EMDL 08

Episode 8 

Céline couldn’t remember how she had escaped the forest.
All she could recall was Leonhardt—his arms wrapped tightly around her, lifting her off the ground.

“Master!”

The moment Leonhardt emerged from the forest, holding the bloodied Céline in his arms, chaos erupted around them.

A medic came running in a panic.

“Th-the lady should be brought here—”

“No.”

Leonhardt’s cold glare froze the medic mid-step.

“I’ll do it myself.”

He snatched the bandages and medicine from the medic’s hands and was about to step into the carriage when the knight commander approached.

“Sir, the core—?”

“It’s gone.”

“…What?”

The commander’s mouth fell open in disbelief. Leonhardt’s voice dripped with irritation.

“Don’t believe me? Go look for it yourself.”

“N-no, sir.”

The commander immediately retreated. Leonhardt’s eyes followed him, sharp and cold.

If even one of them had the courage to dig through a monster’s remains themselves…

“Ah!”

Céline let out a small cry, twisting in pain. Leonhardt’s heart lurched. He gently laid her down in the carriage and examined her carefully.

He hadn’t dismissed the medic out of pride. In all the Empire, no one knew more about injuries caused by monsters than Leonhardt himself.

“…!”

His pupils trembled.

Céline’s body was covered in jagged, red scars—as if her flesh had been torn apart and crudely reattached moments before.

Leonhardt’s hands shook as he reached for the ointment. Céline slowly regained consciousness just as he began to spread the cool salve along her neck.

“It’s a waste,” she murmured weakly. “I’ll heal anyway…”

“All wounds do,” he replied curtly.

His movements faltered as his hand reached just below her shoulder.
Beneath the shredded dress, what little skin he could glimpse looked anything but normal—but it wasn’t a place he could touch or even mention.

“I’ll call the medic.”

“I’m healed.”

Céline’s eyes, which had been closed this whole time, met his.

Leonhardt noticed the pain dulling the usually bright blue-gray of her gaze.

“See? It’s gone.”

Céline pulled up the tattered sleeve of her dress to show her arm—pale and unblemished, not a mark in sight. Leonhardt exhaled heavily.

“You’re still hurting, though.”

“Is it that obvious? It’s phantom pain. It’ll fade soon. Ointment won’t help anyway.”

“…I see.”

Céline shut her eyes again.

The pain of wounds that no longer existed still ruled her body.
But she endured it in silence, unwilling to groan or move and make Leonhardt worry.

Then, suddenly, she felt warmth—pressure around her hands. Leonhardt was holding them.

“If you don’t like it, say so.”

Instead of answering, Céline squeezed his hand.
The crawling, devouring pain that had consumed her body seemed to ebb away along the warmth of their joined hands.

When the last trace of pain faded into a gentle tickle and disappeared, Céline withdrew her hand.

“I’m all right now. Thank you.”

“……”

Leonhardt looked like he wanted to say something—but no words came out.

Trying to lighten the mood, Céline spoke first, pretending cheerfulness.

“So… do we go to the hotel now? Or straight to the palace to report to His Highness?”

Leonhardt’s eyes regained their usual cool sharpness, and Céline felt a little relieved—until he spoke.

“No.”

Céline blinked in confusion. Leonhardt’s tone was solemn, every word weighted.

“We’re going. North.”

“…What?”

“The capital is dangerous.”

Leonhardt’s hand tightened around the hilt of Raschir’s sword, as though ready to cut down every danger that lay ahead.

Wrapped in a thick blanket, Céline soaked in the warmth. Leonhardt had filled the carriage with blankets and cushions, saying the northern road was bitterly cold.

She didn’t know exactly why he was in such a hurry, but seeing how composed he now seemed, she felt going north must be the right choice.

“Is it really that much colder up north?”

“Cold enough that, in those old clothes, you’d freeze to death in minutes.”

He reached out and brushed the sable fur on her hat.

“Remember this—never take your hat off outside. You’ll lose your ears before you realize it.”

Céline decided not to bring up northern weather again. Every time she did, Leonhardt launched into another impassioned lecture about surviving the cold.

Outside, the dusk settled in, and the carriage slowed to a stop. Like before, they had to camp for the night.

Neither had much appetite, so dinner was just a few biscuits and a bit of warm tea.

After a while, Leonhardt looked at Céline holding her mug between both hands and spoke with quiet resolve.

“I’ll sleep outside.”

“What? Why?”

Céline couldn’t believe it. Even at the hotel, Leonhardt had stood guard outside her door, unwilling to rest.

And now, out here in the wilderness?

He stayed silent, his face faintly flushed, lips pressed together.

“It’s because you’re afraid you’ll wake me up from your nightmares, isn’t it?”

Her guess was half-right—but Leonhardt only nodded. He didn’t want to tell her the full truth.

The agony he had felt when she died earlier still lingered deep in his chest.
To see it again, over and over in his dreams? He couldn’t bear it.

“It’s been a hard day. You need rest. I don’t want to disturb you.”

“And you’ve had a hard day too, Leonhardt.”

Her voice carried gentle concern, but he only shook his head.

