Rose Melody is not her real name. The surname Melody is closer to a nickname given after she became successful. Rose was also a stage name as a diva, not her real name.

She used a false name.

Nevertheless, if there was an undeniable truth, it was that Rose came from poor working-class origins.

In Tirna, "worker" doesn't refer only to men. Young men, old people, children, women. Everyone had to work equally to earn money.

Tirna's harshness doesn't discriminate between gender or age. In some sense, it was a city that practiced true equality.

Rose was born into a poor household. However, unlike other families, the fortunate thing was that Rose's family was harmonious.

Usually, parents sell their children for money, or send their children to factories to earn money. There's no affection for blood relatives. Simply surviving day by day was much more important.

In such a universal environment, Rose's parents were like lotus flowers blooming in a mud pond. They cared for Rose with utmost devotion and hoped she would grow up happily.

Rose loved singing from childhood. Whenever she sang, her parents would applaud, saying she would become a wonderful singer.

But happiness didn't last long because her parents died in an industrial accident.

Both parents worked at the same pharmaceutical factory. However, due to poor management, dangerous chemicals leaked in gas form, and Rose's parents were exposed to it.

At least there was some comfort in that they were far enough away that it didn't lead to a serious situation. The workers who were close to where the gas leaked reportedly had half their bodies melted away.

But that didn't mean Rose's parents were unharmed. The toxic chemicals caused burns and festering on their skin, and the toxins that penetrated their bodies rapidly weakened their flesh.

Even after going through such an ordeal, far from receiving compensation, her parents were fired from the factory.

Though poor, this was a family that had endured by nurturing small hopes within that poverty. Its collapse was all too easy. Those without strength, money, or power were always trampled upon.

Rose thought she had to step up to care for her parents. So she got a job at a factory. Her parents tried to dissuade her, but Rose wouldn't listen.

She worked hard earning money at a dye factory. Everything she earned went to her parents' medical expenses, but that was fine.

She didn't want to lose this happiness. As much as she had received love from her parents, she wanted to give love in return. She worked so hard that the female workers around her worried about Rose and gave her advice.

Rose drew strength from such comfort and encouragement and lived even more diligently. She didn't forget to practice singing whenever she had time.

It was the voice her parents loved. No matter how difficult things were, suppressing this didn't suit her temperament. Most importantly, only while singing could she escape from all the suffering of reality and enjoy true freedom.

Because she had songs, because she could dream, she could endure.

But misfortune always comes suddenly.

A machine carrying dye malfunctioned and spilled onto Rose, who happened to be passing underneath. More precisely, if Rose had been alone, she probably could have kept her body safe.

'But I couldn't do that.'

Rose wasn't alone at that time. There was a close colleague who worked with her at the factory, and Rose was working together with her.

The moment she discovered the dye spilling, Rose threw her body and pushed her colleague away. And instead, she was doused with the dye.

Even though it was dye, it's quite harmful to the human body because it's mixed with various magical reagents and undergoes various chemical treatments. Rose actually lost consciousness for nearly two days.

And when she opened her eyes, she realized that her hair color had changed.

What followed were days of despair. She was kicked out of the factory and had no immediate way to earn money. Working part-time as a restaurant server was the best she could do.

But by chance, an opportunity came and she was able to sing on stage, and from there word of mouth spread and she gained fame.

There were many events leading up to this position. There were many joyful things, but there were more difficult ones.

But Rose didn't give up. As long as beauty existed in this world, she felt it was worth living.

Yes. Just like right now.

Cold yet warm, seemingly ruthless yet compassionate. The moment she saw a man wearing such blue martial robes.

Osian, having shaken off his Moonlight Blade once, looked back.

'Did those Liberation Army bastards already run away? Damn, they're fast.'

Lukai and the Liberation Army had long since left. A hollow wind blew from the hole they had broken through. Osian scratched his hood awkwardly.

'What kind of judgment speed is that?'

The moment they saw him use the Starlight Armor, they chose to retreat without a second's hesitation. Though they were enemies, it was admirable judgment.

'Even if they had known information about this side, when actually facing it in real combat, choosing to retreat wouldn't have been easy.'

Usually, people who encounter Osian only through documents have one reaction. Disbelief. The power of the forgotten knight from memory was closer to a fantastical story rather than a power difficult to gauge from their perspective.

An unprecedented power that even cuts through magic? Energy that's the natural enemy of otherworldly beings? The flame of emotion that blooms from within a person's heart?

Even though Osian himself was a knight, honestly speaking, he leaned toward claiming it was hard to believe.

Actually, this wasn't just about the knight's power. People usually tend to neglect things they haven't directly experienced themselves. No wonder such a famous saying exists:

'Everyone has a plan that sounds reasonable until they get punched in the face.'

Everyone has their own plans, but reality doesn't flow according to plan because the existence of irregulars interferes with it. And the knight's power was strictly irregular, or even more than that.

'Nevertheless, Lukai retreated without delay.'

Of all things, it was the Liberation Army. A group that hates the people gathered in this place. Even if they left, he thought they'd at least take a few more people with them. Yet Lukai calmly issued retreat orders, and his Liberation Army comrades withdrew without hesitation.

'They couldn't take Rose, and they couldn't carry out as much slaughter as they wanted. Yet they still retreated.'

This was possible because they weren't simply focusing on the tree in front of them but were drawing some bigger picture. A thoroughly calculating personality that doesn't cling to immediate gains.

