The Swallowflowers in the Courtyard

I grew up in a brothel, and now I’m supposed to be the saint who will save the world?

That was impossible from the start.

I was a pitiful existence, like a violet blooming in a field.

Despised because I was of low birth,

revered because I was a saint.

But here was someone who did neither despise nor worship me.

The man as cold and still as frozen steel looked at me with quiet eyes and said,

"I will not help you."

Literally, he did not help me.

And yet he shared everything with me.

"I will die before you."

Even death itself.

He was like a blue flame.

It was only because the color was so cold that no one knew it was a flame.

And so, the knight made the violet bloom.