The tension in Cynthia's small apartment hadn't quite lifted yet. Ramona crossed her arms, facing Arthur with a guarded look.The warm light in the room felt too cozy for the kind of conversation she was about to start.
"I have an agenda with Oswald," she said, her voice steady.
Arthur, who had been sitting comfortably on the couch, leaned forward slightly. His expression didn't shift much, but she could tell he was taking her seriously.
"Agenda?" he repeated.
"I can't tell you what it is yet," Ramona said. "I'll tell you when the time is right—when you earn my trust."She didn't wait for him to argue. "I have an appointment with him at the inn tomorrow. So we're not leaving tonight."
Arthur nodded. "I'll come with you."
Ramona rolle her eyes
clicked her tongue and gave a short sigh. "Ck. Fine. But you can't hear the conversation. When I'm talking with him, you go somewhere else."
He smiled a little, like he found her stubbornness amusing. "Understood."
Satisfied, she shifted the conversation toward something even more important.
"And another thing," she said, her tone firm. "Before we sign anything about marriage, we need to make something clear."
Arthur tilted his head, looking at her with genuine interest. "Alright."
Ramona stepped closer, dropping her arms to her sides. "You don't touch me unless I give you permission. Ever."
Arthur didn't hesitate. "Of course."
"I hate royal and noble rules," she continued. "I'll wear whatever I like. I'll choose my personal maid and butler. I don't need guards hovering around me. I want to come and go as I please, without asking anyone for permission."
"Sounds reasonable," Arthur said, smiling softly.
"And I'll say what's on my mind. No pretending. No lying. I can play the obedient noble lady at social gatherings if I must—but not all the time. Only when necessary."
Arthur's smile grew. "I have no problem with that."
Ramona narrowed her eyes at him, voice sharpening."And don't forget. It'll be scandalous. You'll be marrying a criminal. You still think this is a smart choice?"
Arthur didn't even blink. His voice was warm, unwavering.
"I'm one hundred million percent sure."
Ramona stared at him, almost in disbelief."...You're an idiot," she muttered.
He just laughed, the sound easy and light in the cramped room."Maybe. I never think high of myself."
That night, Ramona found herself lying wide awake on the narrow bed in Cynthia's spare room.The small window let in a faint, silvery moonlight that pooled across the floor, painting the walls in muted shadows.The city outside was quiet now, and even Cynthia's breathing from the other room had settled into a slow, steady rhythm.
But Ramona's mind refused to rest.
She turned over, hugging a pillow loosely against her chest.Despite everything she had endured, despite her meticulous plans, her thoughts kept stubbornly circling back——to him.
Arthur Adlerthron.
The name alone was enough to darken any room it was spoken in.The cruel prince.The murderer of his own parents, so they said.The man abandoned by his surviving brothers, left to rule a crumbling government with iron and bloodied hands.
After the war, after the fall of his father's regime, he had executed dissenters without hesitation. The nobles whispered that war had stripped him of mercy, that power had burned all the softness from him.
That was the Arthur she had heard about.
But today...Today, he had seemed less like a monster, and more like an egoistic, self-centered prince.Annoying, yes.Arrogant, without a doubt.But cruel?
No.OR Not yet.
Ramona sighed and shifted beneath the thin blanket, the weight of the pillow pressing against her chest.
He was stubborn, but strangely considerate.He had agreed to her every demand without mockery, without challenge.He hadn't tried to bend her or belittle her.He just... listened.
For a man raised in the ruthless courts of nobility, it was unexpected.And if she was honest with herself... she didn't mind him.That kind of ego was manageable.She had faced worse—far worse.
A reluctant smile ghosted her lips.
Her mind drifted, unbidden, to his eyes.
Those eyes—crimson, clear, and vivid like finely cut rubies.A gaze so sharp and merciless it felt like it could cut a man down without a sword.She could almost believe the rumors: that a single glare from Arthur Adlerthron could kill you on the spot. Well that was an imagery of a rumor— about how fast his hands and sword moving in the battlefield that intimidating anyone who see
And yet—when those dangerous, blood-red eyes looked at her...they hadn't held cruelty.Only a stubborn, honest light.A warmth he probably didn't even realize he carried.
