(Next Day — Royal Palace)
Morning sunlight spilled across the grand courtyard of the royal palace.
Below the wide marble stairs, servants hurried back and forth, carefully loading ornate chests and silk-wrapped boxes into the waiting carriages. Gold-embossed ribbons gleamed. Velvet cloths were adjusted again and again.
Everything was perfect.
Everything was proper.
Everything was—
Tense.
At the top of the palace steps stood Emperor Eyan Lucien Therald.
And he looked… absolutely displeased.
The cold air around him felt sharp enough to cut.
Beside him stood Luca and Hans.
Luca carefully studied Eyan's expression — the tight jaw, the unreadable eyes, the unmistakable storm brewing beneath that calm exterior.
Yeah. Definitely dangerous mood.
Luca slowly leaned toward Hans and whispered from the corner of his mouth— “Hans… what happened to him? Why is he in such a bad mood?”
Hans, ever composed, leaned slightly closer and whispered back, “Last night, His Majesty had to remain in the palace… because Her Majesty went to Lady Aranel’s residence after shopping and stayed the night there.”
Luca blinked.
Then slowly inhaled. “…Ah.”
He glanced sideways at Eyan again. “…That explains everything.”
Hans murmured carefully, “Master Luca… is it truly wise to take His Majesty to Marquess Calren Delyss for marriage negotiations in this… condition?”
Luca’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “Don’t worry about that,” he said quietly. “Sister-in-law is already at the Delyss estate.”
His smile widened just slightly. “His mood will improve the moment he sees her.”
Just then, a servant hurried forward and bowed deeply. “Your Majesty, all the gifts have been loaded into the carriage.”
Eyan did not look at him. “Good.”
One word. Flat. Cold.
Without another glance, Eyan descended the palace steps and entered the imperial carriage in one smooth motion.
Luca and Hans quickly followed inside.
The door shut. Outside, the coachman snapped the reins. The horses surged forward. And the imperial carriage rolled out through the palace gates—Bound for the House of Delyss.
__________________________________
(Marquess Calren Delyss Estate — Morning)
The imperial carriage rolled to a smooth, dignified halt before the grand gates of House Delyss.
Servants were already lined along the stone pathway, backs straight, heads bowed low in perfect formation.
The moment the carriage door opened—
Marquess Calren Delyss himself stepped forward.
Warm. Respectful. —and visibly honored.
“Your Majesty,” he greeted deeply, bowing with full noble courtesy. “House Delyss is deeply honored by your visit.”
Eyan stepped down from the carriage, imperial composure perfectly in place.
Eyan inclined his head slightly. “Marquess Calren.”
Behind him, Luca stepped forward with calm dignity. Today, he did not carry his usual easy air.
Today—
He stood as something far more formidable. The master of the Magic Tower.
They were soon escorted into the main receiving hall. Tea was served. Seats were taken. The atmosphere settled into proper noble formality. Only then did Eyan speak.
“We have come today regarding a matter between our families.”
Marquess Calren straightened slightly, attention sharpening.
Eyan continued, voice steady and authoritative. “My brother, Luca Veyren—Master of the Magic Tower—has expressed his intention to formally seek the hand of your daughter, Lady Aranel Delyss, in marriage.”
Silence fell.
For exactly one second.
Then—
Calren’s face lit up with unmistakable joy. “Your Majesty…!”
The relief and happiness in his voice were genuine. Almost immediate.
“It would be the highest honor for our house!”
Luca blinked once, slightly surprised at how quickly that went.
Calren was already turning toward the servants. “Call Aranel at once.”
A maid bowed and hurried out.
Meanwhile—
Eyan sat perfectly still.
But his gaze had shifted.
Subtle. Sharp. Scanning the hall.
Luca leaned slightly and murmured under his breath, just loud enough— “…Looking for sister-in-law?”
Eyan did not respond. But the slight tightening of his jaw was answer enough.
Moments later— The doors opened. Soft footsteps approached.
“Lady Aranel Delyss has arrived.”
All eyes turned toward the entrance. Aranel stepped gracefully into the room—
Alone.
—
Eyan’s eyes darkened almost imperceptibly. Because the one person he had been unconsciously searching for… Was not there.
Aranel stepped inside with perfect noble grace, her posture straight, her expression composed. She moved forward, skirts whispering softly with each step.
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First, she bowed deeply toward the emperor. “Your Majesty.”
Then to her father. “Father.”
Only after that did her gaze briefly lift toward Luca. Just for a heartbeat. Just long enough for a faint warmth to flicker in her eyes. Then her lashes lowered again, proper and reserved.
Marquess Calren looked immensely pleased. “Aranel, His Majesty and Master Luca Veyren have come today with a formal proposal.”
Aranel’s hands folded neatly before her. “I understand, Father.”
Her voice was calm… but there was a softness beneath it.
Eyan spoke then, his tone measured and imperial. “Lady Aranel. Luca's intentions are sincere. However, this decision concerns your future. You may speak freely.”
