"Looks like you really love fairy tales, huh?" Yuri remarked with a gentle smile, watching Haruhime speak with such enthusiasm.
She had been weaving story after story for over twenty minutes—ranging from ancient legends to tales long forgotten by time.
"I love them!" she said, her eyes sparkling, fox ears perked up.
"When I was locked away in the mansion, books were the only way I could see the world..."
Her fox tail swayed gently, reflecting her excitement. She spoke with such life that Yuri could almost see the scenes of the stories through her eyes.
"And you, Yuri-dono? What's your favorite kind of story?"
"I like tales of heroic deeds. Tournaments, battles... but what gets me the most is when the hero chooses to save someone, even when the whole world says he can't."
She looked at him in silence for a moment.
"I like one that came from the Far East..." she said, her voice softening, almost nostalgic.
"A small warrior, looked down on by everyone, who still saved a girl being attacked by a demon. It's an old one, barely known anymore, but it's stuck with me ever since I first read it."
Yuri nodded slowly.
"You like stories where the hero rescues the princess, don't you?"
"I guess so..." she replied with a sad smile.
"Maybe because, for a long time, I was waiting to be rescued too."
She lowered her gaze.
"When I was little, I used to imagine a hero showing up, taking my hand... telling me I could be free. That was my greatest wish. But over time... I realized those things only happen in books."
"Haruhime..." Yuri said, his tone more serious.
"Are you waiting for a hero?"
She stared at him, surprised by the question.
"Huh...?"
Yuri stepped closer and reached out his hand.
"Then ask for my help. Let me save you."
Silence fell over the room like a thick fog.
Haruhime looked at him with wide eyes, as if she were staring at a dream too good to be real.
"Yuri-dono... can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"You understand me. I feel that. I feel like you genuinely want to help me. But..." she hesitated, her voice trembling.
"I'm a prostitute. I was sold to the Ishtar Familia. Women like me bring shame to heroes."
She lowered her gaze again.
"Would you still accept me? Even though I'm... impure?"
Yuri didn't look away.
"If the world calls you impure, then the world is wrong. I see you, Haruhime. And I'll fight for you—not for some legend, but for the person standing before me."
Since being imprisoned in Orario by the Ishtar Familia, Haruhime had found comfort only in books. Surrounded by satin curtains and cold stares, stories were what kept her spirit alive—and the only thing they couldn't take from her was her imagination.
Like so many girls who fall in love for the first time, she had dreamed countless times of a hero descending from the skies, taking her hand and pulling her from the dark, muddy abyss they dared to call "life."
But unlike the princesses in fairy tales, she knew she wasn't some noble maiden, no untouched saint waiting in a tower. She was a prostitute. Sold. Sealed. Reduced to a number beneath the velvet sheets of the Ishtar Familia. She wasn't someone worthy of being saved.
She knew that.
And even so...
She had heard Yuri's name echo through the streets of Orario. His feats—destroying the Apollo Familia, then slaying Apollo himself. She had admired him from afar, beneath the magical curtain that separated the brothel from the rest of the world.
But never—never—did she imagine that he, of all people, would be the one to reach out his hand to her.
And yet, there he was. Standing in front of her. Offering what she wanted most, yet felt least worthy to accept.
"You... really want to help me?" she asked, her voice small and fragile, eyes wide like someone seeing a mirage.
"Even knowing what I am?"
"I know who you are, Haruhime," Yuri replied gently, yet firmly.
"And it's not what the world says."
She hesitated. Yuri's words burned like light in a cave that had been dark for far too long.
"But..." she clenched her fists on her lap.
"I'm... no longer pure. I was sold. Touched. Stained."
He knelt before her, as if addressing a noblewoman.
"Haruhime," he said softly.
"You're still a virgin."
She looked at him, confused, as if he'd said something impossible.
"That's not... how can you be sure?"
"Ask Aisha. She's been protecting you all these years, hasn't she? Every time you blacked out, she took over. She never let anyone really hurt you."
Haruhime's eyes widened, recalling moments that had once seemed like a blur. Aisha... always stepping in when things got worse. Always firm. Always like a shield.
She brought one hand to her mouth in shock.
"She... she was protecting me?"
"Like a sister. Or maybe... like a mother would," Yuri said with a faint smile.
"You were never truly alone, even when you thought you were."
His words broke something inside her—not with pain, but with relief. Like invisible chains finally snapping.
She felt her face grow warm, her eyes sting.
"You... you're saying I can still be saved?"
Yuri didn't answer with words. He held out his hand again—the same one he had offered minutes ago. Open. Steady. Waiting.
Haruhime hesitated. Her trembling hand moved slightly, hovered in the air, then pulled back, as if fear still screamed louder than hope.
But he didn't pressure her. He just waited.
And then, as if drawing on every last ounce of courage buried within her, Haruhime reached out again. Slowly, with delicate fingers, she placed her palm in his.
Her eyes were teary, but this time, it wasn't despair.
It was faith.
"Yuri-dono... please... save me."
His response was a calm, almost warm smile. He gently gripped her hand and helped her to her feet, as if lifting a fallen soul from the mud.
"Just hold on, Haruhime," he said, his voice now filled with conviction.
"I swear I'll get you out of here." He smiled.
She gripped his hand tighter.
This time, it wasn't just a fairy tale.
It was the beginning of something real.
(End of Chapter)
"Hmph. If you really want to be useful, then entertain me, try to throw those pathetic power stones at me. Let's see if even your insolence can amuse a king."