It was a good thing I told Roxana I would come by in the afternoon, because I didn’t sleep until dawn. The light filtering through the curtains eventually woke me around noon. My head hurt and I felt like shit.

I dragged myself up to cook a simple meal and sat to eat by the kitchen window, staring out at the sunlit streets.

Not for the first time, I imagined leaving this place.

Just pick up the money the Duvals had given me, pack a bag of clothes and my stash of non-perishable foods, catch one of the shuttles out of the city, and keep going until I was sick of it.

But even if I left, Acacius’ curse would be hanging on me like a leash.

Why did he have to summon me? No, why did I fight so hard to survive? For someone like me, who’d already died once, what did it matter if some bastard called me back from the grave to kill me again?

I took a deep breath and scrubbed at my face.

Focus, Eunseok.

I wasn’t Acacius, but I was the one who had to live with what he’d left behind.

Maybe it was time to revisit the few records of his life that I had.

Acacius’ journals were written in archaic Korean, and many were further encrypted on top of that. To this day I still had no idea how to read them. However, Acacius still had a couple of journals written in plain language, one of which contained his last will.

I retrieved those journals from where I’d hidden them in the closet and read through his last will again.

If you are reading this, something has gone very wrong.

I hope you will carry out my last will. Otherwise, a terrible calamity will fall upon Iyiria. I swear this on my name as a Duval. Hopefully, you understand what that means.

First and most important, you must kill Luka Reviance within five years, no matter what. But if you can’t, stay far away from him and pray for the best.

Second, I have attached certain fail-safes to my name. Therefore, please keep using the name of Acacius Duval as much as you can. Do not let it be forgotten. This way there is still a chance.

Last, I hope you will look after my little sister. If you can’t escape the disaster, at the very least, help her escape this continent. And don’t let her inherit the Duval name.

That is all.

I resisted the urge to crumple the paper and throw it away. Why couldn’t he have written a little more? It felt like I didn’t understand him at all.

Of his last wishes, it felt like the only one I’d meaningfully accomplished was using his identity. Luka… Well, I’d killed him once, but it hadn’t stuck. And I was hardly doing anything to look after Cynara. But she was the most important part of the will, right? Even if nothing else could be achieved, Acacius had wanted to make sure that she, at least, would live.

Maybe it was worth checking again at what his journals had to say about her.

Looking at the dates on his entries, Acacius had been very stingy with his words, even from a young age. It was like he wanted to share, but was afraid of saying too much. Perhaps it was the consequences of having a prophetic ability.

I skimmed through the pages, pausing only for the entries that mentioned Cynara.

The first one, from when he was around ten years old, only consisted of two lines.

Cynara keeps asking why Mom doesn’t visit more. Hasn’t she figured out yet that we can’t rely on her?

In this world, Cynara is the only family I’ll ever have.

I read that entry multiple times, as if it would let me peer into all the things he didn’t say.

The next entry was just as dense with emotion, even if he never wrote a word about what he felt.

I finally got that thing. I gave Cynara the better part of it. She cried and said she didn’t want it, but I made her take it anyway. I think she was upset because of the state I came back home in.

If she was so upset, that’s all the more reason she should have just taken it.

But he never said exactly what he’d gotten for her.

Cynara broke it. I got so angry I screamed at her. I almost died to get that thing, and now it’s all for nothing.

She looked scared of me. I didn’t mean to do that. Maybe I should have told her what it was for… But it’s not like she would even understand, anyways.

I don’t want things to happen the way I think they will. I need to make preparations again.

Around eleven years old, he wrote another short entry.

Preparations were useless.

Cynara likes the Duval mansion. It’s like a fairytale dream for her. She got mad at me for being so suspicious of our new “home.” What the hell does she know?

I can’t say anything here anymore.

I cross-checked the date on the entry; it looked like this was when he started writing his encoded journals. Those journals were far thicker than the sparse plain-language ones I was scanning through now.

Did Acacius and Cynara not always live in the Duval mansion? Well… They were born from a different mother than their other siblings, after all. Maybe Cyprian had only brought them in after figuring things out with his first wife. Or after his first wife died.

I flipped forward in the journal.

Mom left just like I told Cynara she would. She won’t stop crying. Did she think we were important enough for her to stay for?

Idiot!

There were indentations where his pen had dug into the page.

