In the kingdom of Igrein, where swords and grace decide everything, commoners are trampled by nobles, and the law refuses to protect them. Allen, once a servant in the royal castle, knew Princess Juliana's hidden affection but retreated because of their difference in status. One night, he finally brought shame upon her and vanished from the castle. Carrying that sin and humiliation, Allen reincarnates and now stands on the battlefield as a young soldier of the Liberation Front.
Meanwhile, Julia
Until I Call You My Enemy - The flower that blooms in chains will not scatter on the moonlit hill.
The night air clung to his skin, damp and heavy.
The campfires of the Liberation Front Revan's torchbearers crackled occasionally as the wind stirred them. The soldiers each passed the night in their own way before tomorrow's decisive battle. Some sharpened their swords, some softly hummed songs of their homeland, and some simply closed their eyes and waited for morning.
Allen Weiss sat apart from that circle.
He leaned against the entrance of his tent, knees drawn up, sitting on the ground. His soot-darkened black hair was tied back short, his bangs falling over his eyes. His deep gray eyes stared fixedly at the ground before him. A color like sediment—one that received light but returned no warmth. Behind those eyes, the flames of yesterday's Ashwall District still smoldered.
*(I can't sleep.)*
He knew. There was no way he could sleep.
The burned-down houses. The screams. The people fleeing in panic. Oscar Halford's cold voice. The Grace Iron Decree—that moment when the residents, unable to resist his voice, had knelt. Over a thousand had died. Allen had walked through that hell with his own feet.
*(Did that child manage to escape?)*
*(Was that woman safe?)*
No matter how much he thought, no answer came. There was no way one could. And yet he couldn't stop thinking. The wound on his chest throbbed sharply. It wasn't the wound he'd taken in Ashwall District. It was older—a wound he'd carved with his own nails. Sara had treated it, but it still hadn't fully healed.
*(This is fine.)*
The pain kept him sane.
He exhaled deeply.
—That was when it happened.
At the edge of his vision, something glinted.
Something small, but unmistakably shining, catching the moonlight. Allen slowly raised his head.
At the entrance of his tent. Next to his sword, lying on the ground. There, something unfamiliar had been placed.
A silver hair ornament.
A delicate piece, woven from fine silver wire in multiple layers. Three pearls arranged in the shape of tears. It was a brilliance far too out of place in a camp caked with battlefield mud.
*(This is—)*
Allen's fingers reached for the ornament unconsciously.
The moment he touched it, a cold sensation ran through his fingertips. The coldness of silver. But that wasn't all. Within that coldness, there was her presence.
*(Yuliana.)*
His heart gave a single, heavy beat.
He knew this ornament. It was the one she always wore in her hair. Her long, blue-tinged silver hair bound high, with pearl ornaments swaying in strands. Hair tied firmly so it wouldn't come undone even on the battlefield. Why was that ornament here?
Ashwall District. In those ruins, she must have found something. His bloodstains, and a single wildflower. And she, as her reply, had left this here.
*(She's calling me.)*
He was certain. She was calling him. Tonight, somewhere. A place for just the two of them.
Allen gripped the ornament tightly. The silver dug into his palm. Pain. But that pain solidified his resolve.
*(Don't go.)*
A voice in his head spoke.
*(It could be a trap. Don't take the enemy queen's bait.)*
He knew. She was the enemy. Someone he was supposed to kill in tomorrow's decisive battle. As a soldier of the Liberation Front, he was to strike down the queen of the kingdom. That was the role assigned to him, and his atonement for those who had died in Ashwall District.
*(And yet, why—)*
Allen stood up.
*(Why do my legs move so readily?)*
He left the tent. The night wind caressed his skin, as if hiding the burn scars. The campfires cast shadows across his back. A single sentry stood watch in the distance. Allen held his breath and moved from shadow to shadow.
He slipped past the sentry's gaze. Under the moonlight, he reached the edge of the camp. He didn't look back. No one had noticed him. He wanted to believe that.
*(What am I doing?)*
His inner voice echoed coldly.
*(Going to meet the enemy—are you insane?)*
He wasn't sane. He knew that. And yet his feet wouldn't stop. The hand gripping the ornament was trembling. The coldness of the silver reminded him of the coldness of her fingertips. That night, when she had stood before his cell. The white cloak. Eyes the blue of after-rain. Her fingers trailing along the iron bars, leaving without a word.
*(That night too, she was calling me.)*
*(And I couldn't do anything.)*
He left the camp and stepped out onto the plain. Brenham Plain. Tomorrow, everything would be decided here. The gentle hills stretched out silver, illuminated by the moonlight. The murmur of a stream reached him faintly from the distance.
He saw the hill.
A small hill, about half a koku's walk southwest of the camp. Three-Oak Hill—the tactical key point at the center of Brenham Plain. The place where the fiercest fighting would unfold in tomorrow's decisive battle.
*(There.)*
His intuition told him. She was there.
Allen walked toward the hill. His footsteps echoed across the quiet plain. The sound of grass underfoot. His own breathing. His heartbeat. Everything sounded unnaturally loud.
He climbed the slope. The moon had risen high, casting the surroundings in pale blue light. The wind blew, and the grass rippled in waves.
As he neared the summit, the air changed.
A cold, clear fragrance.
The scent of white flowers.
*(It's her.)*
Allen's feet stopped for a moment.
At the top of the hill, a white figure stood.
Bathed in moonlight, her white cloak shone silver. Her back was turned. Her long silver hair swayed in the wind, glowing translucent in the moonlight. The pearl ornaments trembled faintly.
Yuliana Elemi Igrein.
Queen of the Igrein Kingdom. The symbol of the enemy. The one he was supposed to kill in tomorrow's decisive battle.
She slowly turned, as if sensing his presence.
