Author's note: The 8th of August is apparently Felt's birthday. It should still be the 8th in some countries at the time of this posting, so happy birthday, Felt!

That evening, Felt waited for Reinhard to come back to her. The knight always came by to check up on her and bid her goodnight like the perfect gentleman he was.

This time, he came to her bearing gifts—a pair of slippers, to be precise.

"What is this?" Felt asked suspiciously.

"I picked them out for you," Reinhard explained smilingly. He knelt at her feet and gingerly held up the slippers. "If I may?"

Instead of answering his question directly, Felt took the slippers from his hands. Even she had to admit that these slippers looked exquisitely beautiful, almost ethereal in their translucent quality. On top of being a master swordsman, was Reinhard blessed with a superior fashion sense? This guy couldn't be human, could he?

Curious in spite of herself, Felt tried on the slippers. She blinked in surprise; the slippers fit perfectly, as if they were an extension of her feet.

"Is it to your liking?" asked Reinhard. "I believe they suit you very well."

Felt wondered what Old Man Rom would say if he saw her now. He'd probably crack up with laughter. "That don't suit you, Felt. That don't suit you at all."

And yet the slippers fit snugly. That was entirely because Reinhard had got them tailored to her foot size, after all.

As this thought went through Felt's mind, she spoke up. "What do you mean—they suit me?" And then she said, "Do I really look like her that much?"

The memory of that painting in the hallway weighed heavily upon her mind as she spoke.

Even during the hours she had waited for Reinhard, she had not been able to figure out just what that painting was for or what it had to do with her, but somehow she knew that it was connected to everything.

"Ah, so you saw that," Reinhard uttered softly, looking away slightly.

"It's stupid!" Felt declared loudly, folding her arms. "Hey, I think you've got a case of mistaken identity on your hands. You kidnapped me for a dumb reason."

No matter how much she looked like that girl in the painting, Felt knew that they were nothing alike. The painting was from another world altogether. Felt knew this for certain.

"I mean, what proof do you have about anything?" she went on, hitting her stride. "For a Sword Saint, you're not too bright, are you?"

Reinhard said nothing.

If the look on his face was anything to go by, he didn't seem too offended, though. Did nothing ruffle his feathers?

He was smiling politely at her as usual, but Felt got the impression that he was measuring her with his gaze. His eyes had narrowed ever so slightly.

"Well?" Felt demanded finally.

Finally, Reinhard opened his mouth.

"It is true that there is no conclusive proof, and yet… when I saw you that night…"

He reached into his belt and pulled out something small and black. When he placed it in Felt's tiny palm, it began to glow.

"See? It reacts," Reinhard murmured, as if to confirm something to himself.

For that brief moment, at least, the knight appeared to have forgotten his place. His hand lingered over hers, and his grip on her wrist was firm. She would not have been able to pull her hand away from his even if she tried with all her might. Perhaps Reinhard had never truly cared about courtly manners to begin with.

But at that moment, Felt didn't care either. As she gazed down at the glowing insignia in her hand, something in her heart began to pound.

At a glance, she recognised that insignia—it was identical to the one she had stolen. The sight of it raised far more questions than it answered. Felt shivered involuntarily. What was this disorienting feeling that had come over her, as if her entire body had been thrown off balance? Was it fear? No, that wasn't quite it… but then, what was it?

What did it all mean?

Before Felt could even begin to grasp at an answer, Reinhard took the insignia away.

As soon as the insignia vanished from view, Felt's head jerked up, responding to Reinhard's movement. All she could do was stare at his face, into his unreadable eyes.

"You are the one," said the knight, slowly yet firmly. "I've spent my whole life searching for you."

His words explained nothing.

And yet at that moment, Felt understood one thing very clearly.

In a sense, Reinhard was just as much of a prisoner as she was.

In that case, the way for Felt to free herself was obvious.

All she needed to do was remove the weight of obligation from Reinhard's shoulders. If she released him from his duty, then he would have no reason to keep her tied down.