The next entry was slightly stained, like water had dripped onto the page, and then the ink had been re-traced over it. According to the date, Acacius would have been around thirteen years old.

Cynara doesn’t understand anything, and I can’t tell her.

I don’t think there’s anyone in the world I hate more than her.

Searching for context, I checked the next entry as well — dated only a few days afterwards.

I got a new title today.

It’s definitely too late for me.

Which title was he referring to? [Detached Performer on the Record’s Stage]? No, that title was… probably from trying to cope with everything. [Flower in the Garden of Sin], then? It had an ominous description that I wasn’t eager to explore.

Or maybe…

[Acacius Duval]?

Everything I’d learned said that a title was based on your actions. So what the hell did this title mean?

Acacius barely wrote anything in his plain-language journal after that. The last entry that mentioned Cynara was written only last year.

Sometimes, I imagine Cynara finding out everything after my death. I imagine that she’ll finally understand why I did what I did, and that she’ll be sorry. And then she’ll open my journals to see what I said about her. To understand me better. I gave up on being understood by anyone long ago, but wouldn’t it have been nice?

So Cynara, if you’re reading this…

You’re an idiot and a fool. It was over as soon as we were added to the Duval family record. You should have listened to me when you had the chance. Your favorite brother is dead because of you. That other bastard is dying because of you. And I’ll probably die because of you, too.

If you feel sorry at all, then stop being such a damn crybaby. No one’s going to come save you, and you won’t have anyone to blame either. So pick up that sword of yours, point it where you never had the courage to, and do what has to be done.

You’ll be miserable and sorry no matter what, so at least you should be free.

But knowing you, you won’t be able to make the choice, will you?

Then just live in your cage forever.

If there’s such thing as a next life, I hope we never see each other again.

Acacius… had really hated her, huh.

But he must have loved her too, or she wouldn’t have been the one person in his will he wanted to save.

What kind of face would Cynara have made if she saw that will? Would she have been angry, or shed a few tears?

I guess it was pointless to speculate, because she didn’t even know her brother was dead.

I took a deep breath, put the journals away, and went to the bathroom to clean myself up and clear my head.

There was no way for me to take back what I’d already done. Acacius was dead. If I felt sorry, then…

I’d just have to grow into someone capable of telling everyone the truth.

It felt like that day was a long way away.

I cleaned off my face, put on Acacius’ clothes and buttoned up the stiff collars, and slicked back my hair with his slowly-dwindling supply of hair gel. I needed to restock that if I wanted to maintain Acacius’ usual style, and I was probably due for a haircut. Something to worry about later.

For now, it was better to focus on what was within my power. I had an appointment to keep at the Dragon Shrine.

I went to the transit center on the eastern side of campus, where a plaza had been carved out for trolleys to enter and depart in an orderly fashion. Large maps had been pasted on the signboards, outlining trolley routes in different colors. Holographic screens blinked next to them with the latest arrival and departure times.

It was only a few minutes’ wait before the correct trolley arrived. I boarded along with other passengers, chose a seat by the window, and watched the streets pass by.

The trolley headed north. Between the dips and rises, the elevation began to increase, until I could see the tops of the campus buildings and the gleam of light off the river surface. We came to a stop at the entrance of a large courtyard. The stones were tiled in a concentric pattern around the central fountain, a marble figure of a veiled woman holding a bouquet of flowers as she wept. The water flowing down from her eyes dripped down the exquisitely detailed folds of her stone garments to the rippling pool below, where countless visitors’ wishes had been thrown in with their spare change.

It wasn’t crowded, but the number of people walking through the area wasn’t small, either.

I disembarked from the trolley and headed for the temple building on the other side of the courtyard.

Built with a light and warm sandstone, the sharp and narrow shapes of the towers at the corners stood in contrast with the deep teal ceramic of the central dome. The arch-shaped windows were inset with carved ivory patterns, and serpentine dragons carved from white stone perched atop the eaves. Two building wings stretched away on either side, each with a modest arched entrance of their own.

I walked up the broad marble steps to the main entrance and checked the signs there. Blessings to the left. Medicine and health care to the right. Prayer and other services straight ahead.

If the Dragon Shrine’s priestesses could heal with magic, what was the need for medicine? Some technicality I didn’t know?

I went through the open doors and perused the wooden shelves in the entrance foyer, where informational brochures of all kinds had been placed. It didn’t take long to find a visitor’s guide to the temple’s history.

