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{3rd Pov}
What did it really mean to fall in love?
What did it truly mean to go crazy over someone?
What did it mean to be so deeply, overwhelmingly in love with another person that you could not stop thinking about them, no matter what you were doing?
Crusch Karsten had always dismissed such ideas.
She never believed in the concept of love at first sight, and she certainly did not believe that a person could lose themselves so completely over another.
To her, love had always been something slow, built over time, a matter of respect, trust, and companionship rather than reckless feelings.
At least, that was what she used to think.
But now—right now—she was beginning to understand differently.
For the very first time in her life, she was experiencing something new, something strange and almost uncomfortable: the hollow, empty ache that came when the person you loved was not by your side.
She had never truly felt this way before.
When it came to Fourier, she would openly admit that while she held him dear, he had been more of a brother, a best friend, and someone who had played an important role in shaping her values and personality.
His death had filled her with grief, with righteous anger, and with the pain of losing a companion who had always been there.
But it was not the same.
Not even close.
Because no one—not Fourier, not anyone else—had ever made her feel like this.
No one else had ever stirred this confusing yet undeniable mixture of longing, nervousness, and excitement in her.
For the first time, she was feeling those so-called butterflies people always spoke of.
And the thought of him—her hero, the man she admired more than anyone, the one she wanted not only by her side but also as her husband—brought them out every single time.
Crusch let out a long sigh as she closed the book she had been reading.
She set it down carefully on the table beside her, her mind still caught up in the thoughts and feelings that refused to leave her alone.
The title of the book she was holding read, "How to Court a Man."
In truth, this was not the only book she had purchased.
Crusch had gathered several such guides, all of which were aimed at teaching her how to bring out what people called her "feminine side."
She had gone out of her way to collect them, and now they were scattered all over her room.
On her bed alone, there were at least three lying openly: one titled "How to Be a Reliable Wife," another called "How a Kararagian Wife Should Behave in Front of Her Husband," and perhaps the most embarrassing of them all, "How to Please Your Man: Vollachian Style."
Just glancing at them lined up side by side was enough to make her face heat up.
Yes, she had bought a whole collection of books like this, each more awkward to admit than the last.
And the reason was obvious.
After the battle in Priestella, after everything that had happened there, she had started reading them obsessively.
She had only one goal in mind: to learn how to court the person she had fallen head over heels in love with.
His real name? That remained a mystery to her.
All she knew was the name he had given her—"Zero."
That was the name of the man who had appeared in her darkest hour, the one who had saved her from a nightmare she thought she would never escape.
Just recalling the moment when he held her in his arms made her cheeks burn red.
The memory of his embrace, the warmth of his body, the strength in the way he held her—it was enough to make her feel embarrassed even when she was alone.
For Crusch, that embrace had been more than just comforting.
It had been overwhelming in its own way, filling her with a deep sense of safety and relief.
In his arms, she had felt completely protected, as though all her worries, fears, and burdens could simply melt away.
"Indeed… these books are right," Crusch muttered to herself, her gaze wandering back to the pile of guides stacked near her.
She had been skeptical at first, but reading them had taught her things that she could not ignore.
The very first lesson repeated in almost every one of them was simple: when you are truly in love with someone, you will feel an uncontrollable, powerful desire to always be near them.
And wasn't that exactly what she felt?
Wasn't that why she couldn't go a single hour without thinking about Zero?
Because of this, her trust in the books had only grown stronger the more she read.
Another teaching stood out clearly: a woman was expected to be devoted and loyal to her husband.
She was supposed to obey his wishes, follow his guidance, and dedicate herself to serving him faithfully.
That was what every author repeated, again and again.
(A/N: Seriously, what kind of ridiculous books is she even reading? XD)
According to them, she was even expected to be submissive before her husband.
"Submissive, huh?" she whispered, a smile tugging at her lips.
The thought alone made her face flush with color, her expression softening as a faint blush spread across her cheeks, making her appearance strangely charming and desirable.
Normally, Crusch was never the type of woman to submit to anyone.
She had always been the leader, the one giving orders, the one standing tall at the front.
Her military expertise and leadership skills were proof of that, and her nature itself was more masculine, more commanding than delicate.
That was the person she had always been, and she had been proud of it.
But when it came to the man she loved, everything changed.
Just the thought of lowering herself, of being submissive before him, of receiving his praise and affection for it—it stirred something inside her that she could not quite describe. It was not weakness.
It was not fear. It was something new, something that excited her.
(A/N: Kinky)
For the first time in her entire life, she even found herself having dreams that left her embarrassed when she woke.
