Chapter 10:
Damian walked over, rubbing the back of his head, glanced once at Ayla, and then picked up Herdin in his arms. As if he recognized it was his brother even while sleeping, Herdin squirmed slightly and clung tightly to Damian’s sleeve.
As Damian laid Herdin back down on the bed, he gently pried off the small hand still clutching him. Herdin whimpered a little but soon drifted back to sleep.
Ayla, who had gotten up at some point, rubbed her legs and quietly stepped out of the room. Damian followed her.
Once outside the room, the door closed with a soft click, and Damian’s fervent gaze was once again fixed on Ayla.
“Too much.”
“It just happened.”
“What if there are consequences?”
“Then there’s nothing we can do.”
“So that’s how you’re going to play this?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Maybe you should’ve kept your wits about you, Damian.”
“…”
Damian couldn’t find anything to argue with. Maybe it was because it had been so long since he’d played with his younger brother, but it had been more exhausting than he’d expected. He was also preoccupied with other thoughts.
Death, by nature, was a tragic thing. Gilrota’s death was no different. But he was the Crown Prince—he couldn’t remain buried in grief. Finding the culprit behind Gilrota’s murder was far more important. This wasn’t a simple death. It might be something that could uproot the entire shadow of the Empire.
And in that process, this engagement he’d orchestrated was also important. No matter how he looked at it, there was no better justification in the Empire to protect her than the title of the Crown Prince’s fiancée. Being “just friends” had its limits.
He didn’t know how long the engagement would last. But during that time, he intended to do his best to win her heart. Still, one major problem remained. The Emperor knew—meaning her father, Duke Durman, would also find out.
Duke Durman. The man with absolute power who could make birds fall from the sky. They called him the “Iron Duke.” A man said to have no blood or tears. One would think he was cold even to his family, but in reality, he was a doting father. Though it was said to be a political marriage, he gazed at his wife like honey dripped from his eyes, and they had three children. Damian had once heard how grand the parties were for each of the children’s first birthdays—it was said even the Crown Prince’s birthday didn’t compare.
In any case, that was the kind of duke he was. For someone like him to let Ayla attend the academy was already a monumental decision. And Damian, at the age of seven, still remembered vividly the time he had faced the duke alone.
He had met countless nobles as a member of the royal family, but none were as noble and cold as Duke Durman. And that was the problem. He had no way of predicting how the duke would react. Surely, he wouldn’t go as far as to try to kill him, right? But with Duke Durman, even that seemed possible.
So Damian had only one option left.
To hide behind Ayla.
“Ayla.”
“What?”
“I’m protecting you, so you’ll protect me too, right?”
“Huh?”
Ayla dumbly echoed him, wondering what he was going on about. But as she looked into his slightly teary eyes, she realized what he meant. She was thinking the same thing. About Duke Durman.
Ayla tried to place her hands on Damian’s shoulders to encourage him, but he had grown too tall. Unlike before, she now had to stand on tiptoe—so she gave up.
“Damian.”
“…Yeah.”
“Still, you’re the Crown Prince. I doubt he’ll try to kill you. And hey, it’s not like you’re the Emperor yet, so it’s not treason.”
“…”
“Well, that’s just how it turned out.”
“…Aren’t you going back to the academy? Should I start a scandal right now?”
Ayla’s open mouth clamped shut. This kind of threat? But she was also too weak to protect him from her father. Her father had said he wouldn’t give her a penny of inheritance if she didn’t graduate on time. There was no way she could win.
“…Well, I did write a letter.”
“To who? The Duke?”
“No, to Eileen.”
“…”
“It’s kinda awkward writing to Father. Eileen will explain it well for me…”
Ayla trailed off, avoiding Damian’s gaze.
“If it comes down to it… just use magic to escape.”
“…”
Damian silently covered his face with one hand.
With a soft pop, Ayla arrived at her dorm room. Magic really was convenient at times like this.
She turned on the lights in the dark room and sat down at her desk, gazing quietly out the window. The academy, blanketed in deep night, was silent except for the distant chirping of insects.