Originally a small and informal shrine erected for the Great Dragon, it grew in capability and status after the first principal of Nithemore Academy made an extravagant donation to rebuild it entirely. It was the second largest temple after the one in Iyiria’s capitol, gaining renown after the Great Dragon personally descended to visit its newly remodeled grounds.

I stuffed the brochure into my pocket and proceeded through the doors to the main hall.

Rows of velvet-lined pews faced the elevated platform at the end of the hall, where an altar and a pulpit both stood. A grand painting of a serpentine blue dragon covered the wall. Stained glass windows cast their colored light onto the hardwood floor.

I spotted Roxana by her lavender hair, quietly meditating in the front row. Unlike the casual blouse and skirt she wore to our previous meeting, today she was dressed in dark blue garments hemmed with silver thread. They were draped over white robes and tied together with a cerulean rope. Most prominent of all were the two ink-dark horns she wore as a headdress, glimmering with an ocean sheen. A gauzy blue veil fell from the headdress’ base to frame her face.

The Dragon Shrine’s clothes were pretty damn cool, weren’t they?

I walked lightly so as to not disturb the visitors praying silently in the pews. When I sat down next to her, she opened her eyes and gave me a warm smile.

“Hello, Acacius. You made it! Let’s wait a few more minutes until Veric is done.”

“Where is she?”

Roxana pointed at the ornately carved wooden booth at the side of the platform. There were two arched doorways, each covered with a deep blue curtain. If there was anyone inside, I couldn’t see them.

“She’s taking confessional.”

I nodded like that meant anything to me. “Do you two work together often?”

“We coordinate on official events, and we cover each other’s work if something unexpected occurs. For example, if Veric is busy, I can cover her shift at the blessing wing, and vice versa. Except…”

Roxana ducked her head, pale hair falling forward to hide her face, but not fast enough to hide the corner of her mouth curling up.

“…Veric has no talent for healing anymore.”

Right. She’d sacrificed a lot to survive in KP-04. Hopefully, she didn’t regret it too much, or she might end up with something like Linden’s World Proof.

Shortly afterwards, a stranger exited one archway of the confessional, wiping tears away from his face. Despite his reddened eyes, he walked away with a light step. A minute later, the curtain on the other archway fluttered, and Veric stepped out.

She was dressed in the same priestly robes and dragon horn headdress as Roxana. Her bangs had been neatly pinned to the side, exposing a magenta teardrop mark in the center of her forehead that was the same color as her eyes. However, what really stunned me was the fact that her hair, which I’d only ever seen pulled back in a high ponytail, had been let down. It fell down past her waist in a graceful wave, and when she moved, an iridescent silver sheen rippled through her blue hair.

Veric looked over and caught my gaze before I could react. She paused in her steps, embarrassment flashing over her face, but she visibly steeled herself and came over anyways.

“Hi, Acacius,” she greeted. “You made it. Are you feeling okay?”

“Afternoon, Veric,” I said on autopilot. “You look different.”

Hmm. Now why did I say that?

Veric grimaced lightly and ran a hand through her hair. “In a good way, or a bad way?”

See, now if I wasn’t careful, Veric was going to overthink it. “Just different,” I told her. “I’ve never seen you with your hair down before.” Or just looking this feminine. “I’m not used to it, so the impression is striking. But I think your usual style is better at expressing who you are.”

There. That should be sufficiently diplomatic either way, right?

Veric’s expression eased and she smiled faintly. “You only think so because you got to know me outside the Dragon Shrine first.”

“Who knew you could be so sweet with your words, Acacius?” Roxana teased. “You should nurture that talent.”

“But then people might want to talk to me more, Roxana,” I said. “Wouldn’t that be terrible?”

“Oh, you. Keep saying things like that and I might think you don’t want to be here.” She twirled a strand of her hair. “In order to preserve your precious time alone, shall we proceed with your visit?”

I gestured with a light bow and a sweep of the arm for her to lead the way. She giggled, gave a dainty curtsy, and stepped ahead.

Roxana led us through a doorway in the back, down a small hallway lined with stained glass windows, and out into a secluded courtyard. Across the courtyard, on the wall facing us, was a giant relief of the Great Dragon stretching giant webbed wings over a city below. Water fell from its wings in a thin curtain over the stone, draining into a pool and out two canals on either side of the courtyard that watered the willow trees.

