She spoke to him in a tone of surprise.
“You know who I am?”
“We went to the same academy and were in the same year.”
“But I only attended for one semester. And that was four years ago.”
“Let’s just say you were memorable.”
With a hollow laugh, he took off his mask.
Though a villain, the face the author constantly praised was fully revealed.
With jet-black hair and violet eyes, he was so handsome that even Lilith, who had high standards, had to admit he passed.
A face so striking you’d never forget it once seen.
What stood out most was the small beauty mark near his eye—often called a “tear mole.”
That tiny flaw in his otherwise perfect symmetry gave him an oddly alluring vibe. Just like the book said—he was dangerously handsome.
“So, how did you recognize me?”
“Let’s just say I knew.”
“……”
Francis chuckled at being served his own words.
The last time he remembered seeing Lilith, she had always walked with her shoulders hunched. But now, she looked confident—completely different.
Maybe that’s why she seemed so much prettier than before.
Even back when they were fifteen, he’d thought she was cute, but her shy demeanor had diminished her looks.
“You were trying to run away in case I recognized you, weren’t you?”
“I did wonder if you’d remember.”
“Why’d you even break the school rules? You know Bellua Academy doesn’t allow students to earn money while enrolled.”
Unlike other academies that allowed part-time jobs during breaks, Bellua strictly forbade it—and it was an expensive school.
Since it was originally built for royalty, the rules were designed to screen people out.
But Francis wasn’t short on money.
On the contrary, the Carnelian Marquisate was one of the richest in the kingdom—rumors even whispered they were wealthier than the royal family.
He was working as a mercenary under an alias simply because life had grown too dull—he was looking for excitement.
Breaking school rules out of boredom.
Fitting for a villain—his moral compass didn’t point in the usual direction.
“I’ll keep your rule-breaking a secret if you take my request.”
“Is this blackmail?”
“No, more of a proposal.”
Francis shrugged as he answered.
“Honestly, it wouldn’t be that big a deal even if the academy found out. It’d just be annoying.”
“So you’re not taking my request?”
“I don’t feel like accepting a job from someone I know. Do you even have the money to pay me?”
“If you accept, I’ll give you 10% of the Delphy estate I’m set to inherit.”
You might scoff at 10%, but the amount wasn’t small.
And negotiations usually start low, after all, to find a compromise.
But he shattered the rules of negotiation by outright rejecting her offer.
“That’s a pipe dream. You know better than anyone how unlikely it is you’ll inherit that estate.”
It was already common knowledge that the new Countess Delphy was oppressing her.
Even if Lilith completed her coming-of-age ceremony, there was no way the Countess would hand over the inheritance willingly.
In other words, Lilith was about to be left with nothing.
“So that’s how you’re going to play it, huh.”
If compromise wasn’t an option, then she had no choice but to resort to blackmail.
Lilith didn’t like the idea. She had resolved to live a decent life. But her future was on the line.
First, she had to survive. Then she could think about being good.
Bracing herself, she said just one word.
“Fire spirit.”
Francis, who had been smiling easily, immediately froze.
And seeing him like that didn’t make Lilith feel any better.
That word was his trauma.
“I swear I’ll never say it again. Just take my request.”
“……”
“I didn’t want to go this far either. But I’m desperate.”
“And if you weren’t this desperate?”
He might’ve seriously considered erasing her from existence right here and now.
Francis barely suppressed the heat rising from his fingertips.
At just five years old, he had succeeded in summoning fire.
Well, “summoning” was a bit much—it was more like he wanted to play with fire, and suddenly flames leapt from his fingertips.
But spirit summoners who could wield the four elements—fire, water, wind, and earth—were rarer than swordmasters.
Even among fire users, no one had ever summoned the Fire Spirit King.
Yet at just five years old, Francis had already begun wielding fire. The chances he could be the first to summon the Fire Spirit King were high.
Naturally, his family saw it as a blessing.
But the Carnelian Marquis kept it a strict secret.
He feared his son would be dragged around by the world before he even grew up.
The timing was bad too.
The Crown Prince Calix, Francis’ peer, had just become the youngest to wield sword energy, and the kingdom was buzzing over the prospect of a new, young swordmaster.
