I’ve Decided to Let You Go - Chapter 34

“The priests will bring the holy water soon, won’t they?”

Natasha asked the question without moving her lips much, conscious of the nearby clergy.

Sieghart checked the time and gave her a small nod.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to say.”

He seemed nervous, as if bracing himself for something completely unexpected.

Natasha quietly pulled a pin from the sleeve of her dress and handed it to him with care.

“Before you drink the holy water, use this pin.”

It was small enough to be hidden in the palm of a hand. Sieghart examined the plain metal briefly, then looked back at her. Her lips remained sealed.

Having grown used to her strange requests, Natasha didn’t hesitate to explain.

“It’s just a precaution. There are plenty of people who wouldn’t be happy to see you in this position after surpassing the Imperial family. Someone might try to ruin this day.”

Their red eyes met.

Sieghart was the first to look away. He closed his hand around the pin.

“Thank you for worrying about me.”

His voice was calm, but his body was stiff. It didn’t seem like he was being insincere. Maybe it hadn’t fully sunk in yet, or maybe the possibility of danger caught him off guard.

Natasha was surprised. Normally, Sieghart would question things harshly until he understood every detail. But this time, he accepted her words without a fight.

Even someone who seemed invulnerable must fear death after all.

Soon, the priests approached to announce that the final rite was ready. Natasha stepped onto the platform with him for the last part of the coronation.

Together, they stood under a white veil, which symbolized purity and protection during the sacred ritual of drinking the holy water.

The rare liquid, said to bless one with immortality, was placed into Sieghart’s hands.

In Natasha’s chalice was a specially prepared wine, infused with the prayers of the priests.

When the Pope’s blessing came to an end, the final moment of the ceremony began.

Natasha bowed her head slightly, then glanced sideways. Sieghart blinked slowly three times. It was their signal—everything was safe.

So it really was going to end without incident.

That was surprising. Knowing Kail was likely watching, she hadn’t expected things to go so smoothly. Maybe her interference had altered the future more than she thought.

Whatever the reason, it was a relief. Even if Sieghart had detected poison, the situation would have still been disastrous. Just avoiding catastrophe was not the same as a successful coronation.

But with the ritual going smoothly, it felt like a true blessing.

Natasha returned her eyes to the chalice.

Eternal power. Eternal honor. Eternal beauty. All fleeting in the face of death, but cherished deeply by mankind. She drank while silently praying for all of it.

Her hand trembled.

A sharp sensation surged through her. Her body weakened. Her knees buckled beneath her dress.

But she had felt this pain before.

It was the same as when she had once stolen Sieghart’s chalice and drunk the holy water herself.

Her vision blackened and returned, over and over. The world swayed, and then it vanished into darkness.

Voices filled with panic rang in her ears.

It burned.

It felt like her organs were on fire. She gasped for air, but all that came up was a hot rush of something thick and metallic.

Am I going to die?

Her eyes fluttered open just slightly. In the narrow oval of her blurred vision, a familiar figure appeared.

Sieghart.

He was running toward her with a look of grief deeper than she had ever seen. The sight felt unreal, as if she were watching a mirage.

After what felt like an eternity of darkness, a piercing light forced her to shut her eyes.

Only after a long while could she open them again and see clearly.

This place was quiet, disturbingly calm. It was nothing like the chaotic temple.

Natasha followed the light in front of her. The endless path eventually brought her to something massive.

A door.

It stood tall like a wall, waiting silently for her.

She paused to wonder what might lie beyond it. The possibilities were endless, and all of them were too abstract to describe.

Peace? Relief? Happiness?

Or was it finally death?

There was no time to search for an answer. Driven by curiosity, Natasha reached for the door handle and gripped it tightly.

Even if this rest came only after a life of loss and missed chances, she felt no deep attachment to that life anymore. There was some regret about what she couldn’t achieve, but it was so small, it felt like a speck of dust.

She had once longed for a child, but even that dream had been more about carrying on the Charlier bloodline. It had stemmed from guilt—surviving alone while the rest of her family was gone.

If she could go to them now, maybe she would finally be free from this pain. That thought felt… peaceful.

She stepped through the door.

As she moved forward, light poured down and wrapped around her.

And then—

She remembered.

This place was the paradise she had long forgotten.

Her lifeless body terrified him.

Blood, thick and dark, was something Sieghart had seen too many times. It had soaked his blade, seeped into his skin—more familiar to him than water. But now, it filled him with dread.

The priests rushed to check her condition. Though Sieghart should have been panicked and frantic, he stood frozen. He looked like someone who had already given up hope.

“The Duchess… her condition…”

The priest checking her pulse cried out, his voice shaking with fear. That alone was enough to suggest how grave her state was.

Sieghart’s red eyes stared at Natasha. Her breathing was shallow, barely there. Her body trembled weakly, and she was starting to stiffen.

He had to accept it.

She was standing at the edge between life and death.

“Your Holiness, she…”

The Pope, who had been watching closely, slowly shook his head. The sorrow in his eyes said everything. Even he couldn’t change what was happening.

A shock hit Sieghart like a hammer to the head.

Not even the pain of a blade to the eye had made him feel like this.

It reminded him of a time long ago—when a child saw a terrible tragedy and could do nothing. When someone he loved died, and he was forced to look away.

She was going to die?

His face twisted in disbelief. The truth stood before him, threatening to rip him apart. Seeing her like this for the first time made him feel helpless.

She was going to leave him?

He couldn’t accept it.

He had come all this way, trading his own life just to protect her. He couldn’t let her be taken from him like this.

He wasn’t foolish enough to let regret repeat itself. And he wasn’t weak.

He knew exactly what to do.

Even if the gods wouldn’t forgive him a second time.

Still holding Natasha tightly, he turned toward the center of the platform. Beneath the chandelier, something shining caught his eye.

Without hesitation, he walked toward it.

The sacred sword stood embedded in the stone—gifted to the Knight of Honor at the start of the ceremony.

Gasps rippled through the hall.

The nobles could already guess what he was about to do.

The sacred sword was only given once every century. It was one of the most revered weapons in the Empire. A symbol of divine power and unmatched pride for any knight.

Why was he standing in front of it like this?

Even if he loved his wife, to trade a once-in-a-century gift for her life? That would be madness.

Worried murmurs spread quickly.

Then, just as they feared, Sieghart reached for the sword.

He gripped the hilt and pulled it free. Light burst from the blade in a shower of color.

“Your Holiness, please forgive my boldness.”

“Duke Aschart, you can’t mean—”

The Pope’s warning came too late.

Sieghart, sword in hand, turned back to the stone it had come from. He looked down at the opening in the rock, then held Natasha closer to his chest.

After a brief pause, he raised the sword.

No longer pointing to the heavens, the blade now faced the earth.

The sword, blessed by the gods, was said to amplify a knight’s strength beyond measure. Stories claimed that when it was swung, enemies were destroyed and the ground split open.

But that wasn’t its only power.

The sacred sword also held a divine ability—to save a life.

It could only be used once. And after that, the blessing within it would vanish. It would become an ordinary sword.

“My god, my eternal light, the one I would give my flesh, blood, and heart to serve—please.”

Sieghart brought the sword down.

A thunderous crash filled the temple as the blade struck the stone. The platform shook beneath him. He held Natasha tightly and whispered one last plea.

“Please… protect my moon.”

A brilliant flash of light exploded above them, swallowing the two of them whole.

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