***WARNING!***

The darkness went up a few levels in this chapter. Read at your own discretion.

While editing, I changed my mind about the chapter separation, so this will no longer be part 2 of 4, but part 2 of 5.

Also, I would suggest listening to the quoted song while reading (sorry I can't post the link). I've had this song in mind for this part ever since I posted chapter 2, both the mood and the lyrics fit perfectly with Ferdinand's state of mind.

Many thanks to Krymzim and JcFerggy for helping me polishing this chapter.

I love life

Life does not love me

It kicks me

And hits me in the face

I love the sun

The sun does not love me

The future is so dark

All days without light

'Is there really a point in living if duty is the only thing that is never taken from me? Is this actually any better than being turned into a feystone before becoming human?' He wondered, feeling himself being crushed under the weight of his life.

He stared silently at the sky, wishing it had the answers he couldn't find by himself.

While he was lost in the darkest corner of his mind, he felt Rozemyne's mana suddenly surge. He stood up, alarmed, and without even realizing enhanced his eyesight to look toward her quarters, seeing her on the balcony.

That explained why he could suddenly feel her mana more clearly, but why would a young lady go on the balcony, alone, at night? While being half naked, nonetheless.

She reached the balustrade, leaning against it. He panicked. She was not trying to jump, was she? His mind rushed to assess his situation and what he could do to block her. He had gone outside without taking his belt, so he had no stone to form his highbeast. Should he rush inside to retrieve it? Would he make it in time to save her? Would it be better to block her with fesselicht? She might be able to overpower the spell, but it would give him enough time to go back inside and get his belt.

He readied his Schtappe, intently focusing to gauge her movements. Time seemed to stretch indefinitely as his vision zeroed on her, his unconscious eye enhancement getting more and more refined, to the point he was seeing her as if she was just a few meters away. He observed every detail, from her gestures to her clothes to her hair, trying to understand her intentions.

Was covering her chest with her arms a clue that she didn't plan to jump and expose her body for everyone to see? Or, considering her usual lack of shame, was she just trying to keep herself warm?

It didn't look like she was trying to climb the railing; rather, it looked like she was staring at the sky in awe, but he didn't even dare to blink, as disaster could literally happen in the blink of an eye when Rozemyne was involved.

And as if on cue, she suddenly made a jerking motion, causing his guts to clench in fear and his mana to briefly stir, before his knight training kicked in and he managed to regain control of his emotions and get ready to take action.

"Fesse-" he started chanting, but he couldn't even finish the spell because she went back inside with the same unpredictability as when she came outside.

His eyes followed her as he tried to understand what had just happened. Did someone call her from inside? Did she realize she was being watched? Or could it be that jumping was never her intention, and that she meant to watch the sky all along? Then her sudden gesture was... nothing more than a shiver?

His hands found the balustrade -that he must have reached at some point- and he leaned his weight on it, hanging his head between his arms as a mix of relief and hopelessness hit him. That had to be it. Rozemyne was the kind of mindless fool who would go outside, alone, in the middle of the night just to take a peek at the sky. She was the kind of shameless fool who wouldn't bother to wear anything above her thin bed clothes despite the fact that the night air was chilly enough to give her a fever. But she was not the kind of heartless fool who would kill herself, not in such a gruesome way as jumping down the highest floor, and especially not while still holding someone's name.

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to calm himself.

He had known her since she was a child, he should have realized from the start that she was not going to do anything that drastic. Besides, when yesterday he had told her they would most likely not die in a near future, she had been so happy she actually started crying; it would make no sense for her to put an end to her life now.

'...Unless...'

He had heard about women killing themselves after their flowers were forcefully taken, but... they had stopped way before that. Before he could even taste her lips, before he could even think about taking off her -very thin- clothes. She surely wouldn't think his trespassing was severe enough to kill herself, would she?

