Chapter 77 She only wished to sink into depravity; she saw Andra's burning eyes...

The sea... Eleanor looked up in the moonlight at her lover's upturned profile.

Thump!

A pebble is thrown into a tranquil lake, creating ripples.

No, I can't go to see the sea, because I want to—

She bit her lip, and a drop of blood fell onto her tongue...it tasted salty.

Andra moved swiftly, oblivious to the screams in her lover's heart, and rushed onto the beach, heading towards the sea.

Soft grains of sand jumped into the shoes and danced between the toes.

She hoisted Eleanor onto her shoulders and let her lover sit on them as they looked out at the surging waves.

The sea at night is dark and deep, like pieces of hard black jade contained in an invisible bag, clanging as it is shaken by the gods.

Andra stared at the dark sea for a while, feeling her lover on her shoulder trembling slightly.

"Wow, this seems a bit scary?"

After making a joke, she quickly looked around, climbed onto a rock, and gently placed Eleanor beside her.

They sat side by side on the high rocks, like two seagulls enjoying some fries.

The sturdy seagull on the left bumped into the small seagull on the right, and cheerfully spread its wings to protect her.

"Come on, hurry up."

As Andra spoke, she tightly gripped her lover's arm, pressing her warm body against him.

She whispered in her ear, "Let's wait for the sunrise together."

Eleanor silently turned her face to examine Andra's handsome smiling face.

The moonlight cast a hazy glow on the high, straight bridge of her nose, outlining a smooth, curved shape on her lips. As for those bright eyes—they didn't need to reflect light; they were already ignited in my heart.

She was always like this... Andra in her first life also nurtured love with this captivating vitality.

Why is the girl who traveled from another time so obsessed with dating games? Why did she care about nothing but dating Andra before she turned eighteen?

Because that love was so beautiful, so beautiful that no one wanted to miss it.

I woke up in the morning to find my handsome lover lying next to me.

She is young, lovely, and full of energy; every inch of her body is captivating.

When Andra wields his sword, he can cleave through layers of danger, leaving only the allure of tranquility.

Eleanor wanted to give her flowers, cook for her, forge a sword for her... she wanted her to stand proudly at the forefront of everyone's world.

Because of love, she wanted to offer up all the beautiful things in the world, even if it meant plucking her own feathers to build the warmest nest.

And Andra—Andra is the same.

In her first life, she squandered her youth for the sake of a beautiful princess, spending a great deal of time weaving flower garlands and learning to sing. Before she turned eighteen, her most proficient daily activities were running in the fields, flying kites, and chasing insignificant wild rabbits.

In her third life, she diligently taught swordsmanship, and no matter what she was doing, she would forge ahead regardless of any dangers at the princess's command.

I wish I could be with her forever and ever.

Looking at Andra's cheerful smile and listening to her point to the sea and tell romantic myths and legends, Eleanor felt a sudden impulse.

An impulse to end this life immediately—to take Andra to a future no one can see in the next life with even more fervent love.

But she held back.

"I have things I want to do."

In her first life, she and Evelyn on stage uttered these words with expressions that ranged from wistful to indifferent.

You once made me mistakenly believe that I came into this world to fall into a dreamlike love affair with you.

But many more people have made me realize that I still have a lot to do.

Countless faces flashed through her mind in an instant—some crying, some laughing, some serious, and some desperate.

"Andra might not necessarily destroy these things; she could be my greatest asset."

No, she is destined to accelerate this era, shattering many lives in her pain.

"Even without her, someone else would have been chosen. Unification is an inevitable trend of the times; a short, sharp pain is worse than a long, drawn-out one."

...Then I'd like to explore my own path.

Eleanor calmly refuted the small voice in her heart.

Since she could take away Ophelia's chance to become queen because of Ophelia's mediocrity, and even go so far as to kill Ophelia to change this "predetermined" future.

Then why should Andra be given preferential treatment?

"Because of you—because I love her so, so much."

Eleanor's voice stopped abruptly; she no longer tried to convince herself, nor could she explain this subtle feeling.

Love? Love. Love—love is the most powerful force.

On stage, Lilia seemed to still be laughing and spinning, and the faint scent of incense had not completely dissipated.