Kneeling before the Great Dragon’s image was a woman with long silver hair and a shimmering blue robe stitched with an iridescent scale pattern. The horns of her headdress were almost twice the size of Roxana and Veric’s, spiraling up towards the sky in dark and elegant twists. Translucent teardrop-shaped jewelry hung from the horns like dewdrops on a gossamer web.

The woman slowly rose and turned around. She grasped her robe with one hand and placed a hand over her heart with the other, dipping into an elegant curtsy that put all the Silver Wing’s etiquette to shame.

“I, Saintess Corisande, offer my greetings to Acacius Duval, heir apparent to the Duval house.”

This was difficult to respond to when I didn’t know noble etiquette, wasn’t sure how I should address her, and couldn’t truthfully say that I was Acacius Duval.

I imitated the manners I’d seen before and placed a hand over my heart, offering a slight bow.

“Thank you for the courtesy, Saintess. I hope you can excuse my poor manners; I’m not much one for formality.”

Corisande straightened out of her curtsy and clasped her hands in front of her, smiling gracefully. In the corner of my vision, Roxana stared at me like she was going to drill a hole through my skull. Had I messed up somehow?

“You honor me, Sir Acacius. I’ve heard much from Roxana and Verica. On behalf of the Dragon Shrine, I thank you for all the aid you have given them.”

“There’s no need for that. Veric also helped me a lot.”

“And I didn’t?” Roxana teased.

“Sure, but isn’t Veric the reason you cooperated in the first place?”

If not for Veric, I wouldn’t have been willing to bet on anyone coming back for me.

Corisande laughed gently.

“It’s good to see you getting along. Sir Acacius, please, for all that you have done for us, take this as our thanks.”

From within her sleeves, she took out an embroidered pouch that smelled of medicinal herbs. I bowed slightly and received it with both hands as a gesture of respect, though I had no idea if it meant anything to non-Koreans like them.

Inside the pouch, I could feel the shape of a small glass bottle.

“The holy medicine of the Dragon Shrine can heal fatal wounds, even in the absence of a Dragon Priest,” Saintess Corisande said. “I pray that you will never need it, but should dire circumstance arise, it will serve you well.”

That… sounded insanely useful. It couldn’t come with no strings attached. Reluctantly, I held it back out to her. “Don’t hand this over so easily, or I’ll really want to accept it.”

“That which is given cannot be taken back. Please, accept it.”

I gave her inscrutable smile one last long look before carefully tucking the pouch into the inner pocket of my coat.

Corisande folded her hands inside her sleeves, smile unchanging. “I trust that this gift conveys the sincerity of the Dragon Shrine.”

“Very much so.” I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to bear it.

Sure enough, Corisande said, “Then, may I be as impolite as to prevail upon your time further?”

It’d be strange to get something this good for free. “Go ahead.”

“Thank you. Please allow me to ask you, then: what do you think of the Great Dragon that protects our country?”

Err. “Important, powerful, and deserving of respect.”

A long pause. “And what of the role of the Dragon Shrine?”

“It seems like an admirable place.”

“I am honored that you think so. Then, I must inquire: in what way does the Shrine lack the qualifications to safeguard the golden dagger raised against the Dragon?”

I blinked. “The… dagger?”

Corisande looked at me for a long moment. I looked back.

“Teacher, I think we mentioned before that Acacius is a bit… distant from aristocratic activity,” Veric said delicately.

“Indeed,” Corisande said. “I can see that now.”

Okay, guys, you didn’t have to rub it in.

“It’s the dagger from KP-04, right?” I glanced at Veric. “Last time I saw it, it was with Luka.”

When they’d rescued me from Tiziri and all.

“He left it behind when he went to solve the disaster with you,” Veric said. “It was in my safekeeping when the Fantasm World was solved, so I was the person who brought it out. Um, I guess it would have been good to return it to you, but…”

“The golden dagger has the makings of a powerful relic,” Corisande cut in. “As it was brought out by our priestess, concerns the Dragon’s symbol, and was directed against one of our own, we took it into our safekeeping.”

Well, it was kind of annoying that they did that without telling me, but it wasn’t like I’d been desperate to keep it. As long as it was kept away from bad actors, it was fine.

“However, the Great Families are of the opinion that the dagger should be safeguarded by the royal candidates instead.”

Putting the potential dragon-killing dagger with the power-hungry nobles? That seemed like a bad idea.

