“Mary, fall back. Lead the others up to the roof of this building.”
“Ah… my lady, what about you?”
“That’s an order. Go.”
There was no time for long explanations. Every fleeting second was precious.
At Seyla’s firm command, Mary finally moved.
“Move, everyone! Over there—hurry, get up to the roof!”
The place, already on the brink of collapse, descended into chaos. People stumbled and scrambled in every direction.
Seyla closed her eyes to focus.
She saw a vision of a massive tidal wave crashing down, swallowing her whole.
To say she wasn’t afraid would’ve been a lie. But here and now, in this moment of crisis, she was the only one who could stand against it.
Just one chance.
All she needed was a brief sliver of time.
Seyla willed herself into belief.
I have to trust myself. The sword I’ve trained with. The countless hours I’ve endured.
Even a seed-sized spark of faith mattered. After all, the foundation of swordsmanship began with believing in oneself.
She murmured the incantation of the Winter Sword silently in her mind, focusing her spirit.
My sword summons the bitter cold.
Her first great mana circuit was already fully open.
My sword shall be wielded righteously.
She forced mana into her second circuit, one not yet ready.
Power surged into the unrefined channels, tearing through her body like shards of glass. Pain clawed at her flesh, but Seyla held her focus.
I will not die here.
Facing the raging flood rushing toward her, Seyla invoked the Winter Sword.
Blow, O northern wind.
As the words rang in her mind and she swung, frigid mana burst from the tip of her blade.
She kept recalling the lines of the incantation.
Winter descends upon my sword.
Mana erupted in a torrent, flooding out of her. Her sword froze solid, as if she were gripping a blade sculpted of ice.
Around her, everything froze.
Even the wave itself.
The roaring tide turned into an enormous sculpture of ice, towering and unmoving.
“Haa… haa…”
The power unleashed was far greater than she had imagined. Even Seyla herself was shocked.
I… was this strong?
Her heart raced with panic, but her outward composure never faltered. She looked calm, dignified, even aloof.
I’m exhausted.
She wanted to collapse then and there, but her pride wouldn’t allow it. Instead, she merely brushed her hair back with elegance.
And all of it was caught on camera by the professionals of Pictures.
At first, the nobles’ reaction to the “Seylia” brand had been tepid at best.
But once her photographs hit the gazettes, everything changed.
“Wait… this is Lady Seyla?”
“The so-called ‘faceless beauty’?”
She had become the hero of Molita Village.
The village had suffered an unprecedented flood, claiming nearly thirty lives. If Seyla hadn’t taken the lead in clearing and maintaining the drainage channels, the casualties would’ve been far higher.
“Who is she?”
“She’s only fifteen, they say.”
“No way! How can a fifteen-year-old look like this?”
“Pretty people are born pretty, that’s all.”
“She must’ve had her coming-of-age ceremony at fifteen.”
“Just half a year ago, apparently.”
“Then she’ll only grow more beautiful.”
Soon, a whirlwind of Seyla-fever swept across the Central Empire.
Her striking, unconventional fashion stirred the hearts of countless noble young ladies.
“A suit can look this good on a woman?”
“Look at this photo—she’s holding a sword.”
“She’s not just pretty. She’s cool. Elegant.”
“Sexy, even.”
By rights, being drenched in rain should have made her look pitiful. But Seyla was different. Even while slashing at debris clogging a drainage ditch, she looked sublime.
A Seyla Fan Club even sprouted in the social circles.
“She’s showing us what a true swordsman should cut—things that matter, even if they aren’t grand battles. She makes it noble.”
“What do you mean not grand? Haven’t you seen this photo? This is the peak.”
Thanks to the persistence of Pictures, every moment of Seyla was captured.
“Ah, shame this one’s only from behind.”
“What—what is this?!”
Her photographs sold out in the gazettes at lightning speed. Some papers even released special editions of just her images. The most coveted one was of her slashing the tidal wave itself.
Even though it was from behind, that flaw became part of its artistry.
