Amelia remembered the first time she met Ryn with perfect clarity.
Her father had brought her to the Arctis estate for a private tea meeting—nothing grand, just two old friends catching up. Their fathers had floated the idea of a political engagement.
As usual, Amelia had been told to sit straight, speak politely, and represent House Grandal with dignity.
She had done exactly that.
Ryn, however… had not.
He'd arrived ten minutes late, hair unbrushed, collar slightly crooked, and expression so bored she wondered if he might fall asleep mid-introduction.
Her father praised her posture.
Count Arctis proudly mentioned Amelia's potential and discussed how she would receive a strong Blessing.
Ryn stared at the ceiling.
Amelia had spared him one single glance and immediately looked away.
Lazy. Unmotivated. Disrespectful.
That was her first impression. And it stayed with her for years.
Why was she, the heir of house Grandal, getting engaged to a middle child? Worse of all, he's a bum?!
Years passed before she saw him again—long enough that she forgot the engagement entirely.
During a casual dinner at the Arctis house, she had learned something:
House Arctis had just lost their matriarch.
Her father maintained a neutral face, as he continued to dine while sharing the news.
He spoke bluntly over dinner:
"I do feel remorse. But we should annul the engagement, before it becomes a stain on your reputation."
Amelia had said nothing. Not because she agreed, but because she didn't know how to feel.
"Count Arctis is barely holding his house together as it is," he said. "With his wife gone, rumors have already started. Their stability is… in question."
He didn't raise his voice, but the disappointment in it was sharp.
"An engagement ties you to that uncertainty. If House Arctis falters, it drags us into the mud with it. I will not risk your future for sentiment."
Amelia lowered her gaze. She remembered the tea meeting years ago.
It was easy to believe he wouldn't grow into a strong heir.
But the mention of his mother's death lingered in her mind more than the politics.
She wasn't heartless. She simply didn't know what to feel.
Yet something in her chest tightened.
She asked her father for time to think. He granted her the night.
Amelia explored the Arctis estate, her mind running too wildly to sleep. While walking, she had heard noises, like wood clashing against something.
Following the noise, she had found Ryn training in the backyard while the candles were out and no one was around.
His posture wasn't elegant. He wasn't even practicing, not even close.
His stance was wrong, his shoulders hunched, his swings uneven. The wooden sword kept striking dirt instead of the worn training post.
But he kept swinging.
Again. And again.
Not with discipline. Not with skill.
With grief.
Only then did she notice the black mourning ribbon tied loosely around his wrist… and the small flower laid at the base of the post.
Amelia stepped into the moonlight.
"You're still training?" she asked, unable to keep the disbelief from her voice.
Ryn jolted so violently he lost his grip, the wooden sword slipping from his hands as he stumbled back and fell onto the grass with a thud.
He scrambled upright, eyes wide.
"Wh—when did you get here?!"
She blinked. "…Just now."
"You walk really quietly," he muttered, flustered as he brushed dirt off his shirt.
"You didn't hear me?"
"No," he admitted. "I was… kind of focused."
Amelia's gaze drifted to the sword on the ground, then to his trembling arms, then to the wilted flower by the post.
"…You train like this every night?" she asked softly.
Ryn looked away, rubbing the back of his neck.
"I don't know if you can call it training," he said with a weak laugh. "I just… needed to do something. Anything."
The vulnerability in his voice made her chest tighten.
Unsure why, she lowered herself onto the grass nearby. It was cool, damp with dew, but she hardly noticed.
He picked up the sword and continued swinging,
"What brings you out here? Couldn't sleep?"
Amelia hesitated. It was so easy to lie here, but the truth had slipped out before she even realized it.
"My father wants to annul our engagement."
He lowered the wooden sword slowly, staring at the ground for a moment before exhaling.
"…Yeah. I figured that was coming."
The lack of surprise stung her more than anger would have.
"You're… not upset?" Amelia asked carefully.
Ryn dragged the back of his wrist across his brow, wiping sweat and something tired from his eyes.
"I don't know," he murmured. "I think I used up everything I had to be upset about this week."
His voice cracked just a little at the end.
Amelia's breath went out wrong.
He swallowed and tried again, this time forcing a weak, crooked smile.
"Besides… it's not like you asked for this engagement either."
She blinked. "That's not what I meant—"
"I know." He leaned the wooden sword against his shoulder, fingers tightening around the grip.
"But… our fathers decided it. Not us. You're not choosing me. You're just… stuck with whatever politics tells you to do."
His eyes flickered away.
"And I don't want you stuck with me because of that."
Ryn glanced at the worn training post, then back at her.
"House Arctis is a mess right now," he said quietly. "My mother's gone, my father's drowning in work, and everyone's watching us like sharks. If you were tied to us, you'd get dragged into that too."
He picked up the wooden sword again.
"I don't want that for you."
There was no self-pity in the words. No attempt to look noble.
Just a calm, honest assessment of reality.
He lifted the sword but didn't swing yet.
"People keep telling me what I should be," he murmured. "What I should stand for. What role I should fill."
A soft exhale.
"But I figured… even if everything else is falling apart, I can at least try to be someone better than I was yesterday."
His fingers tightened around the hilt.
"For myself. And for the people who relied on me."
