(Narrator POV)
Two thousand years of endless war had finally co to an end, and the world leaders celebrated the hero who struck the final blow. Fiona stood at the center of the grand ceremony, bathed in golden light, her battle suit was cracked, her eyes dim, her heart strangely silent. Solider cheered her na, calling her a savior, a legend, a warrior chosen by fate.
The reward prepared for her was unimaginable—billions dollar, Tax Free life, enough to buy any private island or live luxurious life. But Fiona refused it without a mont of hesitation. She bowed her head and said that she was not alone in this victory. There was soone else... soone whose presence remained hidden in the shadows.
Sara, the High ranking Vampire overseeing the reward, understood imdiately. Her fingers trembled slightly, just for a breath. She knew the truth Erza would never speak aloud. She knew the hidden cracks in the world, the unseen choices that had shaped this ending. She also knew she herself had ruined the "script" Erza had prepared... and that Yuuta must have feel the pain of that interference breaking the contract.
But Sara also understood dragons far too well.
If Yuuta had truly died when the contract broke, the sky would have torn open. The ocean would have freeze. Erza’s grief would have swallowed the world whole. No kingdom would have survived—not even the mory of one. Yet the world remained untouched, quietly breathing. That ant only one thing: Yuuta was alive. And if Yuuta was alive... then Earth was safe.
So Sara made her choice.
She transferred every dollars ant for Fiona—all of it—to Yuuta’s account. She gave Fiona only a small ceremonial reward which is million dollars. It was a quiet rebellion, a subtle apology, and a calculated move to keep Erza’s plan intact and ask for indirect forgiveness. Fiona accepted it, even though she didn’t fully understand why.
The awards continued for days. dals. Titles. Honors. Portraits. Banners.
Yet Fiona felt none of it.
She walked through celebrations like a ghost, applauded by thousands while feeling completely alone. She had taken her revenge. She had killed Allen. She had ended the war. She had saved a world that never loved her back. But now, standing at the peak of her legend, she felt a hollow ache spreading through her chest.
There was no purpose left.
No battle.
No enemy.
No promise except one.
So Fiona locked herself inside her room—doors closed, curtains drawn, armor quietly rusting on the floor. She sat against the wall, her fingers curled around the small charm Erza once gave her. Hours passed. Maybe days. She barely noticed.
The only thing she could do now... was wait.
Because When the Will of the Sword finally disappeared, the silence that followed struck Fiona harder than any battlefield ever had.
For the first ti in centuries, the constant whisper in her ear—the cold, unwavering command to kill, survive, and push forward—was gone. She felt exposed, almost fragile, like a warrior suddenly stripped of her armor. The world felt too quiet, too bright, too real.
And in that quiet, sothing terrifying happened.
She began to feel.
mories she had never allowed herself to face surfaced one by one. Yuuta’s voice—gentle, warm, stubbornly human—ca first. He was the only person who had ever spoken to her without fear or calculation. He had no weapon, no title, no intention to use her. He simply talked to her. And sohow, without even realizing it, he had slipped through the walls she built, bending the Will of the Sword that had ruled her life since childhood. No solider, no agencies, no demon had ever managed that... yet Yuuta did. Effortlessly. Naturally. As if her heart had been waiting for him.
But then another mory rose—her colleague, the one who had stood beside her during countless missions, the one who had stayed when everyone else turned away. His presence was steady, reliable, comforting. He knew her scars, her rage, her silence, her violence... and he accepted all of it without flinching. He had protected her more tis than she could count. He never confessed, never asked, never demanded, but his feelings were always there—soft, patient, enduring.
The conflict tore her apart.
How could she love two people?
How could she be drawn to two different kinds of warmth?
Yuuta was the unexpected crack in her armor—the miracle she never believed she deserved.
Her colleague was the quiet shelter she had leaned on for years without noticing.
And now, with the Will of the Sword gone, the emotions she had once kept locked away surged all at once. She could no longer hide behind duty, destiny, or the cold voice that had controlled her for so long. She was forced to face herself, her choices, her heart.
The worst part was the emptiness.
She sat alone in the dim room, surrounded by dals and praise, yet none of it filled the hollow ache spreading through her chest. Without war, without vengeance, without the Will of the Sword... she didn’t know who she was anymore. She didn’t know what she was supposed to do or who she was supposed to choose.
Confusion twisted inside her like a storm.
Yuuta’s warmth.
Her colleague’s loyalty and love.
Two different lives calling her from opposite directions.
