SALP Chapter 5

Angels didn't seem to exist. No matter how desperately she prayed, wishes weren't granted. Perhaps that was a power only demons possessed—human demons like Derek and Fiarelle, who could crush people while smiling as though it cost them nothing, calling them "low things" and causing them harm.

No matter how much she wished for it, Vigo hadn't returned.

Aunt Louise wouldn't come back to life either.

The lives of those who had barely survived were simply fading away.

If there had truly been a guardian angel for Raphlang, Vigo wouldn't have been taken by the witch in the first place. Raphlang wouldn't have fallen in the first place...

"Sing for me, Princess of Raphlang."

Roas had been destroyed for no reason other than Derek discovering her.

Her world existed nowhere now.

"I'm not... I'm not anything like an angel. I really hate singing..."

She had no desire whatsoever to sing for him.

She had only dreamed of escaping those wicked hands and living as she had before.

She'd wanted to live. Without even understanding what living meant.

So smiling as best she could before Fiarelle—who trained her like a dog and doted on her—was the most she could manage.

Days continued where she smiled on the outside while sinking endlessly on the inside.

The season changed, and the Festival of Ailea approached. It was the day when Penmarkian women bathed in the lake to receive the moon goddess's blessing.

'An angel sleeps in Lake Eründel.'

At dawn in a dream, Lanthe heard the voice of Aunt Louise, whom she missed so much.

'Remember. The angel can see everywhere the snow and rain touch.'

And now before her was a lake that held both snow and rain.

The lake.

"...Angel of Eründel."

She really hated both songs and prayers. But.

'I want to know too. The things Aunt Louise and Vigo knew. The things they felt.'

As a small Raphlishian, at least once while I'm alive in this world...

Kwang! An explosion sounded and the lake water surged up toward her.

The lake water moved of its own accord, reaching out a hand. She couldn't tell whether the being controlling it was an angel or a demon.

But one thing was certain—she had grasped a chance to be freed from the plunderers who had destroyed her world.

Lanthe didn't hesitate long before throwing herself into the arms the lake extended.

When she closed her eyes, a blue forest appeared where white snow drifted down gently. The forest village she had loved. Where Aunt Louise baked delicious bread while scolding, where little Vigo climbed over the fence with cookies hidden in his pockets—that small paradise embraced her warmly.

3. Hermea

"Lanthe! Lanthe!"

Familiar voices called out. But Lanthe walked on without looking back. Don't call me. Don't try to hold me back. If you do, you'll all die like Aunt Louise. If you pretend not to know me, maybe you can live. So don't call me.

She stumbled forward like a doll with cut strings, Fiarelle's cold hand gripping her shoulder.

"Lanthe!"

Then an unfamiliar voice called out.

"Lanthe!"

No. It wasn't unfamiliar.

She turned around.

"Vigo...?"

The boy she'd missed most in the world was there.

Energy surged through her suddenly and she shook off Fiarelle's hand with a jerk.

"Vigo! You came back!"

She shook off the demon's hand trying to grab her from behind and ran to him.

The boy she'd never wanted to lose again. She threw her arms around him as he reached out to her and sobbed.

People laughed and teased Lanthe.

"Really! Vigo came back ages ago and you're saying such strange things."

Embarrassed, Lanthe wiped her tears and laughed sheepishly.

"When did you come back?"

Were you alive? Did you escape from the bad witch?

"I'm so glad. I'm really so glad."

"Don't worry. It's alright now, Lanthe."

Vigo's voice, murmuring low, seemed to carry a gentle smile.

She was so happy it felt like a dream. She couldn't believe she was holding the warm body of her favorite child again.

Could this really be a dream? The boy's grip as he squeezed her tight was strangely strong. Like the hands of a large, powerful adult man.

"Lanthe..."

His voice dropped low and thick. He'd always been a crybaby. Maybe he'd cried every day because he was sad about being separated from her. How much must he have cried for his voice to become so rough and strange? Or maybe he'd suffered because of the witch.

"Can't breathe, Vigo."

