My heart sank heavily at the sudden question.

The lingering unease in my chest rose up with a sharp, stinging pain.

“Edan, the Archmage was a far greater person than I’d imagined.”

I recounted everything that had happened the day before.

I described in as much detail as I could remember—how I’d found the diary in the hidden chamber of Goseong, what it contained, how Dante had welcomed me with almost overwhelming enthusiasm in the desert, my meeting with Noah, even the trivial detail about Maximus carrying back baskets of tropical fruit in both hands.

“A mirror that reflects nothing?”

“Well, not exactly nothing.”

“Then what?”

“It reflected the cave interior and its surroundings. That’s how I knew it was a mirror….”

My voice dwindled as guilt pricked at me.

I choked at the most critical point.

It was the secret about the mirror I’d unconsciously hidden—even from Dante and Maximus.

The seed of anxiety that had gnawed at me until I fell asleep.

The mirror had clearly reflected only me.

‘Maybe the true sacred relic is what the mirror reflects!’

Maximus had said it with such excitement—and it matched exactly the conclusion I’d anticipated.

The diary had clearly stated that ‘that’ sacred relic must be offered.

And the mirror, defiantly reflecting only me, pointed too clearly toward the identity of the relic.

I hated to admit it, but if that meant me….

It meant offering up my life.

Even if it referred only to my healing power and not to me personally, nothing would change.

If sealing the portals spewing monsters across the entire Empire required such a sacrifice, then no amount of potion-making—even with my potent healing ability—would suffice.

Perhaps I’d have to surrender all my healing power… and then I’d shrivel into a mummy and die.

Maybe the reason the Archmage called it “impossible” was simply because sacrificing the Grand Priestess was unthinkable.

After hesitating, lips trembling several times, I finally spoke.

“You know, Edan… that mirror….”

But at that moment, the hand that had been stroking my hair stopped.

“Where is it?”

“What?”

“The diary. You brought it, right?”

“Over there.”

I pointed toward the console beside the window—next to the diamond bird Noah had given me.

Edan rose and walked over to the console, opening the Archmage’s diary without hesitation. His sharp, gleaming eyes scanned the contents swiftly and precisely.

After confirming the final page, a faint smile spread across his lips.

“The answer’s too obvious. It’s blatantly clear—the thing reflected in that mirror must be the sacred relic.”

Edan’s voice carried a hint of excitement, buoyed by the joy of having found a solution.

“The word ‘impossible’ bothers me a bit, but since it’s preceded by ‘perhaps,’ it means it’s not certain. Conversely, it implies it’s not absolutely impossible.”

Edan chuckled softly, ran a hand through his hair, and turned to look at me.

“What do you think?”

He looked so genuinely happy—even adding a crinkling-eyed smile—that I found myself smiling back, though bittersweetly.

“Yeah. I think so too.”

Of course—everyone would reach the same conclusion.

Even Maximus had sensed it. Though he didn’t ask, Dante must have thought the same: that whatever the mirror reflected was the sacred relic.

Edan set the notebook down with a thud, returned to the sofa, and pulled me into his arms.

Guessing that my sudden gloom stemmed from the Archmage’s mention of “impossibility,” Edan gently stroked my shoulder to comfort me.

Then he pressed a firm kiss to my forehead and wrapped both arms tightly around me.

“Don’t worry, Latieana. Whatever that sacred relic is, I’ll find it.”

At his words, the dull ache deep in my stomach intensified. The sharper it felt—like being repeatedly pricked by needles—the louder my heartbeat grew, no matter how hard I pretended not to notice.

Leaning back diagonally against the sofa, Edan resumed stroking my hair as before.

His large hand moved endlessly soft and tender. I stared blankly at the firewood burning in the fireplace.

More than half the logs had turned pitch black, transforming into charcoal.

Suddenly, I recalled Edan’s original ending from the source material.

Driven by possessive obsession over healing power, he dabbled in dark magic, became a monster, and met a gruesome death—torn apart limb from limb.

Everything had changed now—it shouldn’t happen anymore—yet unease surged over me.

‘Lady Latieana, you must pray for this peace to last longer.’

Hillstain’s words kept tightening around my throat like shackles.

If everyone else realized I was the sacred relic, then I—and Edan—would….

No!

I squeezed my eyes shut and gripped Edan’s waist tighter with my arms.

I had to stop these thoughts from spreading endlessly, like ink dropped into water.

It won’t happen. Edan promised me he wouldn’t use dark magic, and the situation isn’t that dire.

Don’t jump ahead. Isn’t it enough if this peace continues as it is now?

Besides, Edan and Killian’s relationship has improved—perhaps he’ll even agree to my request not to go to the temple.