'No. Maybe they already achieved their intended purpose.'

Osian looked around at the people. They were bewildered by the sudden terror attack. From people injured by the explosion's aftermath to people vomiting in disgust at seeing dead bodies.

It would be their first time seeing someone die up close. To them, it would have been a story from a distant place that had absolutely nothing to do with them.

But that danger had approached right to their noses. Without Osian, at least dozens more would have died here.

'And Lady Rose would have been kidnapped too.'

Maybe she would have stepped forward first, saying she'd save people. Of course, that didn't happen. If there was a big mistake on the Liberation Army's part, it was that Osian was in this place.

"Ex-excuse me. Are you alright?"

Allen approached Osian cautiously. Osian looked back at Allen. Osian's appearance, wearing blue martial robes and wrapped in a translucent lunar veil, was indescribably mystical.

Meeting that cool gaze, Allen felt both fear and fascination with that power and unique appearance.

"A-ahem. First, I want to say thank you. If it weren't for you, we would all be dead."

Osian shook his head.

"I only did what I had to do."

"Yes. Everyone does what they have to do. But still, if good deeds aren't praised, wouldn't that be sad in its own way?"

"That's true too."

Osian released his Moon Scar Martial Robes. He looked around. Groaning and moaning sounds could be heard from all directions. Someone was babbling incoherently, unable to overcome the shock.

"Everyone seems quite shaken."

"They have to be. The security of District 1, which they thought was the safest place in the world, has been breached. For those people, it's no different from the sky falling."

District 1's security had been breached. This was a very big incident.

"How on earth could the Liberation Army secretly infiltrate District 1?"

"Security isn't always perfect. If they somehow break through, it's bound to be breached. Most importantly, the opponent was that Lukai."

Osian recalled Lukai's appearance. From the charisma that commanded the atmosphere upon his entrance to the judgment to quickly assess the opponent's capabilities and make choices accordingly.

'Certainly. Seeing him directly, the claim that he overturned a nation didn't feel like empty words.'

Some might mock that Lukai ran away, but Osian didn't think so.

'It would be as meaningless as asking a fish why it doesn't walk on land. Lukai is someone who fights his own fight. And he has the ability to maximize that.'

Moreover, Lukai didn't fully reveal his full strength even against him. There were definitely hidden cards. Considering that part, secretly sneaking into District 1 wasn't entirely impossible.

'If not that.'

Another unsettling thought crossed his mind, but there was no time to judge even that. Calming this chaos had to come first.

'Everyone looks terrible.'

These were people who had lived their entire lives in tranquility. They naturally hadn't encountered any hardships. For them, a terrorist attack, especially an attack in District 1 which they thought was the safest place, was a major incident that could shake their entire worldview.

Still, some people mustered courage and tried to go outside to request help. But those who left the opera house returned shortly after, pale as sheets, as if fleeing.

"B-bodies...!"

What Lukai had attacked was part of District 1, the Ether Opera. Naturally, guards were stationed inside the opera as well to prepare for any possible situation. They had all received considerable training and were armed with state-of-the-art weapons. But those guards were now lying as corpses in the outer corridor.

'So it wasn't a lie.'

When you think of the Liberation Army, the common image is of irregular troops. They have no discipline or regulations and receive no proper support or training. They were just a ragtag bunch.

However, the Red Liberation Army led by Lukai was different. They had cleaned up the guards protecting District 1 in that short time.

This completely broke the will of people who had hoped for even a little hope.

"Y-you, why didn't you chase those bastards!"

Then a middle-aged woman, unable to contain her anxiety, pointed at Osian and shouted. Osian looked at her and thought, "Oh really?" to himself.

"If you had killed all those bastards on the spot, it would have been over!"

What a ridiculous story. He gave up chasing those bastards and saved their lives, yet they're being ungrateful. But Osian didn't bother explaining.

'Whatever I say to someone whose head has already hardened won't be heard anyway.'

The problem was that someone always agrees with such extreme opinions.

"R-right! Actually, you were in cahoots with those bastards too, weren't you? Something was suspicious! On the day you first attended this place, this kind of terror happens! Anyone can see it's strange!"

Someone even raised conspiracy theories. That Osian might be connected to the Red Liberation Army. That wasn't imagination born from simple anxiety.

From the beginning, several people had been looking at Osian negatively.

'A fixer rising to become treated like a hero and coming all the way to District 1 must have been quite an eyesore.'

The same lower-class people as the Liberation Army led by Lukai. That was their view of the problem solver. Moreover, the timing was indeed coincidental.

"W-wait a moment! Please calm down! You're becoming too extreme right now!"

Allen stepped forward to mediate, but it was useless.

"Shut up! What are you!"

"Are you one of them too? You're also a terrorist!"

Fear makes people's hearts like soft dough. It soon breeds madness and spreads to those around. One by one, they glared at Osian with wide eyes.

The people who had become a mob surrounded Osian and Allen. The angry people approached step by step slowly. They showed no intention of stopping.

Osian thought this sight was ridiculous. The Liberation Army was scary, but was he, who defeated them, easy prey? Even if rational judgment wasn't possible, they should have been selective about the situation.

It was the moment Osian was about to put strength into the hand holding his sword.

"Stop it!"

Waves of light spread and swept through the surrounding area. It was the power he had shown a moment ago, the power to force people's actions.

'No. Not actions.'

This voice moves hearts.