Ramona turned onto her side, pulling the blanket higher to her chin, closing her eyes at last.
Maybe... just maybe...he wasn't the monster everyone feared.
Maybe there was something there.Something dangerous, yes—but maybe, something beautiful too.
Tomorrow would be another long day.But for now—Ramona allowed herself to slip into sleep, the faint trace of a smile still clinging to her lips.
Arthur sat stiffly on the edge of the narrow couch Cynthia had offered him, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped loosely together.The little house was humble—modest furniture, worn wood floors, a faint scent of herbs lingering in the air.It was the furthest thing from the polished marble halls and velvet-draped chambers he had grown up in.
Yet tonight, he didn't mind.Tonight, his mind was too full to care.
He leaned back at last, exhaling a slow breath, tipping his head toward the low ceiling.His thoughts—whether he liked it or not—were filled with her.
Ramona Ellett Rhostein.
The woman the world now branded a criminal.The woman he had offered marriage without hesitation.The woman who had looked him straight in the eye, demanded her freedom, her choices, her own way of living——and had not once tried to flatter or please him.
Arthur closed his eyes, a low hum of something unfamiliar twisting in his chest.
She was... dangerous.Not in the way others were.Not with knives or poison or political schemes.
No.Ramona was dangerous because she made him feel.
And gods—how deceptively lovely she looked.
That hair, so soft and light, like a brushed whisper of the dawn—a gentle salmon-pink hue he had never seen on another soul.Her eyes, matching that tender shade, seemed crafted from spun petals, the kind you could crush too easily if you weren't careful.
At a glance, she seemed like a dreamer.Like a creature of delicate smiles and patient kindness, born only to be treasured.
It would be so easy to believe she was made of silk and light.So easy to think her heart was as soft as her colors.
But he knew better.
Beneath that delicate appearance lived a spirit far stronger than any knight he had ever commanded.Sharp, burning, indomitable.
And somehow...that contradiction made her perfect in his eyes.Not in spite of it—but because of it.
Arthur grunted under his breath, rubbing a hand through his hair in frustration.
She was unlike anyone he had ever met.And worse—she made him want to be someone different, someone better, without even trying.
His mind flickered briefly to her earlier smile.Rare, quick, almost reluctant.Like a secret slipping through armor she didn't realize she wore.
He opened his eyes again, the moonlight from the small window casting a slant of cold light across the floor.
Tomorrow, they would meet the man she trusted.Oswald.Arthur told himself he didn't care.
But deep down, he knew he was already watching her far too closely.Not just as an ally.Not just as a political move.
No.
Arthur Adlerthron, the man who had faced rebellions, conspiracies, and wars without fear——was starting to fear something far more dangerous.
Her.
With a low breath that was half a curse, half a laugh, he lay back against the couch, staring at the cracked ceiling.
Tomorrow.He would see where this path led.
But tonight—he allowed himself the quiet, foolish thought:that their rendezfati was a pleasure for him
The night passed in a strange, restless peace.
When morning came, Ramona dressed without any concern for courtly expectations. She stepped into the main room, adjusting the strap of her bag casually, unaware—or perhaps unconcerned—about how scandalous she looked. The outfit was sharp, bold, the kind that noblewomen would faint at the sight of.
Arthur, in the middle of fixing the buttons of his jacket, froze.
His ears turned pink almost instantly."You... look amazing," he said quickly, and then turned away as if ashamed for saying it so openly.
Ramona gave him a blank look. "You're staring."
"N-no, I mean—yes—but it's just..." Arthur stumbled over his words.He cleared his throat, pulling himself together. "It suits you. Very much."
As she gathered her things, Arthur forced himself to stop sneaking glances.Internally, he couldn't help but think the outfit was far too revealing, practically inviting unwanted attention.But then again, none of them would dare touch her. Not if they valued their lives.
"Let's go," Ramona said, already heading for the door.
"We're walking to the inn?" Arthur asked, a little surprised.
