Chapter 73. I Love You

Sparks went flying across the collapsed cobblestones, illuminating the broken castle, and bringing light to the shadows in every crook and cranny.

The sound of blades crossing one another had screamed, the loud screeches resembling a ghoul's haunting cries. Lucilline had drawn his spear (he found it discarded in one of the rooms), clashing it against his opponent's blade. The sparks ignited between the two blades, brightening up the room and their faces.

For a moment, Lucilline could see his opponent's lower jaw.

"Why won't you say anything?" Lucilline jabbed, continuously pressing his blade forwards. "Are you too afraid to talk? In any case, I'm listening."

The opponent kept silent.

They wore a black robe and cloak, covering their whole body and figure. However, it could not conceal everything completely. As Lucilline exchanged blows with them, the hem of their robe would flail upwards. Their jaw was clenched harshly, as if hardened into stone.

"Why are you doing this?" Lucilline asked, but his tone had no annoyance within. "I am willing to listen to your reason."

He saw that the traitor pursed their lips, with their cheekbones tensed up.

They traded more blows, the ignition of sparks scattering across the plastered castle, like stars illuminating a broken sky. Lucilline spun on the spot, throwing a harsh kick at the opponent's sword. To his surprise, the traitor kept a steady hand, and the sword was not knocked away.

The traitor slashed at him—Lucilline dodged, the long hilt of his spear dancing across his shoulders, then slicing upwards.

Every attack was dodged or blocked, and every dodge would result in someone else attacking.

"You're not using your full strength, are you?" Lucilline taunted. "You've been holding back this whole time. I know that you don't have the intention to hurt me."

The opponent faltered.

Using that to his advantage, Lucilline threw a punch at them. In an instant, the traitor was flung to the other side of the wall, crashing into the debris of cobblestone. A stifled gasp fell out from the traitor, who struggled to breathe and handle the pain. They tried to climb out of the debris, but their hand was quickly stomped on by a leather boot.

"Don't try." Lucilline deadpanned.

The black-haired nobleman had no fluctuating emotions, his face was still as a frozen-over lake. His gaze appeared rather indifferent.

It made the traitor squirm beneath him.

"Take off your cloak." Lucilline's expression did not change. He continued to stare harshly down at the traitor, who tugged their hand, trying to peel it from the nobleman's boots. However, their hand was nailed to the cobblestone. No matter how hard they tugged, it couldn't free itself.

The black-haired nobleman's golden eyes seemed to sink, "If you don't take it off, I will do it myself."

In an instant, the traitor panicked. Even without reading their facial expression, Lucilline could tell the hints of dread and terror laced within their every action.

Their body twisted, almost like shredding the peels of mandarin oranges. Lucilline tried to force them to a stop, but the traitor kept fighting. Their figure bent and curled into a distorted shape, like a mangled prey caught in the hunter's trap. A strangled cry gurgled from the depths of their throat.

"Stop," Lucilline gritted his teeth, "You're going to dislocate your bones at this rate."

The traitor panted, their chest heaving up and down.

They came to a standstill, laying in the debris without any excessive movement.

Lucilline frowned, "Take off your cloak."

The shuffles of clothes had unveiled in the collapsed castle. Lucilline watched intently as the opposing person stripped off their cloak with one hand. Fair and wide shoulders stretched the dark robe underneath, with calloused hands cut by the edges of sharp stone.

At last, there was only the hood left.

The traitor seemed paranoid about exposing their identity. They desperately hugged at their hood, avoiding Lucilline's inquiry.

"Actually," the black-haired nobleman sung lightheartedly, "I already know who you are."

The traitor stiffened on the spot.

"From the moment I saw your sword, your refined and keen blade, and your thickly calloused hands... I knew who you were." Lucilline dug his heel deeper into the opponent's palm, with the sound of bones crinkling like animal skeletons. "However, I can't help but wonder why?"

The black-haired nobleman wore a sad expression.

His golden eyes melted into honey, and the distinct colour of sorrow swam into the tempest. "Why did you have to do this?"

The broken castle fell to a moment of silence.

The air thickened, making it difficult to breathe.

Nails dug into the debris, with dust clogged inside. The traitor's breaths became more and more heavy, as their gasps warped into something of a strangled cry for help. Lucilline's gaze was like a stab, constantly tearing into the traitor's flesh, forcing their skin to rip apart into veins of lukewarm blood.

Stop it. The traitor clawed their hands into the debris. Stop asking. I don't want to... no, you can't know about it!

"I'm going to find out, one way or another." Lucilline remarked, "Is there a reason why you can't have me find the Book of Memory? Is there a reason why you're trying to stop us from entering Ubel Kingdom? What secrets are you hiding?"

He gave a sad smile.

