“…” Edmond didn’t answer Reyna’s question.

“I thought so—you won’t tell her,” Reyna sighed, and Edmond finally turned to look at her.

“I won’t say anything,” he replied firmly.

“Really?”

“What’s the point of saying it?” he said, brushing his dark hair out of his face.

Reyna watched him with a small smile. “But if you told her, Iren would worry more about you.”

Edmond didn’t argue—he knew Reyna was right.

“Only a few bonded people get fever and flu symptoms during wolf season, and only when they feel very attached or worried about their partner,” she explained.

Iren had learned from Edmond and then read books in the library. There were things not written down—family rumors and passed-down knowledge. One was that if you truly love your partner and feel uneasy, symptoms like fever are more likely.

Reyna continued, “And the stronger your attachment or worry, the worse the symptoms.”

“Iren can’t ignore someone who’s sick or anxious,” she said kindly.

“That’s why I didn’t tell her.” Edmond’s voice was firm. “If she knew, she’d blame herself for my illness.”

Reyna nodded, finally understanding. “I get it. I knew how much you care about Iren. I was surprised you didn’t want all her attention.”

Edmond’s eyes narrowed. He did want her attention—but not if she’d suffer. Especially after last night, when she stayed by his side.

Reyna gently twisted a lock of her brown hair. “We wolves usually want all our partner’s love and focus. You too.”

“I… haven’t experienced that,” she added.

Edmond’s gaze drifted to the grand mirror in the room—a mirror meant to help Wolfgangs see if they’d become beasts. He looked at his reflection and felt relieved: he was still basically human, with only ears and a tail.

“To be honest,” Edmond said quietly, “I wanted her all to myself.”

Hearing her worry and caring whispers was comforting. He would have traded anything for that. But Iren had been through so much already. He didn’t want to add to her burdens.

“I just don’t want her to suffer anymore.”

His blue eyes shone with determination—solid as rock, clear and bright. Reyna jumped when she saw the flash of feeling in his eyes—but it disappeared too fast to discern.

“I’ll protect her,” he added.

Reyna touched his shoulder. “You have to, brother. You’ve protected that feeling for over five years. You’d be angry if someone steals it.”

She was urging him: protect Iren from anyone who tries to take advantage of her.

Edmond nodded quietly, and Reyna smiled at him.

Thankfully, Edmond’s wolf season ended after three days. After the feverish night of holding each other, his symptoms improved significantly. By then, his fever was gone—and the ears and tail had disappeared too.

I’ll miss the ears and tail… but I’m relieved the wolf season ended.

Though I found them cute, I remembered how sick he got. Suddenly, I wasn’t as happy about them.

“Let’s start training.” I focused on my abilities again. I had reduced the poison training and doubled my efforts on healing and purification.

My healing ability is still basic. I thought sometimes that with more training—on others—I could break my limits. Maybe I could heal external wounds or help relieve illnesses in people.

I revisited the thought: only the priestess Dandelion had a powerful healing gift—truly divine.

I don’t need to be as strong, but being able to heal others would be wonderful.

Clenching a dried dandelion in my hand, I closed my eyes and pictured my own wounds healing—but nothing happened. No purple glow, no change.

“…I’ll just keep practicing.”

At that moment, someone knocked on my door.

“Irin, can I come in?”

It was Edmond. He entered, glancing at my messy desk.

“Still practicing? Take a break, Irin.”

“I’m having fun…”

“Okay, but don’t push too hard.”

I noticed two elegant envelopes in his hand.

“What’s that?”

Edmond offered me one. “A letter from the palace—inviting us to meet the other Golden Named soon.” He paused, then added with a small smile: “And there’s an extra note.”

“What is it?”

Edmond’s expression grew serious. “The Northern Guardian wants to speak with us.”

Meanwhile, at the old Venomain estate, its lord—without an heir—sat under a huge robe, dark and weary.

A robed man stood before him, smirking.

“What do you want now?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I came seeking your cooperation,” the man replied smoothly.

Venomain scowled. “You…”

The robed figure tilted his head. “You would do well to show some respect—I serve the Second Prince.”

Venomain’s eyes narrowed at that mention, but the man only smiled as he spoke again.

“You want back what was taken from Irin Venomain, right?”

At those words, Venomain’s face changed—shock and disbelief overtook him.