"Yes. The weather's good. I need to build my stamina."She checked herself once in the mirror and seemed satisfied. "And I won't smell bad. So it's fine."
Arthur chuckled under his breath and followed after her."As you wish."
The streets of Rotein City were lively with the morning buzz. Vendors called out their wares, carts rattled along the cobblestones, and the cool, crisp air was laced with the scent of fresh bread and flowers.
As they made their way down the bustling street, Ramona suddenly stopped in front of a stall.Brightly colored board games were spread out on display—checkers, dice games, and a neatly polished chess set.
She picked up the chessboard without a word, inspecting it.
"You like chess?" Arthur asked, stepping beside her.
Ramona paid the vendor and tucked the chess set under her arm."It's not about liking," she said. "It's so it won't be awkward when we're waiting for Oswald."
Arthur smiled. "Smart as always."
Ramona shrugged. "Of course."She glanced sideways at him and added, dryly,"Now move your legs, Your Highness. We're not sightseeing."
Arthur laughed, a real, easy sound, and fell into step beside her once again."Yes, commander."
And together, they continued walking toward the inn—two figures wrapped in a strange, growing bond neither of them could quite explain yet.
The chess pieces clicked softly against the wooden board.
Arthur scowled down at the battlefield in front of him, studying the mess he had walked straight into—again.
Checkmate.
Ramona leaned back casually, resting her chin on her palm, a ghost of a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.Two matches. Two humiliating defeats.The noble prince who had spent years mastering tactics and battlefield strategies... crushed twice without mercy.
It wasn't the sting of defeat that soured his mood—it was her.How easily she had read his moves, how effortlessly she danced around his strategies as if she had seen them a hundred times before.
Arthur frowned deeper, unable to hide the brooding confusion twisting in his chest.How?How did she learn to do that?He was supposed to be the one winning—he was supposed to be the one in control.
Instead, she tilted the board like it was a mere toy in her hands.
He was still glowering at the board, lips pressed into a thin line, when the door creaked open behind them.
Ramona didn't even look up.
But Arthur noticed.
A man stood frozen at the threshold—his face pale, his lips parted slightly as if he had walked into a nightmare.Those wide, devastated eyes clung to Ramona, then flickered in disbelief to Arthur.The color drained completely from his face.
"...w-what is happening here?"The words came out barely more than a hoarse whisper, laden with a sadness that was almost unbearable.
Arthur stiffened, straightening instinctively.He didn't know who this man was yet, but the way he stared at Ramona was all too clear.
Meanwhile, Ramona merely tilted her head, a sharp glint in her eyes, and answered without mercy,"I don't know. What do you think is happening when a couple is playing chess in a room while the maid is watching?"
Arthur blinked once, taken slightly aback by her casual cruelty.Cynthia, seated quietly by the fireplace with her mending, gave a small cough but said nothing.
The newcomer—Oswald—looked like someone had slammed a sword through his chest.
"WAIT—A COUPLE?!"He practically shouted, voice cracking with disbelief.
Arthur felt a low, knowing hum rise inside him as he narrowed his eyes, observing the man.The heartbreak was plain.There was no hiding it.
And in that instant, Arthur understood.
This Oswald... he was in love with Ramona.Pathetically, helplessly, hopelessly.
Arthur rose to his feet with a composed, almost predatory grace.His crimson eyes gleamed sharply under the dim light as he approached Oswald with a faint, polite nod.
"Arthur Adlerthron," he said smoothly. "Ramona's fiancé."
The words were like hammer strikes in the room.
Ramona, for her part, didn't even flinch—she merely turned back to reset the chessboard with elegant fingers, as if nothing could possibly bother her.
Meanwhile, Oswald stood there, shattered and small, as the weight of reality crushed him from all sides.
Oswald stiffened at Arthur's cool, assertive introduction.
"Arthur Adlerthron," the prince repeated, his voice carrying the weight of an unshakable declaration. "Ramona's fiancé."
