The cold, damp stone walls were transmitting an unpleasant sensation to Yuuma’s back.

How much time had passed? He couldn’t tell. Dragged here by the guards and roughly thrown into this underground prison, the only connection to the outside world was the faint light filtering through the iron bars.

(…Seriously? )

Sitting on the floor where straw was barely spread out, Yuuma looked up at the ceiling. Of course, all he could see was a moss-covered stone ceiling.

(Next would be the guillotine…)

The first time had been an impulsive murder born from his childhood friend’s jealousy and despair.

And the second time had been an extremely rational execution to preserve the order of the aristocratic society.

(…So I’m killed by emotions, then by logic? )

What a strange life—no, two lives. Yuuma let out a self-mocking smile.

(In the end, isn’t the cause the same either way? )

It was all because of my 【Pushover Trait】.

Unable to refuse requests. Yielding to the atmosphere. Conforming to the “vessel” shape that the women before him desired. This was the result.

“Why am I like this…”

His usual catchphrase echoed emptily in the prison.

Even his usual three-second self-loathing, which he would normally forget instantly, had deeply pierced his chest this time. After all, next time, his head would really be severed. There wouldn’t even be time to reflect for eternity.

A heavy metallic sound rang out.

When Yuuma raised his face, a familiar silver-haired girl stood on the other side of the iron bars, holding a small lamp in her hand.

“Yuuma-sama…”

It was Saint Agnes. Her purple eyes, moist with tears, desperately searched for Yuuma.

“Oh, Yuuma-sama! Are you unharmed? How worried I’ve been!”

A pale, slender finger extended through the bars of the iron cage. Yuuma instinctively recoiled.

(She too, in a way, is part of the cause…)

No, that’s not right. Shifting blame is disgraceful. In the end, it was my own decision to be swept along.

Yuuma gave up and turned his gaze back toward Agnes.

“Agnes-sama…”

“I’ll get you out of here immediately! I went to speak directly with Duke Dukas myself! It’s unthinkable to execute a hero!”

Agnes said this, then pulled out an old key from her skirt pocket—the key to the prison.

(Oh, seriously? Am I saved? )

For a moment, a glimmer of hope seemed to shine through.

Of course, Saint Agnes. Despite her yandere tendencies, she’s fundamentally a good girl. Yuuma slightly reconsidered his opinion of her.

However, as Agnes tried to insert the key into the lock, she suddenly stopped moving.

Then, with an entranced expression, she stared at Yuuma inside the prison.

“But…”

Agnes whispered in a dazed voice.

“…the fact that Yuuma-sama is locked up here, only for me… isn’t it rather pleasant?”

(What? )

Yuuma’s brow furrowed.

“If you’re here, no insolent woman will be able to approach Yuuma-sama. Not the maids, not the female knights, not that shameless duchess… No one will be able to lay a hand on you.”

The sane light in Agnes’ eyes vanished entirely. Her pupils dilated and her gaze lost focus—this was her usual episode.

“Yuuma-sama is my only hero… Yes, this is right. If you just stay here, I’ll bring your meals every day. I’ll help you change clothes, bathe your body… everything, I will do it for you! Oh, how wonderful it is! This must be the eternal form of love that God has given us!”

“No no no! Agnes-sama, get back to reality! If I stay like this, I’ll be executed by the guillotine!”

Yuuma hurriedly ran toward the iron bars.

“Oh my, this is serious. The guillotine…”

Agnes’s eyes widened for a moment as if regaining her senses, but then she returned to her dazed smile.

“But please don’t worry. Even if Yuuma-sama loses his body and only remains with his noble soul, I’m sure God will guide him to me! I’ve been waiting for you forever! Yes, forever!”

(She’s hopeless! It seems like we’re having a conversation, but we’re absolutely not! )

Yuuma grabbed the iron bars and shook them violently.

“Agnes-sama! Please! The key! Unlock it for me!”

“My, Yuuma-sama… you’re in such a hurry…”

As Agnes laughed softly and reached toward the lock with the key…

Slip.

The key slipped from her hand.

Clang, clink…

The key rolled across the stone floor several times before coming to a stop on the grate of the nearby drain.

Yuuma and Agnes’s gazes focused on the key above the drain.

A perfect balance. A miraculous stillness.

“Oh…”

Agnes let out an exaggerated small cry.

Then, while staring directly into Yuuma’s eyes, she smiled angelically with innocent purity.

With her slender foot, she lightly tapped the floor.

Just a slight vibration.

Clang…

Clink.

Plop!

The key made an unforgiving sound as it was swallowed into the darkness of the drain.

“…”

“…”

A long silence passed.

“Oh no! Yuuma-sama! The key! It’s fallen! How clumsy of me, please forgive me!”

Agnes covered her face with both hands, feigning despair. But the eyes peeking through her fingers gleamed with joy.

Yuuma collapsed helplessly where he stood.