Fiona pressed her forehead against her knees and closed her eyes, trembling from exhaustion she didn’t understand. She had been hailed as a hero, yet she felt more lost than ever before. Everyone celebrated her while she was drowning in uncertainty, unable to speak the truth she had only just realized herself.
She wasn’t just tired from war.
She was tired from feeling.
From loving.
From being human again.
And until Erza’s promise was fulfilled, until the final part of the script revealed itself, she would remain in this quiet, aching darkness—waiting, lonely, confused, unsure which path her heart truly belonged to.
(Loid’s POV)
I stood in front of Fiona’s house, holding a bouquet of flowers so tightly that the stems were starting to bend. My palms were sweating, but I couldn’t stop smiling.
Today... today I was finally going to tell her.
Fiona Frost.
My childhood friend.
My squadmate.
My first love.
We grew up together in our little neighborhood back in Japan. She used to laugh easily, run around barefoot with , chase fireflies at dusk—an innocent girl with bright eyes and beautiful dreams. But that all ended the day she lost her parents.
After that tragedy, sothing inside her broke.
The rage.
The thirst for revenge.
The cursed sword that clung to her soul and twisted her emotions—
It all robbed her of the Fiona I once knew.
For years, she trained until her hands bled. She fought until she collapsed. She kept pushing, pushing, pushing herself because she believed it was the only way to survive. The warm girl I loved disappeared beneath layers of cold steel.
But now...
Now she was free.
She had finally defeated the curse that haunted her. She was no longer bound to the sword, no longer drowning in hatred. I saw the change. For the first ti in so long, she looked human again.
And that gave hope.
Hope that maybe she could finally see too.
Even though...
Even though there was him.
Yuuta.
That weird, clueless, annoying guy with the strange aura—Fiona always softened around him in a way she never did with anyone else. She smiled more. She talked more. She acted... alive. he was the only reason anyone ever saw that hidden side of her.
His strange aura, the one the entire agency feared yet relied on, naturally canceled out the Will of the Sword and many curse thing in control.
Whenever she was near him, she changed.
She beca softer.
More grounded.
More... human.
The sword couldn’t smother her emotions when his presence was beside her like a quiet shield.
That was why Sara created the special locket—to trap a fragnt of Yuuta’s aura and use it to stabilize Fiona’s emotions and mind.
It was the sa reason the agency could even lock the cursed sword inside the chamber in Lebius.
And the sa reason Fiona could pass as a normal student... why no one ever suspected what she truly was.
Without Yuuta’s aura—and without that locket—she would have been swallowed whole.
Lost to the blade.
Reduced to nothing more than a demon-hunting machine, killing endlessly until not a trace of Fiona remained.
Yuuta didn’t just save her once.
He saved the last pieces of her humanity.
But now the war was over. The sword’s will was gone. She didn’t need Yuuta’s aura anymore nor locket. And that voice—that gentle voice—proved it more than anything else.
Good thing, I endure Yuuta brat for so long
Even when it frustrated , even when jealousy burned inside my chest, I never said anything. Now He was married. He had his own world. Eventually, Fiona would distance herself again.
And today, she was free from everything—her curse, her burden, her obsession.
Today, I would show her that I was better for her than so married guy with a chaotic aura.
I took a deep breath to steady myself and walked toward the door. The house was quiet—too quiet. My heart thumped loudly enough that I worried Fiona could hear it through the door.
I lifted my hand and knocked softly.
"Fiona," I called, voice gentle, almost trembling. "It’s ... Loid."
The bouquet trembled in my hand.
Everything I had ever wanted was standing on the other side of this door.
Today... today was supposed to be the day I finally told her the feelings I’d buried for years. The childhood mories, the promises we never said aloud, the quiet monts before everything fell apart—this was my chance to reclaim all of it.
Suddenly, soft footsteps echoed from behind the door. Light, gentle, warm—nothing like the heavy, cold presence I had grown used to over the past years. Then ca the voice. That soft, familiar voice I had almost forgotten.
"Wait a second. I’m coming."
My chest tightened painfully. I knew that tone. I knew it too well. It wasn’t the voice of the ruthless demon slayer who slaughtered armies with no hesitation. It wasn’t the voice of the girl swallowed by the Will of the Sword. This... this was Ayaka. The girl I grew up with. The girl I lost.
The door opened slowly.
My breath stopped.
There she was.