“Is… is that a wave? Why’s it so tall?”
“They say the levee nearby broke.”
“And Lady Seyla stopped it alone? How could anyone freeze that much water?”
“They say her desperate wish to save lives invoked a miracle.”
The fever for Seyla blazed brighter. The Seylia brand’s clothing line completely sold out, sparking a shortage.
“I want what Lady Seyla wore! If not, something similar—what do you mean you don’t have it? Then bring me anything! I’ll buy it all!”
“I’ll put down deposits on the entire next batch.”
“Please, take my reservation!”
A new fashion storm hit the empire. Seyla became the measure of trend, the definition of style. Anything “Seyla-like” was considered the height of chic. Even the most prestigious ateliers followed suit.
Noble daughters began demanding shirts, trousers, even suits—unheard-of choices until now.
It was truly an age of upheaval.
In truth, Seyla—barely at the cusp of First Star—could never have frozen that much water alone.
Behind the scene was Arsagil, Lord of the Bow Palace—Lee Juhwan.
Has she lost her mind?!
Even if she had learned the Winter Sword, Seyla’s current level couldn’t possibly stop that water bomb.
Damn it!
Arsagil snapped his fingers, subtly aiding her. He breathed out a great exhale, summoning a gale of frost.
It was the Bow Palace’s secret art—the Blizzard Tempest.
Reckless fool.
She could’ve escaped safely on her own. Why burden herself like this?
What if you had died? Do you think death stalking you is something so trivial?!
He wanted to storm in and scold her to pieces. But he couldn’t.
The more he cared for Seyla, the more his dark instincts whispered to harm her.
So Arsagil fled in haste.
That was close.
Collapsed on a treetop, he steadied his breath.
“For now… I can’t let myself see Seyla.”
One moment later and he might’ve unleashed something monstrous on her.
He would have to deliberately keep his distance for a while, until these conflicting emotions cooled.
“I hate Seyla. I hate her. I ha—… I don’t hate her!”
He clawed at his hair in anguish.
On the road back from surviving the Molita disaster toward the House of Queibek, I couldn’t forget the sight of Sir Temanon charging toward me like a raging rhinoceros.
For a moment, I thought an earthquake had overturned the carriage.
“Seyla! Are you unharmed?!”
The worry in his face, his voice trembling with concern—it was so warm I wanted to lean on him.
Maybe that’s why my legs suddenly gave out. Sir Temanon caught me firmly in his arms.
“Let’s get you to a physician.”
And he carried me on his back, running.
It was faster and steadier than any carriage. His back was so broad and warm, I felt like a child again—like a little girl riding her father’s back.
And I didn’t dislike it.
The sky had cleared, and in the dawn air after the rain, countless stars glittered.
“I’d like you to go slowly.”
“…What?”
“Your back is so warm, Master.”
“…”
“I’d like to stay like this a little longer.”
At that, Sir Temanon slowed, carrying me with steady steps.
After a while of silence, he spoke again.
“I worried so much for you. But I am proud—your deeds were noble, showing how a swordsman must wield their blade, how a noble must act. As the head of Queibek, ruler of the Eastern Continent, I was deeply moved. What you did was sublime. Beautiful. Magnificent.”
—Hehe. See? I did well, didn’t I? Even I think I was amazing.
“I only did what had to be done,” I answered modestly.
“Even so, my heart nearly gave out. I feared something might happen to you. It felt like my chest would split apart.”
Sniffling, he wiped his tears away with forearms thicker than my thighs.
His sincerity reached me.
It felt like every breath of mine was cherished.
Just like… my father.
“May I make one request of you?”
“What is it?”
He hesitated for a long while before speaking.
“I hope you won’t be too noble.”
“…”
“I hope you won’t be too righteous.”
“…”
“I hope you won’t be too magnificent.”
“…”
Words strangely unfit for the famed paragon of justice, the Head of Queibek.
“But no matter what, I will respect and encourage everything about you.”
