Find the One Who Abandoned Me - Chapter 104

“I’m right here. Not in your memories.”

“You are the one I love. You cared for me. You gave me everything—”

“That man… doesn’t exist.”

Isaac’s pale eyes gleamed in the shadows. His twisted lips pulled back, revealing his teeth like a cornered animal.

“I’m here, Calliope. But the man you’re remembering—he’s not me.”

“No…”

Suddenly, his face looked unfamiliar to her.
He didn’t seem like the man who once liked what she liked, shared her thoughts, walked alongside her in harmony.

He was the same man… and yet now he was screaming that he wasn’t.
That the man in her memories wasn’t him.
And the way he grabbed her arm and raised his voice—she didn’t know this version of him. She had never seen him like this.

He felt like a stranger.
A stranger she was meeting for the first time.
So suddenly.

“Isaac…”

“Yes?”

“Isaac.”

Still holding her by the arm, she turned her head right, then left—like she was searching for something.

Seeing the change in her expression, Isaac frowned deeper and gave her a gentle shake.

“I’m right here, Calliope. Please.”

“Isaac… Isaac…”

Her breathing became unsteady.

“Where did my Isaac go?”

The man she had once been willing to die for…
He had become someone she didn’t recognize.

The man now saying he’d never given her wildflowers…
Saying he had given her nothing…
That man wasn’t the one she knew.

“Isaac!”

She pulled away from him with force and ran—not toward the hall, but toward the corridor. Isaac reached out after her, but all he caught was a brush of her hair across his fingertips.

She was running from him.

Gripping her dress, she fled down the corridor like she was being chased. Isaac instinctively moved to follow her—
But stopped.

“My Isaac… please answer me!”

Because the man she was calling for… wasn’t him.
Her red eyes were staring at something far away.
So far away—
To a world she had left behind.
To the version of him she had once loved.

“Isaac! Please!”

Her dress and hair whipped behind her as she ran.
She didn’t know where she was going—only that she had to get away.

Tears began to fall from her eyes.

Her face was that of a child, lost and desperate.

“My man…”

She whispered, like a breathless prayer.

“My love…”

She had run so far, her lungs were aching.

“Isaac… where did he go…”

Then laughter bubbled out of her lips.
The moonlight in the empty corridor lit her tear-streaked face as she laughed—
Not out of joy, but heartbreak.

And her laughter quickly turned into sobs.
And her sobs turned into screams.

My man is gone.
The one who made me who I am… the man who gave me everything.

He says he isn’t that man.
He says he doesn’t understand me.
He says he didn’t comfort me.
That he wasn’t the one who stayed by my side.
That he’s someone else now.

My man is gone.

No…
I’m the one who made him disappear.

Calliope screamed.

But no one heard.
The grand hall echoed with laughter, music, and voices.
Her cries were drowned out by it all.

She ran like a woman gone mad, stumbling through the corridor—
Crying, laughing, screaming—
Stopping only to bury her face in her hands,
Then running again.

In the moonlight, the hem of her white dress shimmered—
Like a vanishing mirage.

“Aha… ahaha… haha…”

Tears dripped to the ground, one by one.
They looked like invisible drops of blood.

“Aaaaagh!”

A madwoman.

She was a madwoman now.
A foolish girl who lost her Isaac… and threw her life away.
A woman who, even after getting a second chance, was willing to do anything to get him back.
A woman who had gone mad for love—
And had now gone mad because of love.

And now, she realized something unbearable—
In this second life, this miracle she had been given…
She had lost him all over again.

The man she loved was gone.
What stood in front of her was only a shell that looked like him.

She couldn’t deny it anymore.

Out of breath, she leaned against a pillar in the hallway.
Her hands braced on the cold stone, her chest heaving with each breath.
Then, slowly, she collapsed to the floor, knees folding beneath her.

And there she wept.
She cried with the grief of someone who had lost everything.

Then—
someone approached her.

Inside the palace hall, the Saintess entered.

Her long red hair was matched by a red gown, draped with a cream shawl.
Her slender waist turned heads across the ballroom.

“…She’s taller than I expected.”

Someone whispered.

And it was true.
She stood nearly as tall as the Crown Prince beside her—
meaning she had to be at least six feet.

The Saintess smiled gently, clearly used to such reactions.
Without hesitation, she slipped her arm through the Crown Prince’s and walked in with serene elegance.

“Don’t listen to what clueless people say. Let it go in one ear and out the other.”

“Of course. It’s not the first time I’ve heard this kind of talk.”

“Tsk.”

