At Rome's Leonardo da Vinci Airport, Roy's private jet took off once more, this time heading toward what could be considered his true homeland—though it was a different China across two worlds.
Inside the luxurious cabin, Roy leaned back in his seat, watching Erica bustling about. She was constantly dialing different people on her satellite phone, speaking at an unusually rapid pace, as if eager to finish her work—a stark contrast to her usual composed and unhurried demeanor.
"I've never seen you in such a hurry before, Erica... Is there something you need to do?"
Roy couldn't help but chuckle at her flustered state.
Beside him, the silver-haired knight pouring coffee for Roy also glanced curiously at her close friend, wondering what had gotten into her today.
After finishing her call, Erica set the phone down and shot Roy a resentful look, her voice both alluring and slightly weary.
"...Because I finally have a chance to be alone with you, Lord Roy. If I have to be bothered by work, then even this little time together will be lost."
Her tone was plaintive, her beautiful ocean-blue eyes shimmering with melancholy, making her seem more like a bewitching enchantress than even Liliana, the actual witch.
Erica was only sixteen years old. No matter how much of a genius she was, no matter how mature she appeared, she was still just a girl in the bloom of youth. Unlike Roy and Aisha, whose outward appearances belied their true ages, Erica was genuinely sixteen. If she were an ordinary girl, she would still be in high school.
A girl's heart is always delicate, once filled with dreams of fairy-tale romance, of being swept away by a prince on a white horse. But reality had taught her that such love was not hers to have. The moment she became Roy's possession, all her romantic fantasies vanished. The only person she could ever love in this lifetime was Roy—and no one else.
Roy was already an extraordinary man. Even if he hadn't forced her, Erica's personality would have likely led her to genuinely fall for him during their two years together. And given Roy's domineering nature, it was impossible for Erica to love anyone else anyway.
Spending nearly every moment together over those two years, from age fourteen to sixteen, had stirred the girl's heart. But the competition for his affection was overwhelming—ranging from renowned European princesses to legendary goddesses from myth. As a Great Knight, she might have been among the elite in the world of magic, but before gods and Campiones, she was just another face in the crowd.
Moreover, Erica didn't dare act jealous. She knew that a man like Roy, with grand ambitions, couldn't afford to waste his limited energy on trivial romantic matters or cater to a lover's emotions like an ordinary boyfriend. He was a King, one of the few Campiones in the world—he would never squander his time on petty affairs of the heart.
So, Erica could only strive to earn his attention and care by diligently handling his mundane affairs, doing her best to lighten his burdens.
Now it seemed this method wasn't entirely useless, but neither did it have the effect Erica had imagined. The reason was simple—Roy's gaze was always fixed on such lofty heights that he never lowered his head to look at them.
Thinking this, Erica sighed deeply, her graceful melancholy tinged with bitterness.
Roy looked at Erica in surprise, then glanced at the silent, bow-headed Liliana beside him. After some thought, he realized he truly had neglected these two girls.
One handled all his external affairs for him, while the other had diligently taken care of his daily life. Because it had become routine, Roy had come to take these things for granted.
Perhaps only if they suddenly disappeared one day would Roy truly begin to miss them.
But realizing this now wasn't too late. Even if he couldn't give them his whole heart, offering them a piece of his sincerity was something Roy could still do.
As these thoughts flashed through his mind, Roy's gaze softened. These two girls were still just children—real children, not like Athena or Aphrodite who merely took the form of children.
"I have indeed neglected you, Erica... and Lily. As a King, I won't apologize for such matters, but I do want to express my gratitude for your constant care. You've both worked hard these past two years."
Roy spoke gently, his words sincere and unaffected.
Erica's melancholy expression suddenly brightened. Gazing at Roy, the fairy-like beauty shook her head slightly. "...Lord Roy, you're truly different from other Campiones. You retain a king's majesty while possessing an intoxicating tenderness. It's precisely because of your usual dominance that this gentleness of yours feels so moving."
He beckoned to Erica. The sixteen-year-old Italian beauty smiled coquettishly and threw herself into Roy's arms like a swallow returning to its nest. Then he gestured to Liliana. The shy knight put down her coffee tray and, though not as bold as Erica, knelt on both knees, allowing Roy to embrace her.
With soft jade and warm fragrance in his arms, his right hand gently stroked the smooth, delicate skin of Erica's exposed back beneath her red dress...
His left hand played with Liliana's silver hair, two fingers teasing her earrings until the girl's face flushed crimson.
The sweet fragrance of youthful maidenhood was intoxicating, their trembling bodies stirring with emotion, yet Roy felt no desire at this moment. His expression relaxed as he held them gently, his gaze growing increasingly tender.
'Though you're not my Empress, you could be considered beloved concubines.'
Thinking this, Roy tightened his embrace around them.
Erica and Liliana held him tightly with equal force. Though he felt so real, the two girls couldn't help but feel he was somehow illusory—because this was Roy Crowley, the man who would never be bound by mere romantic attachments, the one destined to ascend the Celestial Throne. They knew this man could never completely belong to them. But for this moment, on this flight from Italy to China, they became his everything.
Even if this dream would soon end, even if they knew this man would one day embark on a long journey far away, they still wanted to etch this moment into their hearts.
Because their lives, their bodies, their souls—had long been engraved with the name Roy Crowley.
"Searching for him a thousand times in the crowd, suddenly turning back—there he is, in the dimming light of lanterns."
Sometimes, things too insignificant often go unnoticed. But looking back, one realizes they've long grown accustomed to them. No matter how small, they've already become vessels for sincere emotions.
***
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