I Praise You, the One Who Survived

Beautiful yet humble maid Lucien. To her, life had always been something to endure, and death something familiar, dull, and ordinary—until the day she happened to meet him.

At first he was a detached, arrogant priest, and then he was a baron’s child convalescing because of frail health. Every time they met, he had a different identity, but she knew that he was never a priest or a weak nobleman. A man who could cut someone down with a sword without hesitation could not possibly be either of those things.

"Then use my room. You can stay for a day or two."

"Just in case, let me say this. ...You shouldn’t say things like that to just anyone."

"The only person I’d be willing to give my room to is Lord Lars."

Who he was did not matter. The moment Lucien took in those cold, elegant green eyes, the death that had always been close to her became unfamiliar.

She wanted to live.

No, she wanted him to live.

And to make that happen, she could do anything.

Even if it meant abandoning herself.

"Throw away the idea that you can do anything, Lucien. Just clutch at whatever luck falls into your hands."

But she did not know that this very point was what made him angry.

What a bastard. What did I do so wrong? ...When will I see him again? At least say something before you go!

"Don’t worry, Lord Lars. As you said, I’ll make sure to cling to any luck that falls into my hands."

The will to live sometimes blossoms as fiercely as love.

『To Praise You Who Survived』