He sat beside her, held her hand, and for the first ti since she had known him, he cried.
Bitter tears stread down his face as his shoulders shook with quiet sobs.
She looked at him, trying to raise a hand to his cheek, but there was barely any strength left in her.
Noticing her struggle, he leaned down, and she gently wiped his tears with the back of her trembling fingers.
Her palm rested on his cheek.
"Don’t cry."
He couldn’t respond.
All he could do was squeeze her hand tighter.
"You’ve made smiled for all these years. Can’t you do it one last ti?"
His jaw clenched. His eyes shut tightly as he shook his head.
"....Please... don’t die...."
After she passed, there was no telling where—and when—she would reincarnate.
Their chances of eting each other would be infinitely small.
Maybe this was truly their last mont together.
And yet, even as he wept, she felt warmth in her chest.
He cared about her much enough to cry for her, even though he always tried to act stronger than he really was.
"...This might’ve been my happiest life."
He froze. His eyes widened as he looked up at her.
"...What?"
She smiled softly.
Even though she hadn’t ant to say those words out loud, she didn’t regret them.
"I never told you about my past, did I?" she asked quietly. Her voice was raspy, but steady. "I could never fit in with the witches. My talent was so poor that I could never awaken, and my [Authority] was weak. To them, I was nothing but a blemish on the na of Witches."
He looked at her, unable to say anything.
His tears hadn’t stopped.
"I wasn’t welco among mortals either," she continued, brushing his cheek with her thumb. "As a witch, they feared . As a weak one, the witches ignored . I didn’t belong anywhere."
He clutched her hand tighter.
"I was incredibly lonely."
She could feel how hard he was trying to hold everything together.
"I think... maybe that’s why I started the tavern. I thought if I created a place where people ca and went, it would fill the void in my heart."
Her hand was damp with his tears.
She had always hated dying.
Not because she feared death, but because of the uncertainty that ca after.
What sort of life would she be born into next?
Would she be abandoned by her parents? Would she suffer a disease? Would she be discovered and executed as a witch?
But this ti was different.
This ti, she hated dying because she didn’t want to let go of what she had now.
"You filled the emptiness in my heart," she said, mustering the brightest smile she could.
Her skin was wrinkled, her voice was worn, but she still wanted to be beautiful in his eyes.
She hoped he’d rember her like this. Like a beautiful warmth, not a sorrowful figure.
"M- too. I was happy with you," he said through tears.
His voice grew steadier, and determined.
"So next ti... let’s open a bakery together. You like my cooking, right? I’ll bake sweets for you. So, Moraine, wait for—"
...
Moraine opened her eyes.
"It was that dream again," she murmured.
They were the last monts of her previous life.
She wondered what he was going to say before everything went dark.
Though, truthfully, she already had a good idea.
She smiled, then sighed.
It was impossible.
There was no way he could ever find her reincarnation.
She didn’t even know how many years had passed since her death, or what world this was now.
And perhaps, realizing this, he had already forgotten her, and moved on.
A selfish part of her hoped that wasn’t the case.
Even though if he rembered her, he would be struggling to find her, she still hoped he hadn’t forgotten her.
"He was always so dependent on ," she whispered, folding her hands across her chest. "But... I guess by now, he should’ve grown up. Decades, maybe centuries have passed. He would’ve moved on."
She smiled, but there was lancholy in it.
A voice called out from the hallway.
"Miss, are you awake?"
It was her personal maid.
Moraine sat up.
She had been reborn into a minor noble family in a feudal world.
There were no signs of awakened powers here.
At least none among the commoners or minor nobility.
Maybe the royal family had access to that kind of strength, but Moraine hadn’t seen any evidence.
She was the fifth daughter in her house. Her authority was barely a step above commoners.
After dressing, she stepped out with her maid at her side.
"Miss, today’s the day you must choose your personal knight. Several rcenaries have co to apply. You’ll need to select one," the maid reminded her.
Moraine nodded.
Normally, a personal knight would be chosen from among trained house knights.
These people were loyal, disciplined, and raised with the family’s values.
But she wasn’t important enough for that.
That’s why they were letting her chose from the barbaric rcenaries.
Still, it wasn’t anything new.
She was used to being overlooked.
As they walked through the hall and approached the training grounds, the noise of a small crowd reached them.
When they arrived, they saw other family mbers and staff watching from the sides.
"Who is he?"
"He defeated all rcenaries so easily."
"Did you see him fight? I blinked once, and it was all over."
"What’s going on?" Moraine asked, narrowing her eyes.
Her maid looked just as puzzled. "It seems one of the rcenaries defeated all the others..."
"Already?" Moraine frowned. "Wasn’t the selection supposed to begin after we arrived?"
She approached, her curiosity rising.
That’s when she saw him.
She froze.
Everything around her—the voices, the whispers, the wind—it all fell into the background.
The man stood in the middle of the training ground, calm and composed.
His black hair.
His blood-red eyes.
His smile.
"...How?"
His face had a scar, but other than that it he looked the sa as the last ti.
He saw her then.
And when their eyes t, his smile brightened just a little.
He stepped forward.
"My lady," he said, bowing. "I defeated the other rcenaries, and I’ve proved my strength. If possible, I’d like to serve you as your personal knight."
The maid beside Moraine blinked, stunned. "W-Wait a mont. We haven’t even begun the test—"
"He’s accepted," Moraine said, cutting her off.
The maid turned to her, shocked. "But Miss—"
"You heard . He’s my knight from today onward."
Her voice left no room for argunt.
He stood, smiling at her again.
And though her heart was racing, she did her best to keep her expression calm.
The formalities that followed were tedious.
Assigning a personal knight ca with a mountain of paperwork and protocol.
There were forms to sign, permissions to stamp, nas to register.
The steward of the house insisted on verifying the rcenary’s background, but Moraine cut the questions short.
She had no patience for their procedures today.
By evening, everything was settled.
He was officially her personal knight.
When they entered her room, she closed the door quietly behind them.
Then her shoulders began to shake.
"My Lady?" he asked.
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