Wet dreams—fantasies where she devoted herself entirely to Zero, where she served him with complete obedience and loyalty, acting out the role of a good wife in every way she could imagine.
And rather than disgust her, those dreams only made her feelings for him stronger.
Embarrassingly enough, she had even ended up wetting the bed.
If not for the book "The Art of Sex" that she had carefully read beforehand, she might have panicked and thought she had done something childish and shameful, something only a little girl would do.
But thanks to her reading, she understood what it actually meant.
She understood that this was simply proof of how deeply, how irrationally, and how uncontrollably crazy she had become for that one person—her man, the one she desired above all else.
"Oh, Zero…" she whispered under her breath, her tone overflowing with affection, longing, and even a hint of obsession.
She wanted him.
She wanted to see him again.
She wanted to meet him face-to-face, to embrace him, to breathe in his scent, to feel the warmth of his presence beside her.
She wanted to stay by his side always, without end.
More than that, she wanted to be his wife, the one who would share her life with him.
She wanted to carry his children, to raise a family with him, to love him in every way a woman could love a man.
But reality was never so kind. Reality was cruel.
Her green eyes dimmed as her thoughts spiraled, and the weight of absence pressed against her chest.
The man she loved—the man who had saved her—was nowhere to be found.
He was missing, and she had no way to reach him.
Perhaps he had already decided that she was not worth the effort.
Perhaps, in his mind, she was not even worthy of meeting again.
She bit her lip as those doubts crept into her heart.
And honestly, if that was his reasoning, she would not blame him.
She would even understand.
Because who in their right mind would want a woman like her?
Who would truly want someone so masculine in demeanor, someone who carried herself in ways many men found intimidating, someone who was seen as arrogant and proud?
What kind of man would willingly take as his wife a woman who had already failed so spectacularly—who had been utterly crushed and humiliated when fighting against the White Whale?
Even after that disgraceful defeat, her pride had not vanished.
Her arrogance had not been erased.
No, instead she had continued to act like she was strong, like she was still untouchable.
So when the Sin Archbishops attacked, instead of retreating like a more sensible person, she had dared to face them head-on.
She had told herself they were no big deal, that she could handle them just as she had handled countless other enemies in the past.
"Handle them?" she muttered bitterly, a mocking sneer forming on her lips.
The words tasted like ash, filled with disgust at her own reckless overconfidence.
Despite knowing nothing—absolutely nothing—about the Archbishops, despite lacking any true preparation, she had thrown herself into danger anyway.
She had done so only because she believed too much in her own ability, because her pride had blinded her, because she had convinced herself that her prowess alone was enough.
And in the end, that arrogance had cost her dearly.
The result of her arrogance and overconfidence?
She had ended up reduced to nothing more than a toy, a helpless victim of circumstances, and even worse, the person she had trusted with all her heart—the very person she had believed in the most—had suffered a complete mental breakdown and turned against her in the cruelest way imaginable.
Instead of standing with her, he had tortured her.
Even now, she could still remember it vividly, the image burned into her mind with a clarity that made her stomach twist.
The mad, deranged expression on Felix's face as he lost himself completely.
His trembling hands clutching the blade, his voice breaking with emotion, and then the repeated stabs—again and again, over and over—piercing her flesh, hurting her, abusing her, as if she were nothing but a stranger.
All because he could not accept the reality in front of him.
He could not believe that the battered, scarred, and transformed woman before him was truly Crusch Karsten.
To him, she looked like some ugly, unrecognizable thing.
And the cruelest part of it all?
The Sin Archbishop of Lust had not even needed to unleash some complicated spell or strange ability on him.
There had been no brainwashing, no magical possession, nothing of the sort.
Lust had only spoken words, carefully chosen and cruelly delivered, and that had been enough to twist Felix's fragile state of mind.
The pain Crusch had felt in those moments was not only physical.
In fact, the wounds on her body were nothing compared to the wounds in her heart.
It tore at her to see the person she trusted so deeply, the person she had practically considered a younger sibling, someone she had cared for since his childhood, end up like that.
She had guided him, supported him, given him encouragement when he needed it most, and yet in the end, he had turned his blade against her.
She did understand, at least on some level, that it was not entirely Felix's fault.
He was already deeply traumatized from his past, burdened with scars that had never fully healed.
She knew that his breakdown was the result of years of accumulated pain finally being exploited by an enemy who knew exactly what to say.
But even with that understanding, it did not erase her disappointment.
It did not lessen the ache in her chest.
Because no matter how much she rationalized it, in her heart she had expected him to stand beside her when everything was falling apart.
She had expected him to support her in her worst moment, not to become another enemy who made that moment even worse.