Something shifted inside Amelia, something close to awe and respect.
She had never once considered the idea of choosing for herself.
Ryn, grieving, untrained, uncertain of his future—still found something to search for.
Still found something to stand up for.
She swallowed.
"…You train like this every night?" she asked softly.
Ryn didn't look at her, he didn't need to.
"Yeah," he said. "It's not much. But it's a start."
That was when Amelia realized:
He wasn't lazy nor hopeless. Even if the future was uncertain, he tried regardless.
Really tried.
For the first time, she wanted to stand beside someone not because she was told to…
…but because she chose to.
Right then, Amelia Grandal made her decision. She would not annul the engagement, even deciding to live at the Arctis House.
And two years later, she was still here, with the same person.
He really does need some proper noble etiquette. She sighed.
Ryn yawned outwardly, tired from his earlier training. He shifted to the carriage window, enjoying the morning light landing on his face.
Then he noticed something. Amelia sat across from him.
Staring.
"…Did I do something?" he asked cautiously.
Amelia's expression didn't change, but the way she looked at him made his neck itch.
"No," she finally said. "You're just… slouching again."
Ryn sighed and straightened his posture automatically. "Happy now?"
"Moderately."
Thank you, [Enhanced Senses]. He silently prayed.
Ryn resisted the urge to groan. She was still the same. Two years later, and Amelia Grandal still looked more like his mother than fiancée. Which, he sometimes appreciated.
The carriage rocked again. Outside the window, forests flickered past—dense green canopy rolling toward the Deimos mountain belt.
Right. Deimos.
Ryn rubbed his face, trying to focus. He remembered why they were here… unfortunately.
"Remind me again," he said, "why I'm getting dragged along on this trip?"
Amelia arched a brow.
"Because you're the Count's second son. The heir can't be sent to minor disturbances, and the youngest is too inexperienced. You are… the logical choice."
"Translation," Ryn muttered, "I'm expendable."
"Not expendable," she corrected. "Appropriately important."
"That sounds worse."
She didn't deny it.
Amelia crossed her legs neatly. Her silvery-white hair looked like fine silk from catching the sunlight.
"Besides, Baron Deimos made a formal request. Monsters in the southern ranges have been acting unpredictably. Small villages were attacked. Sending someone with a title shows respect."
"Why not send just the knights?" Ryn frowned.
"We are sending knights," she said patiently. "You're simply riding with them."
So he was a decorative noble escort. Great.
"Then..." Ryn asked. "Why are you here?"
Amelia paused. A tiny, almost imperceptible hesitation.
"The Count asked me to join the investigation," she said smoothly. "He trusts my judgment."
Ryn blinked. "Over mine?"
"Yes."
He nodded. "…Fair."
Amelia suppressed a cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.
Ryn leaned back against the cushioned seat, arms folding behind his head. Deimos… He hadn't thought about that place in years. In his past life, he hadn't gotten involved with the barony until much later—and even then, he barely remembered the details.
He contemplated.
Deimos mountains…Monster…disturbances…
Then it clicked.
His entire body lurched forward so hard the carriage springs squealed.
"Ah—!"
Amelia flinched violently, hand flying to her chest.
"—Ryn!?"
"Deimos," he whispered. "I'm an idiot."
"Yes," Amelia muttered automatically, then blinked. "Wait—what?"
Ryn didn't answer immediately. His mind was racing, dragging up memories he'd buried under battles, exhaustion, and the long dark years.
During the Evernight, the 'hero party' had gone to Deimos after discovering that it had been a monster breeding ground.
Though one of the monsters had given them a particularly hard time, as Ryn read from a report.
The Iron Basilisk.
A serpent the size of a large house, plated in iron-grey scales that deflected swords.
It was a tough monster, but nothing to write home about. However, things changed when a master alchemist discovered the corpse on his way to Deimos.
The man had taken a vial of the leftover venom purely out of curiosity, thinking it might help with his experiment, a meaningless diversion.
But when he combined it with other rare materials, the venom became a stabilizing agent, creating an unexpected legendary artifact.
The Vitalis Core.
An artifact that increased the user's MP, the lower their HP was. However, this wasn't why it was praised.
No, the Core had a second feature. To prevent someone's HP from reaching 0 once.
Now the real problem surfaced. If he found it first this time, it would be his.
They wouldn't discover it until five years later. This was a huge insurance and something worth burning down nations for.
But he also remembered who it had gone to originally.
Ryn looked forward to the Flame Queen sitting before him.
Amelia.
The Vitalis Core hadn't been made for Amelia—she'd simply been the one who needed it most.
Though she never asked for it, but because she pushed herself harder than anyone. Because, in the old timeline, the Core kept her standing during the Evernight's worst months.
Ryn clicked his tongue.
Perfect.
Exactly what he needed: a moral crisis before lunch.
Do I keep it this time… or give it back to the person it saved?
He couldn't decide now.
But the fact that it was even a question annoyed him.
A lot.
Amelia glanced over. "You're frowning. What now?"
Ryn forced a shrug. "Just thinking about… priorities."
"Your priorities are never good."
"Yeah," he muttered, "that's the problem."
He looked outside. They'd just passed the mountain range, and the small city of Deimos was coming into view.
Decision postponed. For now.