With a sharp flick to the hood, the shadows dispersed from the traitor's face. A pair of handsome eyes distorted into something intangible—an ocean of water completely contorted into a whirlpool. The colour of amethyst purple contained the emotion of searing agony, countless screams tearing through the infinite darkness of those dull pupils.

The locks of silver hair glistened in the castle, like the first drop of snow amidst the dark lands. "I'm here to listen," Lucilline interlocked his fingers in the nest of soft hair, "Azalea."

*****

Azalea flowers were an iridescent pink, with their soft tints of white intertwining amidst the petals. These flowers were known for their beauty and femininity, and were also prized possessions of women who'd received them from their husbands.

The azalea embodied a woman's gentleness—their kindness subpar to the heaven's generosity.

"Azalea? That's such a girly name." The children in the village had spat. Upon hearing that, the toddler named Azalea could not hold back and bursted out crying. His tears only became fuel for the fire. Rocks were thrown at him. Though they were only small pebbles, to the weak and "girly-named" boy, it was as if he'd been squashed underneath mountain boulders.

When he returned back home all teary-eyed and red, he'd fall into the warm embrace of his mother and sister.

"Azalea is a good name," Willow had snapped, "You're lucky that you got named after flowers. I'm named after a goddamn tree."

"...Willow." The stern look of their mother was cold and aloof. It even made the tall and almighty willow tree wither.

Their mother's hair was fluorescent like white jade, as if pure silver was strung from liquid mercury. She had graciously shared the silver trait down to them both, and their purple eyes reflected the magic that is carried throughout their blood.

"I like your name too, Azalea." Their mother smiled like the sun. Without effort, she shone light upon the plants around her. Subconsciously, the little seedling named Azalea began to bud and bloom. "I chose the name because I want you to be gentle and kind, like azaleas. From my experience, all wives like to have a caring and kind husband."

"I think that you can be so too."

"Bullshit." Willow jeered at the back.

This earned her another scolding from their mother.

At that time, Azalea had no idea that their village would be ransacked by the human traffickers. His mother was killed, his sister sacrificed herself to protect him, and he'd humiliatingly fled.

The snarls of the wolves and their jarringly musky saliva would enter Azalea's nightmares. In the orphanage, the young boy would jeer awake, his sweat-ridden body exhausted. His back seared from the pain of those claws ripping into his flesh, with the ominous pungent smell of metal rotting in the air. The scent of smoke clogged his lungs, and the boy clutched his chest at an attempt to breathe.

Why was he so weak? Being a frail and kind azalea flower was not what he wanted. Azalea wanted—no, he needed to become someone strong... like a tall and strong willow tree.

He wanted to become a knight. That way, he could protect people and not cower in fear.

It was all a facade though. As much as he protected civilians with his blade, his two legs had still once ran away from a fight.

He was no knight.

Lucilline was like a ray of shining light—his first friend since moving to the Capital City. That black-haired nobleman had the kindness of azalea flowers, and yet also the strength of a willow tree. His unmatchable beauty and charisma was more blinding than the blooming of sunflowers—his liquid gold eyes nudged Azalea's desire to stop his pretence of being the noble knight.

If he could, then Azalea would gently caress the nobleman's hand. He would press a kiss upon the slender hand, despite all the fading scars across its pale skin.

He would treasure his friend—no, his first crush.

"Did you know that this is the second time you've lived in this world?" That night, Lucilline was away with his maid and butler. This was when he'd set out on an adventure for three years.

Azalea was unprepared for an ambush—he'd been attacked by a demon.

A Royal Demon.

Two pair of glowing red eyes peered down at him—no matter how much he looked like a noble knight, he was still a disgusting puny ant. "I am Nineteen, a mind demon." The demon's voice was like an old grandmother, holding the wisdom of elderlies. But her voice inspired fear into Azalea's veins, pumping his blood with unspoken adrenaline.

"I can read into your mind, I can see your very desire." Her wrinkled face were like unfolded paper, its creases making its beauty dwindle as well. "Lucilline Rubius—you want to marry him?"

The silver knight tensed up. His rib cage was almost shattered beyond repair. He clenched on the brick wall, taking in deep slow breaths, trying to fill his lungs up. But no matter how much air he pushed in, it'd deflate like a popped balloon.

Upon hearing Lucilline's name, his face flushed.

I want to marry Lucilline... The day before, he'd wandered across the streets. He found a small store selling wedding rings—the beautiful silver lining resembled his hair, and the golden jewel centred on the middle reminded him of the nobleman's honey-hued eyes.

Azalea had let his imagination run wild. If he could, he would purchase a ring like that and find a day to gift it to Lucilline.