It didn't matter to Felt what person Reinhard thought she was, or what relationship they had. He was Reinhard and she was Felt. The truth was as simple as that. If he acknowledged that same truth, then he would no longer be her knight and she would no longer be his lady.

In other words, she had to sever the link binding them together.

Reset everything.

And start from zero.

Realising now what had to be done, Felt stopped arguing with Reinhard. Instead, she closed her eyes and began to breathe in and out slowly, focusing her concentration.

Reinhard was strong. There was no way she could defeat him if she attacked him head on. There was also no way that she could take him by surprise, given what his reflexes were like. She would not be able to get close to him without him noticing, even if his eyes were closed. That incident (Felt's cheeks burned at the mere recollection) had proved that much.

As Felt considered these things, her heart began to pound once more. She had never experienced a challenge on this level before. The odds were stacked against her, but even so, Felt knew that she could win. If there was one thing Felt prided herself on, it was her resourcefulness. She hadn't grown up on the streets for nothing.

"Is something the matter, Lady Felt?" she heard Reinhard ask her.

Felt opened her eyes.

Reinhard was peering at her with eyes full of concern. Even if he was a superhuman, he probably had no idea what kind of thoughts were running through her head.

Felt smiled at him.

"Say, I've got a question, Reinhard."

"Yes, what is it?"

"You'd do anything for me? Anything besides set me free, I mean."

"Of course," said Reinhard. "My life is yours to command."

As he spoke, he bowed deeply, ever the dutiful knight.

That's good then, thought Felt as she gazed down at his red hair. At least one factor was on her side. Reinhard probably didn't trust her, but he had sworn to serve her. If she played her cards right, she could get him to lower his guard around her. That way, she could create an opening without revealing her own intentions.

"Take me out into the gardens then," she said, as imperiously as she could manage. "I'm tired of being cooped up in here."

"My lady, isn't the hour quite late already? Perhaps it is best to retire for the night."

"Didn't you say you'd do anything I commanded? Or are you a liar, Reinhard?"

"Of course not," the knight responded evenly.

And with that, he walked over to the door and opened it smoothly. He didn't stop there; he held the door open for Felt as she walked past.

"Heh," said Felt. "So you are good for some things."

"Lady Felt, it would be an honour if you relied on me as your knight. At the very least, I hope that you can trust me." There was a tinge of self-deprecation in the knight's smile, as if he could not bring himself to believe his own words. He was obviously aware that if he were in Felt's position, he wouldn't trust a guy like himself at all.

"Yeah," said Felt. "I know."

Walking in the gardens with Reinhard, it felt as if the two of them were the only people left in the world.

A cool breeze tickled Felt's skin. The moon peaked out from behind the clouds, illuminating the lush greenery and colourful flowers around her. The grass must have been watered fairly recently, because it felt soft and cushiony against her feet.

It felt as if she was walking inside a scene from a storybook.

In reality, this was all the work of trained gardeners, who must have slaved day and night in order to produce this picture of ephemeral beauty.

"Are you enjoying your walk, Lady Felt?" asked Reinhard behind her.

For a moment, Felt did not answer. She merely turned her head and looked back soundlessly at Reinhard. He appeared to be distracted himself. He stood still, gazing up at the wan moon. His eyebrows were knitted into a frown.

"What are you so preoccupied about?" Felt asked him, nonplussed.

Reinhard turned to look at her and smiled. It was such a typical Reinhard expression that Felt was starting to memorise with precise detail that "ultra refreshing" smile of his. If she had even slightest amount of artistic ability, she could have sketched it without even looking at him.

"The moon is lovely tonight, isn't it?"

"Sheesh, you're boring. I didn't think you could find a more generic conversation starter. But whatever."

Felt eventually came to a stop and looked at her surroundings. She had reached the edge of the garden. The fence blocked the path ahead of her. She could probably scale it in a few seconds, but that was still too slow to slip away from Reinhard without him noticing.

As Felt sighed, a cold wind blew around her, causing the nearby bushes to rustle. Other than that, there was no sound out here at all.

