The days passed with an eerie quietness, and Akari felt the weight of the situation hanging heavily around her. While Kuro seemed to be as cold and calculating as ever, his obsession with asking her questions about their past grew. He often summoned her to his chambers, only to bombard her with inquiries about the other versions of himself, about their previous lives, and how things had been before everything fell apart. Akari would answer as honestly as she could, but it hurt each time.
Kuro wasn't the boy she once knew. The one who had been kind, playful, and warm. He was distant, a tyrant now, and every word that passed between them reminded her of the life they had once shared, and the tragedy that had turned him into this version of himself.
After each conversation, he would dismiss her, his coldness making her feel like an afterthought. It was as though she was a mere tool for him, something to pass the time with while he attempted to understand her and their bond. There was no tenderness, no familiarity.
And yet, despite the distance he placed between them, Akari couldn't escape the fact that she had once loved him deeply. In his first life, they had been more than friends; they had been partners, even husband and wife. Their connection was once pure, unbreakable. But now, it felt as though that love had been obliterated, a casualty of the endless cycle they had been trapped in. Even now, despite everything, she couldn't rid herself of the love that had once filled her heart for him.
During the day, when Kuro was busy with his kingdom, Akari would sneak away from the castle. She couldn't just stay behind the walls, helpless. She would slip through unnoticed, finding the people who still suffered beneath Kuro's rule. It wasn't much, but Akari did what she could to help.
She used her powers to heal, to fix what had been broken, to repair homes that had been destroyed, and to mend the bodies that had been shattered by the chaos Kuro had brought. But with every act of kindness, her guilt grew. The weight of her actions—the knowledge that Kuro was the cause of all this—became more than she could bear. Each time she helped someone, a part of her broke, knowing that they were still living under the shadow of his tyranny.
No one knew who she truly was, or how she was tied to the very man who had caused so much destruction. She couldn't reveal herself to them—not yet. She had to keep her identity hidden, just as she had done since the beginning. But with every person she healed, the pain of Kuro's deeds felt more real. She wasn't sure how long she could keep going—how long she could balance this life of secrecy with the memories of what she had once shared with him.
But she couldn't stop. She couldn't turn her back on the people who still needed help. And so, despite the ache in her heart, she continued to do what she could to ease their suffering. She only wished that, somehow, Kuro could see the consequences of his actions and realize the pain he was causing—not just to others, but to her as well.
At night, she would return to the castle, back to the cold reality of living in Kuro's world. Every time she stepped foot inside, she could feel the distance between them. He had asked about her feelings, but he didn't truly care. He was too far gone, too consumed by his own anger and resentment to see what they once had. Even if he had once loved her—even if their bond had been deep—he was now a stranger to her, a tyrant who didn't remember what they'd shared.
Akari wasn't sure how long she could keep going, pretending she didn't feel the ache in her chest every time she looked at him. He was beyond saving now. But part of her still clung to the hope that somewhere inside him, the man she had loved was still there, buried beneath the layers of rage and pain.
And so, she kept helping the people, kept healing the wounded, and kept holding on to the hope that somehow, some way, Kuro might come back to her.
Kuro sat at the head of the grand dining table, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Akari, a sarcastic smile playing on his lips. "I've heard someone is helping the citizens. Should we award that hero?" he asked, his tone dripping with mockery.
Akari didn't flinch. She had become used to the biting edge of his words, the coldness he exuded in everything he did. She met his gaze across the table, her own expression calm, almost amused. "Yeah, you should," she said nonchalantly, her voice steady.
Kuro raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting her to be so direct. "Oh? You think so?" His voice was laced with suspicion, as if he were trying to see through her, to understand if she had some hidden motive behind her words.
Akari only smiled slightly, her thoughts hidden behind her calm exterior. "Of course. After all, the citizens deserve someone to look up to," she replied, her words carrying a weight of irony, though she managed to keep her tone light.
Kuro's eyes lingered on her, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. He leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming against the table as he considered her words. For a moment, it seemed like he might say something more, but instead, he simply gave a half-smile and looked away.
