Chapter 1
A day when every person—except me—is blessed. The sky is such a brilliant blue that it hurts to look at, and the sun hangs higher than ever. A day when the god, cruel only to me, pours light from His arms to care for all life on Earth. Yes, a day when everyone but me is drunk with happiness, lifting their voices in joy, praising the heroes of mankind.
Calliope’s hair, white as snow like that of a sick woman, fluttered in the wind. She stood atop the tallest bell tower in the capital, looking down at the heroes of humanity, who smiled as if the sun itself had kissed them. Her red eyes curved ever so slightly.
Over the past two years, all her hatred, bitterness, and tears had burned away. She no longer had the strength to hate anyone.
Calliope slowly raised her head to the sky. The bright light stung her eyes. Maybe that’s why tears—long dried up—started to fall again. Perhaps the brightness was too much. The round, white light reflected in her tears looked like someone’s eyes, so she shut hers. As the tears rolled down her cheeks, the light that had reminded her of his gaze vanished.
It had been two years since those chosen by the gods returned after defeating the Demon King. Though August was the hottest month of the year, the sunlight felt soft and warm, as if it was caressing them. The parade was set to begin at the city’s entrance and end at the bell tower in the temple at the center of the plaza. It had been the same last year, so Calliope knew her plan wouldn’t be interrupted.
Even from this distance, she could clearly see their faces. The sorrow from two years ago had faded, and now they smiled brightly at the people who showered them with blessings. Calliope smiled too—brightly, even.
He never came back. And yet here you are, smiling, being loved.
A wave of unfair hatred twisted in her chest like a coiled snake. My man, my love, never returned—and yet you stand here, grinning.
“Isaac.”
For the first time in a long while, she spoke his name. Isaac Esteban. One of the chosen heroes sent to defeat the Demon King, and once her fiancé. The man who had confessed he no longer loved her, because he had fallen for the Saintess.
She remembered the way he looked at her—cold, unfamiliar—as he turned away and knelt before Clementia. He didn’t stop her when she fled, gasping for air, clutching the hem of her dress, her heart shattering. He had abandoned her with that single choice.
Isaac Esteban—my love, who betrayed me.
“You left me, and now you’ve lost everything. Yet they act as though you’ve been forgotten.”
She hated that. If he hadn’t been chosen by the prophecy, he never would have met the Empire’s Saintess. He never would have betrayed her. And if they came and took him away from her, then at the very least, they shouldn’t act like this.
Even after everything, even after the betrayal, I still can’t forget him. I breathe only because I must, while holding on to the memory of him.
You—chosen by him—have no right to laugh like nothing happened. You should have suffered more, you should have grieved longer.
“Fools,” she whispered.
The soft words were not only for the man who was no longer in this world—but also for herself. A man who said he no longer loved her and left her for someone else… a man like that should be forgotten. Whether he’s alive or dead shouldn’t matter anymore.
Yet here she was, stuck in the past, clinging to the memories of the man she once loved, standing like a fool on top of this bell tower. Foolish Calliope. Stupid Calliope. She kept whispering those insults to herself, yet her feet didn’t move. They stayed right where they were.
At last, the parade reached the tower. Clementia, the Saintess, stood radiant with her bright red hair that burned like fire. Ansgar, the Empire’s First Prince, with golden hair like strands of sunlight. And Wolfgang, the knight, with dark brown hair like warm earth after rain.
Calliope scoffed. Their faces practically sparkled.
She stepped closer to the edge of the tower.
She knew they weren’t at fault. And yet, the bitterness inside her refused to fade. She was the only living soul in this world who resented the beloved heroes. Calliope Anastas. She had no power, no special gift. Just a foolish woman who was betrayed by the one she loved. Now, she would leave behind a small scar on their perfect story—and disappear.
“Since I don’t have the strength to end your stories, I’ll just have to end mine.”
The Saintess stepped onto the platform beneath the tower. Beside her stood the two heroes. Every eye in the plaza turned toward them.
“At least the weather is nice,” Calliope said quietly.
And then, as the great bell behind her rang out—loud enough to burst one’s ears—Calliope stepped off the edge, into empty air.
As if trying to stop her, a strong wind rushed by.
Dong. Dong. Dong.
With the enchantment set upon the bell to mark the second anniversary of the heroes’ return, the tolling began.
