Klaine Valemont valued routine.
Routine revealed threats before they surfaced.
Routine kept the empire stable.
Routine ensured nothing unexpected took root.
The capital had returned to calm after the wedding incident.
The Hero remained admired.
The Saintess radiant.
The nobles relieved.
Klaine adjusted northern patrol rotations anyway.
Mana readings were logged twice daily.
He did not explain his caution.
He did not need to.
Within his estate, however—
Routine had shifted.
Arietta did not behave like a detainee.
She behaved like a guest who had been granted extended residence.
She followed him through corridors without hesitation.
Stood quietly during briefings.
Observed maps as though she had memorized them already.
And she smiled—
Frequently.
Especially at him.
"You don't object?" she asked one morning while he reviewed documents.
"To what."
"To me staying here."
"You are under supervision."
She brightened.
"Personally?"
"Yes."
Her eyes lit up.
"That's great."
He said nothing.
Servants had been wary at first.
A strange woman appearing during a royal wedding would invite suspicion.
But Arietta bowed properly.
Thanked them for meals.
Helped retrieve fallen linens without being asked.
When a young guard cut his hand during training inspection, she stepped forward first.
"Hold still," she said lightly, wrapping cloth around the wound with steady fingers.
"You shouldn't be doing that," the guard muttered nervously.
She smiled.
"I'm under supervision. Not useless."
The guard did not know how to respond.
She laughed gently and stepped back as if nothing unusual had occurred.
By the fourth day, the estate felt… different.
Lighter.
It irritated Klaine more than it should have.
She did not complain about confinement.
She did not ask about escape.
In fact—
She had allowed capture.
And later, escaped only to find him.
"You are remarkably cooperative," he said one evening in the inner courtyard.
She glanced at him—and grinned.
"You're remarkably suspicious."
"That is not denial."
"It's not disagreement either."
Lanterns flickered across the water.
"You do not behave as though you intend to leave," he said.
She smiled immediately.
"If nothing terrible happens, why would I?"
"To return to your world."
She opened her mouth—
Then paused.
Briefly.
Just long enough for the night breeze to fill the silence.
"In my world…" she began quietly.
Her fingers tightened slightly against the stone railing.
"In my world, those things don't really matter."
He watched her.
"And here," she continued, her brightness returning, "it still feels like fiction."
"The empire. The nobles. The politics. They're part of the setting."
"And you are not."
"I'm visiting."
The answer came too easily.
"Returning," he asked, "is not an option?"
Again—that pause.
Smaller this time.
"It's already ending."
No elaboration.
She looked up at the sky instead.
Clear.
Blue even in fading light.
"If your tragedy doesn't occur," he said after a moment, "what role do you expect to take here?"
She looked back at him.
Did not hesitate.
"I want to be your wife."
Silence settled between them.
"You state that without consideration."
"Yes."
"You lack family name. Rank."
"I know."
"You would become a political target."
She blinked.
"…Really?"
A crease appeared between her brows.
"Oh."
She let out a small laugh.
"Sorry. I shouldn't say that so casually."
"You had not considered it."
"No."
"Why."
She tilted her head slightly.
"In my world, that kind of hierarchy doesn't decide survival."
A faint shrug.
"And this still feels like fiction. I know you're alive, I just… don't feel the weight yet."
Honest.
Unsettlingly honest.
"And why choose me."
That answer was immediate.
"Because I like you."
She smiled—softer this time.
"Your story helped me."
He did not respond.
"You endured things quietly. You protected people even when no one noticed." Her voice warmed. "It was comforting."
"This is not a story."
"I know."
"And marriage is not sentiment."
"I know."
"Then why."
She stepped slightly closer—not invading his space, just steady.
"Because if nothing tragic happens here…"
Her smile returned, but gentler.
"…then I can live happily for a long time."
"With you."
There was no embarrassment.
No manipulation.
Just preference stated plainly.
"You are dangerously detached," he said.
She laughed softly.
"I'm very optimistic."
"You speak as though consequences cannot reach you."
"Maybe they can."
She looked up at the open sky again.
"But I'd like to try living happily first."
It was such a simple wish.
And yet—
He had seen empires crumble for less.
She spoke of permanence.
While treating the world as temporary.
She smiled at guards.
Thanked servants.
Memorized corridors.
For someone who claimed detachment—
She was already rooted.
Above them, the sky remained wide and impossibly blue.
Arietta breathed in deeply.
"I like this sky," she murmured.
"Why."
"In my world…"
Another pause.
Smaller now.
"…we don't have stars anymore."
She recovered quickly.
"But this one is pretty."
Her smile returned.
Bright.
Unwavering.
And for the first time—
Klaine wondered which world was truly more fragile.