After closing her eyes briefly to listen, Ayla pulled out the folded letter from her pocket. The letter paper, embossed with the imperial seal, looked incredibly fancy now that she examined it. Was it really okay to send this as-is? The quality was entirely different, and the seal was official.
Still, it was for Eileen.
“…Whatever. It’ll work out somehow.”
Her entire family would probably come up from the estate. This was an engagement with the Crown Prince, after all. And not just that—he was the infamous villain of her family’s past. After all that swearing about “that guy” to Eileen, what would she think now?
She would definitely interrogate her. What kind of engagement? Why did she agree to it?
But Ayla could never reveal the truth about Soledina. That mage, the one who killed Gilrota—no one knew how deep they’d infiltrated the Empire. It could be an entire organization. And they were bold—entering relic sites managed by the Mage Tower without a trace, even staging corpses for display.
Which raised the question: who were they trying to show Gilrota’s body to? And why?
What did they want? Why did Gilrota have to die?
The mage retrieved Soledina from the tomb, and the alchemist created the drug. How far had it spread, and why was it made? Why Soledina of all things?
Ayla folded the letter and placed it into a small mailbox on her desk. Eileen had insisted she bring it when enrolling at the academy, to use for sending letters. She hadn’t expected to use it much—but it had come in handy, mostly for complaining about Damian.
Opening a notebook, Ayla set aside thoughts of the letter and began jotting down her thoughts:
Soledina → Banned from harvest since 3 years ago. Only collectable once a year from the King’s Tomb
Highly addictive, used in tiny amounts in strong analgesics
Illegal production/distribution, black market → Money? Funding?
Gilrota → Client? Alchemist?
Ayla crossed out “alchemist” above Gilrota’s name. He was a literature student. Sure, if he’d learned how to make drugs, it might be possible. But “client” made more sense. Besides, killing an alchemist wasn’t a light decision. A client? Maybe.
Client, alchemist. What other roles were there?
Suddenly, an idea flashed through her mind. There were still roles that could connect the two. If the drugs were spreading, they needed distribution. And distribution required dealers. In that case… Gilrota could have been—
“…A distributor. Or a dealer.”
He could have been a client as well.
If he was trying to strike a deal with them, and they killed him because of it?
Still, one thing didn’t add up: why Soledina? Why make a spectacle of Gilrota’s body? Damian said it was a warning. But if they were on the same side, why would they need to issue warnings? Was it to show what happened to traitors?
Then they weren’t really on the same side. There was a core leadership behind all of this.
Now she understood what Damian meant. And most likely, that mage belonged to the core group. Maybe even the same person who killed Gilrota.
What kind of deal had Gilrota been trying to make with them? Was it simply for money?
She would need to reschedule the trip to the back alleys to investigate the drug. And she needed to learn more about Soledina. Aside from what Michael had told her, she knew very little.
Ayla set her pencil down. One major issue still remained: planning the details of this fake engagement.
They wouldn’t believe it was just a spur-of-the-moment solution. It wasn’t an engagement arranged by the Emperor and the Duke, nor one she and Damian agreed on themselves. The Emperor had laughed it off—but her father wouldn’t. She needed a convincing excuse.
What excuse should she give? That she started to care for him after all that cursing?
Or that Damian confessed and she accepted?
“…Would they buy that?”
She was doubtful. For now, she’d talk it over with Damian tomorrow. Getting up, Ayla headed for the bathroom to wash up. While bathing, she thought—now that things had settled down a bit, she really needed to focus on her studies.
Eileen opened the letter with her usual bored expression. Her one and only sister, Ayla, always wrote about “that guy,” full of curses and complaints. It had become tiresome. The letters were so scandalous she couldn’t even keep them.
The “that guy” in Ayla’s letters was none other than Damian Langterster—the Crown Prince of the nation.
Each time, the letters ended up in flames—burned by candlelight or in the fireplace. She assumed this one would be no different.
But this letter was beyond anything she had imagined.
So shocking, it made her gasp.
Eileen immediately delivered it to their father—and the entire household descended into chaos.
Eileen. I got engaged.
…To that guy.
