Chapter 394: The Partner Dance

“Red Crow, I’ve been visiting you during this time… but starting tomorrow, I have to return to the monastery. The situation outside is tense, and my children there need my help too.”

Blue Sparrow saw that Evelia, who had been aggressive just moments ago, suddenly went quiet and weakly knelt on the floor. That was enough for her to know her words had reached her.

This really was the last time she could see Evelia for a while. After this, she would return to the monastery.

After all, there were still some of “Armand’s old informants” there, and she had put off dealing with them for too long.

Although she had been worried about Evelia, now “abandoned” by the Second Prince, that didn’t mean she was taking sides against him. She was only following her own heart, caring for this “child” who should have been family.

Even though Evelia had been “abandoned,” to be honest, the Second Prince’s expression back then had been complicated.

When the “plan” was confirmed, and Evelia’s final “fate” was discussed, the Second Prince had clearly hesitated.

After all, Evelia had been by his side since childhood. It was out of trust that he had given her this mission in the first place.

But now, it was obvious Evelia had betrayed him.

At that moment, the Second Prince didn’t say anything. Just lowered his head, as if unsure how to make the final decision.

That was when White Dove stepped forward and volunteered to “retrieve” Red Crow.

He claimed that Evelia’s existence might still contribute something to the group. But in truth, she was nothing more than a test subject for his hallucinogen experiments. He altered the dosage and observed her reactions.

While Evelia immersed herself in fantasy, White Dove visited every day, recording her responses in a notebook.

He also took the opportunity to study whether an alchemically-modified body would reject certain medicines meant for humans.

As for the already “dead” Armand. Naturally, it was the same.

Before leaving the scene of the great fire, White Dove had indeed drawn Armand’s blood and stored it in his little lab.

With that blood, he thought, he might discover a universal antidote effective against all toxins. If he could then develop a serum to neutralize the specific poison in Armand’s blood, and overcome the side effects, he could create a true “immune to all poisons” cure.

If successful, it would be a groundbreaking achievement in medical history. White Dove believed that someone like Armand, with such a rare body, was born to be put on an operating table for research.

It was just a pity that Grey Dove had struck too hard, leaving no living subject for him. This meant he could only take some blood, but if he could have done a live experiment, he might have had more breakthroughs and progress.

That was the kind of man White Dove was. A doctor, but one without humanity.

He could heal and save people, but what he used to heal them, and who he chose to save, was entirely his decision.

Perhaps he would “kindly” treat commoners, but the price might be turning someone else into the “ingredient” for the cure.

To him, who lived or died didn’t matter. What he enjoyed was the thrill of controlling life.

He could make you live in suffering, or die in happiness. That was the self-proclaimed “Dove of Peace.”

“Red Crow…”

Blue Sparrow stepped forward, bent down, and brushed aside Evelia’s messy hair, revealing her thin and tired face.

“…May the light of the god always guide your path forward.”

With that, Blue Sparrow gave a bitter smile and turned to leave.

White Dove, who seemed absent, was actually standing just outside the door reading the day’s newspaper.

When he saw Blue Sparrow coming out, he struck up a conversation, but Evelia could no longer hear what they were saying.

Both White Dove and Blue Sparrow turned and left, apparently assigned to new work.

In the room, only Evelia remained.

Her ears heard only Armand’s voice, her eyes saw only Armand’s figure.

Even though the world outside was real, the only thing she could see was what was false.

“…Mr. Armand…”

She shifted position, hugging her curled-up legs, shrinking into the corner with half her face buried against her knees.

"Am I… really that terrible…?"

[How could you be?]

“Armand” leaned against the wall beside her, sliding down to sit next to her.

The scene was so much like ten years ago, when a child named Furst hid in a corner, and Egmed sat on the other side, wondering how to comfort that little boy.

Back then, only an iron bar separated the two of them. If she had reached out and stretched her hand far enough, she could’ve touched his shoulder. But now… she couldn’t touch anything at all.

“Mr. Armand… I… I don’t want to leave you…”

[Mm, I know. I know everything. But, Eve, I don’t want you to live as someone else, or as someone’s possession. I don’t want you trapped in the same place forever.]

This was truly something the real Armand would often say.

He hadn’t taught Evelia about feelings just so she could drown in their love. He had done it so she could have her own joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness.

To smile when happy, to cry when sad, to vent her anger in her own way.

He had always hoped Evelia would be independent, even though he loved the feeling of her clinging to him.

He loved holding her, loved squeezing her palm, loved the way she would nuzzle into his chest, loved the warmth of sleeping close together.