The room grew very still. Aranel’s fingers tightened slightly in her skirts. Then, slowly, she lifted her gaze.
Then she lowered her eyes again and spoke clearly.
“If Father approves… and if Master Luca’s intentions remain unchanged…”
A faint pink dusted her cheeks. “…then I am willing.”
Marquess Calren looked ready to burst with joy. “Excellent! Excellent!”
He turned eagerly toward Eyan. “Your Majesty, House Delyss is honored to accept this union.”
Eyan gave a single approving nod. “Then preparations will begin immediately. We intend to hold the wedding in fifteen days.”
“Fifteen—?” Calren blinked, surprised, but the joy quickly returned. “Of course! Of course, Your Majesty. We will make all necessary arrangements.”
Everything was proceeding perfectly.
Formally.
Smoothly.
—
Until—
The receiving hall doors suddenly burst open. Footsteps. Fast. Hurried. Breathless.
“I—I’m so sorry!”
Every head turned.
Eva stood in the doorway, slightly flushed, hair just a little out of place, clearly having rushed.
“I woke up late and—”
She stopped mid-sentence. Because the entire room was staring at her. And at the center of it—
Eyan.
—
For the first time that morning… The Emperor’s face changed. Instantly. Completely. The cold tension that had been wrapped around him since dawn— Melted.
His eyes softened. The sharp line of his jaw eased. It was subtle.But to anyone who knew him— It was obvious.
Luca saw it immediately. And his lips curved slowly into a very knowing smile. He leaned back slightly in his seat and murmured just loud enough—
“Well… that worked faster than expected.”
The doors had barely stopped echoing from Eva’s hurried entrance when Marquess Calren rose halfway from his seat, clearly surprised.
“Ah—Eva.”
His expression softened with paternal warmth as he gestured toward her.
“Your Majesty, allow me to introduce… this is my second daughter, Eva.”
For a split second—
Eyan’s heartbeat stuttered.
But outwardly, the emperor remained still. Cold. Composed. Watching.
Eva, meanwhile, was still slightly breathless from rushing. She quickly gathered her skirts and hurried forward, clearly flustered.
“I deeply apologize for my lateness—”
Her foot caught. Just slightly. But enough. Her ankle twisted sharply against the polished floor.
“Ah—!”
She pitched forward.
—
Eyan moved before anyone else could even react. In one swift motion, he was on his feet. His hand shot out— And caught her firmly by the waist. Eva gasped softly as she collided lightly against his chest, her balance completely stolen.
For one suspended moment—
The room froze.
Eyan’s grip tightened instinctively. His brows were already drawn tight. And when he spoke—
“Have you completely forgotten how to walk properly?” His worry came out sharp.
Eva blinked up at him, startled. “I—I was just—”
“Just what?” Eyan cut in, and this time the control in his voice was thinner—dangerously thin. “Running without looking where you step?”
His eyes dropped to her ankle immediately, scanning, searching, assessing. His thumb shifted slightly at her waist as if resisting the urge to check her himself.
“You twisted it,” he said, more to himself than anyone else.
The room had gone utterly silent.
Because this—
This was not how an emperor spoke to a noble’s daughter he had just met.
Marquess Calren’s brows slowly drew together, confusion flickering across his face.
His gaze moved between them. Sharp. Questioning. Why…did His Majesty sound like he knew her?
Before the question could form—
Aranel moved. Swift. Smooth.
“Eva!”
She stepped forward quickly, gently taking Eva’s arm from Eyan’s hold.
“Let me see your ankle.”
Her voice was perfectly natural—perfectly sisterly—as she guided Eva slightly back, kneeling just enough to check her footing.
The interruption was seamless. Deliberate. And effective.
—
It was only then that Eyan seemed to fully register the room again. His gaze flicked—To Marquess Calren. To the watching servants. To the very obvious silence hanging in the air.
Ah.…Right.
Very slowly, the emperor’s expression smoothed back into perfect imperial composure. Cold calm slid back into place like a mask.
When he spoke again—His tone was distant. Proper. As if nothing unusual had just happened.
“Lady… are you alright?”
The shift was so sharp it almost felt unreal.
Eva blinked once. Twice. Then she quickly lowered her gaze respectfully.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” she said softly, playing along without missing a beat. “I am fine.”
Across the room—
Luca very discreetly dragged a hand down his face. Because Eyan had just come dangerously close… To exposing everything.
Aranel gently guided Eva to the couch and helped her sit, her hand still lightly supporting Eva’s arm.
Marquess Calren cleared his throat, still trying to regain the flow of the meeting.
“Eva, since you weren’t here earlier, let me introduce our honored guests.”
Eva straightened slightly, though her ankle still throbbed faintly.
Calren gestured first toward Eyan. “You already know His Majesty.”
Eva lowered her gaze politely. “Yes, Father.”
Then Calren turned toward Luca with clear pride. “Eva, this is Luca Veyren, Master of the Magic Tower… and the future husband of our Aranel.”
