Irene.
Sometimes she wondered.
If only.
If only she had been stronger.
Could she have prevented all the tragedies that stained her past?
*“You can no longer stay by my side… nor should you.”*
*“So, this is goodbye.”*
Her teacher’s back as he walked away.
It was a scene seared with regret.
If only she hadn’t let him leave alone.
If only she had the strength to protect him.
*“Please, live on.”*
Everything felt like it was her fault.
So, she pushed herself relentlessly.
She wielded her sword, sweat dripping, her weary heart hardening into ice.
With a vow never to break again.
*But.*
She wasn’t sure if it was enough.
Just because she tried her hardest didn’t mean good results would follow.
She was still weak.
All she could do was move forward.
Even amidst the suffocating helplessness.
Searching for her own star, as her teacher had once said.
*“Find your own star.”*
The fox would wander through the pitch-black dawn.
---
The sky darkened as storm clouds gathered suddenly, devouring the sun and releasing rain in scattered drops.
Was a storm brewing?
The wind hinted at something fierce.
*Whoooosh—*
The sea wind roared, turning the fine drizzle into a relentless downpour.
It was, without a doubt, the worst weather for sailing.
Rain lashed down in ferocious sheets.
Despite the stormy chaos,
A battle continued on the deck of the ship.
The sharp sound of blows echoed.
*Thud! Crack!*
The hound’s fist smashed into Irene’s abdomen.
The sharp pain stole her breath, and the kick that followed hit her shin with bone-jarring force.
The fox staggered, momentarily losing her balance.
“Ugh…!”
Her breath came out in short, pained gasps.
She tried to steady herself, but her battered body threatened to give out at any moment.
Irene clung desperately to consciousness.
Before her stood the figure in the gray robe.
“See? You should’ve just stayed quiet,” the hound taunted.
A cruel smile tugged at his lips.
He even hummed a tune, clearly enjoying the current situation.
He twirled his wrist lazily.
“Do you like getting hit? Why do you keep giving me reasons to hit you?”
“…”
“What’s this? No answer?”
*Smack!*
It was hardly a standoff—more like a one-sided beating.
Irene was barely holding on.
Her exhausted body couldn’t even grip her sword properly.
It was no wonder.
Despite being drugged, she hadn’t succumbed to unconsciousness, had run at full speed, cut down dozens of guards, and reached the rooftop.
There was no strength left for defiance.
“You tough little thing… How are you still on your feet?”
Anyone else would’ve collapsed long ago.
Irene held on with sheer willpower alone.
“This is actually entertaining! Your stamina hasn’t changed one bit!”
*Whack!*
The hound grabbed her by the hair, yanking her head back and securing his grip before slapping her hard across the face.
*Slap!*
Pain erupted on her cheek, leaving a red handprint across her pale skin.
Blood dripped from her split lip.
The hound laughed openly.
“You know you can’t beat me.”
“…”
“Don’t you remember who captured you and your little siblings? This is the second time you’ve ended up in my hands.”
The fox couldn’t refute his mocking words.
It was all true.
Irene had already lost to this hound before.
He was the one who pursued them tirelessly when she tried to escape with her siblings, finally knocking her unconscious and throwing her into a cage.
“Accept it. This is your fate.”
It was the same now.
This opponent was beyond her, especially in her current state.
“Well then, shall we continue?”
The hound raised his fist again, readying another blow when a voice interrupted.
“That’s enough.”
It was the young man in the suit—the “guest” who had been watching from the sidelines.
He politely intervened.
“If you continue, her value as a product might be compromised.”
“What? I told you not to interfere,” the hound snapped.
“I’m simply offering a rational suggestion. If she ends up scarred, our employer will not be pleased.”
“…Tch. I know that.”
Mentioning the employer seemed to have worked.
The hound clicked his tongue and stepped back.
When he let go of her hair, Irene’s legs gave out, and she sank to one knee.
“…”
“Hmm? Is the drug finally kicking in?” the young man remarked.
“It held her long enough. This drug can knock out even bear beastfolk instantly. The fact that she stayed conscious this long is surprising.”
“Anyway, it’s over now.”
The hound brushed the dust off his hands.
Without hesitation, he turned and gave orders to the remaining soldiers.
“Move her carefully. If she gets scratched, you’re dead. Keep that in mind.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Damn. I can’t trust these idiots. I’ll come with you, so hurry it up.”
“Yes, sir!”
Several soldiers moved to seize the fox.
Her body was a wreck.
She lay limp, eyes glazed.
“…”
Irene didn’t resist.
It was resignation.
She had done enough.
At least she had tried her hardest; maybe it was time to let go.
Hope seemed pointless in the face of such despair.
*“Maybe it’s okay to hope for a miracle?”*
*“Who knows? Maybe someone will come riding in like a prince on a white horse to save us.”*
Words she once heard from Anne.
Back when they were imprisoned by dark wizards, it was a way of telling her to keep hope alive.
