Sunlight spilled through the window, warmth curling in like fine grains of light, awakening the world as dawn's glow burned slowly beyond the horizon.0

— Deculein.0

In the pale dawn glow, Iggyris’s voice faded into silence, and Deculein responded with a subtle bow, as if marking that everything from here on was his to shoulder. Without a word, Deculein stepped into the corridor, Yulie in his arms, and stood by the window, watching the rising dawn—the pale light of morning spreading across the Empire.0

“… Professor,” Yulie said, her fingers fidgeting behind her back. “Professor…”0

No further words came. Yulie’s chest constricted, her heart straining as if it might fracture, and her legs threatened to give way. But, she held her ground, because a knight never crumbles.2

“… I.”0

Yulie looked up at Deculein—the man who held her in his arms, lost in thought. Now that she understood him at last, too late, her heart ached, suffocating as if she were drowning. Her thoughts knotted together so tightly that it felt like they might snap, her breath catching short, her chest tight and heavy under the crushing confusion.0

“I…”0

Words, questions—too many to name—swirled in Yulie’s mind, but each long, trembling sentence broke down, fragmenting before it could rise. All that remained was a single word—simple to the point of childishness, heartbreakingly insufficient, nowhere near enough to express what she felt.0

“… I am sorry.”2

Deculein gave no response, not a single muscle betraying even the slightest twitch on his face.0

In contrast, Yulie’s shoulders dropped as she looked down, weighed down by the weight of her own disappointment.0

Is it because the apology came...0