"But you killed him." In an instant, his blood had frozen over. Nineteen snapped her fingers, and a barrage of imagery flooded into Azalea's mind. These weren't just imagery. He could feel the slippery liquid of lukewarm blood coat his fingers, and the ominous hilt of his sword seated in his palms. Peering down beneath his boots was a rotting corpse.

The strands of black ink hair had grown greasy, and the hard feeling of a skeleton pressed against his heels. His blade had droplets of blood slide down, and a decapitated head laid below his feet.

Those were his past memories.

*****

"So you inherited memories of your past life?" Lucilline frowned. "Perhaps they weren't real memories, but just figments that the mind demon controlled? After all, mind demons are rather fickle when it comes to controlling their host—"

"No!" Azalea interrupted.

His skin was pale, losing the healthy wheat colour. The noble knight—no, the traitor seemed hapless as his hands trembled. He leaned against the debris, his back hurting in purple bruises.

"They're not fake. They're real memories." Gradually, his amethyst purple eyes lost focus. They became warped and contorted, like an infinite tempest. "I just know that they are. It felt like déjà vu, like I know these had happened before. That's right, I killed you! Without any remorse, I decapitated your head with my blade! With my sword... even though I called myself a knight..." Azalea's body twitched, waving like a leaf caught in the wind.

Tears began to spill from his eyes, "I am not a righteous person at all."

His dream could never come true.

"I purposely tried to capture the Demon Princess, and cooperated with Nineteen so that you would never find the Book of Memories." His heart seemed to sink even lower, "That way, you would never know that I... that I killed you..."

Lucilline watched the tattered knight.

His silver armour had been broken into small fragments. This righteous young man had fallen astray from his original path. He resembled a fallen angel—his wings clipped and ripped into shreds, and not a single feather remained un-scorched.

"What are you waiting for?" Azalea snapped, his eyes burning red. "Aren't you angry that I am the traitor? Aren't you angry that I once killed you? Don't you want to kill me?"

Lucilline's gaze did not stray away from the tattered knight.

Instead of feeling anger, all his heart felt was remorse.

His hand petted the strands of silver hair, feeling its soft texture interlocking his fingers. "Azalea." Lucilline squatted down to meet the knight on eye-level. "Would you believe me if I said I'd known you killed me a long time ago?"

Azalea, "...." What? (；'Д｀)

"I also know what happened." Lucilline smirked, his smile widening as he watched the knight fall speechless. "Though I've been told a different story compared to yours. A mysterious young man trespassed on my property to tell me that the world we live in is fictional."

"...fictional?" Azalea could hardly register it.

"I couldn't believe it either." Lucilline softly spoke. "But he told me that our world originates from a novel named 'Lydia's Blossoming Love' or something like that."

Thinking back on it, that occurrence was what changed his life.

"In that novel, I am the villain—"

"You as the villain!?! That's impossible!" Azalea bursted out in shock, his astonishment evident in his fluffed strands of silver hair. He backed up his point, "Lucilline, you're the most kind person I've ever met. You are the ideal person I want to become."

Lucilline: ??? Me? Ideal? How?

He gently poked a finger at his own cheek, "But in the novel, I massacred the Holy Church Organization and then started a war between Lydia Kingdom and the demons. To be honest, I didn't have any hard feelings on you executing me."

"After all..."

Lucilline gave a soft smile, rendering the knight frozen on his tracks. "It was the right thing to do."

At that moment, Azalea felt his heart stop.

HOW COULD SOMEONE BE SO NICE!?! (;'༎ຶД༎ຶ')

Lucilline continued explaining the plot of the novel to him. "The main character is Daphnne, and her love interest is you—"

Azalea exploded in a frenzy. "Me and Daphnne getting married!?! That's impossible!"

Instead of questioning him, Lucilline only gave him a puzzled look.

"Either way, when I learned that you'd execute me due to the plot of the novel, I was hoping to avoid you. However, it seems that fate has brought us together." The black-haired nobleman explained. He continued fondling the knight's silver strands of hair, "I don't regret becoming friends with you at all, Azalea."

Azalea could hardly breathe anymore.

Lucilline gently withdrew his heels from the knight's hand, wiping away the dust and dirt from the latter's palm.

The black-haired nobleman got up from squatting, "I need to regroup with Farrah." He faltered, but then continued to talk, "I may have forgiven you, but the others might not. After I get the Book of Memories, would you care to take a break from your knightly duties?"

Azalea focused his sight on him.

Slowly, his pursed lips relaxed into a gentle smile. "Mn."

Lucilline waved, deciding to part ways. His back gradually began to disappear from the silver knight's vision. For some odd reason, Azalea felt his heart strings tugged at a strange direction. He wanted to tell Lucilline one last thing...

"Lucy!" He called out.

The figure in the distance stopped, turning around in puzzlement. Lucilline had question marks written all over his face.

Azalea couldn't help but laugh, "I love you!"