Irene bit her lip softly.
Yes.
Playing the role of the princess in danger.
Sitting quietly and waiting for a prince on a white horse wasn’t necessarily a bad experience.
It felt like a fragile, weak version of herself was being saved.
*But…*
This time too?
How many times now?
If she kept waiting for help in every crisis, how many white knights would she need throughout her life?
Irene felt doubtful.
*Maybe.*
This was the way it was supposed to be.
Even with her lifelong enemy before her, she couldn’t even leave a scratch, let alone take revenge.
She had been played with, like a powerless toy.
What was the point of such a pathetic struggle?
If she couldn’t live without others’ help, could that even be called a proper life?
She didn’t deserve a prince on a white horse.
All she could do was offer her neck to the looming danger.
“…”
The fox sank deeper into her sense of helplessness.
Perhaps it was the exhaustion, but her thoughts grew bleaker.
As her arms were grabbed by the soldiers—
*Irene.*
A voice, familiar and distant, brushed against her ears.
It was her teacher’s voice.
Was she hearing things now that her mind was faltering?
Irene blinked her unfocused eyes.
*Why aren’t you standing back up?*
Her muddled thoughts made it hard to tell reality from illusion.
All she could do was respond internally.
*Won’t you fight?*
I’m tired.
My body won’t move anymore.
*You’ve changed.*
*You weren’t one to make excuses.*
*When you hated someone, you’d get back up no matter how many times it took and knock them down. Wasn’t that your way?*
Two years is enough time for anyone to change.
A lot has happened.
Since you left, I don’t know how I survived those hellish days.
I barely remember how I got through them.
*Are you trying to act spoiled?*
It’s been a while.
Just listen to your student’s complaints, will you?
*I didn’t mean to scold you.*
*I was just surprised.*
*I thought you had closed your heart after that day, but it seems you still have enough courage to reveal your true feelings to others.*
It’s just a hallucination anyway.
*Think what you like.*
That’s true.
It’s not like it matters at this point.
*I see… You must have hit a wall.*
*What kind of enemy could make someone as stubborn as you give up?*
One of those who killed you.
I tried to fight him, but my body just couldn’t keep up.
*Won’t you regret this?*
*Your little siblings are probably counting the days until you return. Are you really going to leave them behind?*
*Then why do you look so tormented?*
What am I supposed to do?
I want to stay by their side, but wishes alone don’t solve anything.
*Irene.*
I’ve faced many dangers before, but I don’t think I can overcome this one.
*You’ve forgotten my teachings.*
*The things I told you… Have you already erased them from your mind?*
*I told you to always remember.*
I remember.
You told me you didn’t want me to submit.
To be someone who wouldn’t bow down.
*Even if you’re blocked by unjust forces, that’s okay.*
*Even if everything about you is denied, leaving you with only trembling weakness, that’s fine.*
*Just don’t bend what you believe is right.*
*That’s what life is.*
*I told you this over and over.*
I tried to live that way.
I wanted to be like you.
Even if I didn’t live perfectly, I think I was going in the right direction.
Maybe I was a bit foolish.
*That’s enough.*
Is it?
*A sword carries the heart of its wielder.*
*Every step you take adds to the brilliance of your blade.*
*Now, it’s time to face your true self.*
My true self…?
*Open your eyes, Irene.*
*The path you’ve walked, holding true to yourself, has imbued your sword with the purest light.*
*Become the crimson flame.*
*Set injustice ablaze and bring villains to their knees.*
“…”
Irene stood still.
The voice whispered in her ears.
As she replayed the calm tone in her mind, her clouded consciousness began to clear, sharpening with newfound clarity.
It was as if she’d been struck by an epiphany, something she had missed for so long.
*Find your own star.*
For the first time, she truly understood what those words meant.
Until now, she had thought of a “star” as her cherished ones or a belief to uphold, but the true meaning was far broader.
A star symbolized life itself.
*Open your eyes.*
It was the ultimate goal that guided one’s life.
Only when that was established did one’s sword become a vessel for their life force.
Only then would it truly shine.
Irene Foxis.
Her path, the life she had led, her guiding star, the purpose it all embodied—
It would culminate in her blade.
*Open your eyes.*
After the pitch-black night comes the dawn, a dawn bearing a name:
Crimson Flame.
*Whoosh—*
Suddenly, flames sparked to life.
A searing heat radiated outward, dispelling the chill of the raging storm.
The rain evaporated before it could even touch her skin.
Amidst the all-consuming sensation of heat—
“…Burn.”
Irene opened her eyes.
---
Meanwhile.
A certain pair of narrow eyes watched the scene unfold.
“At last, the Crimson Flame has arrived.”
The snake murmured.
The voice that had played the part of her mentor shifted, returning to its youthful tone.
A wicked grin spread across his lips.
“It’s time for awakening.”
A sinister tremor danced on his tongue.