Dragonfolk possess the power to control living beings.

The Black Spine, never known to dwell in Albion, had actually been lurking in the capital. Naturally, Lola and Andrew became the prime suspects.

Their arrival in the capital just before the Birth Festival had already raised eyebrows. Then came the Black Spine attack on the crowd—it was far too coincidental. All Dragonfolk, including Alva, were placed under restraint.

Boka tried to stop them from arresting Lola and Andrew. But after only two steps, searing pain dropped him onto the snow. He coughed up two mouthfuls of blood. His earlier injuries weren’t just broken bones—his insides were torn.

His consciousness blurred. He faintly remembered Cynthia’s shouts and Lupin’s retreating back.

...

When Boka regained awareness, it was already the next afternoon.

The room’s scent felt familiar. He slowly opened his eyes.

Cynthia’s dormitory. Had he returned?

His ribs were tightly wrapped in bandages and splints. No one was around. Were they gone? Boka struggled to sit up, gritting his teeth against the pain until he succeeded.

He drew back the curtain. Snow still fell outside. Thin flakes danced chaotically in the wind.

Where were Cynthia and Aisha...?

In his sleep, Boka recalled an old memory. That scene, too, was snowy—a white void. He stood alone. Someone stood ahead, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t see their face. Small and slight, about Aisha’s age, almost childlike.

She had said to him—

“Is that so? I promise you. Then, that’s settled. One day, we’ll meet again.”

“Oh, you’re awake.”

A voice came from the door.

Lola...

“You... weren’t taken away by them?”

“They released everyone this morning.”

“Huh?”

“Alva requested an audience with Gill. He gave the order.”

The Dragonfolk had been treating Mia recently. With their care, the princess’s condition improved visibly. They could even move freely in the palace. As their leader, Alva deserved much credit, and the king had already expressed his gratitude. Besides, Ian had no direct evidence. Releasing them became inevitable.

“Where are Cynthia and the others?” Boka asked. “Why are you alone?”

“Cynthia’s downstairs making soup,” she said. “As for the other, you can find her yourself.”

A lump rose beside Boka’s blanket. He lifted it, revealing a young girl curled up asleep. He stared blankly for a moment, then gently covered her again.

“Three women stayed up all night watching over you,” Lola smiled. “You’re quite the sinner.”

Cynthia, Aisha, and Helen? But Aisha was too young to be called a woman, Boka thought.

Staring at Aisha’s face, he felt an odd similarity to the girl in his dream. An overlap of images? Perhaps because she’d been with him since his amnesia—his world held her shadow in many things.

As for Helen, she must be at the palace already.

“What’s wrong?” Lola said. “Why stare at me?”

“It’s strange.”

“How?”

“You.”

“Me? Why? Am I strange?”

“Yeah,” Boka nodded. “You and Aisha are alike.”

“Just your imagination,” Lola replied. “We’re not even the same race.”

“No, I mean the feeling you give off... a maturity beyond your years.”

“Is that so?” she said. “Your imagination again.”

Lola seemed to hide something. Boka, usually unlike himself, had grown sharp at reading people. He didn’t press further.

“That person—who do you think it is?” Boka hesitated. “The one controlling the Black Spine.”

After all, that culprit had nearly killed him. Driving the Black Spine to slaughter indiscriminately was beyond despicable. Seeing those corpses, Boka’s rage had consumed his reason. And it happened during the Birth Festival—a sacred event for Albion and the entire continent. Releasing the Dragonfolk suspects meant Gill faced immense pressure.

Though spared prison, most of Alva’s tribe were ordered to stay temporarily in the palace.

It was protection from the public’s wrath after the attack. But it was also surveillance.

Yet Lola shook her head.

“I don’t know.”

“You know in your heart, don’t you?”

Before losing consciousness, Boka had seen one last back view.

Lupin Alastor.

Lola fell silent. After a long pause, she spoke.

“Cataria’s death—I feel responsible too.”

Boka remembered the name. Lupin had mentioned his deceased elder sister at the theater. That was where his feud with the Dragonfolk began.

“We couldn’t save that dying woman because of a crucial ritual.”

“Alva told me about it.”

“The Sainted Maiden’s baptism,” she said. “Through divination, a young girl is chosen as the Dragon’s Sainted Maiden. That was me.”

“Couldn’t it be interrupted? Did you really abandon someone to die for a ritual?”

“A ceremony held once every two centuries—or longer. We couldn’t defy it,” Lola explained. “Divination is absolute. We only choose when our tribe faces annihilation, or the world is in crisis. And the choice led to me.”

“...I don’t understand.”

“For a long time, I didn’t either,” Lola hesitated. “But the seeds of hatred were already sown.”

Aisha had woken but kept her eyes shut, pretending to sleep as she listened. Boka didn’t know she’d saved him—when he collapsed bleeding, she’d bitten Lola, then forced her own blood-mixed saliva into his mouth.

“If only humans could understand and forgive each other,” Lola sighed. “My friend Trena is gone. And now, Alastor too...”

The Albert siblings had disguised themselves as traveling merchants to infiltrate the capital for revenge. In the end, Trena died horribly, while Albert and his confession letter vanished in the stormy sea.

Lola closed her eyes, then opened them again.

“When Amir created humans, he left a great flaw. That lord copied himself perfectly but ignored the consequences. I want to change things—erase certain deep-rooted traits in people, in my own way.”

“Shut up.”

Aisha sat up beside Boka, glaring fiercely at Lola.

“Don’t teach him extra nonsense.”

A trace of lonely smile flickered on Lola’s lips.

“I see. Understood,” she said.

...

Soon, Cynthia entered, hearing the noise upstairs. Seeing Boka awake, tears spilled down her cheeks. Boka fumbled awkwardly—how many times had he made her cry? He’d lost count. Dorin scampered happily around the room.

With Alva’s group detained, Cynthia had rushed overnight to fetch her old roommate from the Apothecary Academy. She’d treated Boka in an emergency. Cynthia had labored over him all night, not sleeping a wink. But her joy now drowned out her exhaustion.

Fresh from illness, Boka devoured the rich vegetable soup. But his injuries meant he shouldn’t eat too much.

“Don’t cry, Cynthia,” Boka stammered. “It hurts me to see you like this.”

This woman had abandoned her shop in the capital to care for him endlessly. Boka knew he’d never repay his debt to her.

“I’m sorry, Boka. So sorry,” she kept repeating.

“Why apologize?”

“When that monster attacked you, I didn’t stand in front of you,” her eyes were swollen. “I’m selfish. I thought of Dorin—if I died, what would happen to her? So I hid in the alley.”

“No, no,” Boka rushed. “You owe no apology.”

As a man, letting a woman protect him was absurd. How could he let Cynthia confess like this? It wasn’t even a fig leaf.

“But she’s different. Helen—more timid and weaker than anyone—stood before you. I lost.”

“What loss? What are you two talking about?”

Boka couldn’t grasp it at all.

“Boka-nii!”

A familiar voice came from the door. Helen appeared, dark circles under her eyes.

Her pants were different from yesterday’s. She’d changed, obviously.

“Helen, weren’t you at work?”

“I took leave and came back,” Helen chirped, rushing over. “I was worried about you, Boka-nii! Seeing you okay is such a relief.”

She’d barely rested since starting at the palace, plus night shifts had piled up her days off.

But hearing Helen’s energetic voice eased Boka’s spirit.

“Helen,” Cynthia said. “Perfect timing. I have an announcement.”

“W-what?”

Helen eyed the older woman warily.

“Boka!”

“Y-yes!”

“You—marry Helen!”

“Huh?”

“Eh? Eh!!!”