Oswald's lips trembled, his mind scrambling for a logical explanation—anything to deny what he was hearing.But Ramona, without missing a beat, chimed in with her calm, cutting voice,"...Not yet. He proposed," she said bluntly, resting her elbow casually on the chess table. "And I don't exactly have the power to reject it. Despite all the risks... it could be a chance to move freely. Rather than be forced to become your wife."
The words dropped heavily between them.
Oswald's mouth opened and closed helplessly like a fish gasping for air.
"W-what? My wife?"He sounded utterly lost, his voice cracking as if her words had physically struck him."D-did you ever even think about that?"
Ramona tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable.
"You're the only guy I've ever been close with," she answered coolly. "It's not impossible, is it?"
Her answer wasn't meant to wound him further—it was her mercy.If she showed him she knew about his feelings all along, it would have crushed him completely.She chose her words carefully to leave his pride intact, even if the truth still stung like salt in a wound.
Oswald swallowed hard, nodding awkwardly, fighting the lump in his throat.
"...U-uh, okay..." he muttered.Then, turning stiffly toward Arthur, he mustered the courage to speak,"Your Majesty... may I ask you a question?"
Arthur regarded him with a slight smirk, as if already amused by the pathetic sight before him."Go ahead."
"Why did you propose to her so suddenly?" Oswald asked, his voice low, trembling. "Did you two... already know each other before?"
Arthur gave a small laugh—short and sharp—and answered without a shred of hesitation,"No. It was our first meeting."
Oswald blinked, stunned silent.Ramona, too, looked up sharply from the chessboard, startled by the casual confession.
Arthur continued,"She was amazing. She stood up for her dignity, beating the man who harassed her with a single punch, destroying everything around him."He paused, his eyes glinting with something fierce."And right then and there, I thought—she's the one."
The room froze in stunned silence.
Even Cynthia, peeking shyly from her corner, couldn't hide her awe.
Ramona pressed her palm against her forehead with a weary sigh, wondering if this was the man she thought she could handle after all.
Arthur, however, was not finished.
He turned gracefully toward Oswald, his royal presence filling the small room.
"I'll leave you both to talk," he said lightly, as if speaking about nothing more serious than a stroll."I believe in my fiancée. She won't do anything wrong. Not this time, at least."He cast a sly glance at Ramona, earning a sharp glare from her in return.
"You two have some business to discuss, right?"He extended a hand toward Cynthia, who quickly stood and fell into step beside him.
As he passed Oswald, Arthur leaned in closer, placing a firm, almost friendly hand on the young man's shoulder.
And in a voice low enough only for Oswald to hear, Arthur whispered against his ear,"—And a friendly reminder,"his breath cold and cutting,"we might not be officially engaged yet... but she is forever mine."His grip on Oswald's shoulder tightened for a second."You know the consequences, don't you?"
Arthur stepped back with a cold smile, then turned on his heel and exited the room with Cynthia following behind, leaving Oswald standing there—shaken, devastated, and utterly lost.
Ramona sighed deeply, dragging her fingers through her soft pink hair."What a mess," she muttered under her breath, as she stood up to finally face Oswald properly.
The door clicked shut.
For a moment, there was only silence—the kind of silence that crushed the ribs from the inside.
Ramona leaned against the edge of the chess table, arms crossed, her soft pink hair cascading over her shoulders like the remnants of a dream that could never be caught.
Oswald stared at the floor, his hands trembling slightly at his sides.
"...You could've told me," he finally muttered, voice raw. "You could've told me... before all this."
Ramona sighed, her gaze steeled like tempered glass.
"I didn't owe you an explanation," she said flatly. "Not before. Not now."
Her words were clean cuts, not angry, not cruel—simply facts spoken aloud.
Oswald's hands curled into fists.
"I thought—"he choked, swallowing the painful lump in his throat,"I thought you trusted me."
"I do trust you," Ramona said softly."But not with everything."
She walked a few steps closer, her shadow falling over him.
"You have feelings for me, Oswald," she continued, her voice dropping lower. "Feelings you didn't even dare to speak aloud. And I—"she hesitated, just for a breath, "—I can't pretend I didn't see it."
