In the hallway. Rion stopped. His hand went to his mouth. His tongue felt wet—a metallic taste filled his mouth. Blood oozed from his teeth to his gums—every corner of his mouth was stained dark red.
He swallowed.
His index finger went into his mouth. He touched his torn tongue. The tip of his finger came out dripping with blood. He stared at it for a long moment—the blood dripped slowly onto the white marble floor. The finger went back in. His mouth closed. He sucked his own blood—slowly, like someone savoring wine.
Flashback to this morning
---
The hallway of the Estrella mansion smelled of camphor and nearly extinguished vanilla candles. Rion von Moonstone strode through it—his shoes silent on the thick burgundy carpet. His black coat swept across the floor. A silver cross pendant on the closed collar reflected the light from the tall windows. A row of red jeweled buttons ran diagonally across his chest—like a wound that hadn't healed yet.
A crimson sash ran from his left shoulder to his waist, trailing down like a wounded robe. A silver brooch shaped like a dragon's wing secured a thin chain that moved gently with his steps—a small, barely audible rustle. Black leather gloves tightly covered both hands. The red rose on the right thigh of his trousers looked like a stain.
Two knights in full armor stood stiffly before the mahogany door. The emblem of a red rose with a thorny stem was engraved on their chests—in the center, a dewdrop glistened like crystal. Pulchritudo Aeterna, Spinae Aeternae. Eternal Beauty, Eternal Thorns.
If Sylvia has thorns, then I'll break them. One by one. He thought, but his expression was the opposite.
Rion pulled the corners of his lips until his eyes narrowed. "Knight Emor, and Knight Remo."His voice was like warm honey. "How are you? It's been a long time since we last met, hasn't it?"
"Y-Your Highness..." Emor and Remo bowed—a perfect ninety degrees. Rion's hand lifted gently, halting their movements. "It's alright. Forget about etiquette." His fingers waved lightly. "How are you? It's been a long time since we last met."
Sweat dripped beneath their helmets. Emor's shoulders trembled slightly. Remo shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
We last met when Your Highness was a child, when Your Highness was playing with Lady Sylvia—that was a long time ago. I'm surprised Your Highness remembers our names. I'm just a lowly person, Emor thought, surprised.
As said, His Highness the Prince is truly humble, virtuous like an angel—I am grateful to live in this century to have known him. Remo thought to himself.
Rion tilted his head. His expression was innocent—almost like a child waiting for an answer. "Thank God we're fine, Your Highness." Emor's voice trembled slightly. "What about Your Highness?" Remo asked without thinking. Emor glared at him.
Rion's smile widened. "I'm fine too. Very fine. Thank you for asking."
Time passed, age not limiting the three of them's interactions. Laughter erupted as they reminisced, their voices breaking the silent hallway. It dawned on Remo: the Prince must want to meet Lady Sylvia. Remo nudged Emor's stomach with his elbow. His eyes signaled something. Since they had been friends for so long, it didn't take long for Emor to understand.
The reunion ended.
Emor and Remo resumed conversation when they were far enough apart. "Your Highness is so gracious. How can he converse with us mere knights?" Emor whispered.
Remo clasped his hands together in a chest. "As expected of the Chosen Hero. He is a symbol of light in this harsh world." Emor nodded. "I'm honored to speak with him."
Rion stood in front of Sylvia's bedroom door.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
There was no answer.
His hand turned the doorknob slowly. The door opened silently—the oil on the hinges was still fresh. The room was dominated by peach and gold. Everything was neatly arranged—too neat for a lazy girl, as he remembered.
Silk curtains covered the large window, blocking out the morning sun. Rion closed the door behind him. His steps were quiet—like a cat approaching. His fingers pulled the silk curtains aside. Golden light flooded the room. Sylvia stirred under the covers. Her hand slowly rubbed her eyes. The thin, almost transparent nightgown slipped from her shoulders. Rion stared at her dispassionately.
He sat on the edge of the bed. "Good morning, Sylvia." His smile widened until his eyes closed.
"Hmm..." Sylvia leaned against the headboard. Her eyes were still half-closed. "What time is it now?"
"Kala eight of morning." Rion's hand stroked Sylvia's head—the movement was very gentle. Sylvia took his hand and placed it on her right cheek. Gently rubbing her cheeks and palms. "Your hands are warm... And big." A small laugh escaped his lips. "My palms used to be bigger than yours."
"You're hallucinating." Rion's smile softened—almost genuine. "My palms will always be bigger than yours—whether as a child, now, or in the future."
Sylvia didn't answer. She simply enjoyed the caress on her cheek. Rion's body froze. That smile... I smiled unconsciously, as if Sylvia deserved my smile. No. Why? Do I still consider her a friend? Remember—if I can smile while contemplating murder, so can anyone else.
