The afterglow of the setting sun cast long shadows.

In the fishing village that had all but turned into ruins, Moen held a spade constructed by Ann and found the sunniest spot. One shovelful, another—he dug into the fresh soil.

A pit soon took shape. When he had dug to barely half a meter in depth, Moen stopped.

Because it was enough.

He stepped aside, allowing Ann to walk forward. In her hands, she held Aluka's severed head.

Aluka's eyes were closed, as if in deep slumber.

At her lips, there was a trace of a smile, faintly curled.

It was as though she had received a much-awaited answer, one that left her with little regret as she departed.

Ann gently placed her head into the hollow, then began covering it with soil, scoop by scoop, using her bare hands.

This time, Moen didn’t assist her. He leaned on the spade, gazing at the distant sunset and listening to Ann's soft murmurings.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t find anyone to bury you alongside.”

Ann's gaze fell, a hint of sadness crossing her face.

When the dark god personally descended, all flesh had been devoured as nourishment—the remains completely obliterated, leaving not even a trace behind.

In the end, Ann could only return with Aluka's remains to this now deserted fishing village for burial.

Perhaps, this could be considered going home.

The beautiful head slowly disappeared beneath layers of soil.

Ann added the final handful of earth to the small grave, then summoned her mind’s will. A metal tombstone rose from the soil.

She extended her hand, intending to inscribe something on it, but hesitated for a long time, unable to write even a single word.

Should she write, “Grave of Aluka”? That seemed too lonely.

Should she write the name of this fishing village? But beneath the grave, there was nothing but the young girl’s head.

“Forget it,” Moen said softly, staring at the setting sun.

“A tragedy does not need to be remembered.”

“Is that so?”

Ann's expression became somewhat dazed as she withdrew her hand.

“Then I’ll listen to you, young master.”

The silent fishing village carried no trace of life or warmth anymore.

Ann stared at the blank tombstone for a long, long time, as though seriously pondering something.

Only when she became convinced that she couldn’t find the answer to her question, did she, hesitantly and somewhat apprehensively, ask:

“Young master.”

“Hmm?”

“Was I wrong?”

“Wrong? About what?”

“About my love.”

Love is possession.

Love is possessing every part of the one you adore.

Love is being together forever, inseparably.

Love is utterly unrestrained.

Not too long ago, this was how Ann had understood love.

What a beautiful love this is.

But earlier that day, seeing Aluka’s monstrous image, grotesquely determined to devour her beloved no matter the cost, Ann felt as if she had been looking into a mirror.

That reflection whispered of a love so wretched and ugly, it was revolting.

To the extent one would wonder: is such sickening madness truly love?

“Young master, was my love a mistake?”

“Perhaps.”

Moen nodded, and then shook his head.

“Or perhaps, you simply confused possessiveness with love.”

“Possessiveness?”

“The desire born of a mad urge to own something,” Moen explained.

“Possessiveness often stems from love and closely resembles it. While there’s a fundamental difference between the two, it’s easy to mistake one for the other.”

“You mean… I’ve mistaken my possessiveness for love?”

“I’m not sure,” Moen replied softly.

“Each person harbors their own thoughts. Whether what lies in their hearts is love or possession, only they can truly know.”

“But it’s precisely oneself who finds it hardest to discern.”

Ann let out a self-deprecating laugh.

She turned her head to study Moen’s profile—the sharply handsome face that seemed to stand out even more under the sunset’s outline, carving such heart-throbbing lines that one couldn’t help wanting to pull that face into a deep embrace.

In this fleeting moment, was what filled the heart love, or possessiveness?

“What is love, truly?”

What had always been the simplest question in Anns mind suddenly transformed overnight into the greatest enigma in the world.

Perhaps, a change in perspective could help her understand.

Her thoughts turned toward another possibility, and embarrassment welled up inside her.

“Young master, I think you’ve mentioned something before.”

“Hmm? What did I say?”

“You said…”

Blushing slightly, Ann replied softly, “That you could… date me like a normal couple.”

“I think I did say that.”

Moen recalled his time in the prison when he had said those words to appease Ann.

But why would she bring this up now?

Moen furrowed his brows slightly, sensing that the situation wasn’t that simple.

“Since you said that, does that mean we can start over?”

“Start over in what way?”

“I mean… become a normal couple.”

Dating.

Marriage.

Perhaps even children.