Despite his attempts to look at the event rationally, he couldn't help but to be overcome by guilt. It was easy for him to underplay his own actions and absolve himself, but what about her, the victim? He had been on the receiving end of people's malice enough times to know that assailant and victim never had the same idea of what 'acceptable' means. What if any of the things he did were considered grave offenses in her dream world?

He lowered his eyes, disappointed in himself. He had vowed to protect her, and instead she had to be the one sacrificing a part of her life to save him. He had called her his all goddess, but blinded by his lust he had hurt her feelings probably beyond repair.

'Maybe Veronica wasn't wrong. I really am worthless.'

He stared into the darkness enveloping what would usually be the palace garden. It was a moonless night, and there wasn't anything that stood out enough for him to guess the outline of the trees, the flowerbeds, the pathways. Not even enhanced eyesight allowed him to distinguish the contours of what he knew populated the garden. There was nothing there, as if everything had been swallowed by the night.

With no reference point, his eyes soon started playing tricks on him, showing shapes and colors that he knew were not real. Falling prey to the ever changing illusion, his sense of direction started going awry, as if darkness itself was beckoning him down.

How fitting it would be, for him who had destroyed his chance to be happy with the woman he loved, to be swallowed by a darkness devoid of any light.

Disappearing, being erased, nullified... people would usually find these thoughts unsettling, but he felt no resistance within himself as he imagined his own existence slowly fading away, vanishing from both the minds and the hearts of the people he knew.

If everybody were to forget about him, couldn't he forget about everything as well? At last, he would be able to escape the endless cycle of attachment and loss that had been his life. The simple thought brought him unexpected peace of mind, like watching the little ripples on the sea surface the morning after a furious storm.

He wasn't naive enough to think that something so convenient could actually happen to him, at least not if he wanted it. When he still had a chance at happiness, the gods went and cut his thread, but now that said chance had been destroyed, he was sure they would go out of their way to ensure he would live for as long as his thread allowed him. If he wanted to be released from the pain of living he'd have to do it the old way.

By dying.

He contemplated the impenetrable darkness under his feet, pondering on his own thoughts.

This longing for death was an old friend of his, albeit one he hadn't seen in a long while. In his childhood he had often wished there could be an end to Veronica's abuse and poisoning, even if it meant succumbing to the latter. In his youth he had started thinking about actively ending his life, postponing his plans each time only because he hoped he could escape Ehrenfest through marriage.

It was when Magdalena ditched him, effectively blocking his escape route, that he first resorted to self-harm. Had he killed himself, that wench would have thought he had done it for love, so he had to settle for something that would have no visible consequences.

By the time his father died, his life had become so wretched that the only thing giving him solace was the thought of death. It was by playing his suicide in his mind that he lulled himself to sleep every night.

Then he met her, and almost without noticing he forgot those feelings... at least until today.

It was always all or nothing with Rozemyne. She had shown him that he could be loved for who he was, making him really want to live, but she had failed to take into account how rotten he was inside. The only love he could give back was tainted with lust, nothing like the pure love she gave.

He honestly couldn't blame her for shunning him. Actually, as her mentor and guardian, he should praise her for pushing away a man that demanded things she didn't want to give.

Even if that made his death wish reach unprecedented proportions.

Would she be sad if he died? Would she spare a thought for the man she had so enthusiastically called 'family', only to realize he desired her sexually and that she loathed the thought? She had always done whatever she could to prevent death, even for complete strangers like the orphans at the temple or the people from Hasse... but what if the one dying was someone she had come to despise? Would she feel relieved, then?

He imperceptibly strengthened his grip on the railing, the thought that his presence might be a burden to her making him feel even more of a failure. He really should just do it, jump and put an end to his misery, to everybody's inconvenience.

But before he would need to give back Justus' and everyone else's name. They had been unfortunate enough to serve a master like him, they didn't deserve to die for his whims. They were all excellent at their jobs, Rozemyne would benefit greatly from taking them in her entourage.

