What’s going on?

Killian frowned slightly, looking somewhat bewildered, and gripped Ivy’s shoulders.

“Ugh, huuuh…!”

“Great Saintess.”

Killian tried to gently push her away to see her face, but Ivy clutched the collar of his uniform tightly with both hands.

As if refusing to let go, she sobbed pitifully and buried herself deeper into his chest.

After indulging her whimpering for a while, Killian spoke again once her trembling shoulders began to calm.

“Tell me what happened.”

Killian, who had just finished diplomatic duties with his mother, Empress Henzela, had a pounding headache.

It wasn’t from using his ability, but he’d come seeking a blessing to ease the pain, even slightly.

Even normally, Ivy’s healing power didn’t completely erase all discomfort. A lingering, unpleasant headache always remained, and potions had their limits—often proving ineffective. At least, direct healing from her would dull the pain, so today, too, it was mostly for psychological comfort.

‘I came to receive a blessing after so long, only to end up having to console her instead. How absurd.’

Killian’s expression as he looked down at Ivy’s sobbing shoulders was utterly cold.

But knowing that the effectiveness of her healing power varied depending on her emotional state, Killian continued to gently soothe her.

“K-Killian sir….”

Only after a long silence following Killian’s words did Ivy finally stop crying and lift her head.

Her pale skin was flushed red from heat.

“Yes.”

His gaze drifted to her chest, rising and falling rapidly with her breath.

But unlike Hillstain, he didn’t linger there.

Killian, hiding his exhaustion, lightly brushed her cheek.

“Did something happen with Hillstain?”

“It’s nothing. Just….”

Ivy smiled sweetly through tearful eyes, though her expression clearly hinted something had happened—anyone not a fool could tell.

“Just…?”

Killian echoed her trailing words and swept her hair back.

Soft brown strands slipped through his fingers.

“Just….”

Leaning closer to meet her hesitant gaze, Killian stared directly into her eyes.

“Ivy Violet.”

He called her full name firmly.

At that, Ivy trembled slightly—deliberately small but unmistakable, feigning fear, pretending sadness.

“Tell me properly. I’ve always said I’d grant you anything you want.”

“Yes. You have.”

“Good. I won’t ask again.”

Killian spoke in a cold yet strangely gentle tone, as if reading her heart.

“What happened with Lord Hillstain?”

Ivy stared back at him with large, still-teary eyes.

“Lord Hillstain brought my friend here.”

“What?”

Killian hadn’t paid attention to Ivy’s search for friends lately, so this was entirely new to him.

Come to think of it, he recalled promising her a privilege in exchange.

Truthfully, unlike Edan, Hillstain, or Dante, Killian rarely needed to use his ability.

After the previous Great Saintess disappeared, he’d relied on Ivy’s healing power for nearly a year due to accumulating side effects—but once those subsided, he didn’t really need it anymore.

Still, receiving Ivy’s healing gave him not just stability, but unparalleled pleasure—so he still desired to keep it close.

“Her friend’s name is definitely Latieana Merigold, right?”

“Yes. That’s correct.”

Killian remembered the name precisely.

“So where is she now?”

Ivy wiped her eyes again with the back of her hand.

“Lord Hillstain did bring her, but Prince Edan took her away.”

At those words, Killian’s lips pressed tightly shut, and the atmosphere shifted abruptly.

Glancing cautiously at Killian’s reaction, Ivy continued with an innocent, clueless expression.

“It seems my friend was staying with Prince Edan. I don’t know why, but when I asked Lord Hillstain to bring her back, he refused.”

Ivy, fabricating the story, now breathed irregularly with theatrical sorrow.

Not satisfied with that, her shoulders trembled again.

Then she suddenly grabbed Killian’s hand.

“Killian sir, won’t you help me find my friend? I can’t accept anyone but the Crown Prince. Only you can help me. Please. Without my friend, I can’t bear staying here. I’ve told you countless times how precious she is to me….”

Killian looked down at Ivy’s small, delicate hand.

“Ivy.”

“Yes, Crown Prince.”

Thinking she might finally hear the answer she wanted, Ivy smiled sweetly in anticipation.

But Killian abruptly changed the subject.

“My head hurts. Give me your blessing.”