Sylvia, who was supposed to be wise, is acting like this. She must be the same as me—just as hypocritical. She's Emperor Alaric's secret agent. I can't afford to fall.
The corners of Sylvia's lips curled. "Why are your hands still? Caress me again! We haven't seen each other in a long time." Her voice trembled. "Don't you miss your old friend?" Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes.
Rion came to his senses. Cynical thoughts filled his head again. Look. She's manipulating me right away. Making me feel guilty.
Her smile returned. "Later. Now let's take a shower. I want to take you for a walk." Sylvia's expression turned questioning.
"I want to take you to the capital, Lunara. It's Sunday—there's a festival going on from morning till night. You haven't forgotten, have you?"
Sylvia immediately got up and jumped onto the bed. "Great idea! Let's go now!"
But Sylvia's shoulders immediately dropped, discouraged. "Hmm... It's quite a long journey. If we take the horse-drawn carriage, we'll arrive tomorrow—that is, if everything goes smoothly. And teleportation takes time. It's so annoying to wait."
"Don't worry. I already set up the teleportation before bed last night. So now you just shower and get dressed, and we'll be on our way."
"Then carry me to the bathroom now!" Sylvia smiled broadly, her arms open. The gentle smile was still on Rion's face—but there was a crack in the corner of her mouth.
The thought of living under the same roof as her, with all her childish antics... was so annoying. But seeing Alaric and Albert's devastated expressions when they found out Sylvia's partner was a monster... was so satisfying.
Rion opened his arms wide. "Come here."
Sylvia fell happily into his chest, holding tightly to the back of his neck, wrapping her legs around Rion's waist. Rion held her back and hips tightly. The high-class bathroom was inside the room but separated by a door.
Antechamber—a room before entering the bathroom, where servants helped their masters undress, then waited with dry towels.
"We're here." Rion patted Sylvia's back gently. In front of them was the bathroom door. It was impossible for Rion to accompany her in the bath before they were married.
Sylvia stepped down with Rion's help. "Thank you and I'm sorry, okay~" Her lips pursed. She felt bad for being so spoiled.
"You don't need to thank me or apologize." Rion gently rubbed her head. "I'll call the servant and ask your father's permission first."
"Alright." Sylvia's last glance was at Rion's broad back as he left her. "He's exactly as I expected."
"He's not at all interested in me wearing a thin dress." Sylvia looked at herself. Rion should have realized it from the start, but he didn't care.
Plak.
Her cheeks flushed from the slap of her own palm. "I have to be aware. That's the kind of man I need—not a man who likes to control women and treat them like his property."
"I have to start growing up," she said softly. Her shoulders slumped, her back hunched in despondency. But men like Rion are boring... huhuhu
---
On the other side. After asking the maid to assist Sylvia with her bath, Rion's current objective was to gain approval from them.
Two annoying old men.
Rion stood before Marquess Albert's study. According to the maid, he was currently having tea with His Majesty, Emperor Alaric. There were no knights guarding the entrance. Rion chuckled. What was I thinking? They were a Tier 1 Mage and a Tier 1 Swordsman, respectively.
He raised his hand, preparing his signature friendly tone.
Knock. Knock. Knock. "It's Rion. May I come in?"
One second. Two seconds.
"Come in," Albert's voice answered.
He just now answered? Are they drunk? Rion entered and immediately closed the door. Unnoticed by him—or perhaps because he was simply too indifferent—a woman's silhouette lingered behind him.
Inside, the two men faced each other across a mahogany desk. Empty teacups sat atop it. There should have been shards of a cup on the floor from Albert's earlier outburst, but they had been cleared away before Rion entered. That was why it took two seconds to answer.
This study is vast—much larger than mine.
Albert looked at him with pity. Alaric looked at him with guilt. However, they quickly composed themselves, regaining their stern demeanors.
Why are they looking at me like that? Do I look pathetic? Better to brush it off for now and proceed.
"I want to take Sylvia to the capital..." Rion started, but Albert cut him off before he could finish.
"What for?" Albert asked sharply. Alaric merely listened.
Still showing respect.
"The festival..."
"When will you bring her back?"
Damn it. This old man is getting bolder just because he's about to become my father-in-law.
"In the evening."
"I know you are one of the most talented students at Ostrivien Academy. However, you have many enemies. Is there a guarantee you can protect her?"
Rion understood—this was a test to see if he was worthy of the Marquess's daughter. It's not about whether I am worthy, but whether your daughter is worthy of standing beside the Chosen Hero.
His trademark smile faded. The angelic mask tore away—no longer was there any friendliness or respect, replaced instead by a sharp, cold gaze.
I know what he wants. He wants me to say, 'I will bring ten high-level knights to ensure your daughter's safety.' But unfortunately, that won't work. I am one step ahead of you.
