For the first time since waking in this чужой body, his story was no longer contained within his own breath. The fear, the stubborn hope, the quiet terror that had once lived only in his chest began to leak outward—into corridors, into whispers, into the careful gazes of those who watched him fall and rise again. Nothing inside him had softened; every sensation still cut just as sharply. But the world had started to notice. And as his struggle pressed beyond the limits of his endurance, the narrative pulled back—not to distance itself from him, but to reveal what his silent resolve was already beginning to disturb.
---
[ Morning ]
Morning arrived without mercy, continuing her trial.
Rynvaris lay on the cold stone ground outside the First Princess's villa, her body heavy, limbs slow to respond. The chill seeped through stone and cloth alike, settling deep in her bones.
"Ugh… I really caught it again."
The illness had returned. Heat burned behind her eyes while pain clawed at her throat, turning every breath into an effort.
Clack… clack… clack…
Footsteps approached, sharp against the quiet courtyard.
"Tch."
They stopped beside her.
Layra, the royal physician, came into view, her pace careful, measured—as if afraid a single wrong step might shatter what little strength remained.
"Your Highness, how are you feeling today?"
The words were light, practiced. Worry slipped through anyway.
Rynvaris did not look at her.
"I have a cold," she said. "I won't accept treatment."
Her voice was low, steady. Refusal without hesitation.
Layra froze.
"Your Highness, please. This is dangerous."
Urgency edged into her tone, fear leaking through the cracks.
"Please listen to me. This isn't a joke. You could lose your life."
Her composure finally fractured, panic surfacing despite herself.
Rynvaris slowly raised her gaze toward the villa doors looming above.
"If she won't teach me the sword," she said, "then I'll die anyway. At least this way, I choose."
There was no tremor in her words.
Only acceptance.
The royal physician shifted uneasily, uncertainty written into every movement.
Layra bit her lip, hands tightening at her sides.
"…I'll inform Her Highness."
The words came softly.
They turned and went inside, footsteps retreating, leaving the courtyard to silence once more.
---
[ Sylvaris ]
Time passed slowly. Deliberately. Cruelly.
Layra stood before Sylvaris, hands clenched tight, breath uneven as though she had run the distance rather than walked it.
"She… she refuses treatment, Your Highness," Layra said.
"The physician attempted to help her, but Princess Rynvaris would not allow it. She said she would rather endure the illness than step back."
Sylvaris's eyes narrowed.
"She's sick?"
"Yes. Fever. Chills. It's worsening."
A sharp click of the tongue cut through the room.
"So she's using her own body as leverage."
Her fingers curled, slow and controlled, into fists.
How dare she.
Anger burned beneath the calm mask she wore so easily.
"So that's how far she's willing to go…"
Her gaze drifted toward the window, toward the courtyard beyond stone and glass—toward the small figure refusing to move.
I'll see how long she can endure.
A thin, dangerous smile touched her lips.
Foolish girl.
…But I won't let her die. Not yet.
---
[ Rynvaris Endures ]
Cold wind brushed against her trembling body, slipping through thin cloth and sinking into skin already burning with fever.
Her fingers had gone numb. Her lips were pale, nearly colorless.
"So cold…"
The sound barely escaped her throat.
The chill gnawed past flesh and bone, settling deep in her chest, heavy and relentless.
This body was fragile.
Even a simple illness felt lethal.
Still, she did not move.
Movement would be surrender.
Accepting help would be surrender.
What am I doing…?
The thought surfaced uninvited, sharp despite the haze clouding her mind.
Is this really the only way?
Her vision blurred, but her jaw tightened.
If I step back now… I'll stay weak forever.
Her breathing hitched.
I need to endure.
I have to get stronger.
Even if this body breaks… this is the only path left to me.
The wind howled softly through the courtyard.
And Rynvaris remained where she was—shaking, silent, unyielding.
---
[ Night ]
Darkness swallowed the palace grounds, pressing down until even the lantern light felt thin and distant.
"Night already…"
The words slipped from her lips as her breath turned white in the cold air. Frost gathered with every exhale, her vision blurring at the edges.
Footsteps echoed across the stone.
Layra returned, the royal physician close behind her.
"Your Highness!" Layra rushed forward, panic naked in her eyes.
"Please… just this once. Let us treat you."
The physician lifted a hand, soft light gathering in his palm.
"Your fever is worsening. At this rate—"
"No."
The refusal came out weak, scraped raw by pain—but it did not waver.
"I won't accept it."
"Why?" Layra cried, her voice breaking. "Why are you doing this to yourself?"
Rynvaris's gaze drifted past them, fixing on the closed doors of the First Princess's villa.
"Because if she won't acknowledge me while I'm dying," she said quietly, "then I was never worth teaching in the first place."
Layra's hands began to tremble.
"You'll die!"
"Then at least it will mean something."
Layra bit down on her lip until blood surfaced, her breath shaking.
"…We'll come back."
They turned and left.
Silence reclaimed the courtyard.
---
[ Moon ]
The moon climbed high above the palace, silver light spilling across the courtyard and washing the stone in cold quiet.
Rynvaris lifted her head with effort, her movements slow, deliberate. Pain dragged through her limbs like rusted chains.
