Chapter 02: The Sacrificial Lamb.

“Witnessing the beauty of the moon reflected on the water is truly astonishing, isn’t it, Leo?”

“Yes, Your Majesty, Towa-sama. It is indeed a beautiful view,” Leo replied, though his hand tightened into a fist as a faint frown crossed his face.

Her shimmering green eyes lingered on him before she smiled gently. “Don’t make such a face. It will be harder for me to go through with this if I see you like that.”

“It doesn’t make any sense to me,” he said, his voice low and tense. “Why go to such lengths when I can handle them for you?” He bit his lip, his eyes narrowing with frustration.

She frowned, sadness flickering in her gaze. “It pains me, Leo,” she said softly, her words carrying the weight of her heart. “To see my own people killing each other. Even if they call themselves rebels… They are still my people.” Her voice wavered for a moment before she steadied it. “That’s why I must do this.” Then, she smiled again—gentle, but unshakable.

And in that moment, he knew he could not stop her.

A woman stood at the edge of the lake, her white gown flowing like mist over the water, a golden tiara upon her head catching the moonlight in a delicate shimmer. Her serene expression, however, carried a shadow of solemnity.

“Finally,” she murmured, her voice soft yet resonant in the still night. “The day of prophecy has come. Be as loyal to her as you have been to me.” A faint, wistful smile touched her lips. “Leo.”

Leo’s brow furrowed, but he lowered his head in respect. “Your wish is my command,” he replied, his tone as steady as it was grave.

With a grace that seemed almost unearthly, she knelt by the lake’s edge. Her hands folded in prayer, her lashes lowered as her eyes closed, and the moonlight wove silver threads across the rippling surface of the water.

Back when my father ruled this kingdom, the air itself seemed lighter—filled with the sound of laughter and the warmth of smiles as bright as the sun. I remember because I was one of them, moving unnoticed among the people. Life was simple then, even beautiful.

But everything changed the day he succumbed to an unknown illness. His death marked the end of an era, and in its place, I was thrust onto a throne I had never been ready to claim.

At first, I clung to hope, telling myself I could rise to the occasion. But hope is a fragile thing. It wasn’t long before my secretary brought me the news: whispers of treason, murmurs of rebellion among the nobles. My heart froze. Why would they betray me? I only wanted to protect the kingdom, to continue my father’s legacy. Yet their hatred struck me like a blade to the chest.

I sought comfort where I could. My childhood friend—now one of my generals—was the first I turned to. “Will you stand by me?” I asked, my voice trembling beneath the weight of my fears. When he knelt and swore his loyalty, a fleeting warmth stirred within me, a fragile flicker of reassurance.

But deep down, I could not ignore the truth: I was weak… and the storm was already here.

Every meeting with the nobles was a battlefield. Their scorn hung in the air like poison, their contempt cutting sharper than any blade. I tried to stand my ground, but the weight of their glares was suffocating. Each day brought darker reports—of their growing power, where the neighboring kingdoms is1` supplying them with weapons and gold. My hands trembled under the strain, my thoughts spiraling into chaos. How could I defeat them when I could barely endure their presence?

The voice told me where to go, what to do. Under the moonlight by the lake, I would give my soul, and in my place, another would take the throne of this fragile kingdom. When I revealed the plan to my secretary and my general, their horror was immediate, their protests sharp enough to wound. But this was no choice—it was the only path left. The people’s survival outweighed my own.

Looking back, guilt gnaws at me for forcing their compliance. They deserved better than the burden I placed upon them. But what other choice did I have? For the kingdom to live… I must vanish.

Within a minute of her prayer, an oppressive silence settled over the lake, as though the very air had paused in reverence. The moon’s light shifted, cutting through the darkness to rest upon the queen where she knelt, her form bathed in an otherworldly glow. Then, as if her strength had been stolen in a single heartbeat, she collapsed—her fall slow, almost graceful, yet utterly without resistance.