Though startled by the broken conversational flow, Ivy nodded without showing it.

“Of course. Naturally.”

Still holding Killian’s hand, Ivy activated her power.

Red healing energy surged strongly.

It began flowing from Ivy’s hand into Killian’s arm.

“Ugh.”

But it stopped before even reaching his shoulder.

Ivy winced and pulled her hand back.

“What’s wrong?”

Killian, who had been quietly receiving the healing, studied her.

“I’m sorry. My condition isn’t good today, so using my healing power is a bit….”

“That bad?”

“She’s like family. As precious to me as my own life. When I think of her, I get too sad to properly manifest my healing power….”

At her frail, subdued voice, Killian nodded understandingly—then asked:

“Great Saintess.”

“Yes, Crown Prince.”

His sharp, icy gaze swept coldly over Ivy’s face.

“If Prince Edan brings Latieana Merigold, will you grant him a privilege too?”

Killian’s voice dripped with chilling venom as he spoke Edan’s name.

Ivy met his gaze with serious, resolute eyes.

“No.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. I promised privileges only to you, Lord Hillstain, and Duke Dante.”

Ivy had noticed the tension between Edan and Killian at the ball.

Naturally, upon returning to the temple, she’d immediately asked the maids to confirm their relationship.

She learned not only that the Empress particularly despised Edan, but also that several years ago, Crown Prince Killian had come to hate Edan—due to an incident involving a woman.

Remembering this, Ivy gave Killian the answer she knew he’d favor, acting as if Edan meant nothing to her.

She added:

“Actually… on the day Lord Hillstain brought Latieana, Prince Edan said something to me.”

“What was it?”

“He said if I truly care for my friend, I should share my healing power with him too.”

“What?”

“And this is a secret—but Prince Edan even came to my room in the temple.”

Killian’s face twisted into a terrifyingly cold expression.

“But that’s unacceptable. Even if I am the Great Saintess, how could I possibly use my healing power on Prince Edan against your orders? No matter how precious my friend is, you’re precious to me too. Right?”

Ivy watched Killian’s reaction carefully, layering her words with exaggerated sweetness.

Killian’s fists clenched so tightly his veins bulged.

‘How dare he.’

Edan was banned from entering the temple.

Recently, the Emperor had casually hinted it might be wise to lift Edan’s ban.

But Killian had absolutely no intention of doing so.

Yet Edan had dared to cross the temple’s threshold.

It was as if he’d shattered the fragile, unspoken boundary they’d both been carefully maintaining.

“Killian sir… you’ll find my friend for me, won’t you?”

Ivy wrapped her arms around Killian’s arm, voice trembling with fake tears.

Lately, Edan’s been acting strange.

It’s a subtle change that began after he visited the secret space.

Outwardly, aside from me starting to examine the mage’s books one by one, his daily routine seems unchanged.

While Maxim sneaks out of the temple to assist my plans, Edan continues his usual cycle—going out to fight monsters and returning.

But a deep crack has formed in this seemingly peaceful routine.

At dawn, I deliberately listened for his footsteps.

Though there’s a connecting door between Edan’s bedroom and mine, I’ve never used it—so I stepped out through the hallway door.

“Edan.”

He paused just as he was about to open his door and turned to look at me.

His sword still bore blood; his body radiated heat from battle. The tense, sharp aura of ongoing monster hunts softened slightly as our eyes met.

“Didn’t sleep?”

His low voice sounded slightly tired. I nodded, gazing at the blood smeared on his cheek.

“Are you okay?”

Edan didn’t step closer. He simply lifted the corner of his mouth and replied.

“What if I’m not?”

A silent, faint smile.

“Should I heal you?”

As I spoke, I took a firm step toward him.

I reached my hand out toward Edan—but he merely slowly lowered his eyes, then lifted them again.

“It’s fine. Not today.”

With that, he gently grasped my hand suspended in midair—then released it.

“Go back inside and sleep. See you in the morning.”

Leaving only those words, he ran a hand through his hair and walked inside.

I stared blankly at his back as he turned away without hesitation, then at the firmly shut door.

A cold ache spread through my chest.

The fleeting warmth of Edan’s hand, gone too quickly, left me longing—half-hoping he might come back out.

But the door never opened.