Please, Don’t Break

The Saint, Amael, was gazing at the sky, tears streaming down his face.

He clutched his chest and head, his fingers digging into his own flesh.

“Please… please. I just want to be happy. Please.” 

His voice trembled as he pleaded, only to let out a piercing scream and collapse onto the ground.

He was breaking.

Writhing in pain, he was slowly being dragged into the darkness.

And soon…

He disappeared completely.

Both princesses bolted upright in their beds at the exact same moment.

Cold sweat drenched their bodies.

“What… what is this?”

Iomene wiped her damp forehead, only to pause as she caught sight of the back of her hand.

The Stigmata of Dulaneor was glowing.

It was clear—this was no ordinary dream.

“Why… why did the Saint…?”

Almeine murmured, her voice unsteady.

At that moment, a memory surfaced in both of their minds simultaneously.

A memory from when Iomene had barely been conscious.

A memory of Amael holding her in his arms, weeping.

“If you stay by my side, you’ll be hurt, Iomene.”

She remembered his sorrowful eyes as she had asked him to marry her.

She recalled his bittersweet smile, as if swallowing his despair and resentment.

“I’m sorry, Iomene.”

And then—she remembered the moment he had embraced her and cried.

The two princesses, who had been lost in their thoughts, suddenly turned pale.

Without hesitation, they both leaped out of bed.

They dressed in haste and hurried outside.

“Head to the Mars Tower Branch immediately!”

“As you command, Your Highness.”

A limousine was summoned in an instant.

In no time, they arrived at the Tower.

Surrounded by guards, the two women stepped into the building.

Despite their sudden visit, the Tower Master, Orgen, was promptly summoned.

“Y-Your Highnesses! What brings you here?”

Orgen stammered in surprise as he rushed down the stairs.

The princesses bowed their heads slightly, their expressions composed.

“Forgive us for coming unannounced. However, there is someone we must meet urgently.”

“Whom do you seek?”

“Erfa. She is here, isn’t she? We need to speak with her.”

“Erfa?”

“Yes. Just the three of us—Iomene, myself, and Erfa.”

“I will summon her at once. Please wait in the reception room.”

“Thank you.”

The two princesses entered the reception room and sat in silence.

Within five minutes, the door opened.

Erfa stepped inside.

“I will leave you to your discussion,” the Tower Master said respectfully, bowing before shutting the door.

Now, only three women remained in the room.

Erfa stood still, her expression unreadable.

Then, after a brief pause, she offered a formal greeting.

“It is an honor to meet Your Highnesses. I am Erfa, the Witch of the Tower.”

In her eyes, there was wariness.

And fear.

And a faint, bitter trace of jealousy.

The princesses immediately understood why she wore such an expression.

“Erfa, we came to speak with you about the Saint.”

At Almeine’s words, Erfa’s hands began to tremble.

“So… that’s why you’re here.”

Her voice was hoarse.

“You’re here to tell me to give up on him, aren’t you? To warn me that you two plan to claim him for yourselves?”

She lowered her head, her voice filled with humiliation.

“Yes. He rejected me. Right in front of Iomene, no less. But even so, I will never give up. No matter what threats you make—I will never abandon him.”

At that, Iomene stood up.

“You’re misunderstanding.”

“Then what other reason could you possibly have for seeking me out?”

Iomene’s voice was flat as she spoke.

“Amael is going to die, Erfa.”

The entire atmosphere shifted.

“…What?”

Iomene lifted her hand, revealing the Stigmata of Dulaneor.

“Dulaneor showed us a vision this morning. We saw it clearly—Amael suffering, unable to endure the pain, breaking apart completely.”

The jealousy in Erfa’s eyes disappeared.

As did the anger.

The sense of rivalry.

Everything faded away.

At last, Iomene saw the expression she had been waiting for.

Desperation.

“Sit down. This is going to take a while.”

Iomene motioned to the empty seat across from them.

Erfa hesitated for a brief moment—but then, she obeyed.

She sat down, her hands still trembling.

“Please… tell me everything.”

Almeine began to explain.

“It’s exactly as we said. We saw Amael struggling, being swallowed by the darkness. His mind was breaking apart. He kept begging—pleading to be happy.”