One corner of Rion's lips curled upward—a smirk of disdain and overwhelming confidence. "I certainly can. If a single hair on your daughter's head is touched—I will grant any request you make."
Was it overconfidence... or a fact?
Albert let out a mocking chuckle. "You're just..."
Rion interrupted him. "I've calculated everything. Every scenario has been laid out."
His eyes narrowed sharply. "Or are you underestimating your future Emperor?"
Short, concise, and clear.
A small laugh escaped Albert's mouth. "Very well. May I test that strength of yours, Your Highness?"
"I permit it."
I knew my opponent would be Anna.
"Anna, come in." Albert looked toward the door behind Rion. Just as I suspected. Click. The door creaked open.
Anna stepped forward with perfect posture. "What is my task, my lord?"
"Test our future Emperor."
Anna was startled, momentarily speechless. She looked at Rion, who stared back. Rion nodded—a sign that it was no problem. Anna shifted her gaze to Emperor Alaric.
Alaric understood that Anna was still hesitant. "I permit it."
"Whoever lands the first strike will be considered the winner," Albert announced.
Anna drew a blade from beneath her skirt. "Forgive my presumption, Your Highness." She dropped into a fighting stance.
"It's fine," Rion said amiably.
"But where is your weapon, Your Highness?"
"I don't need one."
Anna felt deeply insulted. "Do not regret this, Your Highness."
Yes, that's it. Attack me with rage; I will make your emotions the reason for your defeat.
Rion showed no sign of wanting to attack. Anna took the initiative. She moved as fast as a blink, circling Rion—making it difficult to predict where the strike would come from. Yet Rion remained still, standing there with indifference—or so it seemed to Anna.
Why isn't he moving? Did I miss a variable? No. The Prince is just too arrogant.
She leaped upward and dove for a straight thrust—but just as she neared him, she twisted her body and aimed a horizontal slash at Rion's neck.
The blade passed through nothing but shimmering air. In that same second, Rion's fist was already at the back of Anna's head.
BAM! (hard punch)
Anna fell unconscious. Rion flicked his gloved hand—discarding bacteria.
Albert was both shocked and impressed. No. I saw it—he was still standing tall, but when Anna's blade reached his neck, the Rion I saw vanished into white smoke. Unexpectedly, he appeared right behind her. I was certain Rion would win, but I didn't think it would be this easy.
Rion locked eyes with Albert. He smirked. "Do not be so quick to believe, for even your eyes can deceive you."
Albert roared with laughter. "HAHAHA! You're right. Quite right. I like that. With this, you may take her."
"Understood. Thank you."
Before Rion turned to leave, Alaric stood up and approached him. "Be careful—if necessary, I will send knights to accompany you both." Alaric placed a hand on Rion's shoulder.
Rion's eyes snapped wide. His golden pupils dilated uncontrollably.
What the hell is this? How dare he touch me? But... this is what I wanted before. No, after everything he did, it's too late now. Disgusting.
Watching this, Albert was curious to see what would come out of Rion's mouth. However, not a single word escaped him. It was as if he were mute.
Rion simply smiled as usual and left them both. Albert approached his childhood friend to offer encouragement.
After advising his friend to be patient, Albert asked a serious question. His pupils sharpened, his voice turning heavy. "I'm certain of it... Rion's movement just now wasn't teleportation, but a fighting style, wasn't it?"
Alaric nodded and began to explain. "His style is called Lunar Mirage. The core of this style isn't explosive physical strength, but rather the mastery of the opponent's perception. It has two main mechanisms: Distortion and Refraction."
"Rion uses his light not to destroy, but to bend reality. He bends the light around his body so that the position the opponent sees is actually shifted a few centimeters from his true location. Like earlier, Anna felt she had slashed his neck, when she had only slashed the empty air beside him (Distortion)."
"He creates an 'afterimage' of light that lingers on the opponent's retina. When Rion moves quickly, his silhouette appears to still be standing in the old spot, making the opponent attack an illusion while the real Rion is already in their blind spot (Refraction)."
Albert's youthful spirit was reignited after hearing the explanation. "Truly, this current generation is terrifying. I wish I could be young again just to face them! Hahaha!"
Alaric gave a faint smile but added a detail that no one should forget. "This generation is indeed terrifying—after the Stellaris generation, of course."
---
Back to The Present
"ION!"
Sylvia's voice called from the end of the hallway. Ion... her childhood nickname for him. Rion's hands fell to his sides—too quickly. His heart beat erratically. Sweat formed on his temples.
Sylvia jogged closer. A black hooded cloak covered her head—not a dress. Her smile was wide. They were nearly the same height; Sylvia didn't need to look up. "You're from Father's office, aren't you?"