"Very well," he muttered, as if dismissing the entire conversation. "Maybe I will. Though, I do wonder, who exactly is this hero, hiding in the shadows?"
Akari didn't answer, the question hanging in the air between them like a challenge neither of them would fully address. The dinner continued, but the tension lingered—an unspoken understanding that both knew too well, but neither of them was willing to face directly.
Over time, a subtle shift began to take place within Kuro. His cruel demeanor, once sharp and unyielding, gradually softened, albeit in small, almost imperceptible ways. He began to take his royal duties more seriously, ensuring that the kingdom ran smoothly—no longer ruling with the iron fist of a tyrant, but with a kind of distant authority. He handled matters of state with more care, as though the weight of leadership was beginning to sink in.
When it came to Akari, the change was even more noticeable. The cold, cynical remarks were less frequent, replaced by teasing jokes, small gestures of consideration, and even moments of genuine laughter. He'd catch her off guard with a playful comment during dinner or ask her opinion on trivial matters as if they were equals. He no longer seemed like the tyrant who demanded everything his way, and instead, he started to genuinely value her presence.
"Akari, what do you think? Should we just leave it to the nobles, or should I make them work a bit harder?" Kuro asked one evening, his tone light and teasing as he leaned back in his chair, eyes glinting with mischief.
Akari, who had grown accustomed to his jabs, looked up from her meal and raised an eyebrow. "Well, if you're serious about it, I think making them work would be a good idea. They've gotten too comfortable, haven't they?" she replied, not missing a beat.
Kuro laughed, the sound surprisingly warm. "You're right, of course. They all think they can get away with anything." His eyes met hers for a moment, a flicker of something unspoken passing between them.
For a brief instant, Akari saw the Kuro she remembered—the one who had once been a dear friend, someone who had shared his hopes, his dreams, and his burdens with her. It was fleeting, but it was enough to make her wonder if the change in him was something more than just a temporary shift.
Still, Akari remained cautious, aware of the complexities of their relationship. As much as Kuro had softened, there was still darkness in him—something that lurked just beneath the surface, ready to resurface at any moment. But for now, she could see glimpses of the person he might have been, if things had been different.
And as the days passed, those small, seemingly insignificant changes added up, making her question if there was still hope for him—or if he was too far gone to return to the man he once was.
"Sir, you have to get married," the adviser said, bowing respectfully.
Kuro waved his hand dismissively, clearly not caring about the formality. "Okay, okay, tell everyone I'm getting married," he said with a bored expression.
Akari, who had been casually eating an apple, looked up with a raised eyebrow. "Hmm? Who is the lucky girl, your majesty?" she asked, amused by the sudden topic of conversation.
Kuro's lips curled into a smirk. "You."
Akari froze, her eyes wide in disbelief. She choked on her apple, coughing as she struggled to process his words. "What?" she gasped, her surprise clearly showing on her face. "You're joking, right?"
Kuro leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying her reaction. "No, I'm quite serious," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You are my slave, remember? I do what I want. Looks like I've given you too much freedom these days." He chuckled darkly, watching her panic.
Akari stood there, completely stunned. She felt like her world was spinning. "But—" she stammered, trying to form a coherent thought, "You can't seriously be asking me to marry you, Kuro. This is insane!"
"Why not?" Kuro asked nonchalantly, leaning forward slightly with that same smirk. "You're already in my service, aren't you? What's the difference?" He raised an eyebrow, clearly relishing the control he had over her in this moment.
Akari felt a sudden tightness in her chest. There was no way she could just refuse, not now, not after everything that had happened. She was trapped, caught between the weight of her past decisions and the harsh reality of her present situation. "I—" She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself, but the situation was so absurdly unexpected, she didn't know how to respond.
Kuro casually tapped his fingers on the armrest of his throne, clearly waiting for her to catch up with the gravity of the situation. "So, when do we start planning the wedding, hm? We'll make a grand event out of it, won't we? The whole kingdom will be in attendance."