Oswald flinched like she'd struck him.
"You're... important to me," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "You've always been."
Ramona's expression softened, but only a fraction.
"You're also important to me, Oswald. And that's why I can't let you get dragged down by my choices," she said. "I'm not the girl you once knew. I'm not standing behind you anymore, safe and smiling."
Oswald's eyes widened, giving him little chills and relief
She leaned in slightly, her salmon-pink eyes gleaming under the dim light—beautiful and unreachable.
"I'm building my own future now," she said. "With or without you."
Oswald stared at her, it's still painful but somehow he can see that future is still bright even just adoring her
"I.. really appreciate you and respect whatever your decision, Ramona." he said it respectfully "regardless wether we're together or not, as a friend i still cant accept that you're situation is really dangerous now because schwarzezirkle targetted you somehow. and i'm willing to help you!"
Now the real talk— the business we're about to discuss, the progression about tremendous act of a group that targetting Ramona as a treason of her dearest country and bring danger to her—
The Schwarzezirkle
"....— ?!" Ramona's eyes widened, she doesn't belief will hear that about schwarzezirkle from Oswald's mouth
"how'd you know that name? care to elaborate?
Ramona's chest tightened.
She gripped the table's edge so hard her knuckles turned white.
"You're lying..." she whispered. "How this could be... happen."
Oswald's eyes softened with unbearable sadness.
"I wish I was."
Ramona shook her head slightly, disbelieving.
The name rolled inside her mind, crushing her like a collapsing tower—
Duke Andrew Crimsongarde.
The hero of Humburg.The sword and shield that defended the South against Everald a decade ago.The man who refused to sacrifice the Southeastern provinces even when pressured by the neighboring nobles.The man who, with unwavering honor, secured the mines of gold and diamonds and brought victory to a weary, blood-soaked nation.
Gone.
Murdered.
She felt the blood drain from her face.
"...What happened when you returned to the mansion?" she forced out, her voice barely audible.
Oswald's jaw clenched.He lowered his eyes, memories clawing at him.
"I found him," he said hoarsely. "Cold. Bleeding out on the floor of his own study. Alone."
Ramona's heart twisted painfully.
"The maids said... they said they didn't know anything, they're just doing their job" Oswald continued. "But their testimonies didn't match. Their timelines were wrong. Their memories fogged."
He paused, then added, "One of them wasn't even human."
"....?!" again, ramona was shock to hear that.
"Abigail— the devil in disguise one of the maid called Alma, it posses her body."
"I fought it," he said. "Barely survived. Took some scars... but somehow I healed fast."
He touched his side unconsciously, as if feeling the ghost of a wound.
"And then..." His voice dropped even lower, almost reverent. "I found what my father left behind."
Ramona listened intently, almost afraid to breathe.
"A remnant of his Ignisiel," Oswald said. "A flame... that took the shape of a cat."
Her eyes widened in disbelief.
"A cat?"
Oswald gave a short, pained laugh.
"It sees everything," he said. "Reveals what hides beneath illusions. The truth."
Ramona's mind reeled.The depth of Duke Andrew's foresight... even in death, he left a way to guide his son.
Oswald inhaled deeply, steadying himself before he spoke.
"My father… he left me more than just a memory, Ramona," he began, voice low but firm. "Before he died, he used his Ignisiel—what remained of his power—to create something. A cat, a creature made of fire and will."
Ramona's breath caught.
"It wasn't just a familiar," Oswald continued. "It was a witness. A tool to record his final duty as Duke of Crimsongarde. A legacy... to guide me."
He looked at her, eyes sharp with burning determination.
"And through it, I saw it all. The attack. The moment they came for him. The warning from Abigail—one of our oldest house retainers—not to get too close to Schwarzezirkel."
Oswald's hand curled into a fist atop the table.
"But even after the warnings... he couldn't back away. He saw too much."
He leaned forward, his voice lowering.
"It kept me awake, Ramona. Even after seeing it, I couldn't stop thinking—Who are they?What do they want?What did my father do to deserve this?"
