"By the way, teacher, don't you have something to explain to me?"
"Hmm?"
Sol didn't look up from the thick, brown-covered book in his hands—Dangerous Zones of the World, written by one of the angels from Slothstein.
Across from him, Edea was calmly sipping tea when his sudden question caught her off guard. Curious, she set her cup down and gave him a puzzled look.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean," Sol said, eyes still on the pages, "what kind of spell do you keep using to make me forget about confessing to you?"
"[Sto–]"
"Before you deny it, I wrote a note reminding myself to ask you this today. So if I forget again, I'll know you did something to me."
A heavy silence fell over the room. Sol kept reading, but Edea could sense his anger—even without seeing his face.
This is the first time… she realized, startled and flustered. Sol had never been angry with her before. Awkward, shy, bashful—yes. But never angry.
Her composure wavered. The elegant witch suddenly couldn't find her words.
Finally, she sighed and lowered her head.
"I'm sorry. But I didn't—"
"Please don't explain when you apologize. Say sorry for what you did wrong, nothing more. You were the one who taught me that—adding 'but' turns an apology into an excuse."
It was almost surreal: a centuries-old witch being scolded by a young man. But Edea couldn't even smile—especially since he was using her own words against her.
"I—I'm sorry."
Sol exhaled tiredly and shut his book. He considered leaving but decided against it—he couldn't afford to lose the ground he'd finally gained.
"I don't need to know why you did it," he said quietly. "I already do. I know you meant well, and I'm grateful for that. But it doesn't make it right."
"...When did you figure it out?"
"Since the beginning."
Edea's head shot up so fast it nearly snapped. "What?"
"Don't underestimate me, teacher. I know myself. I remember wanting to confess to you, but for some reason, I never did. I thought I was just nervous at first, but when it happened again and again, I knew something was wrong."
His faintly mocking smile stung, but all she could do was look at him with guilt.
"If you knew, why wait until now?"
"Because I'll soon have my awakening. And as a prince, I get one request from Luxuria, right?"
"NO! Absolutely not!"
Edea slammed the table, her voice trembling with genuine alarm.
Taking a breath, she steadied herself. "If you use your wish for something foolish—like freeing yourself from my curse—I'll seal my dimension. Forever."
Sol believed her. She wasn't bluffing. But so what?
"So? Then I'll just become strong enough to break through it myself. I won't let you stay trapped in this gilded cage you call home. That way, I'll kill two birds with one stone."
"You—" she breathed, speechless at his audacity.
"Why are you being so selfish? Please, Sol. Don't waste your wish on someone like me. You could gain power, protection, anything."
Sol smiled serenely. Even seated, he seemed to tower over her.
"Teacher, when will you stop pretending to be a tragic princess? Why do you always say things like that?"
Her breath caught. His words struck deep, sparking humiliation and anger. She was about to explode—but their eyes met.
"Teacher, I can't claim to understand your pain," he continued. "Centuries of mourning your first love… I can't imagine it."
Edea trembled, eyes closing as she clenched her fists. Sol pressed on.
"Please, believe in me. I'll find a way. Even without using my wish, I'll do something."
She shook her head. Impossible. He'd only get himself killed.
"I've already thought about it. I've already suffered over it," she whispered. "That's why I gave up."
"It's easy to give up," he said softly.
Those words hit her like a bolt of lightning.
"Easy? EASY?" she shouted, her voice raw. "You think giving up is easy?!"
Her refined speech shattered as tears she hadn't shed in centuries welled up.
"Do you think I just threw everything away without trying?! I fought! I planned! I hoped! But there was no path forward. No matter what I did, it always ended in failure!"
Her voice broke. "If I could've done anything… even I…"
She wanted to love again—to be loved, to share a life, to have children—but she'd long buried that dream.
"Teacher," Sol called gently.
Ashamed, she couldn't lift her head.
"Teacher… it is easy to give up," he said again, "but it doesn't suit you."
Those words pierced through the darkness clouding her heart.
"I don't know what you went through," he said, "but I do know this—you're not someone who gives up halfway. You're not someone who abandons the future."
Edea's heart trembled under the brightness in his gaze. To her, it felt like a misunderstanding—he was idealizing her far too much.
She wasn't that person. She was a coward. A woman who hid in a self-made prison rather than face reality. Who smiled through betrayal, through loneliness, because she feared breaking her pride.
"I… I'm not like that," she whispered.
"That's not true. You're one of the greatest people in the world to me."
His unwavering faith shook her.
"What do you know about me?!" she shouted, and her magic surged. The ground rumbled, winds howled, the sky darkened—her rage spilling into the world itself.
Yet Sol's eyes didn't waver.
"I hate myself," Edea murmured. Her voice echoed like thunder. "I'm empty. Do you know what I did all these centuries, trapped here? Nothing."
Her strength drained away. She collapsed into her chair, staring blankly upward.
"My rotten nature came from my weakness. I wanted everything without doing anything. I just pretended to try—to fool myself."
She laughed bitterly. "Even helping you study was just an excuse to hide my shame. I'm just a coward who hides behind a mask."
She had spent centuries blaming others, pretending, hiding—too afraid to face herself.
When she finally fell silent, a sick heaviness lingered in her chest.
"What will he think of me now?" she wondered bitterly. "Will he despise me?"
"I see," Sol said at last. "So teacher is a lazy, worthless woman with no redeeming traits."
Her heart clenched painfully.
So this is it, she thought.
"But… so what?"
She froze, eyes wide. Sol was looking at her with nothing but tenderness.
"I don't care how ugly you think you are, or how much you hate yourself. I just want to know you—all of you, the good and the bad."
The sincerity in his voice made her tremble.
"Why?" she whispered. "Why look at me like that? I'm weak, cowardly, pathetic. What do you see in me?"
"Why?" Sol smiled, calm and sure. "Because I love you, Edea."