Wearing a light pink Japanese yukata—the sa one she used to wear whenever she felt safe and happy. Her hair was tied loosely, her expression soft, her eyes bright with a life I hadn’t seen in so long. For a mont, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I stood frozen, overwheld, my heart trembling like a scared child.
"Fiona..." I whispered, my voice shaking. But before I could say more, she cut off with a faint smile.
"Don’t call that na anymore," she said quietly. "Call my real one."
Her real na. The na I hadn’t dared to speak for years. My throat tightened, and it took everything in to force the words out.
"Kisaragi Ayaka..."
The mont her na left my lips, my vision blurred. Tears pooled without warning. I had forgotten how it felt to say her na—her true na. The na I loved. The na I thought I would never get to speak again. I joined the agency because of her. Because I wanted to protect her. Because even when she shut the world out, even when she was lost to rage, I never stopped loving her.
And now she stood in front of , free. Alive. Herself again.
She laughed softly, the sound warm enough to shatter completely. "Loid... why are you crying like a kid?"
"I—I’m not crying," I said quickly, waving my hand in panic. But then I realized I was still holding the bouquet, so I clumsily hid it behind my back. "The weather is good today, right? H-haha..."
Ayaka giggled, covering her mouth like she used to in the past. "You haven’t changed at all. You’re still the sa fool as always."
I couldn’t help but laugh with her, my chest finally loosening. "Yeah... I guess I haven’t changed. But you did. You ca back."
I stepped forward, my voice soft but firm—full of all the years I spent waiting.
"Welco back, Ayaka."
She looked at for a long mont, the evening light catching the softness in her eyes. And for the first ti in so many years...
She smiled.
A real smile.
Ayaka leaned against the doorway, her expression calm but unreadable. "So... what brings you here?" she asked softly.
I tightened my grip on the bouquet behind my back. "Nothing much. It’s just been a while. I wanted to check on you... see how you’re doing."
She nodded, letting out a quiet breath. "I’m good. Or... I’m trying to be. But honesty?" She looked away for a mont. "I’m confused. About my feelings. And my goals."
Her words hit harder than they should’ve. "What kind of feelings? What goals?" I asked carefully.
Ayaka raised her eyes again, clearer and steadier. "I spent days locked in a dark room after the war. Thinking about everything—my life, my purpose, what I want now that my revenge is over." She paused. "And I finally decided what I should do."
My heart sank and rose at the sa ti. "And... what is it you want to do?"
"I’m going back to my hotown." She smiled faintly, a small, nostalgic smile I hadn’t seen since childhood. "To the place where I lived with my family. Where I first learned to draw. I’m going to publish my own manga—sothing that carries my father’s legacy. Sothing gentle. Sothing aningful." Her voice softened. "And then I want to live a peaceful life... with my loved one."
The words didn’t hit imdiately. I nodded. "That’s a good goal. A beautiful one, actually." Then it clicked in my head. I blinked. "Wait. Loved one?"
She didn’t hesitate. "Yes. There’s soone I care about deeply." Her fingers tightened slightly at her sides. "I’m confused now, but... soon, everything will be clear."
That sentence struck sothing painful inside . I swallowed hard. "Ayaka... actually, there’s sothing I want to tell you."
"What is it?" she asked quietly.
I breathed in slowly, trying to steady the storm inside my chest. My courage felt thin, as fragile as glass, but sohow... I held onto it. Because this mont—this single mont—I had waited my entire life for. Ayaka stood before in the soft morning light, her pink kimono making her look like a mory I never wanted to lose. I swallowed, my voice trembling even before I spoke.
"Ayaka... ever since we were kids... I’ve always wanted to tell you sothing."
She blinked, confused but listening. I could feel her attention settle fully on . My heart beat so loudly I was sure she heard it.
I exhaled shakily. "You know... people used to tease for my hair. For looking foreign. For being different. And every ti... every single ti... I’d co ho thinking maybe I really didn’t belong anywhere." My gaze dropped for a mont, rembering those lonely days. "But you—" I lifted my eyes, eting hers again, "—you never once treated like I was strange. You never laughed. You never stepped away. You just... saw . As I really was."
Her lips parted slightly, and for a heartbeat, sothing almost tender flickered in her eyes.
"Since then," I continued softly, "you’ve been the one constant in my life. The one person who made feel like I wasn’t alone. And because of that... I always wanted to protect you. To stand by you. To give you every bit of happiness I could."
Her cheeks ward with a quiet blush, her fingers brushing nervously against her sleeves. "O-okay... what’s with all these exaggerated words all of a sudden...?"