Leo froze, his breath catching as the sight pierced through him. He understood what had happened, but the weight of it crushed against his chest. Closing his eyes for a moment, he steadied himself against the chaos raging in his heart, then stepped forward—each movement deliberate, heavy with reluctance.

Kneeling beside her, he slid his arms beneath her and lifted her onto his shoulder. Her body lay limp against him, as if even the world itself had let her go.

“Goodbye, Towa,” he whispered, the words trembling into the night.

The silence around him deepened, broken only by the soft whisper of the wind. His emotions churned—raw, uncontained, and heavy. Then, almost imperceptibly, a sound reached his ears—a moan so faint he almost questioned it.

His eyes snapped to her hand. His breath caught as her fingers twitched, the slightest movement. And then, a gaze—faint but undeniable—met his.

Her eyes fluttered open, their brilliance catching the moonlight like twin stars emerging from darkness. Confusion marred her pale, stiff features, uncertainty flickering across her gaze.

“W-Who are you?” she whispered, her voice weak, barely more than a breath.

Leo’s heart echoed in response. Without hesitation, he lowered himself to one knee, bowing his head in solemn reverence. “I am Leo,” he said, his voice steady yet heavy with respect.

She shifted, her movements slow and tentative, as if testing the limits of a body that felt foreign to her. Her brow furrowed as she studied her hands, turning them over and flexing them with deliberate care.

Her eyes swept across the vast surroundings, and her breath caught as they fell upon the glowing palace ahead. Its crystalline walls shimmered under the moonlight, each facet scattering a cascade of sparkling stars.

“W-Where am I?” she murmured, her voice trembling as she pressed her hands to her head. “I’m sure I died… I remember…” Her gaze clouded with distant recollection. “I remember jumping off the rooftop,” she added, her tone fragile, disbelief threaded through every word.

The soul now residing in Towa’s body was none other than Diana’s. Her wide eyes roamed over the surreal beauty around her—the palace’s grandeur, the purity of its radiant light. She tilted her head, gazing in the star-filled sky above. The familiar haze of the city night was gone, replaced by an endless expanse of shimmering constellations. Her chest tightened, breaths coming unevenly as she glanced down at herself.

The gown she wore was unlike anything from her past life—soft, luxurious fabric that seemed to hum with quiet energy. A gold tiara, simple yet exquisite, rested lightly atop her head, a single gemstone catching the moonlight. Her lips parted, but no sound emerged at first.

“W-What is going on?” she stammered, her voice trembling as panic clawed at her chest.

Leo rose gracefully, taking her trembling hand in his. He pressed his lips to her fingers in a gesture of respect, though the touch made her stiffen in surprise. His gaze met hers steadily, sharp yet calm.

“Would you believe me,” he began, his voice measured, “if I told you your soul was forcibly transferred into this body?”

Her breath caught. She yanked her hand back, clutching it against her chest as if his words had burned her. “That makes no sense at all!” she snapped, panic threading through her voice.

“Of course it doesn’t,” Leo admitted, his tone grave. “But the ritual is done. Queen Towa made…” He faltered, closing his eyes briefly as if to brace himself. “She made a contract with the gods, fully aware of the consequences. She sacrificed herself for this. And now that the ritual is complete, this body… is now yours.”

Her lips parted in disbelief, fingers trembling as she pressed them to her temple. “You’re telling me,” she said slowly, her voice shaky, “that the… the owner of this body made a contract with the gods, knowing it would cost her life?” She swallowed hard, her throat dry. “But why? Why would she do that?”

Leo exhaled, the sound heavy with the weight of truth. “She was desperate,” he said at last, his voice low. “Desperate to save her people. She couldn’t bear to see them suffer because of her own shortcomings.” His hand lifted to his face, dragging down in a gesture of weariness.

He straightened slightly, his expression hardening with resolve. “I’ll explain everything I know,” he said firmly, “but we must return to the royal office first.”