But still, he wanted Evelia to truly have freedom, not to keep relying on someone else, not to live by the rhythm of another’s heartbeat.

She still had countless possibilities ahead of her, countless choices to make, and Armand didn’t want her to fix herself into a single role forever.

[You don’t have to limit yourself. You can choose not to be the Second Prince’s “Red Crow.” You can even choose not to be my “Eve.” You can become whoever you want to be. All I want… is for you to be yourself.]

“But… but… Mr. Armand, I want to be your Eve… I want to be your wife… I want to stay by your side forever and ever and ever…”

[Then let me be the first stepping stone on your road to freedom.]

“Armand” seemed to try to reach out and touch Evelia. Just like when he used to spoil her, patting her head.

But he couldn’t do it. He could only lift his hand, then regretfully rub his fingers together before letting it fall.

“Mr. Armand… I… I… I really… I…”

Feeling that distance from “Armand,” Evelia’s gaze shifted toward the hallucinogens in the corner.

Every day, White Dove left a set amount of hallucinogen bottles in her room, for her “just in case” moments.

And now, as Evelia noticed Armand’s figure growing more and more blurry, her instinct was to grab another bottle, to “renew” her happiness.

[Eve.]

But her “happiness” called out to her.

[Don’t.]

Just those simple words, and Evelia’s tears began to fall again.

It was her own fantasy, of course she knew what they meant.

“Armand” wanted to stop her from going further down this wrong path. And it was also herself, struggling inside, telling herself not to keep doing this.

It was only that her spiritual anchor… happened to be Armand.

She loved him, so these cruel words had to come from him.

And yes, Armand really would say such things and do such things.

Even if he was only an illusion, he was still one that carried a complete, realistic personality.

“Mr. Armand… I… I can’t bear to lose you…”

[Don’t, Eve. That one thing… don’t ever pick it up again.]

“But… but—”

Evelia covered her face, the struggle inside her heart leaving her utterly exhausted.

“I don’t want to leave you, Mr. Armand— I just… I just want to find my own happiness… I want to be with you forever and ever… I love you… I love you, Mr. Armand…!”

“Armand” didn’t reply, only watched as Evelia cried and wailed.

That too was a form of emotion. He was letting her release it.

And the fact that she could cry at all meant her heart was starting, little by little, to accept reality.

[Then use whatever illusion is left to imagine something else, imagine what it feels like when I hold your hand.]

As her sobs began to quiet, he stepped closer to her, bent down, and reached out his hand.

[May I have this dance, my beautiful lady?]

“……”

Evelia lifted her head and met the gentle smile she loved most on Armand’s face.

It was as if, in that instant, all her sorrow could be eased by that smile.

“…Mm… okay… Mr. Armand…”

She wiped her nose and her tears, then brushed off her dress before reaching out to take his hand.

Just as Armand had said, she imagined the feeling of his hand holding hers, imagined his arm around her waist.

Armand began to dance with her, humming the tune of their most familiar waltz.

In an instant, it felt like they were truly back in the past. Back to their first dance together, back to the spring when they first met.

Evelia looked at his clean, handsome knight’s uniform, and for a moment she felt she herself was wearing that beautiful gown again. Under the envious gazes of the crowd, they danced across the floor, the brightest pair in the entire ballroom.

For someone who had lived in darkness for so long, she had never imagined she could feel and long for something like this.

They embraced, smiling at each other.

Sometimes being careful not to step on each other’s feet, sometimes laughing aloud over a spinning turn.

Time passed so quickly… spring, summer, autumn, winter… and now it felt like they had returned to a cold early spring.

The seasons of their story played out one after another, just like this dance. Holding hands, taking step after step. The music rising from a calm start to a swelling peak, before finally ending on the last beat.

Just as Evelia was fully immersed in it, the dance ended. She caught her breath, a little excited, but “Armand’s” figure was already fading.

He wanted to leave a kiss on the back of her hand… but couldn’t.

[Looks like Cinderella’s time is up… Eve.]

His voice was soft, whether because he was fading or simply because he was always this gentle.

“Mr. Armand…”

[Go, Eve.]

He let go of her hand, stepped back twice, raised one hand toward her, then set it over his chest and bowed.

[May happiness always be with you, my beloved.]

When the blur of her tears cleared, “Armand” had vanished in the blink of an eye.

Evelia stared blankly at the empty space in front of her. After a long pause, she lifted the hem of her tattered dress and gave a curtsey in return.

“…It will, Mr. Armand.”

Plip—as she lowered her head, a tear fell to the ground.