At the tender voice coming from behind, Killian’s eyes widened.

Slowly turning his body around, he saw—to his utter disbelief—Edan smirking with one corner of his mouth lifted.

“You’re scary when you’re angry.”

His tone sounded as if he’d stepped right back into the past.

Killian struggled to decide which words to say first. Should he ask why Edan had done such a thing? Should he apologize for misunderstanding? Or should he brazenly pretend nothing happened and suggest forgetting the past altogether?

He’d thought himself hardened enough not to be swayed by trivial personal emotions.

Yet, in a brief moment that made him feel foolish, dozens of phrases flashed through his mind—only to vanish just as quickly.

But then.

“What?”

***

After the incident at the House, Killian made no contact whatsoever. Edan likewise took no action.

Still, the moment Killian walked through the audience chamber’s door and their eyes met, Edan knew—he understood everything.

The identical crimson eyes that brushed past him no longer held sharp vigilance or hatred.

Edan stood silently, as if invisible, watching Killian’s every move with careful attention.

Killian positioned him behind himself, then boldly demanded the annulment of the political marriage—and flung down papers exposing the Empress’s corruption.

Though Killian had never particularly liked his mother, this was the first time he’d openly displayed hostility to her face.

He had always been cautious of the Empress’s gaze—needing her favor to swiftly claim the allegiance of nobles who followed her, thereby strengthening his own power.

The brother who once trembled with anxiety now stood confidently, capable of calmly persuading his opponents.

He even settled Princess Ciela’s fate right then and there.

Unlike in the past, Killian treated Ciela with formal, courteous respect.

His cold demeanor betrayed not a trace of affection—as if he’d never once given her his heart.

Once sent back to the Eastern Empire, she—who had become useless—would be decisively discarded.

‘She dared to insult the great Alkedania’s Second Prince without knowing her place.’

At those words, Edan’s calm eyes trembled faintly, flickering with emotion.

Edan was not the type to reflect on his mistakes or feel regret.

He acted as if nothing in the world mattered unless it entered his personal sphere—yet if something annoyed him, he cut it down without mercy. Still, he always gave his utmost to those he considered his own.

Of course, he sometimes thought himself odd—twisted, perhaps—because he lacked any middle ground in affection.

Though he’d sided with Ciela’s lie for his brother’s sake, he knew it wasn’t the right thing to do.

Yet he felt no regret. Killian was changing exactly as Edan had planned.

Even if Killian barred him from the temple and plunged him into agony, Edan remained certain—

He would never hate or resent his brother.

After all, he’d anticipated and chosen this path—he was prepared to bear it.

‘Latieana Merigold won’t be leaving here.’

Killian hadn’t kidnapped Latieana under the witch’s influence. He did it because he knew she was his woman.

Killian, raised as Crown Prince, wasn’t naive enough to commit kidnapping over a few words from a witch.

He didn’t particularly need healing power like Hillstain or Dante; he was merely humoring the Empress, who managed the temple.

Although fake, the Great Saintess Ivy—whom everyone then believed genuine—had won the nobles’ favor.

For Killian, steadily amassing power, sending a suitable gift and kind words to such a Great Saintess was trivial. After all, his brother excelled at pretending indifference.

But the moment he saw the wound on Latieana’s neck, anger toward his brother ignited for the first time.

‘So you’ll finally point your sword at the royal family?’

He could tolerate touching the unbreakable wall—that was something rational, manageable. Monsters could simply be slain.

But touching Latieana? That was utterly intolerable.

‘Yes. There’s nothing I won’t do.’

He nearly drew his sword against Killian. He truly could have—and would have, without hesitation, to keep Latieana by his side.

‘You can’t let me raise my sword against my brother. I don’t want to make you do something like that to someone you care about.’

Until Latieana said those words—he would have.

Even in his moments of agony, Edan had believed he’d never regret the path he chose… but that was arrogant delusion. When it came to anything involving Latieana, his emotions refused to be controlled.

Had she not stopped him, he might have become the traitor the royal court spoke of.

The trash who’d stab his own brother in the back.

The Emperor, who stood by as spectator; the Empress, who plotted the scheme; Ciela, who danced like a puppet within it—

After everyone else had left the audience chamber, Killian remained motionless, standing in place.

Edan stared at Killian’s back.

He recalled Killian’s words to Ciela moments earlier.

‘Good intentions don’t excuse wrongdoing.’

It felt as if those words were meant for Edan himself.

Killian was struggling over what to say—but so was Edan.

After deep contemplation, Edan finally spoke.

“Hyung.”

