A Wish to Grab Happiness

- Who are you talking to? Look at us and talk.

I was unknowingly breathtaking at the words emanating from the silver eye. The heart beats roughly, and the organs tighten themselves. A slight pain was coming up from the bottom of my stomach.

Who are you talking to? I couldn't answer such a simple question.

My lips become unresponsive and distorted. Words came to my mind a few times, but all of them were light and thin. In that way, Kalia would not forgive, of course, Fialert and Eldis.

The three pairs of eyes that stare at me are not as tolerant as that. I was sincere everywhere, and there was no forgiveness anywhere that way.

An eye that conceived such a fierceness that it would eat off its neck at that point, even if there were only a few things that would distract me. The shaken teeth make a sound.

But what can I say? Are you saying that you had visions of a distant future and thought of them then? How can you tell them stories like that that don't even serve alcohol?

Erdis said with a strangely glossy caged grin as his head picked out words while even having heat.

"Maybe you thought we hadn't noticed. You would have seen someone through us from time to time."

At the same time, Eldis is able to get his hands on me, and he is stronger in grasping his arms. At the same time, a cold breath was exhaling from my lungs. Sweat dripping down my spine.

Eldis continued with a smooth punch in the lip.

"More so, Rugis. Do you have any idea how humiliating it was for us to have you do that?

I felt like I even got hit by a pile on my head. I can't see Erdis' blue-eyed eyes in a serious mood. All this for my own guilt.

What Eldis said in his mouth is natural. Instead, it was so strange that I couldn't stick it out until now.

Even though I know some time ago, I can't cut them off until how long after that time and now, and speak with the same eyes.

How insulting would that be?

Once and now they were indisputably different, and it is indisputably now that they live that way. They are not puppets or actors who at all times move as the screenwriter wishes.

Exhale from the back of your throat and draw strength from your shoulders. Something cold crept around my cheeks. Sit deeply on the bed.

Then I opened my lips. Nothing flashes in my head. Sometimes my tongue moved lightly was weird.

"... it was my fault. I can't argue or make amends."

Put your gaze down and say. I really didn't have words. What should I say and what should I say? I don't even know that.

At the end of the day, all I could get was an aversion to my own weakness that I couldn't face them right now. I feel like the spirit is being tightened up.

There is no such thing. The past, which has continued to divert attention, is just standing here now as a reality. Life is always that. Anything that escapes will grab my own shoulder. Then we have to face it now.

For a moment, words disappear from the indoors. But soon, Fialert said with her hand on my shoulder.

"It's okay, Rugis. I don't want to blame you. You have to listen to the situation, too - but if you think it's bad, you should take an oath not to do it again first."

The whispers of the fialert were voice-coloured like tangling and removing ears.

Pledges, pledges, promises. Unlike what a regular person pronounces, the word "vow" taken out by a magician has numerous meanings. That's when I even tied my soul up.

I don't know what Fialert wanted and what he said it was for. But the imitation that forced me to jump at it was unlikely to be possible.

But at the same time, I think. Today, oddly enough, I felt the story was going too smoothly.

Fialert to Kalia, that's how Eldis. Often, they don't hate to overlap words as blades, but today they don't object to each other's words. I'd rather say I'm convinced of everything.

Could that have been done?

Maybe Fialert, no. Karia and Eldis, too. Weren't they all mouth-to-mouth to lead them to what they thought was a landing site?

- They wouldn't have done that once. But if it's them now. Doesn't it do as it should?

There was something cold flowing around my spine without knowing, and my cheeks were sticking.

◇ ◆ ◇ ◆

Voices echo inside Wangdu Barracks. It's full of extraordinary outrage, and that's how it's irritating everywhere.

"We should execute that fire-fighting usurper in the King's Capital right now. Captain Richard!

Hearing pointy words like Neymar-Gloria's cutting-edge, Richard shakes his white beard like a shudder. That's how I sighed and then uttered the word.

Richard's shoulder was slightly inclined because of the loss of his right arm, which made equilibrium difficult.

"I thought you said wait. I hope you're feeling better. If you kill that lady now, the Wang Du is a vortex of havoc again. It's useful in the sense of rebuilding the King's capital."

This exchange I no longer know a few times, but around putting it in my mouth again and again, Richard included booze in his mouth, saying that Neymar still had an indelible outrage.

Regardless, it is no longer interesting that His Royal Highness's handwriting should be heard as if he had accomplished what he had accomplished. But more than that, what is simmering through Neimar's chest would be a real feeling that he himself was used for crest teaching.

For better or worse, Naimar behaved with dignity and lowered the castle gate, and called upon the warcraft to show it. The sight was also deeply engraved in the eyes of the citizens of Wangdu, and it was meant to show the strength of the Garrison soldiers.

However, the princess, who is supposed to lead the garrison soldier, also gathers his trust.

I guess Naimar should deny the flair head-on if it were meant to be. If that usurper is truly to be a princess, it is only natural that Garrist soldiers belong beneath it.

As such, for Naimar, the military does not have the authority to pinch objections to a man named Philose-Trait naming him royalty.

The kings' blood are the chosen ones of God. If so, it is the king or the senior, noble men closest to it who will choose it.

Now the aristocrats, who have long supported the kingdom even without authority in the centre, support that she is the princess. It can't even reach Richard, a great captain, or the words of Neymar, who is only a regional nobleman.

But there was no way Naimar would have been convinced. It is undoubtedly our own town guards who have reclaimed this king's capital. Neither a crest nor a nobleman. First, how can what the crest religion, which should have been substantially hostile, hold back be the official princess of the Garrist kingdom?

The noble nobles who should have spoken the words of Naimar, those who will thus be royal, are not here now. No one has escaped from the king's capital, nor has he deposited himself in the northern cathedral.

That's why it's an unnecessarily vicious circle where that usurped princess gets her support. Worst case scenario, Neymar bites his teeth and gets angry.

But seeing that up close, it should be noted that Richard was thinking something completely different.

For Richard, Philose-Trait's past is known. I understand roughly how that happened and the trajectory that I followed afterwards. Plus, I saw what happened once during the Sanio match.

Something so puzzling happened.

Was that princess named Philos such a strong woman by then? No, I was more of a strong woman, and she seemed to break all the time.

I never even swallowed my past and smiled like I do now, and it was my appreciation of Philos, who seemed to have a burning hatred if I found out the truth.

Things have changed a lot. For better or worse.

Was the battle the drug that transformed her, or was there something else? I don't know that.

But Richard was alone, with his mind floating behind his lid. Aside from the extent of his involvement, there are still times when he had no influence.

Later, then, it was just a choice between using it or throwing it away.

Namar's decision that we can't help him because we don't have the authority is incorrect. There is no reason why an evil treason called Richard should be bound by such legitimacy.

If necessary, it was just a good story to sink into a sea of blood for every aristocrat who supported it.

Besides, the king wanted to drop that concubine princess's head. That would be much more in line with the king's will.

But Richard wouldn't take it because there was just one thing, another thought. Thoughts slightly sprouted on the bottom of the chest.

When Neymar's words settled, Richard struck his knee with one hand and let his body rise. The sword sways at the waist. Against the conscripts, I skipped the word.

"Wow. Bring good liquor. Let's have a little chat with the bad guys."

Richard distorted his cheek as he was ripped off his arm and still had constant ambition in his eyes. A deep grin darkens the wrinkles on his cheeks.