Latieana Merigold – Female

Edan Dietrich – Male

Ivy Violet – Female

Killian Dietrich – Male

Hillstain Mathias – Male

Ruben – Male

Jenald Johan – Male

Dante Ian – Male

Julius – Male

Henzela – Female

At Edan’s openly mocking words, Maxium’s face, which had been brightly smiling and standing there dazedly, flushed with embarrassment.

“Huh? Did I… do something wrong…?”

Maxium. He must be a total recluse, having spent all his time only in the temple’s archives. That must be it.

Glaring at his utterly clueless, innocent expression, Edan clicked his tongue in disdain.

Then, swiftly brushing my lips with his thumb, he whispered softly,

“Calm down.”

Edan rose to his feet and stepped between Maxium and me.

His firm, broad back seemed to shield my reddened face from Maxium’s view.

My heart pounded as if it might burst—from the fleeting touch of Edan’s fingers on my lips and from his considerate gesture to spare me embarrassment.

“What brings you here?”

Edan adjusted his shirt collar as if nothing had happened.

“Well…”

Maxium pulled out a book he had hidden inside his priestly robes.

As he handed it to Edan, Ruben appeared behind him.

“My lord.”

“What is it?”

Ruben glanced briefly at Maxium and me, then cautiously handed Edan a letter.

“You must review this urgently.”

Edan took the letter and frowned.

After scanning its contents, he crumpled the paper.

“I need to go out.”

Ruben nodded.

“Edan?”

“I’ll be back.”

Though his tone was calm, his voice unmistakably carried a shift in emotion.

Edan and Ruben turned and left, the corridor door closing behind them.

What was that? What did the letter say?

“It was a letter from Her Imperial Majesty the Empress.”

“The Empress?”

Maxium nodded as he set the book down.

“The crescent moon emblem drawn along the edge of the envelope—it’s the Empress’s personal seal.”

If it’s the Empress, that means Henzela, mother of Crown Prince Killian Dietrich.

The woman who had loathed and despised Edan since before his birth—since even when he was still in his mother’s womb.

The woman who, after Edan’s mother—the Emperor’s concubine—died, persuaded the Emperor to exile the young boy to a remote, isolated castle.

I knew they were not on terms where exchanging letters would be normal.

Indeed, Edan’s expression had not looked comfortable at all.

“Why would she go so far as to send a letter?”

Maxium tilted his head, as puzzled and curious as I was.

“Even you, Priest, don’t think it’s good news, do you?”

“Hmm. Probably not.”

Maxium rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then suddenly lifted his head as if remembering something and exclaimed,

“Could it be because of that?”

“Because of what?”

Maxium seemed to know something, but instead of answering right away, he stared intently at the bread.

I handed him the entire box of bread.

“Have a bite. There’s plenty.”

“Is that okay? Thank you! I actually haven’t eaten dinner yet.”

“You can finish it all.”

“Wow, this is really delicious! Which bakery did you get this from?”

“Right? Edan brought it. He said it’s made from the first wheat harvested in the North.”

“Oh. I’m surprised Northern wheat could be this soft.”

Maxium kept marveling as he stuffed bread into his mouth.

“Anyway, back to what I was saying—since it’s social season right now, perhaps she summoned him because of that.”

I listened carefully to his words, but couldn’t quite grasp the logic.

Edan never showed his face in high society to begin with, and I didn’t think the Empress was the type to care about the social calendar of an illegitimate prince.

“The temple’s been quite hectic lately because of all the parties happening everywhere. We’ve been busy preparing pills until late into the night.”

“Pills?”

“You don’t know, Miss Latieana? Among the capital’s upper nobility, pills infused with healing power are wildly popular.”

“What?”

What did that even mean?

The Saintess’s healing power was useless for ordinary people—it only worked on the Gifted. It wasn’t a cure-all.

It didn’t mean broken limbs or skin diseases would miraculously heal.

Of course, if mixed with special potions crafted by Mage Tower alchemists, it could produce potent fever reducers or painkillers—but temple-made potions or pills were utterly useless for commoners.

Maxium nodded emphatically, as if he fully understood what I was thinking.

“So it’s purely psychological. Rumors say eating these ‘healing’ pills makes you prettier, taller, or gives you a more likable face. People buy them up despite the steep prices—even bragging about how expensive they are, as if that proves their worth.”

“But isn’t that the temple scamming people?”

Maxium, still chewing bread, nodded vigorously.

“It’s business, pure business. Just a little conscience sacrificed for steady profit. The High Priest is quite money-driven, after all. I’d wager, without knowing for sure, that the Grand Saintess’s arrival benefited him more than most.”

Well, every organization has its share of money-grubbing individuals.

