Episode-802
Chapter : 1603
Lloyd knelt beside her. "You are not just a maid. You are the hardest thing in this world, Jasmin. You have endured a life that would break a lesser person. Use that. Use your stubbornness."
She looked at him. Her eyes hardened. She stood up. And her skin turned to crystal.
Flashback shifts.
The carriage ride to Altamira. She was terrified. They were going into enemy territory. But she didn't complain. She sat straight, clutching her bag of medical supplies.
"Are you scared?" Lloyd asked.
"Yes," she admitted.
"We can turn back."
"No," she said. "You made a promise to Pia. And I made a promise to you. I go where you go, Master."
Flashback shifts.
A quiet afternoon in the garden. She was humming. She was brushing her hair with the silver comb he had given her. She saw him watching and blushed bright red, hiding the comb behind her back.
"It's... it's beautiful, Master. Thank you."
"It's just a comb, Jasmin."
"No," she whispered. "To me... it's a treasure."
End of Flashback.
Lloyd stared at the dead girl holding the silver hairpin. The hairpin he had bought for three silver coins. The treasure she had died holding.
She was innocent. She wasn't a warrior born to die on a battlefield. She was a girl who liked flowers and sweets and singing. She was the best part of his new life. She was the proof that he could build something good, something pure.
And he had gotten her killed.
He had brought her into this world of shadows and gods. He had trained her. He had given her power. And that power had led her to this table.
If he had left her in the kitchen... she would be alive. She would be sweeping floors, alive. She would be marrying a baker, alive.
The guilt was a physical agony. It felt like his heart was being crushed in a vice.
He looked at Ken, still kneeling, his shoulders shaking. He looked at his father, broken and shamed. He looked at Faria and Mei Jing, their faces wet with tears.
They were all looking at him. Waiting for him to fix it. Waiting for the genius, the miracle worker, the man who defied death, to pull a solution out of his pocket.
But he had nothing.
His [All-Seeing Eye] showed him only dead cells. His Lilith Stones were just rocks. His spirits were just weapons.
He was powerless.
Lloyd Ferrum, the man who planned to kill gods, couldn't save one girl.
His knees gave out. He didn't fall dramatically. He just sank. He slumped against the side of the bier, sliding down until he was sitting on the cold stone floor. He rested his forehead against the wood, just inches from her cold hand.
He didn't scream. He didn't rage. He just sat there, in the ruin of his victory, and let the crushing weight of her sacrifice break his heart into a million jagged pieces.
"I'm sorry," he whispered into the wood. "I'm so sorry, Little Squirrel."
The room was silent, save for the sound of the Lions of the North mourning the smallest among them.
The morning of the funeral was gray. It wasn’t raining, which felt wrong. It should have been pouring. The sky should have been weeping buckets to match the mood on the ground, but instead, the weather was just dull, flat, and indifferent. It was a perfect reflection of how the universe felt about the death of one small girl: it didn't care. But Lloyd cared.
The preparations had been made in record time. Usually, a funeral for a member of the Ferrum household took weeks of planning. There were protocols, guest lists, and specific types of flowers that had to be imported from the south. Lloyd had cancelled all of that. He didn't want a parade. He didn't want fake tears from minor nobles who barely knew her name. He wanted silence, and he wanted respect.
The coffin was simple but beautiful. It was made of white ash wood, polished until it shone like glass. There were no gold inlays or gaudy carvings. It was pure and clean, just like she had been. It sat on a wooden stand in the center of the estate’s main courtyard, the same place where she had died. The blood had been scrubbed away, the rubble cleared, but Lloyd could still see the phantom crater where the Diamond Queen had made her last stand.
Chapter : 1604
Servants, guards, and the few remaining members of the household stood in a wide circle. They were dressed in black. Many of them were crying. Ken Park stood near the front, his face a mask of stone, but his eyes were red-rimmed and hollow. He looked like a man who had been hollowed out from the inside. Beside him stood Faria and Mei Jing, holding each other for support. Even the usually stoic Head Maid Annalisa was wiping her eyes with a handkerchief.
When the time came to move the coffin to the crypt, six burly guards stepped forward. They were the pallbearers, strong men chosen for the task. They reached for the handles.
"Stop," Lloyd said.
His voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the silence like a whip. The guards froze, looking at him with confusion and fear. Lloyd stepped forward. He was wearing a simple black suit, no armor, no medals, no signs of his rank. He looked pale, like he hadn't slept in a week, which was true.
"Step away," Lloyd commanded.
"My Lord," one of the guards stammered, bowing his head. "It is heavy. It is our duty to carry the burden."
"It is not your burden," Lloyd said, walking up to the white coffin. He placed his hand on the smooth wood. It felt cold. "She carried my burdens when she was alive. She carried the weight of this entire house on her shoulders. I will not let anyone else carry her now."
He looked at Ken. "Ken. Take the back."
Ken nodded once, a sharp, jerky motion. He stepped forward, pushing the guards aside gently but firmly.
"My Lord," the estate steward whispered nervously, stepping out from the crowd. "This is highly irregular. The Ferrum Crypt... it is reserved strictly for those of the Bloodline. For Lords and Ladies. For heroes who saved the Duchy. Jasmin was... she was a servant. A beloved one, yes, but protocol dictates she be buried in the servant's plot on the east hill."
Lloyd turned his head slowly to look at the steward. His eyes were dry. There were no tears in them. There was just a vast, empty space where his patience used to be.
"Protocol?" Lloyd repeated the word as if it were a foreign language. "Protocol dictates that a servant does not jump in front of a Devil King to save an Arch Duke. Protocol dictates that a maid does not have the soul of a warrior. Jasmin broke every protocol in existence when she died."
He walked closer to the steward, who shrank back.
"She saved my father," Lloyd said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "She saved the Sovereign of this land. That makes her a hero of the Duchy. And she died because of me. That makes her family. She has earned her place in the stone. If anyone has a problem with that, they can take it up with me. And I am not in a mood to debate."
The steward gulped and bowed deeply, retreating into the crowd. "As you command, My Lord."
Lloyd turned back to the coffin. He gripped the front handles. Ken gripped the back.
"Ready?" Lloyd asked.
"Ready, Master," Ken choked out.
They lifted. The coffin was heavy, heavier than it looked. It contained not just a body, but the weight of Lloyd’s failure. They began the slow walk toward the entrance of the Family Crypt. It was located beneath the ancient chapel on the west side of the estate. It was a place of shadows and old stone, where fifty generations of Ferrum lords lay in eternal rest.
As they walked, Lloyd didn't look at the crowd. He looked straight ahead. He focused on the weight in his hands. He wanted to feel it. He wanted his muscles to burn. He wanted the physical strain to distract him from the screaming in his mind. Every step was a punishment he gladly accepted.
They passed the spot where the Diamond Queen had shattered. Lloyd forced himself to look at the ground. There were still tiny, microscopic glitters in the cracks of the cobblestones—diamond dust that couldn't be swept away.
You should be walking beside me, Lloyd thought. You should be holding a clipboard and scolding me for not eating lunch. You shouldn't be in this box.
They reached the heavy iron doors of the crypt. Two guards opened them, revealing a staircase that descended into darkness. Cold air rushed up to meet them, smelling of earth and time.