At the center stood the Saintess, Clementia—beloved of the gods and the shining star among the heroes. She was escorted by the Empire’s Crown Prince as she took her place at the highest platform beneath the bell tower. The sun poured down, warm and gentle, as if blessing them. Even from a distance, the crowd gathered below rippled like waves with joy and energy. This was the scene they had created.
It was we who protected humanity—and those we loved—from the disaster that visits the continent once every 500 years. Now, two years since we returned from defeating the Demon King, the pride we had held back for so long finally rose to the surface.
The first year had been spent healing wounds, mourning, and remembering the ones they had lost. No amount of comfort from others could lift them out of the deep sorrow. Isaac—comrade, savior, and the one who gave his life for this peaceful world. The knight who had pledged his sword to the Saintess.
Clementia looked up at the sky. The sun was so bright it brought tears to her eyes. Beneath her beautiful green eyes, grief and longing shimmered and fell. It was a good day. Too good. As if the heavens themselves were trying to brighten the path of the one who had left, cradling humanity in their blessing.
“I’m glad the weather is nice,” she whispered.
It was a good day to finally let go of lingering sorrow. At her words, the two men standing beside her offered slow, solemn smiles. And then—
Crash!
A harsh, heavy noise sliced through the cheerful murmurs of the crowd. An unknown liquid splashed across Clementia’s face. For a moment, the world froze. Just seconds of silence. And then, like a scene from a play, screams erupted all at once.
Clementia’s fingertips began to tremble. Her entire body began to shake. She kept looking up at the sky—too afraid to lower her gaze. She had seen something, she was sure of it. Something had just fallen. And then, a firm hand grabbed her shoulder, pulling her off the platform.
“Don’t look down!”
Wolfgang’s urgent voice rang out—but Clementia looked anyway. And she saw it. The sight she had tried so hard to deny.
“It’s her…”
The pure white stage prepared for Clementia was stained red. When she brushed her cheek, a warm, sticky liquid came away on her fingers. Blood. White hair—once silver, now dyed red—lay in a tangled mess across the platform.
A crushed body lay below, blood pooling around a broken head. More blood spilled out in waves. White clothing, white hair, pale skin. None of it felt real. But Clementia knew her. The woman she had always felt guilty about. Calliope, Isaac’s former fiancée. The one he had betrayed.
She had fallen right in front of Clementia.
A face half-collapsed from impact. A mangled body, twisted beyond recognition. It was impossible to tell what was what. Flesh, hair, blood—a ruin of a person.
“Aaaaah!”
Clementia finally screamed. She gasped for breath, choking on her own cry, and only then did she begin to hear the chaos around her. Wolfgang shouting to calm her, pulling her close. Ansgar’s sharp voice calling urgently for royal guards. The crowd descending into horror at the sight of the broken body.
Screams, sobs, retching sounds. The once-peaceful plaza warped into a scene of madness.
Clementia couldn’t tear her eyes away from Calliope’s corpse, even as she gagged.
It had been such a beautiful day—as if the gods themselves had granted her permission to finally be happy after that long, painful year. The wind, the sky, the sunlight—everything had felt perfect. But then Calliope fell, as if mocking her moment of peace.
“Were you trying to forget me?”
Calliope’s voice—one she had only heard a few times—echoed clearly in Clementia’s mind. Accusing, condemning. You tried to forget me. You tried to push Isaac, who betrayed me for you—into the past.
The blood flowed across the floor, creeping toward Clementia as if it carried Calliope’s anger.
No. No… she thought, struggling in Wolfgang’s arms, pushing herself back.
The lips that had once smiled so warmly now only screamed. The voice that had whispered, it’s a good day, now burst into sobs. The tears that had sparkled with longing were now clouded by guilt and terror.
A day meant to celebrate joy turned dark with tragedy.
On the day with the year’s highest sun and warmest light, Calliope Anastas fell from the heavens—like a devil among angels.
If, by some miracle, she had survived the fall, Calliope would have smiled at the chaos she caused. But no. Her final breath had left her long ago. In her world, Calliope had chosen to die.
* * *
She opened her eyes.
Her mind, still fogged with sleep, couldn’t make sense of anything. What was I just doing…?
Calliope blinked slowly, pulling the worn blanket closer as the cold wind bit at her skin.
The wooden walls around her creaked every time the wind slipped in, threatening to fall apart. Through the cracked, broken shutters on the window, she could just make out the distant sky.
Dawn. Pale sunlight peeked over the mountain ridge. A new day had begun.