Eleanor couldn't control her body.

Driven by instinct or perhaps emotion, she moved closer to Andra, wrapped her arms around his neck, and offered him a kiss.

At first, it was just a light touch, tentatively swimming towards deeper waters.

Andra froze for a moment, then her eyes darted around in confusion. She raised her arm and responded to her young lover with an extremely passionate gesture.

Perhaps the night was too dark and the sea too deep.

They somehow rolled into the crevices of the rocks, tearing apart the gold threads that overlapped on their cloaks and fabrics amidst the soft sand.

The moment the moonlight bathed the girl's entire skin, Andra stopped moving.

Her body was still trembling slightly, her golden-red eyes were filled with intense emotions, and she was panting heavily... but she stopped.

There was no hesitation or regret at this moment; it was more like the predator's final act of pity.

Do you want me to continue?

She held the princess's slender wrist, carefully examining every trace of shyness and vulnerability on her lover's face.

Should I continue? Does she want me to continue?

Eleanor, too, emerged from her intense emotions, her eyelashes constantly cutting away fragments of memory, which coalesced into cold teardrops.

Slaughter... Her killing of Andra was already planned.

She spent years planning, making full use of Andra's talents at every stage, and then prepared to drown her in the deep sea afterward.

...What kind of person could comfortably enjoy all the wonderful things their lover has to offer under such circumstances?

Is she really going to completely squeeze every last drop of value out of Andra?

Eleanor wanted to cry out loud.

What did she do in this life?

Let Andra educate Mysera, let her guide his swordsmanship, let her suppress the restless city lords, and let her and Manju deal with various assassination attempts together...

She forged Andra into a sword, used it as a shield, and pretended to give it to her lover... but from the very beginning, she had already written the ending: an ending where Andra died innocently and only she could realize her dream.

How terrifying! She was so horrifying that it made me feel disgusted.

The tears in Eleanor's eyes faded, and she wanted to shake her head to end this absurd scene.

...But she saw Andra's burning eyes.

She wanted to continue, very much...very urgently—

The lover's hand hovered over the knot of the ribbon, but his predatory gaze extended into the shadows, as if he wanted to grab her long hair and completely possess her limbs.

Glug.

She heard Andra swallow hard, and heard that sentence, tinged with inexplicable emotion...

"This mark... is so beautiful." It's like a mother goddess shedding tears for her daughter.

The place Andra touched was that bright red "birthmark," like blood.

"Mother, let me remember her, let me remember this overwhelming rage—I have been too lazy."

Eleanor blinked and meekly wiped away her tears.

If this is what Andra wants... then give it to her, as a small reward for this lifetime.

She wanted everything to end in this sea, and she was willing to actively reveal everything about herself before the tide came in.

She felt her body float up, gently cushioned in her flowing nightgown.

Just as the two were about to fall for each other...

Clang! A crisp sound suddenly rang out from not far away.

Andra's fingers paused, and his breathing became heavy.

Clang, clang clang clang!

The repeated knocking sounds made my head ache.

Eleanor opened her eyes and felt the overwhelming murderous aura.

"......"

Andra's arms trembled violently, his fingers having already moved away from the soft neck and dug hard into the sand.

She was furious, but before she went crazy—she had to kill all the troublemakers!

Andra fastened his leather armor and pulled the cloak over his shoulders.

She picked up her sword, hoarsely told her lover to "hide it well," and then leaped off the rocks.

Her lips were tightly pressed together, and she burst forth like a ghost from hell!

......

"Ha, uh-ha..."

A blonde girl runs on the beach, chased by three strong young men.

All four of them were dressed in exquisite gowns, the young men's scimitars were adorned with jewels, and the young woman wore an exquisite headband-shaped crown.

The scene of the young girl chasing after him, her skirt swaying in the breeze, seems romantic at first glance, but a closer look reveals that the young men's blades are stained with blood. The girl's skirt isn't long; it's fluttering because she tore a large section of it herself.

"Your Highness, please stop!"

The young man behind him had clearly chased after them from a great distance, and he was panting heavily.