She let out a long sigh, the weight of those memories pressing on her.
For now, Felix was under house arrest, monitored closely and officially watched due to what was described as "poor mental health." At least, that was the explanation she had given to others, the official line she used to protect him from harsher punishment.
But when the truth of what had happened leaked out—when people found out that Felix, the skilled healer who had been known as her close companion, had broken down and tortured her—it became nothing short of a nightmare for the Blue.
Whispers spread quickly, and the situation grew tense within her camp.
Many of the soldiers and knights under her command already carried a deep prejudice against demi-humans.
The only reason they had tolerated Felix up until now was because of his undeniable usefulness: his extraordinary healing magic, his numerous contributions on the battlefield, and above all, his closeness to Crusch herself.
He had been accepted, but reluctantly, and mostly because rejecting him would mean rejecting her.
Now, however, with his actions exposed, their distrust only grew stronger.
Now that the full reality of Felix's actions had come to light, it was clear to everyone that he had disgraced not only himself but also the Royal Knights as a whole.
By committing such a cowardly, shameful, and disgusting act, and by turning his blade against Crusch in such a brutal way, he had effectively tarnished the very honor of the order.
Under normal circumstances, the punishment for such a betrayal would have been swift and merciless.
He would have been stripped of his title as a Knight without hesitation and then sentenced to prison, where he would likely have spent years locked away, if not the rest of his life.
Although Crusch could not find it in herself to forgive Felix for what he had done, she could not deny the truth either: he was still her close companion, one of the people she had trusted for years.
He had been by her side through countless hardships, and despite everything, she could not bring herself to simply let him be thrown into a cell like a criminal.
Out of consideration for their bond, and with the excuse of his unstable mental condition, she had managed to arrange a lighter sentence. Instead of rotting away in prison, Felix had been placed under strict house arrest.
It was not mercy exactly, nor was it forgiveness.
It was simply the best compromise she could manage.
At worst, his punishment would be the loss of his rank and his title as a Knight, but at least this way he would avoid the fate of imprisonment.
It was the most she could do for him, even if part of her still seethed with betrayal whenever she thought about what had happened.
Her thoughts were interrupted when a knock echoed at her door.
She turned toward it, adjusting her posture slightly as her mind shifted away from Felix.
"It is me, Wilhelm, Lady Crusch," came the voice from the other side.
The voice was aged, steady, and dignified, though the years it carried were obvious.
Recognizing him instantly, Crusch allowed herself a faint smile before replying.
"You may enter."
The door creaked open, and stepping inside was the familiar figure of Wilhelm van Astrea.
He was dressed as always in his butler's uniform, every detail neat and proper, his posture perfectly upright despite his age.
His silver hair and the countless lines on his face betrayed the long years he had lived, yet he still carried himself with the dignity and strength of the man known as the "Sword Demon."
To anyone else, his presence alone would have commanded respect.
To Crusch, it was also a source of reassurance.
"Lady Crusch," Wilhelm said with a bow. "The meeting you called for is about to begin. The three Royal Candidates have already arrived… along with their knights."
There was the faintest strain in his voice as he spoke the word "knights," as if the mere mention of it left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Crusch studied him for a moment, her expression thoughtful.
Then, her lips curved into a small, knowing smile. "Did you meet her? Has she forgiven you yet?" she asked, her tone calm but carrying a weight that showed she already suspected the answer.
Wilhelm lowered his head slightly, his features tightening with regret.
"No," he admitted quietly.
"I was not able to face her. After the last argument we had… I could not bring myself to meet her eyes. I am ashamed to say it, but this is all my fault."
Crusch said nothing at first. She knew exactly what he was referring to.
Just as the so-called Witch Hunter had managed to resurrect Wilhelm in Crusch's camp and Ricardo in Anastasia's camp, he had also brought back Theresia van Astrea, who had chosen to side with Emilia's camp after her return.
At present, the Emilia camp held the strongest position in the ongoing Royal Selection. Out of all the candidates, their chances of victory were the highest.
In fact, if not for the heavy stigma Emilia bore—the stigma of being a silver-haired half-elf whose appearance alone reminded people of the Witch of Envy—she likely would have already secured her crown.
But that detail, significant as it was, ultimately did not matter as much as it seemed.
Because in truth, the scales of the Royal Selection no longer depended on speeches, armies, or political maneuvering.
Everything now balanced on a single factor, a single person whose influence was undeniable.
That person was Zero, the Witch Hunter.
The mysterious man who had liberated Priestella, who had saved not one but three of the royal candidates from death, and who had apparently slain five Sin Archbishops with his own hands.
