After the Sophomore Ball ended and my conversation with the Headmaster left staring down the reality of my choices, I found myself thinking.
What did I really want?
This second chance at life—sothing that soone like had been given.
Sothing I didn't deserve.
Survival wasn't enough. Strength wasn't enough.
I wanted to be happy.
I wanted to feel human.
Because in my last life, I had never been anything more than a tool—sothing people fought over, sothing ant to be used, sharpened, wielded. A genius whose value was determined by how many hands reached out to claim him.
But I was not a thing to be owned.
I was not a prize to be fought over.
I wanted to live.
To carve out a place in this world that was entirely my own.
Originality. The proof that I existed.
I needed that.
So even if they didn't understand now, I would make them. Over ti, I would teach them—Rachel, Cecilia, Seraphina. Because they had helped prove myself, helped see that my life was my own. And they were not people I wanted to be without.
But they needed to understand.
I stepped out of Eva's office to find the three princesses waiting for , flanked by their Ascendant-rank guards. Rose stood apart from them, not restrained, not part of their silent battle for control.
I moved toward her.
Not a glance spared for Rachel, Cecilia, or Seraphina.
I could feel their eyes boring into . The weight of their expectations, their unspoken claims.
'I have been too passive.'
Because I liked them, I wanted to accommodate them. I had hoped they would change.
But people don't change on their own.
Not unless you force them to.
I stopped before Rose, knelt, and took her hand in mine.
"Will you offer this dance?" I asked, bringing my lips to the back of her hand in a light kiss.
Her breath caught. Behind , Seraphina made a sound—sothing caught between disbelief and protest.
"Arthur..."
"Are you choosing Rose?" Cecilia asked, her voice sharp.
I closed my eyes. Then, I t their gazes.
"No," I said. "I like all four of you. Equally."
Silence. Heavy.
"But for tonight—for this little competition—I choose to dance with Rose first."
Rachel looked stricken. Cecilia's fingers twitched, as if resisting the urge to snatch back. Seraphina's lips parted slightly, but no words ca.
I felt a pang in my chest.
I hated seeing them like this.
But I had to be firm.
I hardened my expression, my voice turning cold.
"I am not sothing you can have just because you want to," I said, letting the words settle. "If you want to express the love I feel for you freely, then earn it. Show that you understand."
I turned, leading Rose away.
None of them stopped .
Not this ti.
Once we were out of earshot, Rose let out a quiet laugh.
"Wow. I can't believe you actually did that."
I exhaled, running a hand through my hair. "I didn't want to, but I had to. I had to make them understand that I won't tolerate that kind of behavior from them. Even if—" I hesitated. "Even if they decide to break up with because of it."
Rose tilted her head. "You're not afraid?"
I t her gaze and smiled.
"I know they won't."
She let out a breath, shaking her head. "Very confident, aren't you, Arthur?"
"You tell ."
Rose grinned and stepped closer, wrapping her arms around in a loose embrace.
"Well, since I win," she murmured, "that ans I get your ti tonight, right?"
"That was the deal," I said.
She took my hand, leading into the gardens.
And there, beneath the quiet glow of the moonlight, we danced.
"Anyway, I feel happy now," Rose murmured as we swayed together in the quiet, her voice carrying a softness that settled deep in my chest. "Dancing with you makes so happy."
"I'm glad," I said, twirling her, watching as moonlight caught in her hair, painting it in silver-blue hues.
"But… isn't the staff going to catch us?" she asked, suddenly wary.
I raised a brow. "You worry about that now?"
She flushed, looking away. "I-I just… I wanted to do this," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "With you."
I smirked. "Knew it." I pulled her closer, our bodies aligning perfectly as we slowed. "So, you're mine?"
Her crimson eyes glead as she t my gaze. "Of course."
The dance ended, but neither of us moved apart. The air between us was warm, charged with sothing unspoken but undeniable.
I leaned in.
And then our lips t, soft and certain, like the pieces of a puzzle clicking into place.
Rose lted into the kiss, her fingers curling into the fabric of my suit as if to anchor herself. When we finally broke apart, she rested her forehead against mine, her breath mingling with mine in the cool night air.
"I will give everything to you if you ask for it," she whispered, her voice laced with devotion. "Even Vakrt."
I brushed my thumb over her cheek, my touch light but firm. "I don't want Vakrt," I told her. "I want you."
"You already have ," she murmured.
And then she kissed again.
This was the warmth I had always been searching for.
The warmth I wanted from all of them.
The warmth that, together, would shape my originality.
That would make human.
That would make breathe and live.
And to protect this—to protect the warmth I had found in my life, with the four girls who had woven themselves into my existence, with my family—
I would do anything.
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Even if it ant tearing apart the Five Cults.
Even if it ant crushing the future Calamities before they ever had a chance to rise.
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Rachel clenched her fists so tightly her nails dug into her palms, but she barely registered the sting. Her breath hitched, uneven, as her mind spiraled into a chaos she couldn't control.
'Arthur doesn't like the most.'
The thought echoed, a dull, crushing weight settling deep in her chest.
Her shoulders trembled. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears.
'I even bought this dress…' She looked down at the glittering fabric, at the delicate embroidery she had chosen with care, at the way it hugged her figure—crafted for one purpose. 'To entice him.'
She had wanted him to look at her, to hold her close, to whisper sothing just for her. To prove that she wasn't just another contender in this impossible ga.
'But he picked Rose.'
Her breath shuddered out of her lungs.
'Does that an… I bother him?'
Her throat tightened, an awful, suffocating sensation.
'He doesn't want ? He doesn't love ?'
Her mind recoiled at the thought, but once it had lodged itself there, it refused to leave.
'He doesn't want to hug ? He doesn't want to kiss ?'
A sharp inhale. Her vision blurred.
'But—no, I rember how he looks at .'
Her fingers pressed against her lips.
'I rember the way his gaze lingers, the way his breath catches—he likes . He must like .'
But doubt clawed at her.
'Or is that just how boys are?'
Her stomach twisted violently.
'Is it just… a biological response?'
'Not love? Not ?'
The thought made her want to scream.
'Could it be… he liked before, but not anymore?'
'Did I scare him away?'
Her body swayed slightly. She felt weightless, like she was slipping off the edge of sothing she couldn't na.
'I'm going to lose Arthur.'
Her fingers dug into her arms.
'I'm going to lose Arthur.'
Her breath ca faster, shallow and desperate.
'I'm going to lose Arthur. I'm going to lose Arthur. I'm going to lose Arthur.'
The words pounded through her skull, each repetition like a hamr against fragile glass.
And then, sothing inside her cracked.
She couldn't lose him.
Not now. Not ever.
Arthur had shown her hope—a future beyond being just a Saintess shackled to so naless Hero.
He had shown her that she was human, that she could want things, that she had the right to want things.
She couldn't go back.
She wouldn't go back.
Tears burned at the edges of her vision. Her hands shook as she forced herself to stand, swaying on unsteady feet.
Luke stepped forward, concern flickering across his face.
Rachel didn't let him speak.
She snapped her fingers, and the teleportation circle flared beneath her, swallowing her whole in a burst of golden light.
The mont she landed in her room, her legs gave out.
She collapsed onto the bed, her limbs tangled in the expensive fabric of her dress.
She didn't care.
She buried her face in the pillows, muffling the quiet, broken sobs that clawed their way out of her throat.
Because she was going to lose the person she loved.
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