Chapter 28
“Lady Jayna, there’s a play that all the young noblewomen say is very entertaining. Would you like to come watch it with me?”
“I’ve never seen a play before.”
“Perfect. Today’s play is a great choice for beginners.”
Nod, nod.
Jayna’s eyes sparkled with excitement, listening attentively to every word Rosian said.
What’s so fun about all that pointless chatter?
Since Rosian spent most of his time mingling with noble ladies, he seemed to have mastered the art of adjusting to others and recommending things they’d like.
Michael, irritated, smirked crookedly.
“Why do you keep nodding like that? Even a broken doll would look prettier than you.”
He said it thoughtlessly—but instantly regretted it.
Ah… that was a bit much, wasn’t it?
Lately, Michael had been trying to be careful with his words around Jayna.
Talking about official matters as the Tower Master was easy, but in casual conversation with her, he never knew what to say.
“Hey, about what I just said—”
He tried to correct himself, but Rosian was faster.
Rosian met Michael’s eyes and spoke calmly.
“Why do you always talk so harshly to Lady Jayna, brother? Can’t you be a little kinder?”
“What?”
“Lady Jayna, there was nothing wrong with your nodding just now.”
A surge of frustration rose in Michael’s throat.
How dare this brat tell me what to do?
Truthfully, it wasn’t Rosian’s bold tone that annoyed him most—it was hearing someone else talk about Jayna that really got under his skin.
“What business is it of yours how I talk to her?”
Michael glared silently at Rosian.
The air began to respond to his emotions, reacting to his strong mana—but then Jayna gently grabbed Rosian’s arm.
At once, Michael’s power subsided.
Of course… she’s my little cousin before she’s the prince’s friend.
And in that moment, Michael completely dismissed the imperial prince.
“Your Highness, are you all right?”
Michael froze.
Jayna wasn’t worried about him—she was worried about Rosian.
She’s… taking his side? Right in front of me?
He gave a hollow laugh.
“You’re seriously worried about that guy—?”
“Why do you think that is?”
Rosian answered sharply before Jayna could. Michael’s irritation spiked.
“Do you ever stop talking back?”
“And do you ever say anything nicely? Your voice just got louder again—it sounds like you’re yelling.”
Michael frowned and ran a hand through his hair.
He’s right… I do sound harsh.
He shot Rosian a cold, warning glance when Jayna wasn’t looking.
Why does that imperial brat keep coming to the Tower anyway?
From the palace to the Mage Tower, he had to use a teleport gate—a long trip, not something you did casually. Yet Rosian kept showing up.
All because of that damned aunt of mine. She keeps excusing him from training, so he just keeps coming back.
So what if he’s the imperial prince?
He was lazy, unmotivated, always skipping training to go to the market or flirt with noble girls.
Michael briefly considered putting him in his place—but then chuckled.
He’s not even worth being wary of.
His aunt Elia, a royal princess, was at least admirable, having reached mastery in her art. But this cousin of his? He had nothing but his bloodline.
He’ll probably be even more pathetic once he’s grown—without youth as an excuse.
Michael had been a prodigy since childhood—the youngest ever admitted to the Mage Tower, breaking every record in research and mana output.
To him, Rosian, who had nothing but a noble birth to boast of, was insufferable.
I understand Aunt Elia wants him to be inspired by Tower mages—but really, there’s no saving this one.
And now, instead of studying, Rosian was grinning at some girl.
Last time, he’d even draped his royal cloak over her shoulders without permission.
Even now, he’s toying with her out of curiosity.
“Brother, could you teleport us to the theater?”
Even under Michael’s glare, Rosian didn’t flinch, smiling brightly as ever.
Damn it. Guess he’s used to getting scolded by his mother every day.
“Jayna could use a friend her own age, don’t you think?”
If not for those words from his aunt, Michael would’ve found any excuse to keep Rosian away.
Grinding his teeth, he gathered his mana.
The play was fascinating.
Jayna hadn’t expected much—after all, she’d seen plenty of dramas and movies back on Earth.
She figured it would be the same kind of acting, just without a camera. But the experience was entirely different.
If His Highness hadn’t invited me, I’d have never known how enjoyable this could be.
The energy radiating from the stage, the immediate connection between actors and audience—it was captivating.
“Could someone like me ever love Your Highness?”
“You are far too precious for me.”
Hearing their lines, Jayna realized something.
A common girl and an imperial prince… Even in this world, that cliché is popular.
The story wasn’t new—it was basically a Cinderella tale.
“Lady Jayna, wouldn’t you like to be like the heroine?”
Rosian leaned in slightly, smiling teasingly, as if he already knew her answer.
He might as well have asked, “Would you like to marry a prince?”
Jayna didn’t even hesitate.
“Not really.”
Rosian froze, startled by how bluntly she rejected the idea.
She didn’t even stop to think about it…
He smiled to cover his embarrassment, but his surprise was clear.
Well… I suppose she couldn’t just say yes so easily.
Jayna calmly looked straight ahead, her tone even, her expression unreadable.
Maybe she’s just shy… or maybe she’s hiding how she really feels.
All the other noble girls he met either blushed or swooned at the thought of marrying him. But Jayna—she was indifferent, almost cold.
He couldn’t figure her out at all.
She shouldn’t be that different from the rest… should she?
No, he wasn’t hurt by her rejection. Definitely not.
With forced politeness, he asked again,
“Don’t you like men who are handsome, powerful, and rich?”
Michael, standing nearby, noticed the faint twitch in Rosian’s face and burst out laughing.
“Pfft… hahaha!”
Rosian’s ears turned red, but he pressed on seriously.
He was, after all, the grandson of the Emperor and the son of a hero hailed across the continent. Power and wealth—he had both in abundance.
So why was Jayna unimpressed?
“I have a clear ideal type,” Jayna said simply.
Rosian’s eye twitched. Michael laughed even louder.
“Ha! She says she has an ideal type!”
“I… see.”
Now Rosian was getting stubborn.
Every girl around his age adored him, while even older ladies secretly admired him. Yet this one had a “clear ideal type” that wasn’t him?
What kind of man could possibly meet her standards?
“Then what kind of man do you like?”
Michael cut in proudly.
“She probably likes strong men.”
Rosian’s expression stiffened.
He frowned, glaring at Michael, but the older mage only looked amused.
Michael didn’t care about Rosian’s growing irritation; he continued cheerfully,
“I mean, she lives in the Mage Tower. Do you really think some weakling would catch her eye?”
“I’m not that weak,” Rosian muttered.
“Oh, really? Then can you block even one of my spells?”
Michael reached out, gently patting Jayna’s head—his touch careful, almost affectionate.
“She can probably block a few of my spells herself. You, though? Pathetic, considering you’re older.”
“I—”
Jayna tried to say something, but Michael pressed her cheek lightly to hush her.
Well, dragon scales can block almost anything, after all…
Comparing humans to dragons was ridiculous. Jayna sighed inwardly.
Michael could be childish—often.
But unexpectedly, Rosian reacted. His expression hardened; his pride had clearly been pricked.
So his weakness really is combat ability.
As he himself had said, Rosian had everything—wealth, title, influence. But ever since the age of demons had passed, there were few real threats left for him to face.
“So then, Lady Jayna—what’s your ideal type?” he asked quietly. His voice was lower now, tinged with irritation.
Michael smirked.
“Someone handsome, powerful, rich—like her cousin, maybe? Isn’t that right?”
He chuckled wickedly.
“Funny, how bloodlines work. You’re the son of Princess Elia, and yet look at you.”
Rosian’s face twisted in anger.