"…Hey, Reinhard. Do you know why I called you here?"

Instead of answering her question, Reinhard said, "It will be midnight soon."

He was gazing at the clock tower about a hundred metres away. It was situated just outside the boundaries of the van Astrea house, right in the very hub of the district for the nobility. Every night, Felt would hear the clock strike midnight from her bed, causing her to wake. Maybe the people who lived in this district were used to that sound, but she certainly wasn't. She would never hear the sound of that clock in the slums.

"Are you sure you want to be outside?" Reinhard asked her, interrupting her thoughts. "It will be much warmer inside."

"I've slept outside my whole life. I never want to sleep like that again."

"So then why…?"

"Even if I explain it to you, you wouldn't understand. After all, you were born with everything. Riches, a family name… even your divine protections were given to you at birth. You received all that just for existing."

Reinhard said nothing.

"I think I've more or less figured out why you abducted me. You think I'm a somebody like you. That's why you won't let me go back to the slums."

"Lady Felt, I…"

"But it's all so unbelievable, isn't it?" Felt interrupted him.

Perhaps it was because of the quiet, tranquil atmosphere of this garden. Felt found herself speaking with a soft and gentle tone, utterly unlike herself. She couldn't help but get caught in the mood in spite of herself.

"You brought me here. You gave me these clothes and slippers. But you can't change who I am on the inside."

If Master Reinhard hadn't saved you, you would still be out on the streets, rolling around in your own filth. Is that how you really want to live?

As she spoke, Felt vividly recalled the sound of Phyllis's voice, as if the maid were speaking directly into her ear.

"I'll never be accepted among those nobles," Felt went on. "They're all just shallow blowhards, you know."

"The dragon has accepted you, Lady Felt. When the nobles understand that, they will accept you too."

"So you've banked everything on that insignia. You don't know the girl you're looking for, but if she fits the exact measurement you have in mind, then she has to be the one. Is that how it is?"

"That's the long and short of it," Reinhard answered.

"I see," said Felt.

It was still completely unbelievable.

Felt thought of all those years she had spent in the slums as nothing but human vermin. The only thing that had set her apart from the others was her dreams. She was destined to become someone greater. That was what she had told Old Man Rom every day, from the time she was a little girl.

But now, after her dream had come true through no effort of her own, why did she feel so defeated?

All she could do was shake her head.

"It's a lie," she muttered. "It's all a lie."

"Lady Felt…?"

"Old Man Rom used to tell me that if I worked hard, I could break free from the slums. That's what I believed. That's why I did everything I could. But in the end, it's blood that decides everything. Or fate, or divine blessings, or whatever else you call it."

As she spoke, Felt realised that her hands had clenched into fists.

"I hate it. I hate that system! Why does it have to be that way? There's nothing fair about it! That's why I reject it!"

She stamped her foot against the ground, crushing the dewy grass with her slipper. Even the feel of the slipper against her feet irritated her, for she could not move around easily in it. She flung off the slippers with a single jerky kick, so that her bare feet touched the earth once more.

At the same moment, clouds covered the moon, cloaking the garden in shadow. Felt could not see Reinhard's face, but she could tell that he was no longer smiling. Even in the gloom, his blue eyes gleamed piercingly, as if fighting against the darkness.

"What are you planning to do?" he asked her in a low voice.

"The only thing that I can do."

Right then and there, Felt pulled up her nightgown, revealing her pale white thighs. Reinhard jerked backwards, evidently startled.

Wrapped around Felt's right thigh was a leather strap with a knife attached.

With one smooth motion, Felt unsheathed the knife, tossed it in the air and caught it in her hand.

"I borrowed this from your house for a bit. Hope you don't mind."

"Lady Felt, please don't do anything you will regret."

Reinhard spoke calmly, but there was something inexplicably sad in his eyes. It was impossible to describe. The sight of it just pissed Felt off even more. Why was he feeling sorry for her at a time like this?

"This is the only thing I can do, damn it! Even if it's hopeless, I have to live strong!"

