The world stages tragedies.

If you were crafting a story, turning it tragic would always offer more options—because perfection is perfect precisely for being singular.

Among countless paths, perhaps only one leads to the fulfillment humans crave. Why? Because people are creatures of insatiable desire. No circumstance ever truly satisfies them. So tragedy becomes inevitable.

We grieve over countless things. We suffer over countless things. Among infinite choices, we inevitably make decisions we’ll regret.

—Yet why did warmth flood her chest right now?

She *should* be hurting. Tears streamed down her face. Was it because she was heartless? Because she—belonged to another world?

Because she’d never truly seen the people here as *people*?

But—this warmth made her crave an embrace. This heat made her heart pound. This tenderness intoxicated her.

If some grand design had brought her to this world, if a higher power had sent her here as part of a scheme… then this embrace must be her reward. Like the carrot dangling before a donkey’s nose—a taste forever out of reach, driving it onward.

She finally opened her eyes.

Just as she’d expected, she lay cradled in a man’s arms. The girl’s tears flowed like a gentle stream, dampening his shirt.

She thumped his shoulder with her tiny fist. "Why—" Her voice cracked with fury, venting at Fiore. She poured all her strength into it—

But the weak could never wound the strong, no matter how hard they tried. Yet her tears struck Fiore’s heart, stirring deep pity.

"Fiore… if I decide to become a bad girl from now on, what will you do?"

Fiore froze. The sobbing girl’s question left him bewildered. Her thoughts always soared like untamed birds—phrases that seemed nonsensical yet held strange wisdom.

But gazing into her gem-like eyes, where crimson light flickered like embers, he knew he had to answer.

"If you mean a ‘bad girl’ who loves pranks… then I’ll be your favorite target."

Lilithia stared silently.

"And if you mean truly evil?" Fiore added. "Then I’ll be the one to correct you."

"Pfft!" Lilithia burst out laughing. She rubbed her eyes, wiping away tears. Red-eyed, she looped her arms around Fiore’s neck, locking eyes with him. "What if… I meant *this* kind of badness?"

Only when Lilithia closed her eyes and pressed her lips forward did Fiore grasp what the girl intended.

Her lips met a finger.

She opened her eyes, unsurprised. "See? Nice guys like you miss chances like this and stay single forever. This was your golden moment to lose your innocence~ Your *only* chance to act on those urges for a nine-year-old girl. Miss it, and I’ll grow up."

*Thwack!*

"Jerk!"

Lilithia clutched her head, glaring at him, cheeks flushed. "You’ll die alone, you idiot!"

"Aren’t I stuck with you?" Fiore grinned.

*Envy.*

That unshakable strength, that calm resolve reserved for protagonists—if only she had such a heart, she wouldn’t ache like this. He was like the sun. Merely standing near him radiated warmth. No wonder girls chased him like Icarus chasing the sun, wings melting in their desperation to touch that light.

*Damn protagonist.*

But she wanted to lean on him.

"Put me down, Fiore. I’m fine."

Fiore set Lilithia on her feet. She scanned the pitch-black surroundings. "So… you planned to carry me all the way back like this?"

"Mm."

Lilithia shot him a deadpan look. "Just so you know—since you rejected me earlier, you’re officially banned from my route!"

"Your route?"

Lilithia kept spouting oddities, but Fiore knew he didn’t need to understand.

"I, Lilithia, am not shameless enough to chase a man who not only rejected me but *bonked* my head! So—"

She suddenly looked up. By coincidence or fate, the moon pierced through the storm clouds that had swallowed the night sky.

"What do you see there?"

"The moon?"

"How do you *see* the moon?" she pressed. "Hanging so high, yet its light can’t illuminate the world like the sun’s?"

"Well…"

Lilithia didn’t wait for his answer. "Because its light is borrowed. It reflects the sun’s endless radiance onto the earth—that’s why it’s so dim."

Another unheard theory. Fiore was curious, but now wasn’t the time.

"So, Fiore," she whispered. "Will you be my sun? Lend me some of your light so I can glow even in the darkest night. So I can—"

"I will."

His reply came instantly. "I don’t know if I’m worthy of being a sun. I may lack the power to light the world. But… to be *your* sun? Just yours? I swear I’ll pour every ounce of warmth into you. I said this once before, but you were asleep."

Fiore took a deep breath, swallowing his embarrassment as he met her gaze. "Just as you vowed never to lie to me, I vow the same to you, Lilithia. Whenever you call for me from your heart—I *will* come."

Love struck like Cupid’s arrow. In that instant, Lilithia finally understood the metaphor.

The feeling was so sharp—it pierced her pounding heart, making it race to a fever pitch before stopping dead.

She nearly fainted from the rush.

*Lilithia—hold on. If you’re borrowing his light, show some backbone. Don’t crumble under his charm!*

She wrestled her emotions down, forcing calm into her voice.

Turning away, she decided distance was wise. Too many upheavals had shaken her.

"Let’s go back then!" She strode ahead. "I still have to face her." Face her mother. Deliver the crushing truth to that ordinary woman.

"Lilithia."

"Hm?"

"You’re walking the wrong way."

…Blushing fiercely, Lilithia spun around, circled past Fiore, and marched ahead—leaving him with a view of her back.

This baffling, utterly endearing girl. Fiore seriously wondered if he was a pervert.

*Well. Perverts do perverted things.*

*Non-perverts do non-perverted things.*

*When she grows up, I won’t be a pervert anymore. I like* her—*not her body. I’m not attracted to an unripe form.*

*It’s just… this girl is dangerously alluring.*

*Like the legendary flower blooming in the Demon King’s palace—anyone who breathes its scent falls to the Demonfolk.*

*She had that kind of magnetism.*

*Anyone near her would surrender to her charm. What would "being bad" even mean for her? Fiore didn’t know. But he knew she’d change this world.*

*So he had to grow stronger. At least to Sword Saint level. At his current strength, he might not stop her if she turned wicked.*

*Teaching her swordsmanship…*

*Sounded fun.*

*What would her sword style look like? Honestly, he wanted to see her flustered. Lilithia always acted so tough—he had a sneaky urge to witness more sides of her: shy, frustrated, pouting, clingy…*

*Just imagining her expressions filled Fiore with quiet joy.*

A chill shot down Lilithia’s spine. She glanced back, scrutinizing Fiore’s perfectly composed face, then turned away with a frown.

"Let me carry you, Lilithia. It’s a long walk."

"No way! I’m in tsundere mode right now! You have to wait until I’m exhausted before offering! Women are complicated—you must strike when they’re vulnerable, or they’ll trample your kindness!"

Fiore reached out, smiling.

Lilithia rolled her eyes but trotted back. Fiore crouched; she settled onto his arm.

Then wrapped her arms around his neck.

"This is payment for teaching you about women. Got it?"

"When’s the next lesson?"

"When I feel like it."