The next morning.

  After having Nol cast the transformation magic on me once again, I rode my horse slowly through the streets of the Royal Capital.

  The rhythmic clip-clop of hooves on cobblestones.

  The savory aroma wafting from the bakeries.

  The vigorous cries of traveling merchants.

  The hair of every person passing by was a fiery, vibrant crimson.

  And beneath my horse's feet, the national flower—the red of the Luminaria—swayed in the breeze.

  Red. The proof of a citizen of the Kingdom of Ignis.

  A color I did not possess.

  That was precisely why, every time I saw that color, a quiet unrest stirred deep within my chest.

  The words spoken in the throne room yesterday still echoed in my ears, refusing to leave.

  "You... why don't you become my consort?"

  "...!"

  A monarch's word is absolute.

  Even more so when it comes from Her Majesty, Veranora Aurelia Ignis.

  I am a knight.

  If ordered, I obey. That is my duty.

  That was why, in that moment, I had responded almost like a reflex.

  "As you wish," I had said.

  But... was that truly an "order"?

  Or was it something else...?

  The mere thought of it made my chest ache. This isn't love. It’s simply reverence and awe. I am merely drawn to the back of the person who stands as our King.

  To that silhouette—more devoted to the country than anyone, noble, beautiful, and sometimes, standing so solitarily.

  Still, I was "chosen."

  ...But was it truly me who was chosen?

  If it wasn't just a whim—if those crimson eyes were directed at me and no one else—

  (No. Don't think about it. I am a knight.)

  I tightened my grip on the reins. I had to focus on my mission.

  The cnging of the bcksmith’s hammer.

  The scents of the street.

  The hum of the crowds.

  This was the "daily life" I was meant to protect.

  ...No, that’s not quite right.

  Behind my mask, there was one more reason.

  —The earring.

  That worn, gold earring was my treasure.

  A single ray of light given to me by the "boy" who saved me when I was young.

  I want to see him again.

  That’s why I ride through this city every morning. I feel as though if I look out from this high vantage point, I might find him one day.

  ...I want to meet him.

  The boy who took my hand and ran with me.

  Squinting against the waves of red, I searched the crowd again today. I still haven't found him.

  But I have no intention of giving up.

  Because the country the Queen rules,

  And this "daily life,"

  Are things I cherish from the bottom of my heart.

  —Even if it is a heart filled with contradictions.