I turned my attention to the book Maxium had brought.

It was a thick, pristine white volume containing information on ancient relics.

“Anyway, that’s why I thought perhaps Her Imperial Majesty chose a bride for His Grace.”

I froze mid-page-turn.

“…What?”

It was so shocking I half-expected my heart’s thud to be audible outside my chest.

The Empress personally selecting a bride for Edan?

Maxium, oblivious to my sudden pallor from the abrupt revelation, swallowed his bread and mumbled,

“I overheard the maids gossiping—apparently, a diplomatic marriage proposal arrived from the Eastern Empire. I only caught bits, but it was likely addressed to either Crown Prince Killian Dietrich or His Grace Edan.”

A political marriage?

“That the letter arrived precisely now for His Grace is certainly suspicious.”

“It could’ve been meant for Crown Prince Killian Dietrich.”

Maxium shook his head.

“I don’t think so.”

“Why?”

“Because several years ago, the Crown Prince declared he wouldn’t marry until he ascends the throne.”

This was new information to me.

It wasn’t in the original story. Of course, there were hidden parts even in Ivy’s and my own pasts, so unknown details surfacing wasn’t strange—but still.

“Why?”

“There used to be a kingdom—now fallen and gone—between our Empire and the Eastern Empire. The Crown Prince once proposed to their princess… and was rejected. He seemed quite fond of her.”

So after that, he declared he wouldn’t marry until becoming Emperor?

I had no prior knowledge of Killian’s marriage or princess-related affairs.

“Perhaps he plans to propose to her again once he becomes Emperor. Though it won’t be easy…”

“Is it because of Her Imperial Majesty?”

Maxium blinked once, wide-eyed, as he swallowed the last bite of bread.

“I’m not sure. These are all secondhand stories, so I can’t confirm their accuracy. Temple maids are quick with news but loose-lipped—rumors often get exaggerated. Anyway, the point is, this marriage proposal might be directed at Prince Edan.”

Suddenly, I felt like an idiot.

Why hadn’t I even considered it? Edan is a prince—he’s always been a candidate for political marriage.

All I knew was that Edan grew up hated by the royal family, and that his relationship with Killian was strained…

Come to think of it, didn’t someone once say their relationship turned drastically sour after a certain incident?

It was never fully explained, even in side stories—but Edan was the villain, after all. Readers completely forgot about him after he became a monster and was executed.

Could this sudden summons be related to whatever caused the rift between Killian and Edan?

Was that truly why Edan was called?

Lost in complicated thoughts, I mindlessly kept flipping pages.

Edan stepped into the Imperial Palace in the capital Alkedania—a structure so exquisitely carved it seemed sculpted by a master artisan’s soul.

He wore a neat, formal uniform, with one side of his golden hair neatly swept back.

As he emerged from the portal and adjusted his collar, a carriage halted before him.

It was the Empress’s official guest carriage, pristine white with gold trim.

“Welcome, Your Highness.”

Though the attendant bowed deeply in formal greeting, Edan ignored the gesture and boarded the carriage directly.

Immaculately trimmed lawns without a single blade out of place, and an overwhelming abundance of flowers whose fragrance alone seemed intoxicating, filled his view.

The carriage rolled steadily along the spotless marble road and soon arrived at the Empress’s palace.

Stepping down, Edan walked through the corridor and reached the Empress’s reception room.

As the door opened, the Empress appeared.

“Welcome, Duke.”

Surprisingly, she was lounging on a sofa in the reception room, having her nails tended to by maids.

Her hair was swept high and adorned with feathers; long false eyelashes gave her an air of haughty elegance.

Around Empress Rigo’s neck hung a necklace so lavishly studded with large diamonds it looked almost burdensome, adding further opulence to her presence.

It was not a sight Edan found particularly pleasing.

Nor was the Empress’s unusually warm demeanor today.

After all, at formal events like balls, she always pretended he didn’t exist.

Of course, this was another form of dismissal—but Edan’s expression didn’t flicker. He bowed slightly with a faint smile.

“I pay my respects, Your Imperial Majesty.”

The Empress’s violet lips curled into a frown as she received his greeting.

“That’s enough.”

Having casually dismissed Edan’s bow, she waved her maids to the corner and slowly fanned herself with a large fan.

“You came quickly despite the sudden notice.”

“Yes. Your message was rather abrupt.”

As Edan lifted his head, the Empress raised her chin arrogantly and looked him over.

Coldly observing the handsome face—so reminiscent of the deceased concubine—she lowered her eyebrows and spoke gently,

“It’s not so sudden. You’re of marriageable age, Duke, and a proposal has simply arrived accordingly.”