Through these experiences, she might one day discover what true love really is.

“I see. I understand what you mean,” Moen said, nodding thoughtfully. He stepped back inconspicuously, as though shielding his eyes from the glaring rays of the setting sun.

“But just to confirm—to avoid any misunderstanding—are you planning on taking me back to the Duke’s manor?”

“Of course!” Ann nodded emphatically, her tone shy and tender.

“I grew up in the Duke’s manor, after all. It’s my only home… Of course, I don’t intend to become the Duchess or anything. I’ll still serve you as your personal maid, but while I’m doing that, may I…?”

The girl glanced back hesitantly, the red tint on her cheeks betraying her shy expectations for the future.

To live with the young master in the Duke’s estate, building a cozy love-nest for two, doing this and that together… Maybe even having a dozen or twenty children—the mere thought made her...

Whoosh—

The gust of wind caught Ann’s attention.

She turned back, seeing the young master’s cold visage—and the spade.

Before she could react, a muffled thud echoed as the blow landed. Her expression flickered with faint confusion before her vision darkened, and she collapsed to the ground.

“Hmph. What a wicked woman,” Moen muttered, staring at the now-unconscious Ann The corners of his mouth twisted into a devilish smirk as he added:

“Trying to trick me into returning to the Duke’s manor for your captivity play? Do I look that gullible to you?”

“A Saint Seiya never falls in the same place twice!”

“Duke’s manor? Not even a dog would go back!”

As twilight descended, the faint light of dusk illuminated the man's defiant laughter.

A pair of affectionate waterfowl lying sheltered in the grass stared at the solitary figure braving the cold wind. Their gazes carried a faint hint of pity.

…

…

“Where am I…?”

Ann woke from her stupor, eyes greeted by a familiar ceiling overhead.

“Head maid, you’re awake,” a young maid by the bedside exclaimed in relief, leaning forward joyfully.

“How do you feel? Is everything okay?”

“Nor?”

Observing the maid in the same attire as herself, Ann's confusion deepened.

“What are you doing here and wait—the young master… where is he?”

Ann sat upright suddenly, her eyes scanning desperately for Moen.

“He brought you back to the Duke’s manor, but left shortly after changing into a flashy outfit,” the maid explained awkwardly, her cheeks flushing slightly. “I don’t know why he dressed so brazenly—maybe he picked up bad habits outside?”

“The young master … left?”

Ann visibly stiffened, then burst back in frustration: “Why didn’t you stop him!?”

“He’s the young master; how could we stop him?” Nor replied wryly. “He said he needed to enroll at Santa Maria College—a place off-limits to outsiders—so we had no grounds to intervene.”

“I… I see.”

Ann sank back onto the bed in defeat.

Yes, she thought. If the young master decided to leave, no ordinary maid could possibly stop him.

“Well, I’ll let you rest, Head Maid.” Nor bowed lightly before retreating hastily—finding the head maid’s odd behavior unsettling.

…

Left alone, Ann rose from bed and wandered towards the window.

She looked beyond the estate gates.

Within the sprawling gardens, maids carefully trimmed hedges into aesthetically pleasing forms.

Yet despite it all, the grandeur of the manor suddenly felt unbearably desolate.

“So you ran away, didn't you, young master?”

“And to the forbidden Santa Maria College—a clever move indeed.”

Ann leaned her temple against the cool glass, directing her gaze far beyond the visible horizon.

Of course, no matter how far she gazed, she could no longer glimpse the one her heart sought desperately.

“I won’t give up.”

She placed her fingers against the glass, then forcefully scratched downwards.

The sound was harsh, and sharp grooves marred the window's surface.

“No matter where you go, young master, I will find you and bring you back. Then…

We’ll stay together forevermore, never parting again.”

Ann's eyes burned with unyielding resolve, just as they always had.

“But…”

Slowly, she crouched down.

Amidst the cascading veil of her hair, her elegant features flushed like ripe apples.

It was the face of girlish bashfulness, mingled with uncertainty.

There was no longer any darkness to consume her—only the clear freshness of purity and hope.

“I don’t think I could hurting the young master anymore. What should I do?”

…

…

I love you, young master.

…

…

[Jealousy gauge: 100%]

[Progress achieved; fate interference initiated]

[Memory distortion applied]

[…]

[Keep struggling, Moen Campbell.]

[…]