The moment he uttered that childhood term of endearment he’d longed to say, he couldn’t help but smile.

“You’re scary when you’re angry.”

Killian looked slightly flustered, but understood the meaning behind the words.

“What are you saying, you idiot.”

At that single phrase, both brothers sighed and laughed at each other.

***

The cave held nothing special besides the mirror, so we returned to Duke’s Castle sooner than expected. Since Maxim had never visited the South before, we took a brief tour of the territory for his enjoyment. Maxim, utterly fascinated by the Archmage, even spotted square markings scattered throughout the city.

Because Maxim made such a fuss, Dante told him about the tavern rumored to be frequented by the Archmage—and even bought him premium tropical fruits reserved for the Duke’s household.

“I think I’m going to fall in love with the South!”

Maxim became utterly enchanted by the taste of tropical fruits.

“This is the best! I want to live here someday!”

I hadn’t noticed it during my previous visit, but now, leisurely strolling around, I found myself nodding in agreement.

I began to understand why the Archmage—embroiled in political strife—had loved the South.

The desert people, overall, moved slowly and gently, creating a relaxed atmosphere.

Especially breathtaking was the desert vista from the Duke’s Castle terrace at sunset—where the enormous sun sank into the earth between endless dunes.

Though brief, it felt like stepping into another world—a joyful time. Only when we neared the portal did Maxim snap back to reality.

“Lady Latieana.”

“Yes? Want more fruit?”

“I won’t refuse if you offer more. But that mirror—what exactly is it? I’ll search more books on holy relics back at the temple… but it doesn’t seem to be ‘that’ relic mentioned in the Archmage’s diary, right? Since he said it must be offered.”

“…Probably not.”

Adjusting his glasses glinting in the portal’s light, Maxim lifted his basket of fruit high.

“Perhaps the true relic is what the mirror reflects! I’ll search diligently!”

After Maxim left, I returned to the Grand Duke’s Castle, bathed, ate, and then heard a message from a handmaiden.

“They’re closing the gap in the unbreakable wall today?”

“Yes. His Grace said to inform you he’ll be late.”

After dismissing the handmaiden and changing into a Shumizu robe, I tilted my head in puzzlement.

He’d mentioned closing it soon since monster numbers were dwindling—but so suddenly? Did his business at the Imperial Palace resolve quickly, letting him go to the gap?

Come to think of it, this was something he should’ve done long ago.

The number of monsters in the Ice Mountains was decreasing. Had Killian not triggered an explosion in the wall, they could’ve lured and annihilated the monsters long ago—and sealed the gap earlier.

“Still, I wanted to see him today.”

A wave of regret washed over me.

I had so many questions: Why had Killian summoned him to the Imperial Palace? What did they discuss? Was he feeling alright?

Dragging my exhausted body under the covers, the mirror from the cave flickered in my mind.

Though I hadn’t told Dante or Maxim, no matter how many times I checked, the mirror reflected only me.

My heart pounded.

Anxious thoughts flooded in—but exhaustion quickly pulled me into sleep.

At some point, a careful click—the sound of a door—reached my ears.

Without opening my eyes, I sat up.

“…Edan?”

Someone needs to do something about this man’s stamina. After visiting the South, my eyes refuse to open properly.

While I rubbed my eyes, struggling to wake up, the cool scent of soap drifted through the air.

“Go back to sleep.”

“No, I was planning to get up.”

A soft chuckle sounded nearby.

“At this hour?”

“What time is it? Isn’t it morning?”

“It’s still the dead of night, Your Highness.”

I tugged Edan’s arm.

“You worked hard, Edan.”

Edan followed my pull and sat on the bed.

When I blinked my eyes wide open, Edan smiled gently.

“Sleepy?”

“I’m fine. Come here.”

As I spread my arms wide, Edan leaned his upper body close to me. I tightly embraced his neck.

Then, for the first time in a long while, I manifested my healing power. The bedroom, dimly lit by chilly moonlight and crackling firelight, began to tint with pink hues.

Today, of all days, I wanted to give him more direct healing—it was the day a long war ended and rest began.

I intended to pour abundant healing power into him—so he’d feel no pain, suffer no side effects, endure no agony whatsoever. But Edan caught my arms and lowered them.

“Lati. It’s okay.”

Why is he stopping me?

“Why? Using healing power on you doesn’t hurt me—you know that. You’ve worked so hard these past days…”

“I know. I do.”

After a brief pause, Edan lightly kissed my lips.

“Not that. I just want to feel you.”

With a tranquil smile, Edan popped open a shirt button.

“Ordinarily.”