And with that, she dashed at Reinhard, brandishing the knife.

Things happened very quickly after that. The next thing Felt knew, her knife-wielding arm was twisted behind her back. Reinhand's hand was clamped on her wrist, preventing her from budging an inch.

"Was this really the only thing you could think to do?" Reinhard asked behind her. His voice sounded somewhat pained, almost as if her knife really had inflicted a wound on him.

It took Felt a moment to realise that Reinhard spoke like someone who had been betrayed.

It was just for a moment, but Felt sensed something twinge in her chest. As if a voice in her head was telling her that she had done something needlessly cruel.

Is this the way to repay someone who saved your life?

The thought very almost caused her to hesitate.

Instead, Felt opened her mouth and said, "Let go of me, Reinhard."

Even though she was in a compromised position, Felt kept her voice firm and her eyes fixed straight ahead. She stood very still and did not try to struggle against Reinhard's grip.

The next moment, she felt the weight of her knife leave her right hand.

"I will be taking this," she heard Reinhard say behind her.

After he finished speaking, he let go of her arm.

Felt instantly swung around to face the man who had defeated her so soundly.

In the darkness of the night, Reinhard's pure white clothing stood out like a sore thumb. He looked far more like royalty than Felt ever would. As the clouds shifted once again, allowing the moonlight to shine through, Felt caught sight of his face as well.

"You don't have to live like this, Lady Felt," Reinhard said, attempting a smile.

Even after she had attacked him, he reached his hand out towards hers. There was not a hint of resentment on his face. Felt could not understand the look on Reinhard's face at all, but it was strangely, hauntingly beautiful, like something out of a painting or a tragic play. There was a kind of noble sadness in his demeanour, as if he wore the weight of the world on his shoulders.

For a moment, Felt could only watch him helplessly, rooted to the spot. Dimly, she wondered if she was experiencing the effect of one of his many divine protections. In that case, perhaps it really was impossible to fight against him…

His fingers were about to touch her left hand when a sudden noise cut through the air.

Dong… dong…!

The sound was coming from the clock tower. In this quiet garden, the chime sounded even louder than it normally did.

And just like that, the spell broke.

"It's midnight…" Felt muttered, and then shivered, because only now did she feel the cold touch of the wind against her bare skin.

Dong… dong…!

"Please, come with me, Lady Felt. There's no need for you to fight anymore. You cannot win against me." He spoke as if he were stating a simple fact, without a hint of arrogance in his tone.

Dong… dong…!

As the clock tolled, Felt faced Reinhard once again. The knight's gloved hand was still reaching out for hers. Instead of letting him touch her, Felt skipped back several steps. She felt the garden wall brush against her back, preventing her from backing away any further. As far as Reinhard was concerned, there was nowhere else for Felt to run.

Slowly yet surely, Felt's mouth spread into an impish grin.

"You're wrong. You're the one who's been defeated."

"What…?"

Dong… dong…!

As Reinhard blinked in surprise, Felt opened up her clenched left hand.

Lying there in her sweaty palm was a glowing black insignia.

"Impossible…!" Reinhard gasped.

"Don't you underestimate a master thief. It was never my intent to fight you head on in the first place! That was just a distraction!"

Dong… dong…!

The shock only immobilised Reinhard for the barest of moments. As the sound of the clock echoed around them, he lunged towards Felt, reaching out for the insignia in her hand.

After many years in the slums, Felt's reflexes were just as sharp as his. Before Reinhard could touch her, she hurled the insignia towards a nearby bush.

"Lady Felt, no!"

As Reinhard let out an anguished cry, his eyes momentarily left Felt's body in order to watch the trajectory of the insignia.

This was all within the range of Felt's expectations. To Reinhard, the symbol mattered more than Felt herself did.

Ordinarily, she would have relished the look of utter shock and dismay on his face. His calm and knightly attitude was completely shattered. But there was no time at all to waste on him. The instant Reinhard was distracted, Felt scrambled up the wall. (Dong...! The clock rang out.) It was a good thing she wasn't wearing those slippers anymore; there were barely any footholds on the polished brick wall, and it was only long experience that propelled her to the top in the blink of an eye.