(It’s over…)

His last hope had been kicked away by Saint Agnes’s own feet. This was an impeccable, perfect checkmate.

“I’m sorry, Yuuma-sama… But this too is surely the gods’ will. A holy trial given so that we may be bound together for all eternity. So please, don’t be afraid… your soul—forever and ever—belongs with me. I’ll take responsibility and keep you right here… always… always… by my side.”

Agnes said this with a dazed expression and left along with the lamp’s light.

Back in the darkness of the prison, Yuuma could only stare blankly at the ceiling.

◇

The next day, Yuuma was dragged out of the prison.

His arms were bound behind his back, and two strong guards flanked him on either side. He no longer had the will to resist—he simply let it happen.

They brought him to a square facing the royal palace courtyard. There, a temporary execution platform had been set up, with the ominous presence of the guillotine—its blade gleaming in the sunlight—standing at its center.

The square was filled with a crowd of onlookers.

Nobles, commoners, merchants, even children—all were watching this spectacle intently, holding their breaths. Curiosity, contempt, pity—various emotions pierced Yuuma, the criminal.

(Oh wow… public execution? No privacy at all in this other world…)

Yuuma climbed up the stone steps to the platform with an out-of-place thought.

Standing before the guillotine, the executioner unfurled a parchment.

“Offender, Ayabe Yuuma! Though you were summoned as our hero of Albion Principality, you failed to recognize your position and allowed Duchess Liliana, wife of Duke Dukas, to incite you into an illicit affair!”

(I didn’t incite her! I was just swept along! )

Yuuma screamed silently in his mind.

“Furthermore! You conspired to mix the tainted blood of another world with the most sacred bloodline of our noble family! This is a crime of attempted regicide, which absolutely cannot be tolerated!”

(That’s not what this is about… oh well, it doesn’t matter anymore)

He no longer had the energy to argue or justify himself.

“Therefore, Ayabe Yuuma shall be executed by guillotine!”

As the executioner declared this loudly, a murmur of “Oh…” and applause from some in the crowd erupted.

Yuuma suddenly raised his gaze.

Upon the palace balcony stood Lady Liliana, the Duchess.

She sat gracefully on an armchair as if watching a play, quietly observing this scene. Beside her was Duke Dukas, nodding with satisfaction.

He felt their eyes meet.

Liliana didn’t change her expression at all. But when she noticed Yuuma’s gaze, she gently hid her mouth with her fan and slightly narrowed her cold eyes. That wasn’t the look of someone looking at a human—it was cold, as if enjoying the last struggle of an object whose purpose had been fulfilled.

(Oh, so that’s it.)

Yuuma nodded in understanding.

(To her, I was just a tool—a mere “stud”)

There was no visceral emotion like Akane showed back in Kumamoto. In a way, it was refreshingly rational.

“In the end, I achieved nothing…”

A single whisper escaped his lips.

He hadn’t even managed to defeat the demon king—he hadn’t stepped out of the castle at all.

Just coming to this world and being tossed around by women, used up.

Nothing had changed from when he was in Kumamoto.

(…Pathetic. Truly a pathetic second life.)

—Why won’t you look at me!

—Yuuma-sama is my only hero!

—This is my duty.

—Onii, it’s morning! You’re late again!

Faces and voices of women he had encountered in his past lives flashed through his mind like a procession of lanterns.

(…Huh? Just now… why did I hear a strangely real little-sister voice…? )

He was grabbed by the executioner and forced face down. The cold collar to hold his neck felt icy. Before him stood a wooden platform stained black with bloodstains and a straw-filled basket for the head.

(By the way, this guillotine… it feels familiar. What was it? Oh right! When I was a kid, during a family trip to Hokkaido, the lift area of the ski resort looked exactly like this.)

The murmurs of the crowd seemed distant.

There was no more fear.

Only an overwhelming emptiness and a strange sense of déjà vu filled his heart.

Grrrk… grrk… the sound of the blade being raised.

Ah, it’s ending.

My second life.

The blade came to a stop at its peak.

Waiting for the executioner’s final signal.

At the very moment Yuuma’s consciousness was about to fade, he poured his last strength into a silent wish in his heart.

(This time… I won’t be a man who simply takes the shape others want from me…)

(This time, I’ll decide my own shape with my own will! )

(I won’t be someone who gets swept along by others… but someone who saves others— a true hero…! )

At that instant, at the edge of his vision, the blade of the guillotine reflected sunlight and shimmered.

It was like a beam of light on a silver ski slope.

—Onii, wake up!

Again, my sister’s voice echoed in my mind.

Thud!

An unexpected jolt struck him, and Yuuma’s vision exploded into a blinding snowstorm of white.

When he regained consciousness next, he was sure that he would finally be the “firm, unyielding self” he had always longed to become.

Well, maybe three seconds later, he’d forget it all and be swept along by someone else again.