Eva’s eyes brightened warmly. She rose carefully from the couch and bent forward slightly in greeting. “Greetings, Master Luc—”
“DON’T BOW.”
Eyan’s voice cut through the room—sharp, immediate.
Everything froze.
Eva remained half-bent, blinking in shock.
Eyan’s jaw was tight, his eyes dark with restrained emotion that came out far harsher than intended.
“I already told you not to bend,” he said coldly. “Yet here you are doing it again.”
Eva slowly straightened, clearly taken aback. “But Your Majesty… I just bent a little—”
“Don’t do it. Not even a little.” His voice hardened further. “Why are you always so careless?”
The word hung in the air.
Eva’s brows knit, hurt flashing across her face. “…What did you just call me?”
Eyan didn’t soften..“Careless. You are always careless.”
A spark ignited in Eva’s eyes.
“Yes, I’m careless—so what?” she snapped, her voice rising despite herself. “Your Majesty, why are you getting angry at me over such a small thing?”
Her fingers curled tightly at her sides.
“First you scold me for walking too fast… now for bowing? Have I done something so terribly wrong?”
Eyan took a step forward before he could stop himself.
“You have,” he said sharply. “You never pay attention to your condition.”
“My condition?” Eva echoed, disbelief creeping in. “I twisted my foot a little. I’m not made of glass.”
“You almost fell just now.”
“And you caught me,” she fired back. “So what exactly is the problem?”
“The problem,” Eyan’s voice dropped, tight with suppressed worry, “is that you keep putting yourself in danger and acting like it doesn’t matter.”
Eva stared at him.
“…Danger?” she repeated slowly. “Your Majesty, I was walking.”
“You don’t know how to walk properly without twisting your foot. You don’t know how to take care of yourself. And you certainly don’t listen when someone tells you to stop.”
The words hit harder than he meant.
Eva’s eyes shimmered. “So that’s how you see me?” she said quietly. “Incompetent? Careless? A burden?”
Eyan’s expression flickered—just for a second—but the damage was done.
“I did not say burden.”
“You didn’t have to,” Eva replied, hurt now fully visible. “It’s written all over your face.”
The room was suffocatingly tense.
Luca shifted uncomfortably. Aranel’s brows furrowed. Hans lowered his gaze.
Eva lifted her chin stubbornly. “Your Majesty, with respect,” she said, voice tight, “you are overreacting.”
Eyan’s eyes darkened. “Overreacting?”
“Yes,” Eva said, meeting his gaze directly now. “You keep getting angry at me over every little thing. I am not a child that needs constant scolding.”
Something in Eyan snapped. “And you keep behaving like one.”
Silence.
Sharp. Painful.
Eva froze.
The hurt in her eyes this time was unmistakable.
Slowly, stiffly, she stood.
“Father… Aranel…” her voice had gone small but controlled. “I’m going back to my room. I’m not feeling well.”
She turned to leave.
“Eva—”
Eyan’s composure cracked instantly. His voice dropped, urgency breaking through the anger.
“…You’re not feeling well? Are you sick?”
But Eva didn’t answer. She simply walked out. The door shut behind her with a soft but final click.
Silence. Heavy. Suffocating.
Eyan exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down his face before turning back—
—and finally noticing everyone’s expressions.
Aranel looked displeased. Hans looked quietly disappointed. Luca looked openly furious. And Marquess Calren……looked completely, utterly confused.
“What—what just happened here?” Calren asked weakly.
Luca crossed his arms, glaring. “Eyan. Why did you do that?”
Eyan’s expression hardened slightly, slipping back behind The Emperor’s mask. “Do what?”
Luca stared at him in disbelief. “You just argued with sister-in-law, and she left in anger.”
Calren blinked. “…Sister-in-law?”
He turned slowly toward Luca. “Master Luca… why are you calling Eva sister-in-law?”
The room fell dead silent.
Aranel sighed softly.
She stood and looked toward the servants still lingering in the corners. “All of you—leave the room.”
The servants bowed quickly and exited. The doors closed.
Aranel turned back to her father, her voice calm but serious.
“Father… there is something you should know.”
__________________________________
A few moments later…
Marquess Calren stared at Eyan as if the world had just flipped upside down.
“…So His Majesty… is our Eva’s husband?”
Aranel nodded. “Yes.”
For a heartbeat—
Then Calren’s face lit up with overwhelming joy. “That is wonderful!” He laughed in pure delight. “Aranel, why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”
Eyan inclined his head slightly, voice now fully composed. “Marquess Calren… regarding my marriage with Eva—please keep it secret.”
Calren straightened immediately. “Of course, Your Majesty. You have my word. I will not tell anyone.”
“Thank you.”
But even as he spoke—
Eyan’s eyes had already drifted back to the door Eva had walked through.
His fingers curled slightly at his side. The Emperor’s face remained calm.…but the worry in his eyes refused to fade.