Erfa’s breath hitched.

“But why?” she whispered.

“He’s the most devout among us. He’s saved countless lives—including ours. So why?”

Iomene answered the question.

“It’s just a theory. Nothing more than speculation—but there is one thing that seems suspicious.”

“What is it?”

“The Saint may have received a revelation that he must continue fighting against evil. Dulaneor, the God of Annihilation, showed us his suffering for a reason. Even though the Saint serves a different god, he is still being used to fulfill Dulaneor’s will.”

At those words, Erfa shook her head in confusion.

“Annihilation of evil? But isn’t that supposed to be your role as the Holy Maiden of the White Order? Why would the Saint be burdened with that?”

Iomene let out a bitter laugh.

“That just shows how dire the situation is. For three hundred years, no Saint, Holy Maiden, or Hero was granted to humanity. And then suddenly, both a Saint of Healing and a Holy Maiden of Annihilation appeared at nearly the same time. It’s obvious that the Saint wasn’t sent here just to heal the sick.”

Three hundred years ago—long before the Empire was even established—Saints, Holy Maidens, and Heroes were not so rare.

The gods communicated with humans more directly back then. Divine revelations were clearer, and holy power, blessings, and miracles were far stronger than they are today.

But for three centuries, the gods of the Pantheon stopped granting Saints and Heroes to humanity. Divine messages became scarce, and holy power and miracles weakened significantly compared to their peak.

Meanwhile, worshippers of evil gods and demonic cultists grew stronger in the shadows. For three hundred years, they steadily expanded their influence—until now, when they were even able to place one of their own inside the heart of the Imperial Palace.

No one knew exactly what was happening in Heaven and Hell, but one thing was certain:

The Pantheon’s power was weakening, while the forces of darkness were growing stronger.

And in the midst of it all—

A Saint appeared and saved the Empire.

There was no doubt. As Iomene had said, the Saint wasn’t sent merely to heal.

“Annihilation doesn’t always have to mean physically striking down evil like the White Order does,” Almeine added.

“He was given a mission to save the weak. That much is certain.”

She paused before continuing.

“Not only that, but he is a Seer. It wouldn’t be strange if he had witnessed a future where the world was destroyed by evil. He must have carried that burden alone, marching forward despite the agony—”

She trailed off.

All three women had turned pale.

They hated it.

The thought of the Saint breaking, vanishing—

That was worse than death itself.

Erfa clasped her trembling hands together.

“So that’s why he pushed me away… He knew he had to fight against the forces of darkness and thought I would be in danger if I stayed by his side.”

Her mind replayed the moment the Saint had coldly rejected her.

Until now, it had been a memory of sadness and humiliation.

But now—it was a memory that filled her with fear and worry.

“What should we do? How can we stop him from breaking?”

At that, Almeine smiled.

“It’s simple. He just needs someone he can open up to.”

Erfa clenched her fists.

“With his personality, he’d rather suffer alone! No matter what we do, he won’t share his burdens. He’d rather die than let someone else suffer because of him.”

She wasn’t wrong.

The Saint was foolishly selfless.

He never considered his own well-being. He would throw himself into danger just to save others, no matter the cost.

And even if they tried to approach him, he would push them away—afraid that they might get hurt.

No matter how much they begged or reasoned with him, he would never open his heart.

Even though he was crumbling inside, he would continue to act like a fool.

Erfa didn’t know how to break through that wall.

But Iomene and Almeine did.

They exchanged knowing smiles.

“Let’s get him drunk.”

Iomene said it so nonchalantly that Erfa choked on her own saliva.

“W-what?!”

“And then,” Almeine added, “just do it.”

Erfa coughed violently.

“W-what are you even suggesting—?!”

“With his personality, he’ll never open up in a normal way. He’ll never allow himself to rely on someone. That’s why we need a more… drastic approach.”

Almeine’s voice softened.

“The Saint loves you, Erfa.”

Erfa flinched.

“When he rejected you, you didn’t see his face after you left. But we did. Do you have any idea how heartbroken he looked?”

Her breath caught in her throat.

“Did he really…?”

“Yes,” Iomene confirmed without hesitation.

