The moon hung high. Pale moonlight swept across the eternal snows, pouring down in silver-white cascades. From the shattered dome, drops of light fell—drip, drip, drip—while the scent of flowers and blood seeped through the brilliant glow, stifling and relentless.

Before Han Yujin’s eyes, what had once been pristine white was now splashed crimson. Her hair—once an indiscernible shade of gray, beige, or silver—now clung in vivid red. Blood pooled beneath her with sickening slosh. Using one hand to prop herself up, she lifted her head to face Seonghyunje.

She stood motionless as he dared a breath. He still could not stand fully, but he exhaled deeply. His golden eyes, unfocused, wavered as they looked up at her. Tilting his head slightly, he curled his lips into a faint smile.

“In a day’s time… you’ll come find me.”

“…Shut up, and disappear from my sight.”

“I refuse.”

“You said you didn’t want to die.”

“As you can see, I cannot.”

His fingers scraped the marble floor. Slipping in the blood, he dragged himself a few paces closer to the stairs.

“You claimed you wanted to live.”

“Which is why I refuse.”

Han Yujin lifted her chin. Through heaps of petals bathed in moonlight, she saw those she wished to protect—no matter what it took, no matter what.

“I have no intention of seeking you.”

She turned away entirely and stepped down one step.

“I’m tired of being entangled with you.”

Blood stained the tip of her pump as she planted her foot on the floor below.

“This was never my affair to begin with.”

Her steps carried her past Seonghyunje. Crimson footprints soaked into the red carpet—then faded away.

“The Crescent Moon seeks only you. I need not be the one to bleed for it.”

Moonlight and silver chains trailed behind her like a veil, tinkling softly with each step.

“Still… for all we’ve shared, at least run while you can.”

Her heel halted before Marie’s collapsed form. Struggling to life, Marie looked up at her. Her bright green eyes blinked once, slowly. Han Yujin bent and extended a hand to her, speaking so quietly only Marie could hear.

“I’m not one to give advice…but please—”

Her silver eyes curved in a small, pained smile.

“Don’t sacrifice your own life for another. The person most precious to you is yourself, isn’t that so?”

“…I love me.”

Marie replied. How could she not? She was a beloved princess.

“But this was for me.”

“Why is that?”

“Because it’s a happy ending.”

The final page ending in a wedding. Han Yujin helped Marie to her feet. The crushed hem of her dress unfurled like petals.

“Marie, you will go on living. You will meet many new people.”

So—

“Go.”

“…Huh?”

“Leave here. Watch the sunrise. And if questions arise, come back and ask.”

Marie took a hesitant step back, gazing at Han Yujin as if bewildered. Han Yujin smiled and turned away. In the pool of blood, Seonghyunje stood.

“Speak.”

“I have nothing to say.”

Rattle—golden chains, once shattered, reformed and swayed like waves.

“I have no intention of running.”

With a splatter, blood flicked from the floor. Han Yujin’s hand shot forward, grasping a silver chain that curled around her fist. Clang! A silver and golden chain clashed. In a single motion, Han Yujin seized a hanging chain with her other hand, yanked it with force, and sprang upward.

Webs of moonlight and chains intertwined around her. She soared like a meteor toward Seonghyunje.

Crack—crack—crack!

Silver storms tore into the carpet and marble beneath. Seonghyunje’s golden chains struggled to hold back the tempest. Crack, crunch! Golden links cracked and fragments flew. The silver whirlwind weakened, and Seonghyunje seized his chance, extending his hand.

Amid the ever-shifting lines of chain, he targeted a tiny gap with uncanny precision.

RUMBLE!

Golden light erupted, swallowing the silver. Tinkle, tinkle—spent shards of moonlight rained down. Han Yujin hurled the last strand of chain at Seonghyunje’s neck; he caught it with one hand, his eyes flicking around warily.

Amid this violent maelstrom, the flowers remained eerily still—only a few leaves drifted down. Neither blooms nor people were harmed. Even if caught in the fray, unlike fragile petals, these two would not be crushed.

“Han Yujin, you are strong and kind.”

“…No. I am weak.”

She spat the words as though crushing them.

“Which is why, unlike you, I cannot let go of anything.”

Her silver eyes blinked. She fought to suppress her emotions, but her pale face showed every shifting hue.

“If you relinquish something now, you may never regain it. It is too precious.”

There is always something better than what you hold. So you release what you clutch and accept the new. But if you possess only one thing, and it leaves your hand—reclaiming it may be impossible.

Furthermore…

“Because I am weak. If I give up one, I fear I will let go of all.”

A sturdy steel cylinder retains its shape even if one marble is removed. But a loosely woven pouch—if one thread tears or one marble slips out, it # Nоvеlight # unravels, spilling everything within.

Those few marble—I have so few.

Clack, her chain-wracked hand tightened.

“So I can’t… I just can’t.”

Because I’m weak. Because I have so little. Because I cannot bear to lose even that little—and so cling foolishly to it all.

If I could give up just one piece, I might be happy. Han Yujin smiled.

I’ve come this far because I could not do that.

