Chapter 37
Inside the drawer was a small portrait of two people. One was a woman with pure white hair and gentle green eyes. The other was a young child cradled in her arms—a two-year-old girl, frozen in time.
Eleven years ago, a carriage carrying Carlos’ wife and daughter had fallen off a cliff. They said it was an accident. They said it was misfortune. But Carlos knew. He knew the driver was sent by the royal family, that someone had tampered with the wheel. It was the emperor’s doing. No proof, but he was certain.
The wife’s body was recovered. The daughter? Never. They searched for months. They combed the valley below the cliff. But there was no sign—no body, no scraps of clothing, nothing.
“…Sylvia.”
The name slipped from his lips into the air.
If she were alive, she would be thirteen now, the same age as Loreah.
Silver hair, similar eyes, same age.
That’s why seeing her reminded him of his lost daughter. A sudden sinking of heart, then a wave of disgust.
The slight squint when she smiled, the way she tilted her head—it stirred something unpleasant inside him.
To see his dead daughter’s shadow in a child with the emperor’s blood… he felt pathetic.
Carlos put the portrait back in the drawer and looked out the window. The training ground was visible in the distance. Damian swung his sword, and a small shadow sat nearby. Natural, as if it had always been there.
Carlos closed his eyes.
That child was a tool. Nothing more. Nothing less.
He had to give what she wanted and use her as long as possible. Her safety was not his concern.
He repeated it in his mind. Over and over.
That night, something strange happened.
I was reading in my room when the ring on my finger suddenly warmed up. It was the one Zion had given me when I delivered the refined stones: “For contact,” he had said.
‘What’s this?’
As I tilted my head, a droplet rose from the ring. It floated in the air, then slowly changed shape—elongated, sprouted legs and ears.
Soon, a tiny rabbit, only as big as my finger, hovered before me. Silver, translucent.
It twitched its ears and circled around me. Then—
- Peep.
With the sound, letters formed in the air from its tail’s silver trail:
[I’ll report the refined stone analysis later.]
[I’m sleepy today, so tomorrow.]
After the message, the rabbit turned back into a droplet and merged into the ring as if it had never existed.
“…So this is how it communicates.”
A rabbit in a droplet… fitting for the head of a magical tower.
‘But… is it okay for them to come here?’
Zion visiting meant he could meet Carlos. How Carlos felt about Zion, I wasn’t sure. He knew of the mage tower’s head but wasn’t particularly interested. Politically, they had no ties, and the tower stayed neutral.
The problem was Zion’s side.
‘How will Zion treat Carlos…?’
I couldn’t predict it. Mages usually dislike nobles, and Carlos was sharp-tempered…
‘Hmm, I hope they don’t meet.’
I sighed.
The next morning, I prepared to go to the training ground as usual. I fixed my hair in the mirror and wore a long-sleeved dress to cover the inner-arm scars. I only wore long sleeves now.
I turned to grab the snack basket—then, suddenly, light exploded in the room.
“Ugh!”
I shielded my eyes. When it dimmed, someone stood in the center of the room.
Platinum hair. Purple eyes. Chewing on a yawn.
‘…Huh?’
Something felt off. It was Zion.
‘He’s smaller?’
Last time I saw him, he was a tall adult man. Broad shoulders, hair long, relaxed and handsome. Now, before me was a boy about my age. Hair cut short, just below the ears. Same face, smaller overall.
I stared. Zion tilted his head.
“Why are you staring like that?”
“…Zion, right?”
“Yeah.”
“…Why are you smaller?”
Zion looked at his body and spread his arms.
“Feels better to be my age than an adult, right? I tried.”
His efforts were… strange.
“Is this transformation magic?”
“Sort of. A hassle to maintain, but whatever.”
‘Why do it if it’s a hassle?’
“…Why not come as yourself?”
“This is more fun. Let’s meet like this from now on.”
He smiled broadly. If I thought of it as an adult shrinking, it might feel weird—but knowing he was over 800 years old, I was calm. I sighed.
“Hello.”
“…Hello.”
“Why that face? I said I’d come.”
Zion tilted his head like it was no big deal.
“What if I was changing clothes?”
“Didn’t happen.”
“Good.”
Not exactly a reassuring tone.
“…Sit for now.”
“No, I’ll get sleepy if I sit.”
Zion wandered around the room.
“So this is your room. Bigger than I expected.”
“It’s the archduke’s residence.”
“Makes sense.”
No excitement in his tone.
“Where are you headed?”
He saw the basket in my hands.
“Training ground. To give Damian snacks.”
“Training ground? Sounds fun. I’ll come too.”
“…Huh?”
“Bored. Can tell about the refined stones later.”
He walked to the door.
“Let’s go.”
I followed him silently. Actually, it was my room… why did it feel like I was following him?
He looked around constantly as we walked down the hall.
“Big place.”
“It’s the archduke’s residence.”
“Already said that.”
At the end of the hall, he stopped and looked back at me. Now, our eye level matched, and his less sharp features were clearer.
“Do you know the way?”
…He didn’t. I stared at him in disbelief, then led the way. Zion followed behind, quietly.
It was strangely fitting—an over-800-year-old mage following a thirteen-year-old princess to the training ground.
We went down stairs, turned down the hall, and reached the door to the garden.
“Princess.”
A deep, low voice came from behind.
