The morning moved forward in calm silence, yet Emily walked the castle corridors distracted, a persistent knot tightening in her stomach.
Since the night before—when Lusian told her he would depart for the duchy in three days—she had been unable to untangle her emotions.
She had grown used to him.To his presence.To the quiet sense of security he radiated.
And now that he was leaving…
There was an uncomfortable emptiness beneath her ribs, almost painful.
Emily exhaled as she turned down the corridor leading to the wing where Lusian and his escort were staying. But as she approached, she heard something unexpected:
Steel against steel.
The rhythmic clash of swords—accompanied by a female voice…
A voice she would never have associated with enthusiasm.
"Come on, my lord! You'll beat him this time!" Adele shouted, brimming with energy entirely at odds with her usual cold demeanor.
Emily blinked.
Adele… cheering?
It was a side of her she had only recently discovered:when it came to Lusian, everything else faded away.
Emily stepped quietly toward the training courtyard and peeked inside.
And there they were.
Albert, the strongest swordsman in the kingdom, moving with fierce elegance.
And opposite him, Lusian—his blade flowing with a fluidity he hadn't possessed a month ago… yet still clearly outmatched.
"Haaah!" Albert lunged, deflecting Lusian's strike with ease.
Lusian staggered back several steps from the impact.He hit the ground, rolled, rose immediately—
—and attacked again.
Over and over.Without complaint.Without asking for pause.
Emily watched. And with each charge, each fall, each brutal blow, her frown deepened.
Why was Albert treating him like that? Wasn't he his subordinate? Why hit him so hard?And why was Lusian allowing it?
Albert parried another strike and used the momentum to drive a direct punch into Lusian's face.
CRACK.
Blood burst from Lusian's mouth.
Adele stopped cheering at once.
The air around her—and her tiger—turned cold. Literally. The white beast was cloaked in a mantle of mana that lifted dust and pebbles from the ground.
Without realizing it, Emily ran toward Lusian.
She dropped to her knees before him, cupped his face in both hands, and tilted it toward the light. Blood trickled down from his lip.
"Lusian…" Her voice trembled. "Are you alright?"
Their faces were too close.
Far too close.
Off to the side, Adele was furious.
"You went too far, Albert!" she shouted, spear in hand, ready to lunge.
The tiger growled—a deep note that made the air vibrate.
Albert didn't so much as flinch. He merely sighed, tilting his head in mild annoyance.
Before Adele could advance, Lusian raised a hand.
"Don't interrupt," he ordered, without a trace of anger. "It's just training."
Emily stared at him in disbelief.
Just training? He nearly broke your face…
Still, she activated a light spell and let her mana flow across Lusian's skin, carefully sealing the wound. As she worked, her thumb brushed his cheek by accident.
Albert stepped aside and sat down next to Garet, the master of dark magic. Garet glanced at him.
"You overdid it a bit," he muttered.
Albert smiled faintly."Just watch."
Both of them looked toward Emily, still leaning over Lusian, hands cradling his face as she focused on healing him.
When she finished, Emily shot Albert a look of pure contempt before turning back to Lusian.
"Y-you shouldn't push yourself so hard," she stammered. "And your subordinates shouldn't hit you like that. Even in training… they could show some respect."
Lusian smiled softly.
But inside, a different thought surfaced:
Why did Emily come running?
"I'm fine. And I can't afford to slack off. If I want to grow stronger, I have to endure this."
Emily felt her heart lurch. She looked into his eyes—
—and then realized she was still holding his face.
She jumped back as if burned, red as sunset.
"M-my parents want to speak with you," she rushed out. "They're waiting once you're done."
Then she hurried out of the courtyard.
Adele, by contrast, approached without the slightest hurry. She inspected Lusian with complete seriousness, examining every inch of his face and neck.
Then she lifted her gaze toward Albert.
It was sharp.
Murderous.
Promising disaster.
Albert pretended not to notice.
Dawn on the day of departure arrived beneath a clear sky tinged with a faint bluish glow—yet another symptom of the rising mana saturating the atmosphere.
Standing in the central plaza, Lusian observed the county's newly formed troops one last time. They had advanced remarkably in just a month, but a long road still lay ahead. He had done everything within his power. What came next would depend on their discipline and will.
Behind him, the storage carriages—along with the enchanted preservation artifacts—stood open and completely full. There were enough provisions for three months, carefully rationed among grains, preserved meats, and purified water.
He would not be taking them.
Everything would remain for the county.
Thanks to Lusian's reforms, they no longer depended solely on the outer farmlands. Within the walls, a vast protected cultivation zone had been established. And beyond that, an entirely new system for this world had been implemented: the Arcane Greenhouses, adapted from one of the advanced technologies of the game.
Even now, the count and his advisors watched them in awe.
Across rooftops—houses, towers, storehouses—climbed thick-leafed manavine, a hardy crop that thrived on the heightened flow of mana. Its vines coiled around elevated supports, draping the city in an emerald canopy.
From afar, one would think there was no city at all—only a dense forest embracing stone walls. The illusion was so complete that, were it not for the watchtowers, no one would guess that thirty thousand people lived within.
Lusian gazed at the scene with a mixture of satisfaction and quiet nostalgia.
In the game, those systems had been introduced too late. Cities fell one after another once people could no longer farm or hunt without risking their lives. Hunger had claimed more lives than the monsters themselves.
But here…
Here, he was still in time to change the story.
The carriage that would take him back to the duchy stood ready. Adele waited nearby, straight as a spear, observing everything with the stoic composure characteristic of House Douglas.
When Lusian turned to take his first step toward the exit, he found Emily waiting beside the carriage door.
Her gaze was lowered, fingers intertwined tightly. Weeks had passed since they first met at that awkward dinner, and she seemed like another woman now—steadier, more self-aware… and more conflicted.
They stood in silence.
A long one.
Emily drew a breath, trying to arrange the words she had rehearsed for days.
"Take care of yourself," she murmured at last, without lifting her eyes.
"Of course… you too," Lusian replied gently.
The silence returned, heavier this time. It was a farewell neither of them knew how to handle.
Then, without warning, Emily stepped forward, grabbed Lusian by the collar of his cloak—
—and kissed him.
It was not timid.Not stolen.
It was firm. Determined.
And filled with fear.
Lusian wasn't shocked by the gesture, but something inside him tightened. It wasn't the taste of her lips—it was the certainty of what it meant. Emily wasn't playing. There was no ambiguity.
He froze.
Yes, they had kissed on the day of their engagement—but that had been formal, political.
This was real.
When Emily pulled back, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes steady… though her lips trembled faintly.
"I'm sorry… but I won't give up who I am. I am your fiancée." She clenched her fists. "And I will claim that place, no matter who stands beside you. Even… if Princess Elizabeth has already taken your heart."
Lusian inhaled slowly. He didn't know how to respond.
Not in that moment.
He walked a few steps in silence, recalling her gaze.
If I let her believe this is already something… tomorrow someone else could use it as leverage. And me?
He shook his head. He couldn't afford to answer with desire alone. Oaths, bloodlines, lives—all of it could become entangled in a single kiss.
Emily leaned against the carriage door, breathing unevenly. He drew a steady breath, saying nothing. This was not the time for heroic declarations.
Only for weighing what was at stake.
She stepped back, clearing the way.
Lusian climbed into the carriage without looking back.
But someone else was watching.
Several meters away, concealed in the shadow of a partially reconstructed tower, Alejandro observed the scene with eyes darkened by fury. His hand trembled around the hilt of his sword, each heartbeat pounding like a war drum.
Lusian's carriage began to move.
And with it, Alejandro's hatred deepened.