If, as a child, I had closed my eyes and let go once—to give up the warm world that was everything to me—then perhaps I would never have been abandoned. But now…

“Even if I want to protect them.”

Even if they vow to give me my dearest wish, I cannot release what I hold. Even if the world casts me out for it, I cannot be the one to let go first.

“Han Yujin.”

“Leave this place!”

She shouted. Her silver eyes glistened. It felt as if her insides were being torn apart. A crimson cry reverberated within her: “Give Seonghyunje to the Crescent Moon now.” It was the sweetest, most tempting voice. I ached to obey.

But what then? Clinging and begging achieves nothing—no plan, no means to stop the Crescent Moon, no protection against the Source. What of the other Transcendents? And my brother—how would he find me again?

What a fool, turning from the path that could safeguard those I loved.

Han Yujin’s body collapsed. Tears fell to her knees. Han Yuhyun struggled through petals to reach his sister. Seonghyunje stepped back; with a tinkling sound, the silver chain slipped from his neck.

Han Yujin gasped, her fingers clawing at empty air.

“Han Yujin.”

A voice so gentle, so tender it felt like a caress.

“I will be waiting.”

Without promise of time. Seonghyunje walked away, passing his sister; his bloodstained silhouette receded into the moonless dark.

“Hyung!”

Seonghyunje’s figure vanished, and the suffocating moon-magic that pressed on us subsided. Yuhyun, freed at last, raced to his sister. As he wrapped her in his arms, her stifled sobs broke free.

“Yuhyun… I’m sorry! I’m so sorry…”

“…No, hyung. No.”

Even without understanding why, Yuhyun shook his head. He held his trembling brother tighter, as if to shield him.

‘Sobs’

“Papa…”

Peace and Han-gyul circled anxiously. Yerim looked helplessly between Song Taewon and Noah. Song Taewon’s gaze flicked from Han Yujin to Seonghyunje’s vanished path; he sighed deeply. Noah clenched and unclenched his fists in silence.

“It’s okay, hyung. It’s all okay. You did nothing wrong. No matter what, I’m on your side. You’re right—always.”

Such gentle, comforting words—but Han Yujin could not accept them now. Even now, she longed to grab Seonghyunje, to plead with him.

I cannot give up. Nor can I demand his sacrifice. That thought alone remained unshaken.

“…I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

To her brother—and to those who believed in her—she felt indescribable guilt. The weight pressed upon her, crushing her whole being.

Marie stepped forward, her S-rank heels suddenly uncomfortable on the cold floor. She finally lifted her gown and flung off one heel; it rolled down the corridor. Then she did the same with the other.

“…I love my height.”

Not too tall, not too short—just right. She’d tried to fit him before, to look good together. But no one was there to appreciate it anyway.

“What is this?”

With both shoes gone, the dress dragged terribly. She hated it.

“…I should have matched to myself from the start.”

To herself. She would have preferred an outdoor wedding—arches of flowers, pretty benches for guests. Guests—so many guests. Above all, she had wanted blessings. To be among people who loved her, beside someone who loved her.

Gripping her hem, she stopped. Behind her, the corridor rattled—but she ignored it and drew a sword. Slash—the dress’s hem was cut to her height. The fraying lace left it tattered—but she liked it better than before.

Now—what would happen next? She did not know. But if the tasks laid before her were gone…

“Shall we go on holiday?”

To a beautiful resort. After all, a honeymoon would be fitting. Afterwards—she wasn’t sure. But first, she would do as she pleased. Marie dusted down her skirt. She tore off her tight gloves and removed her hairpiece. Golden locks fell like sunlight. She loved the way her hair sparkled.

“…You weren’t as bad as I thought.”

The one who tried to ruin her wedding—the one who stole the title of her chosen partner—she ought to hate him. Yet now, she felt nothing but relief at the loss of reason to hate. He seemed… quite all right.

“You did so much. And it wasn’t a happy ending, anyway.”

Her brows shifted as sorrow tugged at her. Her brother—the one she’d cherished and longed to regain—had died. A heartbreakingly sad ending. She regretted ever hating Han Yujin. He needed a happy ending at least as much as she did.

“And earlier, you looked so sad.”

“You noticed, then.”

A voice suddenly behind her. Marie’s eyes snapped upward; Seonghyunje strode out from the shadows.

“What is this? You no longer intend to marry me?”

“I’m pleased our opinions align.”

He passed her by. Marie quickened her pace to walk beside him. She glanced back once.

“Why are you alone?”

“I felt I should not be.”

“Honestly, I hate hearing that ‘Director Seonghyunje’ speak. Did I hurt you too much?”

“My very existence seemed to wound you.”

His silver eyes, faintly cracked as if on the verge of breaking, puzzled her. “My existence”—yet if he’d simply stayed silent, all had been well.

“I do not know what my mother said.”

His lips twisted in a half-smile.

“Not that I cannot guess.”

“Your mother?”

“If only I could see her.”

Seonghyunje halted. Marie flinched and edged herself partly behind him.

“You were waiting, weren’t you?”

At the end of the corridor, seated alone on a chair, stood Marie’s mother.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep