The first place I visited was the Princess's chamber.

Now that I understood everything, there was no fear left in me.

The Princess was just a half-divine being I had saved.

The Knight Commander and Vice Commander? They could enjoy their sweet love story undisturbed.

That thought lingered as I recalled opening the Knight Commander’s door earlier—only to witness the Vice Commander pressed against the wall while the Knight Commander sat on the floor, clutching her legs as if to keep her from escaping.

Honestly, barging in was my fault.

I quickly closed the door to give them privacy, but not before hearing the Vice Commander’s frustrated protest in a tone far different from her usual commanding presence.

Still, seeing people express love in their own ways was heartwarming, reminiscent of the Emperor’s unwavering devotion to the Empress.

I knocked on the Princess’s door.

Facing her now, with my memories intact, stirred a mix of emotions—nostalgia, nervousness, and anticipation.

What should I say? Should I act as I had before, pretending nothing had changed?

Or should I break the facade and acknowledge the truth?

Before I could decide, the door opened.

Inside, the Princess was gazing at her arm, which seemed to be burning with flames that left no visible damage.

As I stepped closer, she greeted me with her usual radiant smile.

"Raydan, you’ve returned."

Her cheeks flushed faintly, and she glanced away.

"I-I mean, I did ask you to visit once a week, but I didn’t mean you had to come right after getting back."

I see.

I must’ve been gone for quite a while—long enough for her to grow this much.

Smiling softly, I decided to cut through the pretense.

"You’ve grown a lot," I said.

"…?"

Her eyes widened, trembling slightly as she slowly looked up at me.

Satisfied with her reaction, I continued.

"Seeing how mature you’ve become, I’d say kicking the Knight Commander back then was worth it."

She blinked in surprise as I grinned teasingly.

"Thanks for looking after me all this time, little lady... Princess."

Any worry about being irreverent vanished as the Princess, her eyes brimming with tears, threw herself into my arms.

After some time, she pulled away, her face red with embarrassment.

It seemed she hadn’t expected her emotions to overflow like that, but she quickly regained her composure.

"…You’ve regained your memories, Raydan," she said, her voice steady.

"Yes."

"That means… you’ve been to Lintpia."

I nodded, and she gave me a faint, bittersweet smile.

"…After you died, the world turned upside down. My younger sister’s rampage buried the land in endless snow. Humanity, disillusioned with the divine, began to despise us. Mother told me to move to Lontan, to the outskirts, for my safety."

Demeter’s decision was wise.

With the rise of anti-divine sentiment and the creation of the Hunter profession to incite hatred against the gods, the Princess, being half-divine, would not have been spared.

Even with her exceptional vitality, she couldn’t have withstood the unrelenting violence.

"You’ve endured so much, Your Highness. If not for you, the Empire would have fallen."

"No, Raydan. It was your sacrifice—before and after you lost your memories—that saved us."

Her words were accompanied by a faint blush.

My sacrifice…

I’d only done what was necessary.

Not out of modesty, but because, in that moment, I knew I would regret inaction far more deeply.

"Raydan, may I ask you for a favor?"

"Let’s hear it first."

"…Can’t you just agree without conditions?"

"It might be something beyond my ability."

"Then I won’t tell you."

What was this sudden childishness?

Her stubbornness only made me more curious.

Still, I would’ve agreed regardless.

She had endured so much without praise or reward; it was the least I could do.

Feigning deliberation, I smiled warmly.

"Very well. If it’s within my power, I’ll do anything you ask."

Her face lit up with joy as she approached me.

For a moment, I thought she might ask for another hug.

But what happened next took me completely by surprise.

"…?!"

The Princess wrapped her arms around my neck, pulling me close.

Before I could react, her face drew near, and I felt the soft, unexpected sensation of her lips against mine.

This again? At this rate, my lips might as well be public property.

She pulled away, smiling brightly.

"…Since that day, I’ve thought of nothing but you. You risked punishment and committed insubordination to save me, then sacrificed yourself for the Empire. It gave me a sense of vitality that had nothing to do with life force."

Wait… hold on.

This was getting out of hand.

"I didn’t think you’d regain your memories, so I tried to win you over subtly. But now that you remember, there’s no need to hold back."

Her playful smile returned as she pointed a finger at me.

"Raydan Tantan, I, as royalty, order you to become my husband."

Well.

It’s official. Everything’s a mess.

Later, as I left the Princess’s chamber, I couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of exasperation.

With Demeter joining the fight, the immediate threat to our forces was mitigated.

Anyone who died could be revived, so long as it happened before the final blow.

What mattered now was strategy.

I needed to rally the knights, secure resources, and prepare for the Giant of the Snowy Mountain.

First, I headed to Simtol, the blacksmith, to commission weapons.

"Let me get this straight," Simtol grumbled. "You want me to mass-produce weapons for every knight? Get lost."

Not unexpected. Even getting my personal weapon from him had taken endless pleading.

"Please, Simtol. All our forces are gathered, and the Giant of the Snowy Mountain is our last obstacle."

"Don’t care. Whether it’s the Giant or some other nonsense, I’m an old man with one foot in the grave. Find another smith."

Fair enough. At his age, he likely wanted peace, not another war.

Still, Simtol was irreplaceable. No other blacksmith could forge weapons of his caliber.

Before I could plead further, a familiar voice interrupted.

"Oi, old man!"

Simtol scowled as the speaker stepped into view.

"Another pain in the ass," he muttered.

It was the Warlord.

"Didn’t I ask you nicely last time?" the Warlord protested.

"When did I ever agree?" Simtol shot back.

"Same difference!"

In the end, the Warlord’s sheer stubbornness wore Simtol down, and he grudgingly agreed to take on the commission.

As we left, the Warlord handed me a folded note.

"For that headbutt back in Lintpia. Thanks. Saved me from going berserk."

"…Headbutt?"

The only person I’d ever headbutted was the Vice Commander.

"Wait—"

"Got supply work to do! See ya!"

Opening the note, I found a single sentence:

Take care of my daughter.

…The Warlord had just poured gasoline on an already blazing fire.