If a powerful noble house like the Carnelians stole the spotlight, it could be seen as a political move against the royal family.
So he had warned Francis never to show his power to anyone outside the family.
Still, Francis had been genuinely happy.
His parents proudly called him a genius, and his younger brother Joel admired him endlessly after seeing the flame at his fingertips.
“Big bro, that’s so cool!”
“I think so too.”
“Show me again! The fire from your hand!”
“Father said I shouldn’t do it unless necessary…”
But as always, the young Francis couldn’t resist his little brother’s pleading eyes.
Half out of pride, half because Joel was so cute.
And then—it happened.
He still couldn’t summon a full spirit form, so his control over fire was clumsy.
He tried to create a small floating flame, but it flared up and caught a nearby chair.
The flame quickly spread across the barn they were playing in.
Smoke rose thickly, blinding his vision. In panic, Francis grabbed what he thought was Joel’s arm and ran outside.
But when he got out, he saw he was holding a round piece of wood, not his brother’s arm.
Even now, thinking about that moment felt like the ground was crumbling beneath him.
Francis went silent. A long silence settled in.
And then—what he felt at his fingertips wasn’t flame, but a warm touch.
“Don’t let your hands shake.”
Lilith was holding his trembling hands.
She had only done it to survive, but now she felt awful.
His trauma was worse than she’d thought.
Fortunately, Joel had collapsed near the barn entrance and survived.
But he was frail, and the incident left him ill until he passed a year later.
Francis blamed himself.
His parents, who had once been proud, now saw him as a monster.
After that, Francis devoted his childhood to spirit summoning.
He never wanted to make such a horrible mistake again.
And when he turned 13, he finally succeeded in summoning the fire spirit.
It had not been easy.
Even if his natural affinity was monstrous, mastering it was all on him—and his efforts were more like torment than training.
And yet, since succeeding, he had never used even the smallest flame.
No one outside the family knew this story.
And after his parents died in a carriage accident when he was 17, Francis was the only one who remembered.
“I used fire…”
“Hm? What about fire?”
Her teasing tone made Francis laugh weakly.
For a moment, his rationality had left him—exposing his wound like that.
But the warmth of her hand brought him back.
Oddly, it was the first time he had ever felt comfort about that incident.
So he asked impulsively—
“So, what’s your request?”
She’s not even asking how I knew.
Relieved, Lilith let out a small breath and began her story.
“My birthday is December 31st.”
“…? Happy birthday?”
“No! That’s not the point. It’s not even close yet. I’m trying to say I’m still underage.”
Marriage was allowed after the new year, but the coming-of-age ceremony had to be on your actual birthday.
Lilith grumbled, thinking it was such a stupid rule.
“You’re 19 too, so you get it, right? Isn’t this the weirdest age?
How can I be old enough to marry but still legally a minor who can’t make her own choices?”
Frustrated, she suddenly got curious and asked—
“When’s your birthday?”
“January 1st.”
“…Lucky you.”
Nothing made her more jealous than that.
Sighing, Lilith got to the point.
“Yesterday, my stepmother introduced me to Baron Schurtz.”
“Who’s that?”
“Oh, just some fat, ugly guy with a bald head.”
“…Poor guy.”
“And he beat his last wife to death.”
Francis’ eyebrow twitched.
“You sure?”
“It’s just a rumor, but I’m almost certain.
He’s changed wives four times in ten years—and not through divorce, through death.
People say all his wives were covered in bruises.”
“And no one turned him in?”
“Too many financial ties. No one dared.
But that’s not the point right now.”
Lilith let out a deep sigh.
“I’m about to be forced to marry that guy.
Since I’m still a minor, I can’t go against my guardian’s wishes.
If my stepmother stamps the marriage certificate on my behalf, there’s nothing I can do legally.”
“…That sounds like a huge problem.”
Realizing how serious it was, Francis grew solemn.
He could now understand why she’d dared bring up his trauma, knowing it might completely ruin their relationship.
“So you’re saying I can fix that?”
“Exactly. You’re quick.”
“And the method?”
Before he could finish, Lilith suddenly grabbed his hand again.
And then she said:
“Be my lover.”
