If she lost those beautiful glimmers, if she lost those desires for the Supernatural and power, what would remain of the girl before him in Elliot's eyes?
There was fear in Elliot's heart. He feared that, like everyone else, he would shrink back at the sight of hideous scars.
Flora was brave. She had willingly borne a curse and gone alone to her death. The world had never treated her gently, yet she still held on to this almost stubborn kindness.
As a child, Elliot would surely have thought that was incredibly cool. Those were the people he admired most.
But even the noblest soul was imprisoned in a mortal shell. Elliot had grown up, and instead of becoming someone he admired, he had drifted into mediocrity.
He was just an ordinary person, driven by shallow instincts to pursue beautiful appearances.
All he could do was suppress that fear and force himself to confront the wavering deep within his heart.
The girl before him was no longer a mysterious, elegant elf beneath the moonlight. She was only an ordinary girl in thin pajamas, harboring an unspeakable apprehension, her head tilted slightly upward as she waited for the person before her to speak, as though awaiting fate's judgment.
There were no nobles or supernatural beings here, only two ordinary people standing amid the ruins. Clear moonlight flowed quietly around them, so tranquil that it betrayed nothing of the turmoil in their hearts.
Elliot's gaze settled on her forehead.
The girl's smooth forehead looked as though an invisible blade had sliced it over and over, leaving wounds that could not heal, dark red with blood.
Even though the blood no longer flowed, it was impossible to associate them with "beauty" in any conventional sense.
Yet Elliot quietly felt relieved. It was not