“As you are the greatest contributor towards solving KP-04 and the one who first obtained the dagger, your father has made the excellent point that you have the greatest right to it,” Corisande said. “However, if you are not determined to keep the dagger, would you be willing to relinquish your claim to it for the right price?”

I organized what I knew so far.

The nobles and the Dragon Shrine both wanted the dagger in their control. Given Iyiria’s history, I wouldn’t have been surprised if the nobles hoped to gain leverage over the Great Dragon that held the country together. Cyprian definitely seemed power-hungry, and as “Acacius Duval,” I was under his power, so it felt like a bad idea to overtly contradict his wishes.

But I didn’t really want to let the golden dagger go to his hands, either.

“Where is the dagger being kept now?”

“It has been temporarily sealed beneath the Sacred Springs.”

So, it was still with the Shrine, right? How exactly should I handle this situation?

When in doubt, make it someone else’s problem.

“I don’t mind the dagger staying with the Shrine,” I said. “But ultimately, I don’t speak for the Duval family and can’t make the final call. So… if I send someone to see you later, please do your best to help them with any health problem they bring to you.”

“A personal healing session from the Saintess? This is no inexpensive favor.”

That made this sound way more weighty than I liked. “It doesn’t have to be you, just someone who can help. Anyways, I’m not saying this will definitely happen, so don’t count on anything.”

“Understood.”

But she still dipped into a curtsy, the perfect picture of grace.

“Nonetheless, I thank you for your consideration. May the blessings of the Dragon free you from all sorrows.”

“And you as well,” I said. I really needed to learn more of Iyiria’s culture. I sounded pretty lame compared to the fancy words she kept spewing out.

“Verica, will you please escort our honored guest as he takes his leave? Roxana, do stay behind.”

“Yes, Teacher.”

“Yes, Saintess.”

Veric cast a look back at Roxana and Corisande before she escorted me out the door with a downhearted expression. We returned to the temple entrance in silence.

She finally spoke up when we made it to the doorsteps, looking out at the entrance fountain. “Acacius, thanks for coming over. And for helping.”

“I haven’t helped yet.” Then, even though I’d already decided it was a bad idea to become further entangled, “I heard a bit from Roxana about your situation at the Shrine.”

“Oh,” she said quietly.

The sunlight was bright and warm, slanting beneath the entrance overhang to warm our feet. The sound of conversation and chatter drifted over on the breeze.

“Do you want to be the Saintess?” I asked.

“…I do.”

“Why?”

Veric ran a hand through her hair, gazing out at the weeping statue at the fountain.

“You know, I have an achievement title. [Braveheart Who Challenged the Dragon’s Tears].”

…Wasn’t this kind of a crazy title to have?

“The Great Dragon is Iyiria’s savior, guardian, and protector,” Veric said. “Our country would not exist without her.”

Her? Not it?

Oblivious to my many questions, Veric continued.

“But the Great Dragon existed long before Iyiria ever did. She also… had a life, a history, a whole selfhood before becoming the symbol that we know today.”

It was hard to name the emotion in her eyes as she gazed at the fountain statue. The shadows fell on her face like a melancholy dream.

“One day, I hope she can be freed from her role,” she said softly. “And in order to see that day, I am going to become the Saintess. No matter what it takes.”

Wasn’t that just exchanging one person imprisoned by their role for another?

I wasn’t sure.

“What kind of Saintess will you be?”

Veric turned her head to look at me. The ambient sunlight reflecting off the marble lit her eyes like finely cut jewels.

“What about you, Acacius? The kind of person you are, is that who a Duval should be?”

I narrowed my eyes. “What do you mean by that?”

Veric’s mouth tugged up at the side in a sad imitation of a smile.

“Nothing. I just hope that both of us will not be defined by our roles, but instead be the ones to define them.”

For a moment, I couldn’t think of anything to say.

Veric didn’t wait for my response. She turned and stepped back through the archway of the open temple doors.

“See you later, Acacius. Even if you’re busy, don’t forget to come say hi.”

It wasn’t until she disappeared into the mouth of the temple that I snapped back to my senses.

If I’d met her under my true identity, it would have been nice to be friends. As it was right now…

I didn’t want to think about it. I had other things to do.

To set up that favor for the Saintess, it was time to go visit Cynara Duval.

Chapter 40 Chapter 42