Persephone didn’t know when the match that day had ended.

Her mind was a blank slate. When she finally came to, the cheers had turned into applause. No one had noticed her before, but now, all eyes were casting envious glances her way.

She didn’t understand what had happened.

All she cared about was whether Morpheus was alive.

But… where did the person who had just collapsed on the ring go?

As if in a dream, Persephone abruptly opened her eyes to find Morpheus standing right in front of her.

He was covered in injuries all over his body and face, but she found a hint of reality in his warm and steadfast smile.

“Morpheus…”

“This is for you.” He held a medal in his hand.

Persephone’s heart jolted. She had heard him say that this kind of medal represented the highest honor in the underground arena.

he had earned with

face being tugged. Yet, he wasn’t afraid of the pain. He feared her

wore the medal around her neck. Like a referee raising a fighter’s hand to declare victory, he raised Persephone’s hand,

threw herself into his arms, holding him

around them seemed to reach the skies, yet all she wanted was to remain on a solitary island

Persephone finally had time alone with Morpheus. She carefully tended to his wounds. With the

to his wounds, not letting out a sound. She didn’t

but Morpheus uttered hoarsely,

“Hmm?”

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brought forth by his

the same words as he did after his last injury, “It doesn’t

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