Akari couldn't help but feel a bit of anger rising inside her, but she knew better than to challenge him outright. She was, after all, in no position to say no to anything he commanded. "This isn't happening," she muttered under her breath, but even as she said it, she knew it was a lie.
"Was it not enough to make me stay here and play along with your games?" Akari said, her tone dripping with sarcasm as she crossed her arms and glared at Kuro.
Kuro leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand with a smirk that was equal parts amused and mocking. "You don't have a choice, do you?" he replied smoothly, his eyes glinting with a dangerous playfulness.
Akari clenched her fists, biting back a sharp retort. "You're impossible," she muttered under her breath, turning her gaze away to avoid showing just how frustrated she was.
"I take that as a compliment," Kuro said with a mocking bow of his head. "Besides, think of it as... fulfilling your duty. You want the kingdom to heal, don't you? What better way than to marry its king?"
Akari shot him a look, her blue eyes blazing with defiance despite the tightrope she was walking. "You really know how to twist things to your advantage, don't you?"
Kuro chuckled, the sound low and dark. "It's a talent. Now, finish your apple. You'll need your energy for the big announcement tomorrow."
"Should I just kill you?" Akari said, her voice steady but sharp.
"As if you can," Kuro responded, his confidence unwavering.
Akari's gaze hardened. "I can. You have no idea how many powers I actually have. If I truly wanted to, I could have killed you long ago."
Kuro's expression faltered slightly, curiosity replacing the smugness. "How many powers do you have then? I've seen your healing and plant abilities, but I'm sure there's more."
Akari looked at him calmly, no hint of sarcasm in her voice. "I have eight powers in total, including the one you use." She paused for a moment, letting the weight of her words sink in before continuing. "And yes, I could have stopped you anytime, but I didn't."
Kuro's expression shifted, still trying to mask his surprise. "Eight powers, huh?" he muttered, studying her closely. "I guess I underestimated you."
The next day, an official announcement was made throughout the kingdom. Kuro, with a mixture of authority and sarcasm, declared that he and Akari were to be married. The news spread quickly, catching everyone off guard, including Akari herself.
She had tried to resist, tried to avoid it, but now it was out in the open, and there was no way to stop it. She felt trapped in the situation, unable to voice her objections without facing the consequences. Kuro's words from the night before echoed in her mind: "You don't have any choice, do you?"
Despite her attempts to keep her composure, Akari couldn't help but feel a weight settle on her shoulders. She had no idea how she'd ended up in this position, forced into a life she never imagined. The thought of being married to Kuro, even if it was for political reasons, filled her with dread.
But there was no turning back now. The kingdom awaited the royal wedding, and Akari could do nothing but play along with the inevitable.
"Don't you think we should make a tour around the country, my fiancée?" Kuro said, his tone dripping with mockery as he leaned back in his chair, a sly grin on his face.
Akari, sitting stiffly across from him, barely looked up. "Don't call me that," she said coldly, her hands clenched on the table.
"But you are, aren't you?" Kuro replied, his grin widening. "The announcement was made. Or are you planning to pretend this isn't happening?"
"I didn't agree to any of this," Akari shot back, her voice sharp. "You forced me into it. That's not the same as consent."
Kuro's smile faltered for a brief second before he recovered, his eyes narrowing. "Forced or not, the world sees you as mine now," he said, his voice lower, colder. "So why not embrace it and play the part properly? A tour would do wonders for your... image."
Akari glared at him, her jaw tightening. "Fine," she spat, her tone filled with reluctant defiance. "I'll go. But don't expect me to act like some lovesick fool in front of everyone. I'm only doing this because I have no choice."
Kuro's eyes flickered with amusement at her resistance. "You'll do as I say, Akari," he said, his tone deceptively light but with an underlying edge. "And maybe, just maybe, you'll come to see that being by my side isn't so bad after all."
Akari stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. "Don't hold your breath," she said, her voice icy, before walking out of the room without another glance.
Kuro watched her leave, his grin returning. "Oh, Akari," he murmured to himself. "This game is just beginning."