Roy had done extensive research on curses.
A curse was like a lock—but not quite.
The best way to deal with a curse was always to find the one who cast it.
Not to brute-force it apart.
Otherwise, the cost might outweigh the gain.
Or worse—it might not work at all.
Because Roy existed outside the curse’s cause and effect.
To him, the curse was a thin thread tightly binding caster and victim, weaving their fates together.
No outsider could touch even a strand of that thread.
Untouchable. Uninfluencable. Thus, unbreakable.
It was like Roy, trapped in a three-dimensional world, being unable to reach the beautiful girls of a two-dimensional one.
In a sense, "curses" were the Divine Blessing Continent’s ultimate dimensional strike.
To break one, you usually had to find the caster.
Kill them—and the curse would likely vanish.
Of course, some powerful curses defied this rule.
Curses that lingered even after the caster’s death.
Roy hadn’t just seen such curses—he could cast many himself.
After all, he was the Demonfolk’s greatest magical prodigy in history.
A true scholar studied orthodox grimoires *and* forbidden texts. Only then was one truly well-rounded.
Thankfully, the curse on Airi wasn’t one of those terrifying "deathless" kinds.
Hers was troublesome in another way:
Only the *victim* could break it—by killing the caster with their own hands.
But with Airi bedridden and frail…
Killing a caster far stronger and magically gifted than her…
Was little more than a pipe dream.
Unless someone granted her the power of life and death over the caster.
For Roy, that would be simple.
But first—he had to find that vile spellcaster.
Otherwise, based on Roy’s past-life intel…
Sister Elsa’s eventual rise as the Goddess of Light’s chosen Hero seemed tied to her sister Airi’s… death.
As the first Hero blessed by the Goddess, Elsa played a key role in coordinating the other Heroes.
She was a team player—a support-type Hero.
In the final battle, her relentless healing and endless buffs had given Roy endless headaches.
They’d fought to the death once. Because of irreconcilable stances. Because of…
But reborn, Roy truly didn’t want to be enemies with Sister Elsa anymore.
So why not stop her from becoming a Hero?
Or better yet—turn enemies into wives~?
Wouldn’t that solve everything?
………………
"That’s all for today~"
"Rest well, Airi."
Night had deepened over Eoliel.
Weariness softened Sister Elsa’s features.
She’d spent hours with her sister—reading aloud, telling stories, sharing amusing tales from the church at Airi’s request.
This was Elsa’s daily ritual.
Even after exhausting days, she’d force a bright smile before entering Airi’s room.
To comfort her. To keep her company. To ease the loneliness of a girl confined to her bed.
Only when night grew deep would she end it with "Goodnight."
The young woman dragged her tired body back to her own bed.
Come dawn, she’d greet another fresh, hopeful day.
Time flowed forward, day by day.
Tiring, yes—but never without hope.
Especially now that Roy had appeared in her life. A true blessing.
So no matter how harshly life struck her,
the pure-hearted nun always chose to respond with a song.
Airi hugged the plush doll Roy had given her, whispering her farewell.
"Goodnight, Sister."
Her voice was soft and sweet, her cerulean eyes brimming with longing.
Clearly, she wasn’t ready to let go.
The outside world forever called to her restless curiosity.
Trapped indoors, she could only sleep, wake, or whisper secrets to Roy’s doll.
Little else filled her days.
But Elsa had duties as a nun tomorrow. Rest was essential.
So as always, she replied gently:
"Goodnight, my Airi."
Airi smiled and closed her eyes on cue.
Waiting for the warm, tender touch on her forehead.
Sister Elsa’s goodnight kiss—a daily ritual.
It wasn’t that Elsa adored her sister’s smooth forehead.
This habit came from their mother.
When their mother still lived, she’d tuck them in each night with stories.
When the tale ended, obedient girls were meant to sleep.
Their mother would kiss each forehead, murmuring, "Goodnight, my treasures."
Perhaps "an elder sister is like a mother."
Grown-up Elsa unconsciously stepped into that maternal role.
Bearing that weight, raising Airi alone.
The path was hard—but Elsa never once considered giving up.
Countless times, she’d prayed in the Goddess of Light’s church, seeking her mother’s voice.
*Did I keep my promise to you?*
*The vow I made, finger to finger… to care for my sister…*
*Mother… am I doing well?*
………………
Leaving Airi’s room, Elsa drew a deep breath—and let it out.
Only then did relief wash over her.
But with it came crushing exhaustion.
She surrendered to it without resistance, yawning widely.
*Well, I survived another day~!*
Her only regret? Not greeting Roy when he came home.
She’d waited anxiously on the balcony for so long…
He deserved to know her feelings. Not have them hidden away.
Sometimes, Elsa didn’t understand herself.
She was the mature one. The one who *should* take initiative.
Yet every time she gathered courage…
Just thinking of Roy made it vanish.
Replaced by shyness. Leaving her passive.
*"Bread can wait, but your courage can’t, Elsa!"*
The blonde nun slapped her cheeks, scolding herself.
Then she decided: a sip of Roy’s sleep-inducing tea in the kitchen.
After that—blissful sleep.
*I wonder… will I dream of little Roy tonight~?*
The nun seemed to have completely forgotten her tearful confession in the confessional today.
What had she ranted about again?
Something like *"I lust after a pretty boy’s body—I am sinful…"*
So why was she so bold *now*?!
*Ah, such complicated thoughts can wait for tomorrow.*
Just as she thought this—a familiar knock echoed at the door.
Elsa froze.
*"Was that… my imagination?"* she murmured.
Then—*knock knock*—it came again.
This time, she couldn’t pretend not to hear.
Her expression brightened instantly. Her sea-blue eyes shimmered like tides stirred by the moon.
Even exhaustion vanished.
Because one possibility filled her heart:
A possibility that made her heart flutter like a trapped bird.
*Could it be… Roy at the door?!*