The Crown Prince clicked his tongue, clearly displeased. He didn’t like hearing people say such things about the woman he loved—especially over something so trivial. The Saintess gave him a soft, comforting smile and gently patted his arm. At her touch, the frustration in his expression eased slightly.

The moment the two of them entered, a crowd of nobles flocked to them. Wolfgang, serving as the Saintess’s personal guard, stood silently behind, saying nothing. The Saintess and Crown Prince, meanwhile, put on their most sociable smiles and responded to each greeting, one by one.

They knew that later, when the time was right, an announcement would be made about the Demon King. So for now, they might as well enjoy the moment.

But it didn’t last long.

The Saintess, more used to peace and quiet than noisy crowds, quickly felt drained. Sensing her fatigue, the two men who knew her best led her to the balcony.

“I’ll handle things here. Get some rest,” the Crown Prince said.

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

“I’ll guard the entrance,” Wolfgang added.

“Thank you, Wolfgang.”

And just like that, though barely having entered, the Saintess slipped away to the balcony to catch her breath. Lately, her thoughts had been so tangled, it wasn’t surprising she felt tired so quickly.

Left alone, the Saintess—Clementia—fell deep into thought.
The temple had entrusted this entire mission to her.
Or so they said.
“Entrusted” sounded nice—but in truth, it was more like they just didn’t want to take responsibility.

Lately, strange visions had been tormenting her, giving her headaches. Even now, she was pressing her temples, trying to ease the pain.
And just then—

“…!”

A scream echoed through the corridor.
No—several.
It was close. The cries were wild, shifting from sobbing to laughter and back again.
Alongside the sound came frantic footsteps—heels clattering across the palace floor.

Clementia stood at once and rushed toward the noise. On a day like this, such screaming could only mean something dangerous.

But when she reached the hallway, all she saw was a woman—alone, collapsed on the floor, gasping for air and crying uncontrollably.

Clementia hurried to her side.
Even from a distance, she could hear the woman’s breath coming in ragged sobs.

“Excuse me, are you all, right? What happened?”

She knelt down beside her and gently took the woman’s shoulders to help her sit up.

And then, the woman—dressed all in white, hair and gown alike—lifted her head at the sound of her voice.

Red eyes met green.

Clementia’s eyes widened.

So familiar.
She’d never seen this woman before, and yet…

“You!”

The white-haired woman, Calliope—suddenly burst out laughing. Her face was streaked with tears, and her hand shot out, grabbing Clementia’s shoulders.

“Of course it’s you. Of all people, it’s you who shows up in front of me now!”

Her nails dug into Clementia’s thick shawl.

“You took everything from me! How dare you!”

Her rage was clearly beyond reason.
Clementia, startled, grabbed her wrists to stop her.
Calliope’s hands dropped easily, and even as her wrist was held, she continued struggling, shaking her head.

“You came to take him from me again, didn’t you? But what will you do now?”

Tears streamed endlessly down her face.

“The man I loved… he’s not even there anymore.”

The drops fell freely, soaking the front of her dress.

“He says it wasn’t him. That he doesn’t exist.”

Head bowed, she trembled. Her voice was hoarse—ruined from screaming, sobbing, shouting.

“You took him for that damn Demon King mission… and now you’ve come to take him again…”

Her voice gave out.

Then—suddenly—her body collapsed forward into Clementia’s arms.

Caught off guard, the Saintess barely managed to hold her.

Her eyes widened.

“…How does she know?”

How could she know about the Demon King subjugation?
Even within the Empire, only a select few were aware of it.

Staring down at the unconscious woman in her arms, Clementia’s expression hardened with confusion.

How could she know something that was meant to be secret?

Clementia bit her lip and slowly stood, lifting Calliope in her arms.

As she did, the shawl slipped from her shoulders—revealing the firm muscle of her arms beneath the moonlight.

Clementia. The Saintess of the Empire.

Chosen not only as the Saintess,
But as a warrior selected for the Demon King subjugation.

A defender who would stand on the front lines, shield in hand.

The Legend of the Hero foretold five champions, each described only by a single line:

First — The Saintess.
No interpretation needed. That was Clementia.

Second — The Spear of God.
Though called the Empire’s greatest swordsman, Wolfgang Perta wielded a spear. It was clearly him.

Third — The Brightest Star.
In Imperial symbolism, stars represented magic. This title referred to the Crown Prince, a powerful mage.

Fourth — The Knight of White Eyes.
Still unknown. The last of the known heroes yet to be found.

And then, there was a Fifth Hero, whose title had remained hidden…

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