He was holding her so tightly her chest was compressed and she felt stifled. But she was so happy Vigo had returned that she buried her face in his broad embrace and rubbed against it.

Buried in the embrace of a boy who had been smaller and only cute, she didn't even notice what was strange.

"Don't go anywhere now, Vigo. Don't go anywhere, just stay and play with me. Okay?"

She repeated the boy's name with an overflowing heart.

The boy nodded silently. Again and again.

"Vigo."

You came back. You came back to me...

Could this be a dream...

"Vigo."

Lanthe's eyes flew open, startled by her own voice ringing clearly in her ears.

Her vision suddenly brightened. The ash and dust that had been drifting hazily cleared away in an instant.

An unfamiliar room.

An unfamiliar girl's face.

"Ah! You're awake, Miss Lanthe?"

Lanthe flinched and swallowed. Without thinking, she pulled the blanket up defensively around herself.

A blanket. A plain, warm blanket. For a moment her heart sank thinking she'd been dragged back to Newbella, but it wasn't the luxurious silk blankets used there.

"I'm so relieved you've come to. The physician said you weren't injured, but you didn't wake up for several days and we were so worried."

The girl exhaled with a bright smile. Lanthe had never seen her before. Was she even ten years old yet?

"Who...?"

Lanthe slowly surveyed her surroundings, trying to understand the situation.

So it was a dream after all. But where is this? It doesn't seem to be the afterlife. It's definitely not heaven or Raphlang either.

The dim interior and the feeling from the cold air were different from Newbella too. And it was very cold. Much colder than Newbella. Perhaps even colder than Roas.

"I'm Nina. I have to go tell the lord you've woken up. You must be hungry, right? I'll bring you a meal right away too. Just wait a moment."

The girl cheerfully poured out words, then ran outside without waiting for Lanthe to answer.

"Wait, just a moment."

Lanthe belatedly called after the girl as she groggily sat up.

It was a strange place. The entrance the girl had just run through didn't even have a door. It was wide open like a cave entrance rather than a room.

Where on earth is this?

She got down from the bed and approached the open entrance.

A quiet corridor stretched out. There was no sign of people. No guards watching either.

Just gray stone walls and floors, shuttered windows spaced sparsely along a corridor that created a rough, bleak feeling. It was completely different from Newbella's palace decorated with fancy silks and lantern ornaments. Candles burned here and there, but overall it was dim.

This isn't Newbella...

Lanthe gazed down the dark corridor, then carefully moved forward. Where did the girl go? What were those noisy voices coming from outside? It sounded like laughter too.

It was when she was turning a dim corner.

"Oof."

Thud—she bumped into something and staggered, freezing without meaning to. She'd realized what she bumped into was the body of a man walking quickly from the other direction.

At the end of her gaze, which she'd dropped in confusion, was the man's waist.

She saw a sword hanging at the man's side.

A knight. A Penmarkian knight. An ethnic group with much larger builds than Raphlishians and rougher temperaments. A violent tribe quick to use force.

"Lanthe...?"

A sword. This man's wearing one too.

She'd been hit. A man with a frame like this. Her mouth had split and bled.

"You alright?"

The man grabbed Lanthe's shoulder firmly.

Lanthe, startled, took a desperate breath. Her vision went white, but she had to pull herself together.

Calm down. This isn't Newbella. Derek and Fiarelle aren't here. That girl earlier was bright and kind to me...

"You're pale."

The man muttered roughly and scooped Lanthe up in his arms.

Before she knew it, she raised her eyes to look up at the man's profile.

Her breath seemed to stop.

Why are you—

Softly curling dark hair, a neat forehead and well-drawn eyebrows, a straight nose bridge, and... violet eyes.

"...Vigo?"

The moment she whispered that name without meaning to, the man's eyes flicked toward her. But immediately they faced forward again as though nothing had happened.

"Vigo... ?"

Lanthe asked again, but neither affirmation nor denial came back. The man just walked on with his mouth firmly shut as though he couldn't hear her.