As soon as her feet touch the summit, the clock rang out for the last time that hour.

Dong…!

"Goodbye, Reinhard," Felt muttered to herself. Even if Reinhard could not hear her, it was the least she could have said after everything that had happened between them. "I swear that I'll pay you back properly one day…!"

And with that fervent vow traced into her heart, she sprang off the wall and began her flight to freedom.

For at least an hour afterwards, Felt looked over her shoulder constantly, fearful that Reinhard would catch up to her unawares. But she felt more secure once she was outside of the relatively secluded district for the nobility. Even at this hour, the main streets were bustling with night vendors and buskers, so it was easy to slip into the crowd. In fact, it seemed that more travellers than usual were flowing into the capital these days. Compared to the obvious out-of-towners and non-humans, a short girl in a white nightgown was a nondescript sight. Nobody looked at her twice when she ventured out onto the main street.

It was only when she had slipped into a dank and desolate side alley, however, that Felt finally breathed a sigh of relief. From here, it was only a short walk to the slums. More importantly, she knew all the nooks and crannies in this part of town like the back of her hand. If someone chased after her here, she would easily be able to slip away into the shadows unseen. This ability had helped her out in a pinch many times in the past. Not even Reinhard would be capable of squeezing into Felt's numerous hiding places. As long as Felt was avoiding a direct confrontation, she was close to invincible on her home ground.

Nevertheless, Felt did not allow her pace to slow down. Even if she had wanted to stop for a rest, she would not have been able to. An insatiable restlessness forced her legs into motion. Throughout it all, only one thought pulsed through her mind: Old Man Rom… Old Man Rom…

His place wasn't far away from here. She would find him quickly and make sure he was okay. And after that… who knows? Well, first, she had one hell of a story to tell him.

Despite her eagerness, it took a bit longer than usual to get to Old Man Rom's place because she hid in the shadows whenever someone (usually a drunkard) walked past. Even though nobody in this part of town could possibly be connected to Reinhard van Astrea, she didn't want to be seen by any of them. She was well known in these parts, after all. Reinhard could probably track her down by asking people in the slums if they had seen her. She wouldn't put it past him; he seemed like the kind of person who would go about things thoroughly.

It was past 2 o'clock when she arrived at the district where the loot house was located. Not a soul was walking about at this hour. Some people were sleeping out in the open, covered only in rough felt blankets, but nobody stirred when Felt crept past. Briskly yet carefully, she made her way across the bridge she had traversed a million times before.

Nothing about her surroundings looked any different from usual. Depending on the weather, some people built makeshift houses in different spots or slept in a different place from day to day, but the shape of the slums always looked the same. Nothing ever improved.

Honestly, Felt would have been more surprised if anything had changed. After all, she had only been gone for about a week. During that time, she might have visited another world, but in the end, life went on in much the same way outside. Already, it was starting to feel as if that week with Reinhard had been nothing but an incredibly detailed fantasy.

These thoughts preoccupied her mind to such an extent that, for a few seconds, she didn't even recognise the loot house when she caught sight of it.

In all fairness, however, it was understandable that she would not recognise the loot house at first. It had been rendered unrecognisable.

"What… what is this…?" Felt could not stop herself from gasping in shock.

The roof of the building had been completely torn off. All the furniture was smashed and broken. The loot house had always been a bit of a dump, but this looked like the sight of a tragedy.

For a moment, Felt stared at the devastation in silence, conscious of a horrible churning in her stomach. Then finally, belatedly, she remembered that the loot house had been like this the last time she had been there. That fateful night, when that woman went on her rampage, Reinhard had stepped in to save the day… and that was when he had caused this destruction.

Thud.

Felt dimly heard herself fall to the ground. After all that non-stop running, the strength seemed to have finally left her legs. She lacked the energy to even pick herself up off the ground. Whether it was because of physical or mental exhaustion, she didn't know. Probably both.