More than that, he was also the one who had achieved the impossible by resurrecting Wilhelm, Theresia, and Ricardo—returning them from the grasp of death itself.
His actions had changed everything, reshaping the balance of power across the kingdom.
Now, after Wilhelm, Heinkel, and Reinhardt who had returned from his long journey beyond the Great Waterfall, they each received the shocking news of Theresia's revival.
Naturally, their reactions were varied, shaped by their different relationships and past experiences with her.
Wilhelm, who had carried the weight of her death for so many years, was overcome with joy at the thought of seeing his wife again.
Reinhardt, who had lived with the burden of guilt for his entire life, was equally overjoyed but in a way that bordered on desperation.
Heinkel, however, stood apart. Even after witnessing his own father Wilhelm's resurrection with his own eyes, he refused to believe the news.
His stubborn denial remained unshaken until the very last moment.
And yet, despite his doubts, he begrudgingly accompanied Wilhelm and Reinhardt to see her for himself.
At first, what awaited them was exactly what they had dreamed of: a sweet, emotional family reunion.
Wilhelm embraced her, tears in his eyes.
Reinhardt stood frozen in awe, unable to believe his grandmother was really there in the flesh.
Even Heinkel, though reluctant, could not completely hide the shock and turmoil on his face when confronted with the undeniable truth.
But the warmth of reunion did not last long.
The moment Reinhardt dropped to his knees and began to beg Theresia for forgiveness—his voice trembling, his words desperate—Theresia quickly realized something was wrong.
The atmosphere shifted. It was not just a joyful reunion.
It was something far more complicated, something darker.
Later, when Theresia finally learned the full truth—how Wilhelm had neglected their family in her absence, how he had gone so far as to curse their grandson Reinhardt, burdening him with the belief that he was somehow responsible for her death—her fury knew no limits.
To make matters worse, she discovered how Heinkel had followed his father's example, adding fuel to Reinhardt's suffering by not only blaming him but also lashing out physically and verbally, hitting him, shouting at him, and eventually degrading himself into a useless wastrel.
Theresia's anger boiled over instantly.
Without hesitation, she demanded a proper explanation from them both, her voice sharp and filled with rage.
When Wilhelm tried to excuse his behavior, she slapped him across the face with such force that the sound echoed through the room, leaving him stunned.
But she did not stop there.
Turning her attention to Heinkel, she grabbed him on the spot.
In front of everyone present, she dragged him down and began smacking his buttocks repeatedly until the blows turned him red and raw.
(A/N: *SMACK* *SMACK* That is how Asian parents discipline their children!)
The scene was both humiliating and terrifying.
Heinkel wailed, screamed, and begged as she struck him again and again, his buttocks swelling and bruising under the relentless punishment.
His cries filled the hall, echoing so loudly that even those who wanted to look away could not ignore what was happening.
Theresia only stopped once she felt satisfied that he had at least been forced into some form of sobriety.
Afterwards, she shouted at Wilhelm and Heinkel both, forbidding them from speaking to her. Reinhardt, however, she spared entirely.
Instead of punishing him, she pulled him close, offering comfort and consolation to the grandson who had suffered the most under the weight of their cruelty.
Wilhelm was left deeply ashamed by the scene.
Humiliated by the slap and overwhelmed by guilt, he did not dare approach Theresia again, keeping his distance from her ever since.
Heinkel, on the other hand, not only carried the shame but also the physical pain.
Crusch later recalled hearing reports of his muffled cries at night, as he struggled to sleep or even sit in a chair because of his swollen, bruised buttocks.
The memory of his pitiful groans was enough to make her shudder in sympathy, though she could not deny he had brought it upon himself.
Clearing her throat, Crusch tried to address the matter delicately when speaking with Wilhelm.
"Cough… Wilhelm, she will definitely be present at the meeting. Avoiding her forever is not a solution. Why don't you try to ask for her forgiveness again? And, to make it more effective, you should also seek the forgiveness of both your son and your grandson first. If you reconcile with them, Theresia might be more willing to forgive you."
Wilhelm's eyes lit up with hope as he considered her words.
"Indeed… you are right. If I humble myself and first seek forgiveness from Heinkel and Reinhardt, then Theresia may truly be willing to forgive me. And with the upcoming meeting where all the Royal Candidates will be accompanied by their knights, it means all of them will be present in one place. It is a perfect opportunity."
Thanking Crusch sincerely for her advice, Wilhelm excused himself and quickly departed, determined to act upon her suggestion.
Once he was gone, Crusch sighed softly, turned the lock on her door, and began preparing herself to change clothes for the important meeting ahead.
To be continued...
(A/N: The next chap will be last of this timeline)
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