“That’s a look that only comes from love. I’m sure of it.

“That’s why you have to do this. You have to go to him, win his heart, and comfort him. He will suffer more in the future. He needs someone to keep him from breaking.”

“That’s why we came to you.” Almeine met her eyes.

“You’re the only one who can do this, Erfa.”

A heavy silence filled the room.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Erfa spoke.

“Why… Why are you doing this for me?” Her voice trembled.

“You both love him too, don’t you?”

The two princesses nodded.

“We love him.”

“So much it takes our breath away,” Iomene whispered.

“To be honest, we’ve thought about getting rid of you more than once. It would be easier if it were just the two of us by his side.”

“But…” Almeine sighed.

“We were both saved by him. How could we be so selfish as to deny someone else—someone who was saved just like us—the chance to love him?”

“Go,” Iomene urged gently.

“Win his heart. Make him happy.”

“That’s all we want.”

The conversation ended.

Iomene and Almeine smiled, but their eyes were filled with sorrow.

Erfa gazed at them in silence.

Erfa seemed to be thinking about something. After pondering for a long time, she finally smiled self-deprecatingly.

“Both of you are fools. Trying to give up the man you love to a rival.”

Iomene smiled bitterly.

“We also thought it was foolish as we came here.”

“Don’t worry. I’m just as much of a fool as both of you.”

This time, the two princesses were surprised. Seeing their expressions, Erfa shrugged.

“Wouldn’t three be better than one? Besides, you’re asking me to take a bottle of alcohol and make the Saint drink it? I’ve spent half my life in hiding. There’s no way I can do that smoothly. I assure you, it would be much better if both of you did it.”

The two princesses looked at Erfa cautiously.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this, Erfa?”

Erfa nodded.

“Just as you both said, it would be too selfish to claim that some of us should love him and others shouldn’t, after we’ve all been saved together. I don’t think that’s right.”

Hearing this, smiles spread across the faces of Iomene and Almeine.

“We’ll find a way to make him drink the alcohol. And then we’ll call you, Erfa.”

“Please do. But there’s one thing I won’t compromise on. The first experience is mine.”

Almeine and Iomene clicked their tongues regretfully.

“Alright, we’ll concede that.”

“I’ll just warm him up for you. But the next round is ours.”

Erfa nodded.

And so, the decision was made.

Since Erfa was a frequent visitor, no one stopped her as she entered the Saint’s room in the Magician’s Tower temple.

She carefully made her way past the royal guards, court magicians, and the clergy and paladins of the White Order, entering the Saint’s chamber.

A soundproofing spell must have been cast in advance, as sounds that couldn’t be heard from outside became audible as she entered.

“Wait a moment, Iomene. If you suddenly do that... Ah♥......Ugh♥”

“Since our sensations are shared, it feels like I’m doing it with two Saints. It’s amazing.”

The twin sisters were lying on either side of the Saint, moaning.

Seeing Erfa enter, they lifted their flushed faces.

The two princesses smiled at Erfa.

“As promised, we haven’t done it yet.”

“We only touched his fingers and arms. This much is okay, right?”

Erfa nodded at their words and approached the bed.

The Saint was sleeping soundly, his eyes slightly swollen from tears.

She felt pity for him.

Erfa quietly climbed onto the Saint’s body.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry it has to be this way.”

This foolishly kind and good man would likely not be angry the next day. Instead, he would probably worry about the three of them.

He was so kind that he wouldn’t show anyone the burden he carried, and in the end......

He would break down, just like in the two princesses’ dreams.

She didn’t ask for much.

He would undoubtedly continue to save people.

That process would be painful and difficult.

So, even if it was just for a moment, she wanted to give him a happy experience.

Erfa hoped that after he woke up, this incident would help him open his heart.

She wished he could find happiness in their arms, even if just for a little while.

She wanted him to cry and act spoiled, saying that his burden was heavy.

Erfa carefully leaned down and kissed the Saint.

“After tonight, you can blame me or be angry with me. React however you want. Just please..... don’t break down.”

Her four arms moved slowly and delicately, carefully removing the intricately wrapped witch’s clothing.

“I love you, Saint.”

The night deepened.