Ramona stared at him, silent and still, letting him speak.
"The answer was always the same," Oswald said. "Schwarzezirkel."
He almost spat the name, like it left a bitter taste.
"The true vile behind all of this."
He drew a shaking breath, forcing himself to continue.
"When I searched his study, his desk, every hidden compartment... I found it."
He slid a worn notebook across the table.
Ramona touched the cover, her fingers brushing the faint title.
'Die Krone des Abgrunds.'The Crown of the Abyss.
"My father never took notes," Oswald said. "He believed most politics in Humburg weren't worth writing about. So if he wrote this..." His eyes narrowed. "It meant it was critical to his life—and to mine."
Ramona opened the notebook, scanning the first few lines.
Oswald continued steadily, every word a nail hammered into place.
"It started with something small. My father overheard Baron Avendria speaking at a private gathering. He talked about sponsoring an organization called GRUNDS."
Ramona frowned.
"I thought he misheard it at first—maybe it was 'Krunds,' the prayer shrines of the Krasians," Oswald said. "But then Baron Avendria said he felt 'happier than ever' after joining... and his wealth doubled almost overnight."
Oswald's face hardened.
"My father grew suspicious. He started attending the Krunds himself. But instead of finding peace, he found more questions."
He listed them, each word weighted:
"Why were there twenty-four saints?""Why did almost half the Krasian followers act like brainwashed zealots?""Why did 'charity' and 'learning' events cost so much they could bankrupt small kingdoms?"
Ramona felt her chest tighten.
Is Cynthia knew about this? And the reason why she didn't wanna be a saint and somehow her luxis power is a secret? Ramona lost in her own thought
"And the biggest oddity," Oswald said grimly, "was you."
She stiffened.
"Your name, Ramona Ellett Rhostein, was listed as the leader of a major charity event at the Krunds."
Ramona shook her head slightly in disbelief.
"I know you," Oswald said quietly. "You never even prayed at the Krunds."
He leaned closer, fierce.
"It was a setup, Ramona. A fabrication. Schwarzezirkel planted your name to make it look like you were part of their activities."
Ramona's hands gripped the notebook tighter. And thoughts in cofusion: but.. why what's their motive?
"And when my father tried to meet the Kros—the leader of the Krasians—the saints always blocked him," Oswald said. "Excuses. Deflections. Even the Crown Prince said it was better to 'let it go.'"
His mouth twisted into a grim line.
"And when he refused... they killed him."
"okay hold on— what the fuck?!" Ramona's in shock, she can felt that her heart stop beating— she even forgot how to breath—
similiar when you nervous around your loved one and got all flusterd—it was HUGE different, Ramona's cheeks might be got redened but it because she was burn in rage not love.
"that was too much information i can't even breath—"
"Okay, hold on— what the fuck?"Ramona blurted out, pushing herself back from the table slightly, her chest heaving.
It felt like her heart stopped beating.She even forgot how to breathe—That suffocating tightness, the kind you feel when you're nervously flustered around someone you love—But this was different.Vastly different.
Ramona's cheeks might have reddened, but not out of bashfulness—It was pure, searing rage boiling under her skin.
"That's too much information— I can't even breathe—" she said, exhaling sharply as if trying to stay afloat.
Her hands trembled slightly, not from fear, but from trying to process the enormity of what Oswald had just revealed.Duke Andrew Crimsongarde, the legendary general, a man she admired, gone — not by war, not by illness, but by murder and conspiracy so dark it gnawed at the soul.
She pressed her palm against the table, steadying herself.
"I see..." Ramona finally muttered after a moment of silence, her salmon-pink eyes still wide but now sharpening into blades.She straightened her posture, forcing herself back into composure.
"It's my turn then," she said grimly.
"I didn't even get to the library yet," she continued, bitterness threading her voice."Everything changed when I found... this."
From the folds of her jacket, she pulled out a slightly crumpled parchment, smoothing it flat on the table.It was a hand-drawn sketch of an unfamiliar insignia.
