Movement (3)
“This can’t go on.”
For the first time, she began to doubt her dream.
The man she had met at the temple… and the one from her dreams—Akron.
Could her imagination have created such a perfect replica?
It didn’t make sense, but still…
“…I need to find out.”
Wearing only a robe, Yuriel quickly slipped out of her room.
Luckily, the mansion was still quiet—no one else seemed awake yet.
She rushed straight to the library.
It wasn’t as large as the Lorven Library, but it was filled with all kinds of books.
And what she was looking for was basic history—there was no way it wouldn’t be here.
“…Found it.”
She didn’t even have to search long.
“The Founding of Spera and the House of Veiharz”
The Veiharz family ruled the West and had been one of the founding supporters of the Spera Empire.
As always, history in the Empire was mixed with myths and legends.
In the age of chaos, the gods gifted the World Tree to humans, which helped the land flourish.
Two dragons—of light and fire—protected the tree, and the first emperor of Spera made a pact with a dragon.
The Veiharz family was even said to be descendants of dragons, carrying their blood.
“I thought it was just a myth…”
Yuriel ran her fingers over the worn parchment, lost in thought.
“They say the Veiharz can kill monsters with inhuman strength and mysterious powers…”
Rumors about them were endless, but no one truly knew anything.
“If monsters are real, then maybe this is too…”
The Veiharz stayed in the West because of the corrupted lands.
More precisely—because of monsters born from that blackened land.
Long ago, a dragon born of darkness tried to corrupt the World Tree.
The dragons of light and fire defeated it but died in the process.
When the evil dragon perished, its body scattered across the continent.
Monsters were born from the corrupted soil, killing everything alive.
“Even three or four knights can barely take down one low-level monster.”
And yet Akron from the House of Veiharz could kill them with a single strike.
No one knew the source of their power. That only made it more suspicious.
Yuriel was certain all of this was connected to what was happening to her.
Creak.
“……!?”
Startled by the sound, she lifted her head.
At the library door stood her father, expressionless, staring down at her.
“Oh no.”
She hadn’t even realized it was morning. She’d been too focused.
Her father hated seeing her in the library. Yuriel bit her lip.
“What are you doing here?”
His voice was cold, like a storm about to break.
Yuriel looked down and quietly slipped the history book back onto the shelf.
“I was just… checking something.”
“Have you ever gone to see your sister?”
His unexpected reply caught her off guard.
Yuriel blinked, confused, then softly said,
“…No, I haven’t.”
She knew she’d be scolded for it, but she spoke honestly.
After all, her sister had stolen her fiancé and now lay in bed, ill—perhaps from guilt, perhaps not.
Even if their father didn’t know the full story, Yuriel couldn’t bring herself to see Fiona.
“That’s why you’re hopeless. You don’t care about your sister at all.”
His voice dripped with contempt.
His eyes were filled with disgust—like she was something foul.
“I…”
“A woman filled with such venom…”
He clicked his tongue and looked her up and down with disdain.
Yuriel opened her mouth, but his gaze wounded her deeply.
“Why…”
It had always been this way.
Since she was a child, he had never shown her warmth. His eyes always held indifference—or scorn.
She never knew why. She never asked.
She had only watched as her sister was loved and adored.
“So I worked harder…”
She studied through sleepless nights and practiced etiquette until her feet were raw—just to be praised.
But whenever she did well, they comforted Fiona for doing worse.
Whenever she failed, they scolded and hit her.
Still, she had never hated her family.
She loved her sister, even if she blamed herself for everything.
“I truly loved Fiona. As a sister, I gave her everything.
But why do you always say such things to me, Father?”
Her crimson eyes brimmed with tears.
Please… just once, choose me over Fiona. I’m your daughter too.
“What did you just say?”
Her father didn’t hear pain—he heard rebellion.
“That’s it. Come with me.”
“Ah!”
He saw her sadness as defiance.
He clicked his tongue again and dragged her out.
Yuriel cried out, but he didn’t care.
“It hurts…!”
Her arm felt like it would break.
She realized where they were heading.
The “reflection room.”
A tiny space barely big enough for one person to lie down.
When she was young, she was locked there for the smallest mistakes.
“Father!”
Since becoming an adult, she hadn’t set foot there.
Yuriel struggled, but he held her tight.
“Stay here and fix that rotten heart of yours!”
“Ugh!”
He shoved her into the narrow room and slammed the door shut.
Dust flew in the stale air.
Her shoulder throbbed with pain.
Yuriel curled up against the wall.
“…Count, outside…”
“…What…?”
Voices outside the door. She couldn’t understand them clearly.
Then, silence.
“I’m scared.”
The room was cold, pitch-black, and terrifying.
And more than anything, she had just been abused. Her mind was frozen in fear.
“I have to get out of here…”
Instinct screamed at her. She crawled to the door.
“Please open… Please…”
She shook the handle, scratched it until her nails cracked, and pounded the metal until her skin bled.
But the heavy iron door didn’t budge.
Exhausted, she gasped for air.
Then—
“Ahh…!”
A sudden, searing pain struck her stomach.
It felt like she was being ripped apart. Her body doubled over.
She had felt something moving inside her before, but never pain like this.
“It hurts… please, someone…”
Her fever spiked, and her mind blurred.
She slammed the door again with all the strength she had left.
But no one could hear her here.
“I feel like I’m dying…”
She had never known such agony. Pure terror washed over her.
She thought of her father’s cold face.
Her mother and sister, who likely wouldn’t even care.
All the love she had begged for, all the effort she had made—it had been for nothing.
For the first time, she hated her family.
And for the first time, she desperately wanted to see the only one who had held her with warmth.
“…A… person?”
“No… not there…”
She was fading fast. But now she heard a noise outside.
People talking. Something is happening.
But she didn’t have the strength to call out.
As her breath grew weaker—
BAM!
The iron door, once impossible to open, was crushed like paper.
“Ah…”
The metal scattered. The entrance opened.
People gasped. Confusion, shock.
A man stood in front, cold fury radiating from him.
“What is the meaning of this…!”
“The Count has lost his mind.”
His voice was icy enough to tear someone apart.
“AAAAAGH!!”
The Count tried to stop him and had his wrist twisted brutally.
“My lord!”
Servants rushed to help the screaming Count.
The man didn’t spare them a glance.
His gaze was fixed on Yuriel.
“…Tch.”
He clicked his tongue and stepped forward.
He gently picked her up in his arms.
Yuriel blinked, dazed.
“Who…”
She mumbled weakly, but the man was focused on checking her condition.
His touch was kind, wiping her cold sweat and pressing gently against her aching stomach.
And strangely—his hands seemed to make the pain fade.
Resting her cheek against his chest, she smelled a familiar scent.
Tears welled up.
Yuriel lifted her gaze.
“Ah…”
Golden hair like melted sunlight, crimson eyes like rubies—
The face was too beautiful to be human.
He was the one she had longed for with all her heart.
Akron.
But how could he be here?
“Is this… a dream?” she whispered.
He frowned slightly, but his voice was soft and comforting.
“A dream? No. This isn’t a dream.”
If not… then how?
His sculpted face was twisted in concern.
Yuriel reached out, her hand trembling, and touched his cheek.
It was warm.
…
His expression softened at her touch.
She was happy to see that—but her eyelids grew heavy.
She didn’t want to fall asleep. What if he disappeared like a mirage?
She tightened her grip on his arm.
“It’s okay.”
His calm voice brushed her ear.
Like he knew her fear.
At those words, the tension she’d held onto finally melted.
Letting go of her last strength, she passed out in his arms.