I took one step closer, close enough to see every detail of her eyes—the strength, the confusion, the unspoken pain she carried inside. My hands were shaking. My breath unsteady.
But I finally said it.
"Ayaka," I whispered, voice full of every year I’d kept silent, "I love you."
The world seed to pause. Even the air between us stopped moving.
"I love you," I repeated, louder this ti—clear, honest, vulnerable. "Not as a colleague. Not as a friend. But as the girl who saved when I didn’t know how to save myself. For years... for so many years... my heart has only known your na."
Her eyes widened—not with surprise, but with the weight of sothing she had tried to ignore. Her blush deepened, and her breath hitched as if my words reached straight into the part of her heart she always locked away.
"Ayaka... I’m confessing because I don’t want to lose my chance anymore. I don’t want to regret staying silent. I want to walk beside you. I want to be the one who makes you smile in the morning, the one you lean on when you’re tired, the one who shares your dreams, your fears, your future."
My voice shook, but I didn’t look away.
"I want to be the man who stands at your side... for the rest of your life."
I slowly lifted the bouquet I had been hiding behind —pink lilies, her favorite, the sa ones she used to sketch in her old notebooks. My hand trembled as I held them out to her.
"Ayaka... will you give the chance... to love you properly?"
Silence settled between us like a heavy curtain, thick enough to choke the air itself. For a long mont neither of us spoke, and in that stillness I watched Ayaka’s expression shift ever so slightly. Her face brightened for a heartbeat, her eyes softening with a warmth I had waited years to see—sothing gentle, sothing hopeful, sothing that made believe she might finally say the words I had dread of hearing. But just as quickly as that spark appeared, it collapsed.
Her features dimd, her shoulders stiffened, and that fragile glow was swallowed by a quiet, painful sadness that spread across her face like a shadow. It was the kind of sadness that didn’t fade—it settled.
"You... have to stop joking, Loid," she said quietly, almost too softly for to catch.
My breath hitched, and for a mont I forgot how to speak. "What do you an by that? I’m serious, Ayaka. I’ve loved you ever since I was a child." The truth trembled out of in one breath, raw and desperate, because I had held it in too long.
Ayaka closed her eyes for a mont and shook her head slowly. She wouldn’t even look at . "Don’t misunderstand, Loid. It wasn’t love. It was... affection." The way she said those words—careful, almost rehearsed—felt like she was forcing herself to believe them.
"No, Ayaka," I said, my voice cracking under the weight of everything I’d lost just standing in front of her. "Do you think I would throw away my career just for affection? Do you think I’d risk everything—my future, my reputation, my entire life—unless I truly, honestly loved you? You know better than that."
Her hand, the one resting on the door, trembled so slightly I almost missed it. "Don’t..." she whispered. "Please, don’t say any more. I’m already confused with so many things. And besides—" Her voice faltered, but she forced the rest out. "It’s already too late."
Sothing cold stabbed through my chest. "Too late? Ayaka... what do you an by too late?"
She finally t my eyes, and for the first ti I saw sothing I didn’t expect—fear, regret, maybe even longing—but buried under all of it was resolve. "I already promised her," she said. "And soon it will happen. Once she makes her move, I have to follow the will."
Her words didn’t make sense. They felt like riddles thrown at a drowning man. "Ayaka, what promise? What move? Whose will are you talking about? Tell clearly—just once—"
But she didn’t let finish.
She held the door tighter, pulled it toward herself, and stepped back as if putting distance was the only way to protect herself from sothing much bigger than the two of us.
"You will understand soon," she whispered. "It’s better if you forget ... or act like nothing ever happened."
And then she closed the door.
Her voice trembled. "Let’s stay friends. I... I don’t want to lose you too."
"Ayaka—wait—don’t tell you’re still thinking about that married guy." I grabbed the door desperately. "Don’t tell it’s him—Yuuta?"
She didn’t look at . But her voice was barely a whisper.
"...Yes. You’re right."
Then she pushed the door closed.
I tried to stop it, but it clicked shut.
I was left there alone, the morning light creeping slowly over the porch, casting my long shadow across her door. The bouquet slipped from my fingers and fell to the ground, petals scattering like little broken pieces of my hope.
Ayaka had promised soone.
Ayaka was waiting for soone.
Ayaka loved soone.
And the na that echoed inside my heart was the one I least wanted to hear.
Yuuta.
I stood there, stunned and silent, realizing there were still pieces of her heart I could never reach.
To be continued...
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