Why did Dantalion wear such sorrowful eyes?
Ivar Lodbrok understood. Only a short while ago—mere tens of minutes past—she had behaved with astounding foolishness. At the time, Ivar had declared boldly:
—If the girl is at fault, I shall punish myself accordingly.
—Whatever the fault, I will bear it without fail.
The height of stupidity.
Ivar Lodbrok had sworn to shoulder responsibility far too easily, without even knowing what transgression she had committed. All the girl had done was accept death. Now she felt it—the truth that death sentence meant nothing to her anymore, the truth that what had befallen her now was incomparably more magnificent and vicious than anything before.
To act forever.
Lord Dantalion would die and vanish, and she would take his place.
To conceal the death of the one she loved.
Forever.
"Oh, no. My Lord. I can't do it…"
"Ivar."
"I can't. My Lord, please don't cast the girl into hell. I can't. How could I possibly do such a thing… how could I ever be capable of that."
Ivar Lodbrok abandoned her pride.
The beautiful golden-haired vampire embraced Dantalion. Rather than embracing, it might be more accurate to say she collapsed against him. Her slender arms clung to Dantalion, her forearms trembling like aspens buffeted by the wind.
"I can't. It's impossible. Absolutely, utterly impossible…"
"You ruled the greatest trading company in the Demon Realm. No one has spent as long dealing with Demon Lords as you. Marbas's schemes, Gamigin's plots—none of them could so much as scratch you. Ivar. This is something only you can do."
"…You're lying!"
Ivar raised her head and looked up at Dantalion.
Her violet eyes were clouded with tears. Yet the fury and pleading streaming from those eyes refused to fade—if anything, they intensified. Their faces were so close she could feel the faint tremor of each other's breath.
"You told me I no longer had to act as Ivar Lodbrok! That I didn't need to live as a puppet anymore, that I could live as just a girl, as I truly am!"
"…."
"You're the one who made me like this! I—affection, things like that—I threw them away long ago. I swore I'd never lean on anyone ever again, but then you appeared… and you made me throw away my revenge against the Demon Lords too… Ahh…!"
"Ivar."
"…!"
When Dantalion reached out to stroke her head, Ivar firmly knocked his hand away.
She tore open her own clothing. The front panel of her maid's uniform ripped away, exposing her undergarments. Ivar shredded even those with her own hands. The scraps of fabric drifted slowly through the air.
"My Lord… look."
There stood the girl's snow-white naked body.
Pale moonlight dyed her skin. Ivar took Dantalion's right hand and pressed it against her chest.
"You made me into this. This wasn't my body. Living forever as an eternally young child, a vampire scorned by all—that was not me. I was Ivar Lodbrok. Ruler of the great Kunkuska, avenger of the Demon Lords. You knew that, didn't you? I was precisely that person."
Ivar's grip tightened.
"I was never, ever, this insignificant little girl!"
"…."
"You brought me low!"
Ivar Lodbrok screamed.
"The ruler of Kunkuska, the lord of Niflheim, the puppet master behind the Demon Lords… every single thing I possessed, every shred of my identity—you tore it all away from me. You promised you would carry it all yourself, said it wasn't my true self… I thought all I had to do from now on was exist as just one girl…"
"…."
"Then why—why now?!"
There, Ivar could say nothing more.
In a world where Dantalion was dead and gone, she alone would remain.
The moment that image flickered through her mind, Ivar could not form a single word, a single sentence. And it wasn't merely remaining. She had to pretend Dantalion was not dead.
She had to force herself to smile, even though Dantalion could never smile again.
Even though Dantalion could never speak again, she would have to mimic his voice, his expression, every last nuance—and live on ceaselessly laughing, chattering, whispering.
Ivar bit down hard on her teeth.
"…What about someone besides me? When you die, my Lord—who else will know? Laura? Does the Minister of Military Affairs know? Gamigin, everyone who loves you—what happens to them all?"
Dantalion was silent.
"It's just me, isn't it."
Ivar let out a hollow laugh.
Like the joints of a broken doll creaking.
"So you're asking me—to catch, to hold, to smile for the lovers who come rushing to you not knowing you're dead… You want me to take care of them as well?"
"…."
"How can you be so cruel?"
Ivar Lodbrok wept.
"If this is how it is, I should never have loved you. I should never have picked up this girl's life again. That would have been far, far better… My Lord… my Lord… I was wrong. I'm sorry. I truly, truly never thought your adopted daughter would be innocent… I was wrong about everything…"
Ivar pressed both hands desperately against Dantalion's chest.
Her body had no strength left—her hands no exception. She tried to grip Dantalion's clothes, but her fingers kept slipping. She reached out her fingers once more, and once again they slid away. In the end, she could only bury herself entirely against Dantalion.
Between Ivar's face and Dantalion's chest, in that narrow gap, a muffled, crushed voice leaked out.
"Please… let me die with you…"
"…."
"Don't leave me to wander through the ruins of what's already collapsed. My Lord, please…"
Then.
Dantalion pressed his lips to Ivar's.
'Ah.'
