Chapter Thirty-Five: The Dragon's Head in the Mirror

Matou Sakura stared blankly at Roland, carefully shifting his head so he could rest more comfortably on her lap. She didn’t understand what had happened to Roland, but since he had given her a command to wait, she would obey. The logic of thinking for herself, doubting, and making her own decisions had already been gradually erased under Zouken Matou’s education.

But not all of this could be blamed on her grandfather; after all, Sakura was a child who had been abandoned.

—No one needs me.

That was the greatest feeling Sakura had experienced in the past year. Before being sent to the Matou family, her father had sternly told her never to use the Tohsaka name again. To avoid suspicion, even if she encountered her sister or mother, she was not to approach them.

Because she was now a member of the Matou family.

After arriving at the Matou household, the cruel reality was laid before her at once. Zouken had promised not to inflict physical pain, but when it came to psychological torment, he spared no effort.

He didn’t even need to fabricate monsters; simply exposing the reality was enough.

Zouken explained in detail why the Tohsaka family had sent her to them and showed her what her future in the Matou household would be.

And what fate would await her if she resisted.

No one would come to help her—not her parents, not her sister, not anyone. At that time, Sakura felt as though she stood on the edge of a cliff, only needing the slightest push to fall into utter ruin.

And the one who ultimately gave her that final push was none other than Matou Kariya, the man in whom she had placed her last hopes.

That man said he would return her to the Tohsaka family?

Did he really know what he was saying? Now that she—the being known as Matou Sakura—had already come into contact with the secrets of the Matou magecraft, for a family of magi, delving into the mysteries of another’s magic was tantamount to a blood feud.

Even a child like her understood this; the Tohsaka family would never take her back. She would be sent away immediately. Even if that didn’t happen, she could never leave this city again. The Matou family would keep her under constant surveillance, lest their secrets be leaked.

She would become a wandering soul, with no future and nowhere to belong.

Yet she couldn’t even voice her refusal. That naïve kindness had pushed Sakura completely into the abyss.

That day, her grandfather declared a fact to her.

Her education in Matou magecraft would cease, and if Uncle Kariya won, she would be set free.

At last, she lost even her final foothold.

In the Matou household, Sakura was invisible. No one dared speak to her, no one would come near, no one needed her.

Sakura had nothing left but her name.

In the early nights, she still felt resentment—resentment towards her father for sending her away, then later, resentment that it hadn’t been her sister who was chosen.

Finally, at the end of it all, Sakura became numb.

She was not as strong as her sister, nor as kind. Nor was she as open and straightforward. Her true nature was a bit mischievous, but to earn praise from her parents, she always presented herself as obedient.

Lately, Sakura had even begun to resent that she hadn’t leaped into the worm pit. At least then, she would have had an identity, something to define herself, rather than being someone no one needed.

Then, suddenly, her grandfather said she would be sent away.

Abandoned for the second time, any trace of her presence in the Matou house vanished. Still, looking on the bright side, at least she was given a surname she could be called by.

It no longer mattered; no one would ever need Matou Sakura. She would simply live as she always had in a new environment, only to be abandoned again.

Until that dawn arrived.

A stranger, a young man, said to her: “I need you.”

Matou Sakura was his, and he would not give her up to anyone else.

Such a cruel declaration, and yet it made her shiver. At last, someone needed her. At last, she saw the hope of salvation.

No matter what dangers lay ahead, even if it meant death, compared to the worm pit, it was nothing. Even if she was only being used, to die as “Matou Sakura who belonged to Roland” would be enough to satisfy her.

Leaning against Roland’s body, her senses filled with the unfamiliar scent of a man.

When Roland first leaned on her, her body reflexively tried to push him away—a child’s instinctive wariness of strangers—but soon, her yearning overcame all else.

Since leaving the Tohsaka family, she had not been this close to anyone.

“Lord Roland… are you trembling?”

Because their bodies were pressed together, Sakura noticed the strange vibrations in Roland’s body.

Even unconscious, his body was honestly reflecting the dramatic change he was experiencing.

It was a miracle surpassing magic—a transcendence of the soul.

Although she didn’t understand, Sakura nevertheless realized that Roland was currently in a weakened state.

He had spoken so amiably with that terrifying grandfather before, but now, seeing the youthful vulnerability on Roland’s face, Sakura finally understood: he was not, as he claimed, some mature adult.

He was someone weak and in need of her care.

The sharp contrast between her impressions and reality, coupled with the overwhelming sense of being needed, struck Sakura with a force that overturned all her past feelings.

Roland’s waiting, his closeness—for Sakura, these were silent invitations.

Looking at him now, gratitude, awe, and even a trace of fear in her heart all shifted into a single, strange emotion.

—She wanted to take care of him.

“So even Lord Roland needs me.”

Her cheeks flushed red. Even supporting part of his weight made her small body ache and go numb, yet she remained perfectly still.

She gazed at Roland’s nearby face, reached out, and gently brushed his hair with her fingers. Watching her own strange action, Sakura couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh.

“Lord Roland needs me.”

That thought took root in her mind, her expression glowing with a gentle, almost maternal radiance, overflowing with a desire to protect.

“Sakura?”

Roland slowly opened his eyes, returning to consciousness. His gaze, still unfocused, lingered on the gentle beauty of the girl before him, and the comfort from her fingers running through his hair. The back of his head rested on Sakura’s lap.

“I’m sorry, Lord Roland. Did I wake you?”

“It’s all right. How long was I out?”

Roland’s words cut off Sakura’s apology. Remembering what had just occurred, he looked at her with a sincerity he had not shown before. He wasn’t sure what had changed, but he sensed that whatever barrier had existed between them was now gone.

He was troubled by how this peculiar bond had deepened so quickly, but he had more pressing matters to attend to.

“Sakura?”

Roland pushed himself up, but Sakura, obedient as ever, didn’t answer right away. She just stared blankly at his face.

“Ah,” she murmured, finally coming to herself at Roland’s call. She studied his face again, as if to confirm, then replied.

“About two minutes, maybe less.”

“I see.”

Roland wore a thoughtful expression as he rose from the sofa and walked to the mirror on the side wall of the living room—a half-length Western-style mirror left by the previous owner.

Narrowing his eyes, he looked into it.

His attire was proper but understated, his hands pale and beautiful. As his gaze moved upward, Roland saw his own face.

But it was no longer his face—not even a human face. Reflected was a dragon’s noble and majestic head, exuding both ancient mystery and awe.

Within the slightly shadowed eye sockets, there still burned a cold, enchanting red light, like flame.

He was very familiar with this appearance, for it was identical to the binding spirit that had once coiled around the scabbard.

Roland tilted his head slightly, and the dragon-headed figure in the mirror mirrored him perfectly. He touched his face—its sensation unchanged, as always—but the image in the glass was utterly different.

This obvious fact made Roland realize that the Soul of the Lord had become his.

[Binding Spirit: Soul of the Lord]

Manifestation: In mirrors, your reflection displays the true form of your soul.