Another young man flanked from the right, shouting sternly, "Those who betrayed the king are all dead! You'd better be sensible!"

"What exactly do you want?"

Eliza was forced towards the sea, her chest heaving as she cried out, "You...you weren't my personal guards before...?"

Two young men blushed.

But Belair has its own national circumstances, and they quickly put on a stern face and pressed forward from different directions, like three wolves closing in on a fawn.

"Your Highness, please stop resisting. The King's patience is finite."

"Yes, if you hadn't run away, my sister wouldn't have gotten into trouble!"

One of the young men brandished his knife with gritted teeth, startling Eliza so much that she stumbled a few steps.

She glanced furtively to the right side of the shore, where her last followers should still be lying in ambush...

Clang, clang!

Suddenly, the sound of swords clashing came from afar, growing closer and closer, but soon it quieted down until it fell into complete silence.

Eliza's face turned deathly pale: Oh my god, she, her last knight... she also perished with the pursuers?

She fell to the ground in despair, while the three young men looked anxious.

But instead of turning around and running over to check on her, they rushed towards the fallen princess.

The young woman, her face contorted with rage, ran and roared, "You wicked devil! You killed them!"

Eliza shuddered, trembling as she retorted, "No, that's not it... it's you... you could have let us go!"

"Hmph!" The young man sneered. She was the first to run to the princess and raise her scimitar high.

"Hey!!!" the people behind shouted angrily, "You are not allowed to harm Her Highness the Princess!"

The young man ignored her, and she grinned maliciously as she swung the knife down—

*Pfft!* Hot blood splattered wildly, covering the young man's head and face.

Her smile froze on her face, her body suddenly twisted, and she slowly fell from mid-air, spinning.

Thump.

The sound of the body hitting the ground reverberated simultaneously with Eliza's heartbeat.

A golden-red figure blocked her way, easily severing the traitor's waist.

"Ha!" The golden-red warrior laughed.

Her figure flickered, and no one could catch the trajectory of her movements. It seemed that in the next second, the second person also collapsed.

"Aaaaaah, who are you?!"

The third person broke down in the face of the hellish scene, wildly waving her sword, trying to struggle a little longer.

Damn it, how could Her Highness possibly recruit such a fierce warrior?!

Whoosh—

Her repeated questions were met with a sword driven into her throat, and Andra twisted her wrist and swept away the last syllable.

Eliza covered her mouth, gasping for breath, her teeth chattering from the bloody carnage before her.

The way this person killed was too relaxed and casual. It didn't look like he was beheading an enemy. It was more like... a boy sitting on a boat, easily picking lotus pods!

who is she?

Eliza and the deceased shared the same question: the money she spent could not possibly have hired such a strong mercenary, so how could such a person be a mercenary?

The intense fear abruptly stopped as the golden-red figure turned around.

Eliza's labored breathing also stopped.

Splash!

Andra shook his sword in the wind, scattering the blood droplets.

She turned to the side and gave Eliza a cold glance as Eliza rolled backward.

A sea breeze blew, and the blonde girl covered her trembling lips.

Before her lay a turbulent sea, yet she seemed to see a pale sun amidst the darkness.

Belgrade's royal court is like a golden spider web, attracting talents from all walks of life to gather at its center.

Among them are many handsome and powerful noble bloodlines.

However, compared to them, the person in front of them was like a gold pearl on a grain of sand, or an emerald on marble; with just one glance, he could destroy all the efforts of the others.

Eliza's heart was pounding.

She was familiar with all the dramas and most myths, and recognized the person's costume at a glance: she was playing Yang, the Yang from the mythological story.

The pattern of this outfit has a slight Hetuya style, but the sewing techniques and style are clearly from Nolana.

Even disregarding the details of the clothing, the person who plays the "yang" role at the ball must be of noble status.

As intelligent as she was, she immediately discerned a possibility from the myriad clues.

This morning, a foreign nobleman came to visit the new King Charlotte...

Golden-red hair and eyes, powerful martial arts skills, and clothing that combines elements of Nolana and Hetuya.

This person is—Enlin's hound, the madman who ravaged the city, the iron-blooded warrior... Princess Andra, the wise princess of Nolana, from Hetuya!