Ivar wanted to resist, but it was impossible. She had no strength to push him away. Far less strength to escape from him. Just as on the day Dantalion had first taken her lips, Ivar was nothing more than a powerless girl.
'It's impossible.'
Ivar closed her eyes. The tears pooled at her lashes could no longer bear their own weight and spilled over. Just as tears were subject to gravity, Ivar Lodbrok sensed something pressing on her heart that she could never refuse.
'In the end, no matter what… I can only do as Lord Dantalion says…'
She was cursed.
Perhaps, on the very first day she had yielded her body to Dantalion, Ivar Lodbrok had already sensed this would come to pass. She had shed tears then too. They were the tears of one surrendering to defeat—and at the same time, a curse upon the fact that she herself was 'glad' of that defeat.
She had lived by one conviction alone: to kill every Demon Lord.
Now she had to live as one herself.
"…."
Sin.
Responsibility.
With just those two words, Ivar's heart ached beyond endurance.
The kiss—catastrophic as it was—ended. Dantalion drew Ivar into his arms. He lowered his head to her shoulder and whispered softly.
"Ivar. You may refuse."
"If I refuse…"
What would happen—there was no need to ask. Dantalion understood everything and answered for her.
"I will prepare a way for you to die without any pain."
Ivar wanted to nod. She wanted to beg him for it right then and there. But Dantalion's answer covered only half the question at best. It was the remaining half that Ivar feared most of all as she spoke.
"Lord Dantalion will—"
"It's fine. I will handle everything myself."
"…."
An answer that hit precisely the mark.
Ivar Lodbrok was seized by a heart-rending agony. If she chose a painless death here—if she chose to flee from her own wrongdoing—Dantalion would not acknowledge her in any sense whatsoever.
He would let her go, gently but coldly.
Only those who accepted the responsibility given to them were worthy of remaining at Dantalion's side. Ivar Lodbrok had known this for a long time, but she had never imagined a case like this—where, if she chose to accept that responsibility, she would have to live forever in a world without Dantalion.
"There. You see?"
Ivar smiled.
She was crying.
"It's cruel after all, isn't it…"
Dantalion knew what her smile meant. He had nothing to say in return, and so he simply held Ivar a little more tightly.
His rough palm stroked the back of her head. She had always loved it when Dantalion combed her hair. It had always delivered the peace she could never find on her own, the rest she had so desperately craved. And Ivar once again recognized the truth: she would be living forever in a time where she could never be at peace…
The moon slipped behind the clouds.
Darkness—so familiar to her as a vampire—settled over the room.
Ivar whispered softly.
"Tell me, my Lord."
What she needed to do.
Ivar Lodbrok received every detail of Dantalion's plan. His script was harsher than she had imagined. It was now certain that Ivar would never meet Dantalion again.
But Ivar Lodbrok nodded.
Solely for Dantalion's sake.
Right after Dantalion perished together with Daisy.
Ivar threw herself into the chaotic crater. Daisy's mana and Dantalion's mana had intertwined, carving an enormous pit in the earth. The ground was split open, dust rising into the air—and into that chaos, Ivar ran.
"…."
There, as though they had merely fallen asleep, Dantalion and Daisy lay nestled together.
Daisy had buried her face deep against Dantalion, and Dantalion held her hand. Both wore expressions of infinite peace. Had this been any bed or the middle of some open field, Ivar would have quietly draped a blanket over them so they would not wake.
"…."
But both were dead.
Ivar hoisted Dantalion's body onto her shoulders. Tears threatened to spill, but she held them back desperately. There was no time to waste here. Ivar clenched her teeth and climbed out of the crater.
The royal guard approached her.
"The Lord is unharmed. He has merely lost consciousness. Please clear a way—we must bring him to the tent at once."
"Yes."
"And… please keep safe the body of the girl inside the crater."
The bodies of traitors were to be dismembered and displayed on spikes.
But the moment Ivar heard Dantalion's plan, she had prepared a doll identical to Daisy—right down to the last detail. The doll was nearly complete; all that remained was a final check to ensure it matched the body perfectly. Daisy's body would be quietly and respectfully preserved, known to no one.
That was the only atonement Ivar could offer her.
'Hurry.'
Before anyone could see, the deed had to be done. Ivar entered the tent and hid Dantalion's body beneath the bed. In its place, she retrieved the Dantalion doll she had already positioned there and laid it on the bed as though he had simply collapsed unconscious.
"…."
Having hidden Dantalion's body beneath the bed, Ivar could endure no longer and sank to her knees. She clung to the edge of the bed and wept. This was where it all began. From now on, every catastrophe would unfold…
She sensed a presence behind her.
Ivar spun around immediately. Laura de Farnese, the Minister of Military Affairs, stood there with a worried expression. Ivar hastily pulled out a handkerchief and wiped her face.
'She saw me crying!'
As Ivar started to rise and bow, Laura gestured for her to stop. That gesture told Ivar the other had noticed nothing, and she felt relief wash over her. Thank goodness. Truly, thank goodness…
But what was there to be thankful about?
"How fares the Lord?"
At Laura's question, Ivar opened her lips.
Cursing herself that this was the only answer she could give.
"Yes. He is well."