“What happened was my fault alone. You shouldn’t have to bear the weight of my mistakes.”

Céline bit back a sigh. Nothing she said would change his mind.
So instead—she smiled slyly.

“All right then. But who’s going to protect me?”

Leonhardt looked up, and Céline knew she had him.

“Unless, of course, some loyal maid-knight suddenly rides up from the north to take over your duties…”

Her eyes flicked toward the coachman’s small tent outside, beside the campfire.

“How are you supposed to protect me from way over there? You’re not planning to stand guard all night in this cold, are you? You’ll catch a cold.”

“I… was planning to.”

“In this weather?”

Céline reached out to feel his forehead, but Leonhardt jerked back in alarm, ruining the gesture.

“Well, I don’t need to check to know you don’t have a fever—but do you really plan to arrive at the fortress tomorrow sniffling and coughing?”

Leonhardt sighed.

“…If I stay here, will that make you feel safer?”

“Of course!”

Céline’s eyes lit up. She quickly rearranged the blankets and cushions into a comfortable nest.
Leonhardt resignedly leaned against the carriage door.

“You must be looking forward to tomorrow night, then.”

“Obviously. I’m sick of nightmares.”

He spoke matter-of-factly, but Céline blushed faintly.

“No, I mean—you’ll finally get to sleep in a real bed again. You won’t have to guard me.”

“Oh.”

Only then did Leonhardt realize that this would be their last night sharing a room.

‘If it’s the last… I wish it could’ve been a lighter, happier night.’

But soon, the nightmare born of his own arrogance and failure would come to him again—and she would witness his fall.

That, at least, he wanted to spare her.

He glanced sideways. Céline was already blinking sleepily, gazing out the window.

He smiled faintly. Once she was asleep, he’d simply step outside. That way, both her rest and his peace of mind would be safe.

“…There are so many stars,” she murmured. “Maybe because it’s open plains?”

“The sky’s clear tonight, that’s all,” he replied absently. He never cared much for stars—they belonged to mages and fortune-tellers, neither of whom he trusted.

“…I don’t see them.”

“What?”

“The ones I know. My stars.”

Her drowsy tone was almost dreamlike, but Leonhardt didn’t mock her.

“The window’s small. There are more stars than anyone can name—it’s only natural you can’t find yours.”

“You know much about stars?”

“…No.”

“But not nothing either. Tell me something. Anything.”

For a moment, Leonhardt almost waved her off, reminded of a little sister who used to beg for scary bedtime stories.

But Céline’s expression wasn’t that of a child—it was the look of someone far from home, seeking a piece of comfort.

So he told her the only star story he knew.

“In the North, we call magicians ‘stars.’ Because they live in a different world than the rest of us.”

Céline looked slightly disappointed but didn’t interrupt.

“But stars live in the dark. And even if they’re swallowed by it, they never disappear.”

“Dark magicians, then?” she asked, half-laughing.

“Yes. A flickering star means a magician turning into a dark one. That’s why magicians are danger—”

“Pff—”

Céline burst out laughing, shaking with giggles.

“Haha… Ahaha…”

“Is that story really so funny?” Leonhardt asked, baffled.

Wiping tears from her eyes, she grinned.

“It’s just… this really is another world, isn’t it?”

He nodded. The North was very different from the capital indeed.

With a lighter smile, Céline whispered, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For making the stars feel… less sad.”

“…?”

Before he could ask what she meant, Céline had drifted into a deep, peaceful sleep.

Céline’s eyes flew open.

They were moving—the carriage rocked gently under bright sunlight. She felt refreshed, more awake than she had in days.

‘Leonhardt!’

A sudden realization struck her. If she hadn’t woken up all night, that meant—

“Leonhardt!”

The word burst out before she could stop it. Leonhardt immediately leaned toward her, firing off questions like gunfire.

“Are you hurt? Should I stop the carriage? Did you have a nightmare?”

“No, it’s not that—did you sleep outside?”

“I stood watch.”

Relief washed over his face, but Céline’s did the opposite.

“We agreed you’d stay inside!”

“I just wanted some fresh air.”

She stared at him. The dark circles under his eyes had returned full force, his eyes were bloodshot, and he coughed faintly.

So he’d endured the nightmares alone, out in the freezing night.

She was too stunned to speak for a moment, then finally managed:

“You caught a cold.”

Leonhardt shrugged.

“I was born and raised in the North. This is nothing.”

Céline sighed. She couldn’t scold him for something done out of care for her. And besides, tonight, he’d no longer need to guard her.

‘Then this won’t be a problem anymore.’

She softened her tone and changed the subject.

“When will we arrive?”

“We’re almost there.”

“What?”

“Look outside.”

Céline turned—and nearly bit her tongue.

They were approaching a massive fortress.

Not a typical one—dozens of towering spires rose into the clouds, linked by narrow bridges that made the entire structure look more like a web than a castle.

‘No way…’

Céline buried her face in her hands to hide her expression.

She knew this place.

A hidden stage—an optional ghost castle that didn’t appear in the main story.

‘The one I gave up on because it was too hard…!’