Once Leon had signed the divorce papers and the tension eased slightly, I turned to face Zain, the commander of the Royal Knights.
“Commander Zain, thank you for taking the time to come today despite your busy schedule.”
“…No. If anything, I should be the one apologizing. We need to reconsider how expeditions are handled.”
Zain let out a long, weary sigh.
Knights often had their emotions heightened by battle, and many frequented brothels to vent those impulses. There were also quite a few like Leon, who kept lovers or even wives in the regions they were dispatched to.
That said, the majority of those who volunteered for expeditions were unmarried. They chose to remain unattached precisely because they wanted that freedom, and it was tacitly accepted.
But it was another matter entirely when knights with lovers, fiancées, or worse, wives did the same—and when it was concealed as a unit. Even if there had been no intent to hide it, the structure itself invited suspicion.
“I’ll leave the matter of unmarried knights to you,” I said calmly, “but in the case of married men, this can lead directly to the birth of illegitimate children. I believe it would be wise to revise the system.”
“I agree. We’ll raise it formally within the order and discuss how to proceed. For now, I’ll have married knights investigated to ensure there are no similar cases.”
“Commander, I’ll help with that,” Karl said at once.
“If surveillance magic is required, please submit a request through the Guild,” Asti added smoothly.
Both of them sounded eager.
Karl made sense—he handled administrative matters for the knights—but Asti’s enthusiasm was harder to place. When our eyes met, he simply smiled, so I assumed it was curiosity on his part.
“Karl, I’m counting on you,” Zain said. “…And Arbiter, I would prefer not to rely on your assistance if possible, but I suspect we’ll need it. If we’re going to expose everything, then properly.”
“I’ll be ready,” Asti replied, bowing with practiced courtesy.
“And now, Commander,” I continued, “there is one more matter we must address.”
Zain stiffened slightly, as though he already knew what was coming.
“The recovery potions I’ve been supplying to the knights.”
“…I thought as much,” he said quietly.
Now that my divorce from Leon was finalized, we were strangers in the eyes of the law.
For that reason, I had decided to return the recovery potions I supplied through the Guild to their proper market price.
“Until now, I offered them at a discount because Leon—and family—used them as well. But as you can see, the divorce is complete. I’ll be restoring the original pricing.”
“…That’s only natural. I was prepared for this once the matter came to light.”
Zain shook his head slowly, resignation etched into his features, and sighed again.
The potions I supplied were, by standard classification, high-grade. Each one contained several layered buffs.
Until now, because the knights worked to protect the nation, I had coordinated with the Guild to offer them at a family-rate discount. I never minded the cost if it meant their safety was assured.
The Guild, too, had taken only a minimal commission, reasoning that if my potions improved the knights’ efficiency, it was worth it.
In return, the knights were expected to perform their duties faithfully—to protect the people and the cities.
But that assumption had been wrong.
After I began supplying the potions, expedition allowances rose slightly. Funds that would normally go toward medical supplies could be diverted elsewhere.
And that, in turn, became Leon’s excuse. Higher pay meant more expeditions, and more time away.
Realizing this, I felt a hollow ache at what my efforts had enabled.
“At proper market value, your recovery potions are worth at least one gold coin,” Daggart said, impressed. “Depending on the effect, even two.”
“That sounds about right,” Zain agreed. “They’re easier to drink and far more effective than standard potions. The fact that we received them at half price until now was nothing short of a miracle.”
When Daggart heard their true value, his eyes widened. He quickly understood, and his expression grew complicated when he realized it meant doubling the knights’ usual procurement costs.
“Commander… those potions that were occasionally distributed to regional garrisons—don’t tell me those were—”
“Yes,” Zain said with a tired nod. “All made by Sheila. Their performance was exceptional, so we wanted to share them with the provinces.”
Daggart stared upward and muttered, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“It’s a headache, no doubt,” Zain said, forcing a thin smile. “But we’ll take this as an opportunity to strengthen training and rebuild from the ground up. In the end, we’re just returning to how things were before Sheila was involved.”
His shoulders sagged visibly as he spoke.
I couldn’t help but feel conflicted. Innocent knights would be affected by this change. In a way, it was a form of collective reckoning for an organization that had allowed such a system to persist.
How things would change from here on, I didn’t know. But I hoped this would lead to reform.
“Wait, Sheila,” Leon said hoarsely, his face pale. “The divorce—I accept it. But the knights have nothing to do with this, do they…?”
“Leon, this is accountability,” Zain said firmly.
“But—” Leon pressed on, desperation creeping into his voice. “The potions have nothing to do with it. The knights still protect the cities, protect the country. They’re risking their lives. I did something wrong, yes, but isn’t this too much…?”
No one answered him right away.
He wasn’t wrong. My decision would have a significant impact on the knights.
Zain, as commander, would bear responsibility. Budgets would have to be revised. Knights who had relied on abundant recovery potions would need to fight more cautiously. Tactics would change.
When Asti once said that knowing me meant you could never go back, perhaps it hadn’t been an exaggeration.
“Infidelity destroys everything,” Asti said suddenly.
His gaze toward Leon was filled with unmistakable contempt.
“It shatters a partner’s heart. It dissolves marriages and severs bonds. People dress it up as ‘true love,’ ‘forbidden romance,’ or ‘fate,’ but all it really is, is a relationship driven by the lower half of the body.
“And that alone is enough to destroy someone who loved you, ruin every human connection you had, and obliterate your own credibility. One mistake, and everything turns to nothing.
“The one who does it may say it can’t be helped. The one who’s betrayed carries the wound for the rest of their life.”
Asti’s eyes burned with loathing—yet beneath it, there was something sorrowful, almost painful.
“Why do people who lack the resolve to face the consequences insist on romanticizing their own tragedy? They can’t take responsibility, but they’re so fluent when it comes to excuses.”
“Asti, that’s enough,” I said softly.
He had crossed into personal territory. More than that, he looked like his own words were hurting him.
“…I’m sorry,” he muttered, biting his lip. “I need to cool my head. Please excuse me.”
With that, he vanished in a flash of teleportation magic.
The clerk he left behind stood there awkwardly, clearly at a loss.
“Sheila, please,” Leon said again. “I don’t want the other knights to suffer for my mistakes.”
A deep sadness settled in my chest.
“…So it was fine for me to suffer, then.”
The implication was clear. If I swallowed my pain, if I endured it, then everything else could remain the same.
Leon seemed to realize it too. His face stiffened, and he looked away.
Asti’s words, at least, had struck somewhere within him.