Even through her exhaustion, she was vaguely aware of one thing. She had been so fixated on escaping from Reinhard that she had refused to consider the glaring, obvious reality that she had passed the point of no return, that nothing in her life would ever be the same anymore.

"Damn it… damn it to hell…"

She had run away from the man who had saved her life, and all for what? A home that she could never go back to? There was no way that she could live in the slums after all of this. She had never wanted to live here in the first place, damn it.

But now, it was just plainly impossible.

"Old Man Rom…?"

She heard her own voice echo around the ruins, barely audible even to her own ears. When it came down to it, did she really sound like such a helpless little girl…? No, no, no, she didn't want to think about it. With effort, she craned her neck, looking around for the man who had found her and raised her for as long as she could remember.

There was no response, obviously.

Felt knew that if Old Man Rom were alive, he would be sleeping anywhere but here, but even so, she kept looking for him anyway. The old man had always guided her whenever she was lost. And he was a tough old coot too. Surely he was still alive. Surely she would find him. Surely things would go back to normal after all of this.

Surely… surely…

"Well, well, what do we have here?"

An unfamiliar man's voice spoke behind Felt. The voice sounded thin and reedy, nothing like Reinhard's calm and soothing tones.

As she heard footsteps draw close behind her, Felt's stomach sunk with dread. Slowly, she turned her head around to face the newcomer.

For a moment, she didn't even see him, even though she was staring directly at him. The ruins of the loot house were almost completely obscured in darkness, and the man was wearing a hooded black robe. Even when she noticed the outline of his figure, she was unable to see his face. She could not even guess how old he was.

All she knew for certain was that he was definitely not somebody who lived in the slums.

Felt's self-preservation skills instantly kicked into gear at the sight of him. She stumbled to her feet and started fumbling around the ruins for something—anything—to use as a makeshift weapon.

"Who… who the hell are you?" she demanded shakily.

The man did not answer her question.

"Blonde hair, red eyes… So the rumours were true. There was a survivor after all." He appeared to be speaking to himself. He could obviously see her, but it was as if she was nothing more than a curious oddity to him.

"Damn it… what do you want with me?!"

Once again, the man did not answer her question.

"So… the Sword Saint is not around. What a foolish thing you've done, escaping from his protection. Although I don't suppose you'll live long to regret it."

As the man was speaking, Felt's hands fell on a broken table leg. She picked it with both hands, pointing the jagged end forward.

"If it's a fight you want, come and get it!"

Before, when she had been facing off against Reinhard, she had been trapped but not cornered. But now, there was absolutely nowhere else to run. The man was blocking the entrance, and Felt had run out of options a while ago anyway.

"So you're a feisty one, huh? Very well then."

As the man stepped forward, he reached into his robes and pulled out a gleaming rapier. Felt could tell just by looking that the rapier was sharp enough to impale her body cleanly. With one hit, everything would be over.

All her dreams, all her ambitions… Everything.

"It's time to finish the job properly," said the man with a short, dry laugh.

Felt scowled at those words. She didn't know who this guy was or why he wanted to kill her, but she hadn't survived for this long for it all to end here. What would that Reinhard jerk think of her if she dropped dead after all that effort she had put into escaping from him?

What a freaking joke.

As the man drew closer, Felt tightened her grip around the table leg. She had been utterly exhausted only moments ago, but now the adrenaline pumped through every inch of her body. She stood facing the mysterious cloaked man, refusing to back down an inch. Only one thought now remained in her mind. Everything else had faded into insignificance.

Survive…!

She saw the flash of the rapier just in time to twist her head out of the way, narrowly avoiding a direct hit to the forehead. Damn it, the man was fast. She didn't know how long she could keep dodging his attacks, but she had to do it.

It was the only way to stay alive.

Felt was so intent on reading the man's movements that she didn't even hear his parting words as he thrust the rapier at her tiny body.

"…Farewell, dear princess."

end part two of three