Aside from his retainers, upon his death she would also inherit his part of Grutrissheit, unbeknown by anyone. She would finally be able to consult the book to her heart's content, without running into missing parts and having to find excuses to check his part of the book in secret. She's had a fight with Cornelius every time they went into his or her hidden room, but at this point being alone with him would just make her uncomfortable.

'If that's the case, maybe she won't mind too much that I will no longer be there to give her gyu... She will have to get by with what her family can give her.'

That, or she would have to actually get herself another husband. Right now he had the advantage of being the only one in Yurgenschmidt who could match her, but since she had made known to anyone that prayers could increase mana, how long would it take for an Archduke candidate of a higher ranking duchy to reach her? Even if she would be past marriageable age by then, she would still be an Aub. An unmarried, childless Aub.

Was the next Zent being their child his misunderstanding all along?

He couldn't even imagine a tool or a magic circle that could deliver his Ewigeliebe's snow into her chalice without them having intercourse. How could she ever get pregnant with his child if the idea of intimacy was so abhorrent for her? And if he couldn't even claim to be needed to give her a child, what use was there for him? What was the point of living if his death was much more beneficial to everybody?

There was only one thing still stopping him: how much of Rozemyne's thread had been used to repair his? Did Ventuchte cut Rozemyne's thread in half, giving one part to him? Maybe, in their ignorance about the feelings of humans, the goddesses had imagined they would live their life together until the very end?

'This has to be the case. The height of mockery, a fitting conclusion for this wretched life.'

What should he do? He didn't want to waste the life that Rozemyne had to give up for him, but he didn't have the strength to carry on anymore. Should he pray to Dregarnuhr and Ventuchte to give back to Rozemyne what was rightfully hers once he died?

'Unless... unless it was their plan all along...'

If they could fiddle with time, there was a chance the goddesses already knew he would end his life and had only used a few days' worth of Rozemyne's thread, as many as the ones she had spent in the past.

That would make sense. On one hand, he had saved Rozemyne's life enough times that the gods couldn't just let him disappear, on the other hand, she was now competent and high in status enough that he would no longer be the only one who could save her, should the need arise.

...Too bad the gods' actions rarely made any sense.

Maybe he should personally make sure of their intentions and, if need be, persuade them to return the unused thread to Rozemyne? He had some exploding magic tools that would just be perfect to make them accept his request.

It was somewhere after seventh bell, if he quickly packed all the tools he might need, put his feystone armor over his bed clothes -so he would need no help to get dressed- and used the Verbergen amulet to conceal himself, he should manage to go to the Royal Academy and be back before second bell. As it was the middle of the night, he should be able to call down Dregarnuhr without anyone noticing, or at least he hoped she would not make a big commotion and attract the attention of everyone that was awake.

He turned around from the balustrade, ready to march into his hidden room and start packing, when he suddenly noticed a bright light in his peripheral vision. He turned back, alarmed, and found himself staring at the full moon, that only a moment before was not there.

"Quinta..." He heard a voice speak that dirty name straight to his head. He had never heard that voice before, but he knew by the gravity it carried that it belonged to a goddess. Dregarnuhr was his best guess, as he had been thinking about visiting her.

"What-" he started to demand an explanation, but he suddenly felt a deluge of feelings and sensations being forcefully pushed into his mind, like he was re-living a long forgotten memory.

The (translated) verses and the chapter title are from
"Wer weiß das schon", Lindemann, F & M (2019)

Here the original lyrics:

Ich liebe das Leben
Das Leben liebt mich nicht
Es tritt mich mit Füßen
Und schlägt mir ins Gesicht
Ich liebe die Sonne
Die Sonne liebt mich nicht
Die Zukunft so dunkel
Alle Tage ohne Licht

I'll have to remind the readers that writing these chapters is what inspired me to write "Precious". While not mandatory, there are one or two things in next chapter that will make more sense to those who have read it.