna knew. Before his death, he was always in such a hurry to live that he was always pressed for time.
Iris wanted to tell him that there was no need to rush, so she lined up next to him--.
"......Like a feeble pussycat."
Shaking her head loosely, Yorna slipped out of her bunk and reached for a shelf.
When she opened the drawer, she found her kimono and obi carefully folded, along with a drawstring that held her hair and ear decorations, and she breathed a sigh of relief.
Perhaps because the relief was so great--,
"--ah"
An uncharacteristic, thin sound escaped from her throat and heat spread across her cheeks at the same time.
"Khh"
Bending forward, Yorna bit her teeth and sobbed.
No tears should be shed. It is a curse that pulls the firmly built up "Flamboyance", the Mistress of the Demon City of Yorna Mishigure, back to Iris, a mere village girl.
To return to Iris means to focus on only one thing that she loves.
It means that for the past three hundred years, she has been someone's child, someone's parent, someone's wife, and she pretends that all the days she spent doing so never happened.
"Why, Your Excellency, why......, why now?"
She want to remain the person that she is, that she can love Prisca, the inhabitants of the Demon City, and the many things that live in this empire.
The pain of thorns claiming thorns in her chest tries to make her forget that.
That sweet pain that he missed so much that he could go crazy was horrible for Yorna.
He couldn't resist.