~Chapter 32~

“Why the flowers, Your Holiness?”

Arwen accepted the bouquet Nikolai offered. The purple hydrangeas suited her well.

“They were blooming beautifully,” Nikolai answered with a shy smile.

The two of them sat facing each other in the imperial garden. It was a wide, open space—not the best place for a secret conversation.

“I asked you to meet here because I like flowers. It seems it worked, Your Holiness.”

“I’m pleased,” Nikolai replied.

Arwen waved her hand. A transparent barrier shimmered like a heat haze, forming a dome around them.

“This way, we can talk in peace.”

Divine power and magic repelled each other. If someone treated with magic was still carrying traces of it, receiving divine healing afterward caused terrible pain.

That was why temples disliked mages, viewing magic as a corrupt force. After centuries of conflict and uneasy truces, outright hatred was avoided, but the sense of rejection lingered.

“Thank you for your thoughtfulness, Your Majesty.”

Arwen poured tea herself, warming the cups and steeping fresh leaves said to taste best when kissed by dawn’s dew.

“How goes it with Count Harmelda?” she asked, wondering if Lovelace was yielding to persuasion.

“It’s difficult,” Nikolai admitted.

“Oh dear.”

Arwen sighed with genuine regret.

“Perhaps you gave her the title of Count too quickly. Wouldn’t it have been better to keep her identity uncertain, or to negotiate using the title?”

Arwen shook her head.

“There’s no need to make her hate us. It’s better to offer goodwill and build favor first. Her status doesn’t matter. A title can always be taken away again.”

She smiled faintly, sipping her tea. Her gaze fell to the hydrangeas.

“Hydrangeas change color depending on where they’re planted, don’t they?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Will Count Harmelda be the same? If we move her roots, will she change too?”

Nikolai was doubtful.

“Wherever she is, Lord Larvihan will find her.”

“So the problem is Larvihan.”

“We must separate them. Count Harmelda trusts him too much. She hasn’t seen his cruel side yet.”

Nikolai muttered his god’s name softly, as if recalling Larvihan’s atrocities. Peace returned to his face.

Arwen watched with curiosity. She only wanted Larvihan removed for her own benefit. But Nikolai was different. The Papacy had no reason to care about Larvihan—he had always ignored religion.

For the Pope to oppose the strongest man in the world simply because his god commanded it… Arwen could not understand such blind faith.

Still, she was relieved. At least his god had not named her a demon. Thanks to that, she could build a close friendship with the Papacy.

Her eyes drifted back to the hydrangeas. A mite crawled on the stem. Arwen reached out and crushed it with her fingers.

“If something harms the flower, there’s no reason to let it live.”

Nikolai watched her quietly, then shook his head.

“Everything has its reason to exist.”

“So you’ll let it live?”

“I’m saying we should watch a little longer. It would be wasteful otherwise.”

It wasn’t his decision, but his god’s.

“Why not try persuading her yourself, Your Majesty?” Nikolai suggested.

“I’ll consider it. I do like her.”

What had shaken Larvihan’s heart so much? What was so special about Lovelace? If she could learn that, it would be useful.

Arwen smiled sweetly, gazing down at the hydrangeas.

“Change the environment, and the outlook changes too, Your Holiness.”

Just like us… isn’t that right, Larvihan?

Judith had been gone a long time, searching for Larvihan’s whereabouts. In the meantime, Lovelace busied herself with various matters.

She had even crushed the card-game scammers.

Thanks to choosing the right people, her workload in managing the territory was gradually decreasing.

‘Charlotte really pulled it off this time.’

She would have to invite her for tea soon.

There were still many areas that needed improvement, but for someone who had started knowing nothing, Lovelace felt proud of what she had built. All those sleepless nights had been worth it.

So today… she deserved a rest.

But she couldn’t stop thinking of Larvihan. His last masked smile kept replaying in her mind.

If she couldn’t return his power through touch… would he cancel the marriage?

She hated an uncertain future. She wanted a clear answer.

“Where on earth is that man?”

Maybe I should go to the capital myself.

She came to that conclusion and flung the door open. At that moment, a strong wind wrapped around her. The world flipped upside down, space itself twisting.

What’s happening?!

She reached out, wanting to call for help, but no voice came. Her head spun, and she shut her eyes tight on instinct.

When she opened them again—Larvihan was there.

“…Don’t… don’t kill them.”

He lay on the bed, murmuring in a weak voice.

Weak? That word never fit him.

Lovelace glanced around. It was his bedroom.

Did I just teleport?

How?

She had no time to wonder. Larvihan was writhing in pain. She hurried closer, heat radiating from his body.

“Oh heavens, this fever!”

She touched his forehead—it was burning.

“Please… save them…”

“Larvihan, wake up. Larvihan?”

With nightmares, it was best to wake the dreamer quickly. But whether from fever or exhaustion, his eyes refused to open. She thought of calling someone.

“…Don’t go. Don’t leave me.”

His hand clamped around her wrist, pulling her into his arms. Even asleep, his strength was overwhelming.

His hoarse voice trembled with desperation. Holding her like a lifeline, he clung tightly, not letting her go.

Lovelace stopped struggling. Maybe what he needed wasn’t medicine, but comfort.

As if to prove her right, his breathing gradually steadied. She patted his chest gently.

“What kind of dream are you having, to cry like that?”

Seeing this man—always so strong—show such weakness made her nose sting.

Larvihan awoke to a crushing weight on his chest. He often felt unwell after dreams of the past, but never like this.

He forced his eyes open and raised a hand. Silky strands of hair brushed his fingers. Something was lying on his chest.

What? He looked down and saw pink hair.

“Rey?”

“Mmm, you’re awake?”

She stirred, pushing herself up from his chest.

“When did you come?”

“When did you wake?”

They both asked at once, then laughed. Lovelace glanced out the window, judging the time.

“About three star-hours have passed. The sun will set soon.”

“So long… I slept.”

From yesterday morning until late afternoon today—he had slept a day and a half. Sometimes, when insomnia hit, he took medicine to fall into deep sleep. That must have been the case this time.

Still, he usually didn’t sleep this long. He must have been more exhausted than he realized.

“You seemed to be having a bad dream.”

Lovelace poured water from the table and handed him a cup. He drained it gratefully.

“What did I say?”

“You don’t remember?”

He shrugged. No memory—but from her reaction, it must have been one of those dreams. He chose to pretend ignorance. He didn’t want her seeing his weakness.

“If you don’t remember, that’s fine. Don’t dwell on it—it didn’t seem like a good dream anyway.”

“Kind of you, today.”

“That makes it sound like I’m not, usually.”

“You’re not.”

“And why is that, do you think?” she teased with a smile.

“If you want to blame me, don’t. Think of all I’ve done for you.”

“Are you boasting now?”

He smirked, deliberately annoying.

“No. I just wanted to say… thank you for coming.”

Because of her, he hadn’t seen the nightmare through to the end. That alone lightened his heart.

Perhaps it was simply because she had been beside him.

His sincerity left her speechless. She guessed he must have truly suffered, and reached out to tap his side with her fingertip, trying to comfort him.

Sensing it, he whispered, “I’m fine.”

“But really… how did I get here?”

“I don’t know. The world spun, and suddenly—I was here.”

Larvihan’s mouth slowly opened in shock.

“Teleportation?”