"Huff... You shouldn't have gone there." Sylvia pulled another hooded cloak from her storage ring. "It's better if we go stealthily. Before that, you must wear this cloak and hood just like me. I don't want any excessive attention later—because I want to have full fun."
Rion merely nodded. He agreed to all her requests, hoping the conversation would end quickly. Because of that, Sylvia sensed something was wrong.
Sylvia's eyes narrowed. "What's wrong with you?" She tightly gripped the fabric at her chest. "It's not like you to just nod."
Rion hesitated.
Should I show her? I am a man. I can handle this sort of thing myself.
"Why are you keeping your mouth shut?" Her voice trembled. "Did I do something wrong? Please answer me..." Sylvia's eyes welled up.
Sylvia wasn't truly crying—it was an act. This was the method she always used to control Rion.
Seeing her cry somehow tugged at his heart. Rion finally gave in. He opened his mouth slowly—wide. His mouth was full of blood. Teeth, gums, tongue—everything was a dark, bruised red.
His tongue was torn—the result of a brutal bite. Sylvia's pupils shrunk. Rion's cloak fell to the floor.
Sylvia pulled a healing potion from her ring. "Stay in that position!" Her voice was firm—leaving no room for argument.
She poured the potion into Rion's mouth. The warm liquid washed down his throat. The wound on his tongue closed—slowly, like time reversing. "Thank you," Rion said softly.
He bit his own tongue until it bled... What happened in Father's room? What drove Ion to hurt himself? Sylvia took both of Rion's hands in her grasp. "I don't need your thanks..." She looked straight into his eyes. "I need honesty." They stared at each other.
In the garden right beside them, separated only by a glass window, leaves slowly fell, obscuring them from outside view. As the leaves passed, the figures revealed were the young versions of Rion and Sylvia.
FLASHBACK
Little Sylvia held Little Rion's hands in hers, asking in a firm tone, though her blushing cheeks made her look adorable. "If you are carrying a burden on your shoulders, please share it with me."
Little Rion stared back with an indifferent gaze, but upon closer inspection, it was a look of emptiness.
Yes... Being an unacknowledged child is so heavy. I was forced to be independent while others were still playing. I must always be firm because I am a prince. A title I never asked for. I'm not allowed to cry, because they say a man doesn't cry. Please... please hug me. And tell me it's all okay. That was what he wanted to say, but what came out of his mouth was the complete opposite. "What burden? I am a prince. I don't carry any burden on my shoulders. Everyone obeys me. If I did have a burden, I would just give it to my servants," he said with feigned innocence.
"I need honesty... Please be honest with me, because I will keep it a secret from all of them," Sylvia said, raising her pinky finger, wanting to make a promise.
Rion looked at that pinky finger. "I have been honest."
BACK TO THE PRESENT
After Sylvia spoke with such deep expression, Rion stood as still as a statue, calculating every scenario for choosing yes or no. But after looking at Sylvia's face again, all his thoughts crumbled instantly—because the gaze Sylvia gave him was identical to his late nanny's—Moralina.
A gaze full of affection. Sincere worry. And...
"Ion..." Sylvia called once more.
Rion looked away, staring at the floor. "I'm fine, as always." His tone of voice is normal, but all his fingers are trembling.
"If you aren't honest, then I'm not going to the festival." Sylvia stomped her foot angrily.
This girl!
Rion closed his eyes, thinking hard. "Ah, fine." He opened his eyes again and looked at Sylvia's angry face. "I'll tell you the reason once we are at the festival—I mean, when we're about to go home from it."
Rion raised his pinky finger. "I promise."
Sylvia bit her lower lip gently—Rion rarely ever made promises to her, and if he promised something, he always kept it. Sylvia raised her pinky as well, and the two fingers locked tightly. "Promise."
Rion took the initiative to pick up the hooded cloak from the floor. "You want us to be at the festival as commoners?"
"Yeeess, exactly! I don't want a scene because of us. I don't want knights guarding us. I just want it to be the two of us—me there, you there—together."
Rion's heart warmed at hearing that.
"Ah, how lucky I am to be loved by a princess~" he said in a mischievous tone.
"Yes, you should be grateful to be loved by the most beautiful girl in the world!!"
"You... you... love me, too, don't you?"
The atmosphere felt a bit heavy for Rion. He wanted to lie, but his heart felt heavy. He could lie to his father, the Pope, or his people, but this one was difficult. In the end, he chose the truth. "I don't love you yet, but you are one of the most important girls in my life."
Sylvia wasn't sad; instead, she became even more spirited. "Don't worry. You'll definitely fall for me later. Once we're married, I'll make you obsessed with me. I'm sure of it!"
A faint smile appeared on Rion's lips.
His hand wanted to slap his face—but it wouldn't move. He couldn't command any part of his body to hurt her.
What is this? I don't recognize this feeling... This is too foreign to me—I am afraid of something uncertain.