Eyes the blue of after-rain. Transparent, yet holding a deep turbidity. The moment those eyes caught Allen—the temperature in her gaze changed.
The mask of the Ice Queen cracked, just for an instant.
The two of them stared at each other.
There were no words. Only the sound of wind, the rustling of grass, and each other's breathing filled the hilltop.
How much time passed?
Yuliana spoke first.
"...You came."
Her voice trembled.
It wasn't the voice of the Ice Queen. Not the coldly elegant formal speech she used toward her subjects, nor the frigid pronouncements she directed at enemies. It was simply the voice of a girl. A girl who carried memories of a past life, who held the events of that night in her heart, and who had still waited for him.
Allen didn't answer.
He didn't know what to say. No—he did know. Whatever he said would hurt her. It would only become an excuse to protect himself.
So he remained silent.
That was the only thing he could do.
Yuliana took a step closer.
"You have my hair ornament in your hand, don't you."
Allen slowly opened his clenched palm. The silver ornament sparkled in the moonlight. Three pearls, arranged in the shape of tears.
"That was the signal I left for you. In the ruins of Ashwall District, I found your blood and a single wildflower. So... I wanted to confirm that you were alive."
Her voice swayed in the night wind.
"But, the truth is... that's not it. Calling it a signal is just an excuse. I simply wanted to see you. That's all."
Something deep in Allen's chest creaked.
*(Stop.)*
He screamed inside.
*(Don't say any more.)*
*(Your words will kill me.)*
But she didn't stop.
"Tomorrow is the decisive battle, isn't it."
"...Yeah."
The voice that finally came out was hoarse, even to his own surprise.
"Do you intend to kill me?"
Allen didn't answer. He couldn't.
Kill her. That resolve should have been set in stone when he witnessed the hell of Ashwall District. Overthrow the nobles. Overthrow the kingdom. And strike down the queen. That was his mission as a soldier of the Liberation Front, and his atonement for the massacred people.
*(And yet, why—)*
*(Why do my hands tremble?)*
Yuliana took another step closer.
"You won't answer. You're always like this. You corner me with your silence. Your silence is crueler than any words. Because within your silence, I have no choice but to search for you."
Her fingertips touched Allen's chest.
Through his clothes. Over the burn scar.
"It's here, isn't it. The proof that I touched you."
Allen's body went rigid.
"That night, you rejected me. Because our stations were different, because you weren't allowed to touch me. But I... I wanted to be by your side."
A trembling voice.
"I just wanted to be by your side. Not as a princess, not as a noble—just as a girl. I wanted to hold your hand, to hear your voice, to see you smile. That was all."
Tears spilled from her eyes.
Tears illuminated by moonlight traced down her white cheeks and fell.
Allen bit his lip.
He tasted blood.
*(Me too.)*
Words threatened to overflow from the depths of his heart.
*(I wanted to be by your side too.)*
*(I wanted to protect you.)*
*(I wanted to make you smile.)*
But those words could never leave his mouth. The moment he spoke them, everything would shatter. His resolve to kill her. His determination to punish himself. All of it.
So Allen remained silent. He bit his lip and swallowed the blood.
"Please. Say something. I want to hear your voice. Break me with your words. Or hold me. Either is fine. If your heart will turn to me."
Yuliana's hand crept from Allen's chest to his left shoulder.
Through his clothes, she traced an old scar. A particularly distinct wound running from his left shoulder to his collarbone. One carved into him on the night he had condemned her in their past life. She knew this scar. Her fingertips moved slowly, as if confirming its shape.
"What is this from?"
Allen didn't answer.
There was no way he could. This wound was one he'd received on the night his past self had humiliated her. A wound he'd carved into himself as punishment for hurting her. He could never tell her that.
"You won't answer. Then I'll answer for you. This is a wound you carved for my sake, isn't it. A wound you carved into yourself as punishment for hurting me."
Her voice was sweet, clinging.
"It's mine. This wound, your silence, all of you—it's all mine."
Her fingers seized Allen's wrist.
Slender fingers. Cold fingers. But their grip was strong.
Allen gripped her wrist in return.
Tightly. Tightly.
*(Let go.)*
*(If I don't let go, I'll—)*
The distance between them collapsed in an instant.
Close enough to hear each other's heartbeat through their clothes. Yuliana's breath touched Allen's neck. Allen's breathing stirred her silver hair.
Under the moonlight. Atop the hill. Two enemies, pressed together like lovers.
Yuliana raised her face.
Her after-rain blue eyes, wet with tears, shone. Those eyes gazed at Allen's lips.
Allen looked at her lips too.
Slightly parted, cherry-blossom-colored lips. Breath escaped them, trembling faintly.
*(Just a little more.)*
*(Just a little more, and I'll touch them.)*
He would press his lips to hers. He would hold her, wipe her tears, call her name.
*(If I do that, what then?)*
*(I won't be able to kill her.)*
*(I won't be able to strike her down in tomorrow's battle.)*
*(I'll betray my comrades.)*
*(I'll betray those who died in Ashwall District.)*
*(I'll betray myself.)*
—No.
Allen pushed Yuliana away.
"...Stop."
His voice shook.
"...Eh?"
"Stop. Don't come any closer."
He stepped back.
*(This is right.)*
*(This is correct.)*
*(I'm a man who has decided to kill you.)*
*(A man like that has no right to hold you.)*
*(If I hold you, I'll break.)*
*(I won't be able to kill you.)*
*(So this is right.)*
He repeated it over and over in his mind.
But the hand that had pushed her away was trembling.
Yuliana stared at Allen, dazed.
Then she wore an expression that was half crying, half smiling.
"...I see. You really are like that, aren't you."
Her voice dissolved into the night wind.
"You always push me away. In our past life, and now. You won't allow yourself to touch
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