Though the temple is still managed by the Empress, Killian said he plans to ascend the throne soon.

“By the way, Edan.”

“Hmm?”

“The Archmage discovered such an incredible method—why didn’t he inform the Imperial Court?”

At my attempt to shift the mood, Edan’s steady stroking slowed.

I lifted my head to look at his face—his gaze was fixed on the ceiling.

He slowly closed and reopened his gleaming crimson eyes, then spoke in a low voice.

“The time period recorded in the Archmage’s diary… roughly coincides with when Her Majesty the Empress began managing the temple. Around the time when Mother passed away, shortly after, when my power awakened—back when Killian and I were still young.”

His voice grew quieter.

“It’s not that he didn’t inform them… perhaps even if he did, the higher-ups deliberately ignored it.”

A shadow fell over his handsome face.

If it was around the time Edan’s power awakened….

Records stated that Edan’s mother had boldly contested the succession against the Empress, managing to sway nearly half the nobles who had previously sided with the Empress. Though frail and dying young from illness, had she lived, she might have engaged the Empress in fierce political battles full of cunning schemes.

If, by any chance, information about the desert magic circle had been delivered yet still suppressed….

“Are you saying Emperor and Empress might have heard the Archmage’s proposal… and still rejected it?”

“Maybe.”

Edan didn’t give a definite answer—but his eyes had turned icy cold, so I understood.

The period recorded in the diary—about twenty years ago—was when monsters appeared far more frequently than now.

Though many gifted knights existed, no truly exceptional ability-users had emerged.

It was during that time that the two princes’ awakened powers skyrocketed the Imperial family’s prestige to unprecedented heights.

Though monsters were effectively the Empire’s primary enemy, it was entirely foreseeable that they could be politically exploited.

The Emperor, who had withdrawn from politics, wouldn’t have orchestrated such a thing—but perhaps the Empress ignored the Archmage’s advice to strengthen her own political position.

It might simply be because they couldn’t find the sacred relic—but “impossible” might not refer only to the relic itself. Though the Archmage’s diary overflowed with love for Monet, he mentioned politics exactly once: “The place is crawling with wolves in sheep’s clothing….”

Considering Empress Henzela’s past conduct, this hypothesis was entirely plausible.

While I was lost in thought, Edan suddenly turned his head toward the diary and spoke.

“I think I need to examine that mirror myself. Let’s go together.”

I nodded. It was welcome news—I too wanted another chance to return and verify things properly, though I felt confused.

“Sleepy? Or… still hungry? Why do you seem so drained?”

“Not sleepy, and not hungry either. I ate something delicious, after all.”

I shook my head slightly and gave him a crinkling-eyed smile—a playful reference to what Edan had said when he gave me cake.

But Edan frowned and dragged his hand down his own face.

“Latieana.”

“Yes?”

His half-lidded eyes snapped open, gleaming sharply. Had I done something wrong?

“Since when did you become this teasing?”

Since when? What did I even do?

“I’m holding back because I’m worried you’ll hurt yourself—don’t act like that.”

“No! I didn’t do anything…!”

Edan cupped my face with both hands and brushed his lips lightly against mine. Several airy, birdlike kisses followed.

Though his lips occasionally pressed and lingered with a soft, yielding sensation, Edan seemed to be exercising every ounce of patience he had.

My embarrassment lasted only a moment. Seeing him scrunch his eyes so hard to suppress his heat, I found it endearing—and pulled his face tightly against my chest.

“Edan, what do you think it would be like… if all the portals closed and the monsters disappeared?”

Edan’s beautiful eyes, which had just released a deep sigh, crinkled even more.

“I’m not sure.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve never once thought about such a thing.”

I froze, still cupping his cheek. It was quite a shock.

Most people imagine a happy future at least once—had Edan truly never had the luxury to do so?

“Ever since awakening my ability, I’ve constantly suffered its side effects. It’s true that meeting you freed me from that pain—but I’ve never imagined a reality where monsters simply vanished.”

I see. The Empire had always, naturally, been a place teeming with monsters even before he was born.

And Edan—who faced and fought monsters more frequently than anyone else. Though he’d sealed the cracks in the unbreakable wall, a future without monsters was likely impossible for him to envision.

After all, surviving the painful side effects of his ability and dealing with the monsters right in front of him took precedence over hopeful fantasies.

“W-well, try imagining it anyway.”

Edan fell silent for a moment. Then he slowly closed and reopened his tranquil eyes, and gently rubbed my cheek with an affectionate hand.

“Well… wouldn’t it be unbelievably happy?”

On Edan’s face, as he spoke in his usual calm tone, bloomed the brightest, most radiant smile I’d ever seen in my life.