In the deep forests of the Snowvelvet Duchy, a middle-aged man covered in blood trudged forward with a little girl on his back.
He didn't know where he was heading, nor why he was even here. He was simply following instinct, walking toward a direction that felt right.
He knew he didn't have much time left. He had to find someone — someone he could entrust his daughter to.
He couldn't even remember who that person was anymore… only that if he kept walking this way, he would eventually meet them.
"Papa… does it hurt?"
The little girl on his back gently touched the wounds across his back.
She didn't understand why, but she knew she should feel sad right now. Yet deep inside, she felt nothing — not sorrow, not fear, not even concern.
Even though the man carrying her was her only family.
Even though he had walked for an entire day and night, bleeding and exhausted, just to keep her safe from the sharp branches along the path.
It was as if she had no human emotions at all.
And that terrified her — terrified that her strangeness would make her father sad.
"Don't worry, Zephyra."
The man's voice was calm, steady. "For a knight, wounds are not shackles of pain — they are medals of honor. Each scar represents courage and glory."
"But… Zephyra doesn't understand," the girl murmured. "Why must Father fight for something as vague as glory?"
"One day you will understand," he said softly. "A knight's glory lies in protection — of your family, your friends, and the beautiful things in your life. Someday, you'll find something worth protecting. And when you do, remember — beauty always attracts envy. That's why glory is the proof that we protected what was beautiful."
Zephyra lowered her head and said nothing. She couldn't understand his words.
Without feelings of her own, she didn't even know what "beautiful things" were.
Seeing her silent, Roland only sighed quietly.
He had long noticed the strange emptiness in his daughter's eyes — and it worried him more than his wounds ever could.
He wished he had more time. Time to guide her, to train her, to help her grow into a true knight.
But deep down, he knew… his time was running out.
Then, in the distance, a radiant vision rose above the horizon — a massive silhouette bathed in holy light, wings spread wide.
Even from miles away, Roland could feel the warmth of the divine glow.
"An angel…" he whispered, awe softening his voice. "So the legends were true."
He stood still for a long time, staring at the vanishing light. Then he turned — and changed his direction.
He would find that angel.
Something told him that only those closest to the Lord of Light could cure whatever afflicted his daughter's soul.
Inside the study of Heim Castle, Vivian sat on the sofa, still overwhelmed by the fact that she had just become an angel.
Her emotions were tangled — confusion, disbelief, and a quiet realization that somehow, this had everything to do with Hel.
"Don't worry," Hel said from across the room, adjusting something on her alchemy table. "I've completely stripped away your witch bloodline. You're now a pure angel. Even if the Lord of Light Himself descended, He wouldn't notice anything wrong."
As she spoke, she carefully etched another rune into a grain-sized chip on the workbench, the faint glow reflecting in her eyes.
"You'll probably be busy soon," she added casually. "That light show you caused will have every Church official scrambling. They'll take you away — no doubt about it."
"Lord Hel…" Viviane began softly.
"There's no need to worry," Hel said, glancing up with a smile. "They won't harm you. To them, you're a treasure — a living miracle. You know what a genuine angel means to the Church, don't you?"
Vivian nodded.
It had been centuries since an angel last descended upon the human world — and even longer since anyone awakened angelic blood.
Every recorded instance in history had risen to become a high-ranking figure within the Church — some even studied in the Holy See itself.
"But… if I leave, what will happen to you?"
"Are you… worrying about me?"
Hel laughed softly and set down her tools. She walked over, and without hesitation, pulled Vivian into a gentle embrace, letting the girl's head rest against her chest.
"All things come to an end, Vivian," she murmured. "You have a bright future ahead of you — a far greater one than this little territory could ever offer. You don't need to stay here for my sake."
"But…"
Vivian's trembling hands clutched at Hel's back. She didn't understand the confusing emotions twisting inside her anymore.
At first, what she felt toward Hel was only respect.
After Hel decisively crushed the beastmen's invasion, she had even felt fear.
But that long night of conversation changed everything — she began to see Hel as a mentor, even an ideal to follow, someone she could believe in.
Yet, after all that had happened — after life, death, and the touch of divine light — when she opened her eyes and saw Hel's arms reaching toward her…
Her feelings had become far more complicated.
"I don't want to leave," she whispered. "I want to stay. I want to see the peaceful world you dream of. I want to help you build it. I…"
Her voice trailed off. She couldn't say the final words lingering in her heart.
"Don't worry," Hel said gently, lifting her chin and meeting her eyes. "This separation won't be forever. It's just for the sake of safety — yours and Heim's. I swear to you, one day I'll come find you."
"…It's a promise."
Vivian hugged her again, just briefly this time — a soft, fleeting gesture.
"To keep you safe," Hel continued, "I want to implant this into your body."
She picked up the tiny alchemical chip and held it out for Vivian to see, explaining its purpose in detail.
Vivian listened quietly and nodded without hesitation. She agreed to the implantation without fear.
When everything was done and Hel was cleaning up the surgical tools, Hel's assistant — the automaton girl Niv — stepped forward and approached Vivian.
"Nice to meet you, Miss Vivian," she said with a graceful smile. "I'm Niv — the doll my master created."
"H-hello…"
Vivian froze for a moment, staring at the girl who looked almost identical to Hel herself. She didn't know how to react.
Seeing her shy awkwardness, the doll giggled softly and leaned close to whisper in her ear.
"You're about to leave… are you really going to go without doing anything?"
"Eh?"
"Same ideals, saved by your hero, and you're a young maiden in her first bloom — don't tell me you don't have any feelings for the person who rescued you?"
"I…"
"If you like her, be brave," Niv said softly. "I believe my master likes you too."
"But… Miss Niv, you—"
Viviane hesitated. She could clearly see the deep attachment the automaton had for her creator. As a devout cleric, the thought of coming between them made her feel unbearably guilty.
But the doll just smiled. Being an artificial being, she didn't seem to mind such things at all.
After a long moment of gentle persuasion, Vivian finally gathered her courage.
She walked over to Hel, who was still arranging the tools on her workbench.
Before Hel could ask what was wrong, Vivian stepped forward, threw her arms around her — and softly pressed a kiss to her forehead.
Then, red-faced and flustered, she turned and ran out of the room without saying another word.