"I found this hidden behind the fireplace panel in my father's old study in Hilrose Fortress," she explained."I didn't recognize it at first— it's not from any official noble house or known guild."
Oswald leaned closer, his brows knitting tightly.
"It was David— Cynthia's brother— who recognized it," Ramona continued. "He told me it's the Schwarzezirkel's emblem."
The room seemed to darken with the weight of the revelation.
"So," she said, her voice dropping cold and low, "now I know exactly who framed me."
Oswald sat stiffly, his jaw clenched, a storm of fury brewing in his expression.But he said nothing — allowing her to go on.
"And there's more," Ramona said, her voice low, each word carefully chosen."I found a ledger. Tucked behind a hidden drawer. Written in coded symbols."
She tapped her temple lightly."My Tenibris ability... it's heightened lately. My mind processed the patterns naturally."
"And what did it say?" Oswald asked hoarsely.
"It was a registry," Ramona said. "Orders placed through a secret smithing guild for forged items — forged documents, fake insignias, forged seals. Everything they needed to manufacture my guilt."
She let that sink in before continuing.
"The name tied to my forged Rhostein insignia was V. Albricht," she said, voice dripping with disdain."A disgraced royal forger, exiled for treason a decade ago. Someone well-versed in erasing and rebuilding legacies."
Oswald's hands curled into fists atop the table.
"And you were going to investigate more?" he asked.
Ramona nodded grimly.
"I planned to head to the library next," she said. "I need to dig into ink and paper manufacturing records, trace back the smithing guilds, and investigate Varucett City's history — its financial secrets and its ties to Schwarzezirkel."
She leaned back slightly, exhaling.
"But then you came... and told me everything about Duke Andrew."
Her voice wavered for the first time — raw and pained.Two parallel tragedies, wound around each other like poison vines.
After a heartbeat of silence, Ramona looked straight into Oswald's eyes.
"We're not just clearing my name anymore," she said steadily."We're declaring war against Schwarzezirkel."
Oswald stayed silent for a long moment, staring at the map littered with their notes, the weight of everything pressing down between them.
He looked like he had more to say — more rage to unleash, more loyalty to promise — but he only exhaled sharply, jaw tight.
Ramona adjusted her cloak over her shoulders, steadying her breath.The resolve inside her was no longer boiling — it was cold, carved deep into her bones.
"I'm leaving tomorrow morning," she said, voice low but firm. "Arthur asked me to go with him to Golden Adler. as soon as possible"
She paused, then forced the words out:
"I'll marry him."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Oswald stiffened, his fists clenching at his sides before he managed to relax them with effort.He didn't yell. Didn't argue. He only looked at her — like he was memorizing every detail of her face, the person she was now, before everything changed.
"You're sure?" His voice was rough.
"I'm sure," Ramona said, even though her heart twisted painfully inside her chest."It's the only way to get close. To see everything from inside."
She took a step closer, her voice lowering.
"I'll figure out a way to send you messages once I'm there. No direct letters — too risky. I'll hide codes inside neutral reports, or leave signs somewhere."
"I'll find them," Oswald said, without hesitation.
Their eyes locked — a silent oath sealed between two hearts weighed down by unspoken things.Neither said 'stay safe' or 'come back soon.'They both knew better.
Ramona reached out, gripping Oswald's forearm — a warrior's farewell, but her hand lingered for a second longer than necessary.
"Thank you," she whispered. "For standing with me."
Oswald bowed his head, a tight breath escaping him.
"And you," he murmured. "Don't lose yourself, Ramona."
And i... wish you'll be happy, Ramona. I love you. His mind speaks loudly, as if he can't let her go,
The candlelight flickered as she stepped away, pulling her hood up.
Without looking back, she disappeared into the misty streets of Rotein City — carrying the weight of duty, vengeance, and a crown of thorns she had not chosen... yet would wear anyway.
Oswald stood alone, staring at the closed door, feeling the finality in the air.The war had already begun.
And Ramona — whether she won or lost — was already walking straight into its heart.
If the world dared to break her, then I'll be the sword that breaks the world.
Rendezfati — We were met, and now we say goodbye.