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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Silverriver
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Summer nights were cool. The breeze was especially refreshing after the scorching heat of the day. But the temperature dropped drastically after sunset.
A cool wind swept across the balcony. While it wasn’t enough to bother me, the princess seemed to be struggling.
She shivered and moved closer to me. Her lavender hair brushed against my clothes. She looked up at me and asked,
“Aren’t you… cold?”
“You could go inside.”
“Leaving my partner behind would only fuel gossip.”
The cool breeze brushed against my face. Even my terminally ill body could withstand this chill. But the princess couldn’t. I didn’t know why.
I should probably go inside. I glanced at the sky. The stars seemed unusually… distant tonight.
I sighed and pulled the princess closer, feeling the chill of her skin against mine.
“What…?”
“Stay still.”
I channeled my mana. It flowed through my veins, then out through my hand, transforming into warmth that enveloped the princess.
Her eyes widened in surprise at the sudden warmth.
“I’ve warmed you up for now, but it’s still best to go inside.”
“You can use this kind of magic too?”
“It’s just a simple trick.”
I dismissed her question casually. She glanced at me, then turned and walked back inside. I followed.
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As we returned to the ballroom, the music had stopped. Yet, the room was still noisy.
‘Did someone arrive?’
It should have been winding down by now.
“The ballroom is quite lively. It seems we have new arrivals.”
“Indeed.”
The princess seemed to have the same thought. But neither of us could guess who it might be.
Archxius’s voice echoed in my mind. Before I could even greet her, the surprise in her tone caught my attention.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Someone with a similar aura?’
Archxius couldn’t be wrong. She was a dragon, after all. A race exceptionally skilled at sensing auras and perceiving mana.
‘What does that mean?’
‘It doesn’t leak?’
Archxius paused, then continued.
‘I’m aware of that. But isn’t that unavoidable?’
‘You’re talking about the manifestation of magic?’
‘And those laws are divided into incantations and magic circles.’
It was well-known that magic could become unstable depending on the user’s mental state.
If a mage tried to cast a spell while consumed by fear or panic, the magic wouldn’t respond properly. Mana existed within the uncertainty of spacetime. Binding it and manifesting it was incredibly difficult.
That was why mages were so rare. Stillness and composure. Those were the foundations of magic.
Archxius’s voice was tinged with melancholy as she spoke of emotions. She seemed to grow sad when reminded of her lost emotions.
I made a mental note to comfort her next time, then focused on her words.
‘You mean his emotional state is unchanging?’
‘Who could he be…?’
I stepped into the ballroom, that thought lingering in my mind.
And my eyes widened.
An overwhelming aura of dignity. Gray hair like mine, black eyes. A chilling gaze that swept over the room, features as sharp and defined as a statue. A commanding presence that kept even the nobles at bay.
He spoke, and all eyes turned towards him.
“It’s been a while.”
“What brings you here?”
I cautiously looked at the man. The man I had seen most often since possessing this body. A man who occupied the highest position in the Empire, second only to the Imperial Family.
“Does a father need a reason to visit his son?”
“…”
Duke Cartrell Philasia. He had come to the ballroom, looking for me.
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-Clink
Tea flowed down my throat. Or rather, I wasn’t even sure if I tasted it. I nervously placed the teacup on the table.
Duke Cartrell watched me intently.
“So, why are you really here?”
We were alone. No one dared to eavesdrop on a conversation between the Duke and his eldest son.
“I told you, didn’t I? A father doesn’t need a reason to visit his son.”
“You’re not the type of person to do that.”
An ordinary person might have nodded and accepted that explanation. But the Duke before me was different.
‘He’s weighing me, measuring my worth.’
The Duke I knew wasn’t one to show paternal affection. He was more likely to be harsher on his own children.
“You know me well.”
The Duke took a sip of his tea and placed the cup down.
“I came all this way because of the rumors.”
“Rumors…?”
“Yes, the rumors about Lenox’s Dungeon, and the… high-ranking demon subjugation.”
I chuckled awkwardly. “Haha… I can’t really explain that.”
The Duke glanced at me, then continued,
“First, it was the Saintess, now it’s Her Highness. And you’ve even joined the Crown Prince’s club.”
I gulped. He knew about everything I had done.
“Just what are you up to at the academy?”
His gaze, sharp and cold, pierced me. He looked as if he might drag me back to the Dukedom, expelling me from the academy.
I swallowed hard and spoke.
“I’m just… trying to survive.”
“Trying to survive?”
“The elixirs stopped, and my illness is worsening. I have to find a way to live.”
“None of this would have happened if you hadn’t gone to the academy.”
“If I hadn’t come to the academy, I wouldn’t have regained my health.”
The Duke’s gaze swept over me, assessing my condition. He sighed softly.
“You certainly look better than before.”
It seemed I had avoided expulsion, for now. The Duke reached into his pocket and pulled out a pocket watch. A gold-plated watch, enchanted with a cleaning spell.
How much was that thing worth?
“Is fate unavoidable?”
“What?”
“You’re just like your mother.”
The Duke left after uttering those cryptic words, a wistful look in his eyes. I pondered his words after he left.
Deron’s mother. I had never met her. Her name rarely came up in conversations, either in social circles or elsewhere.
The Duke had married a commoner. That was the extent of my knowledge.
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As he left the mansion, Cartrell Philasia glanced back at where Deron had been sitting. He couldn’t control his expression.
‘He’s the spitting image of Arwen.’
Arwen. Deron’s mother, now gone. Traces of her lingered in Deron’s face.
“Even in death, you haunt me.”
Cartrell muttered to himself. Arwen’s face flashed in his mind whenever he saw Deron. Truthfully, he hadn’t intended to cut off Deron’s elixir supply.
His son, bearing Arwen’s features, was precious to him. That was why he had forbidden him from attending the academy.
But his son had made his own choice. Cartrell couldn’t refuse him when he asked, his face pleading with Arwen’s eyes.
“Petra.”
“Yes.”
A maid approached Cartrell. Or rather, an assassin. The leader of Wolyoung, who had long protected and watched over Deron.
Cartrell looked down at her and said,
“You still have the elixirs I sent, don’t you?”
“Yes. They’re stored in my personal vault.”
“Start sending them to Deron again.”
“Have you… changed your mind?”
“Yes. I’ve eliminated the pests that were bothering him.”
“Understood.”
Petra bowed her head and vanished, her movements as silent and swift as a shadow.
Cartrell opened his pocket watch. Inside was a picture of him and Arwen. Her silver hair, cascading like a waterfall, and her red eyes were particularly striking.
He gazed at her picture, his eyes filled with longing, then closed the watch.
Visible in the closing gap… was a small, red horn on Arwen’s head.
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Arwen had red eyes and a small horn on her head?
yeah, suprise suprise
Maybe his fate is to become the demon king