Still breathing.
That's enough.
Soft footsteps approached.
A familiar figure broke into a run, breath uneven, cloak fluttering behind her.
"Rynvaris…"
Maid Moon dropped to her knees in front of her, eyes red, hands trembling as they hovered—afraid to touch.
"Please… stop this. You don't need to suffer like this."
A weak laugh slipped from Rynvaris's lips.
"So even you came…"
Of course she did.
She always does this for rayvaris.
"You're hurting yourself for nothing," Moon pleaded, voice cracking.
"This won't make them care. You'll only break yourself."
"I know…" Rynvaris said.
Her gaze sharpened, cutting through the haze.
She thinks this is about them.
It isn't.
It's for me to get stronger.
"Then why do you?" Moon asked.
Rynvaris's eyes did not waver.
"Why do you still care about someone they threw away?" Rynvaris said softly.
Moon froze.
Her lips trembled.
"Because you're not disposable to me."
The words struck deeper than any wound.
Rynvaris turned her face away.
That's exactly why she's dangerous.
To herself.
"You'll only get hurt if you stay near me."
"I don't care," Moon said, desperation spilling into every word.
"Please… just come inside. Let them treat you."
Rynvaris shook her head.
"I don't need pity."
If I accept it…
I lose the ground I'm standing on.
"Rynvaris—"
"Go."
The word landed like a command. Flat. Absolute.
Moon's hands clenched. Tears slid down her cheeks.
Slowly—painfully—she stood.
"I'll be here… when you decide to live."
She turned and left.
Rynvaris remained alone beneath the moonlight.
Her breathing steadied. Controlled. Measured.
Moon…
You truly care.
Her fingers curled weakly against the cold stone.
Which means I have to keep the act.
For both of us.
The silver light offered no answer.
---
[ The Third Day ]
Dawn came.
Another morning—unchanged.
"Still alive…"
The words were barely sound as Rynvaris forced herself upright, her legs shaking beneath her.
She stood before the villa.
No summons.
No rejection.
Only silence—drawn out with deliberate cruelty.
The third day.
She had not slept.
She had not eaten.
Her heart hammered painfully against her ribs, every breath scraping raw through her throat.
Her body had passed beyond exhaustion.
Only her will remained.
"So this is what it feels like," she murmured, "to be ignored by fate…"
A dry, hollow smile touched her lips.
Fine.
If this world refused to acknowledge her—
Then she would force it to.
Her vision swam, darkness pressing at the edges, but her thoughts sharpened instead of fading.
"I only have one card left."
She drew in what little strength remained and acted.
"FIRST PRINCESS!"
The shout tore through the quiet palace grounds.
Whispers erupted. Some turned toward her in shock. Others lowered their heads instinctively.
The name carried weight.
Maids froze mid-step. Guards snapped to attention.
Windows rattled.
"If you don't teach me," she shouted, voice raw but clear, "I'll reveal your secret to everyone!"
The air itself seemed to tighten.
A window flew open.
Sylvaris stood there, gaze locking onto Rynvaris like a blade drawn from its sheath.
"What nonsense are you shouting?" Sylvaris demanded sharply.
Rynvaris staggered forward, swaying, but she did not look away.
"I know what you love," she said. "I know what you hide."
Murmurs spread through the courtyard.
"What is she saying?"
"Does the First Princess have a secret?"
Rynvaris lifted her chin.
"Princess Sylvaris loves—"
She never finished.
Sylvaris moved.
Faster than the guards.
Faster than breath.
A hand clamped over Rynvaris's mouth.
Her eyes widened as the world tilted, darkness swallowing her whole.
Sylvaris caught her before she hit the ground.
"She's light," Sylvaris muttered. "Too light."
Rynvaris's body burned, trembling violently in her arms.
"This idiot… she really pushed herself this far…"
Without hesitation, Sylvaris turned and ran.
"Royal physician!"
---
[ Flashback — Draven ]
Draven's voice surfaced, sharp with mockery.
"Pathetic."
"If you faint… don't be surprised if everyone forgets you exist."
The memory dissolved.
---
[ Aftermath ]
Healing light filled the room, washing over stone and skin alike.
"O great Auriviel, hope of life—heal!"
Warm radiance poured into Rynvaris's body, chasing away the fever that had burned her for days.
Her breathing steadied.
The tremors eased.
But she did not wake.
"Why isn't she waking?" Sylvaris demanded, her voice sharp with restraint.
"She will recover," the physician replied calmly. "Her body has endured too much. She needs rest."
"Layra."
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Take her to a quiet room."
Layra bowed and moved at once. Soon, only silence remained.
"…Tch. Foolish girl."
Sylvaris stood beside the now-empty bed, gaze fixed where Rynvaris had lain.
"She threatened me."
Not pleaded.
Not begged.
Threatened.
"…Annoying."
Her eyes drifted, thoughts turning inward.
"…Why go that far?"
She stared at the vacant space, eyes narrowing slightly.
"She used to be weak," Sylvaris murmured. "But not anymore. Now…"
A small, sharp smile curved her lips.
"…This girl might actually be trouble."