Chapter 29
Princess Ellia, Rozian’s mother, had shown exceptional talent in swordsmanship from a very young age.
Thanks to that gift, she became a hero who—alongside Diarmid—saved the continent from the Curse of the Demon King.
“Don’t worry. You’re Princess Ellia’s son—of course you’ll do well.”
“I knew you could do it. As expected of Her Highness Ellia’s bloodline.”
“Hmm… but His Highness the Grandson doesn’t really resemble Princess Ellia much, does he…?”
But because of that, Rozian’s own efforts were buried beneath his bloodline, and his ordinariness seemed to tarnish his mother’s glory.
Rozian was afraid—afraid people would realize how untalented he was, that he couldn’t become like his mother.
No—he didn’t actually care what others thought. But still…
“Rozian. Are you really my son?”
If he were ever to hear those words from his mother, could he bear it?
‘…No.’
He would rather make excuses—that he simply hadn’t trained enough to awaken his potential.
The first time he met Jayna was, in fact, when he was running away from sword practice.
“This kid takes after his father—he’s very skilled in magic, you see?”
Hearing that in front of others—especially a girl younger than him—wounded his pride.
‘She’ll probably start looking down on me soon, too. Someone with enough talent to be praised by Brother Mikael.’
But then, Jayna said something completely unexpected.
“Well, I don’t have a father, so I wouldn’t know.”
The more she spoke, the wider Rozian’s eyes grew.
“Even if the potion I drank really did make me good at magic, I don’t think I’d feel particularly moved. In the end, a potion’s just a potion.”
When Jayna shrugged like it was nothing, Rozian was struck speechless.
Instinctively, he said something defensive.
“But wouldn’t it still hurt your feelings if someone said you couldn’t use magic well, even after taking an amazing potion?”
“Then I’d probably just say I got an upset stomach from it.”
Jayna replied casually, and Rozian couldn’t close his mouth.
It was one shock after another.
She was the complete opposite of him—someone who wasn’t trapped under her parents’ shadow.
After a moment’s thought, Rozian asked something that had long made him curious.
“Jayna, aren’t your parents the Dragon of the Black Night, Lord Bezritche, and the Tower Master?”
“So you knew.”
“Well, Brother Mikael made it pretty obvious.”
“Ugh, of course he did!”
Mikael had made a scene, lamenting his own loose tongue, but Jayna just shook her head.
“It’s fine. It’s not like you’re just anyone—you’re the Grand Prince.”
Just as she said, Rozian didn’t form any prejudice or hidden motive upon learning she was dragonkind.
He was simply… shaken by how free she seemed from the weight of her lineage—so unlike himself.
‘The Tower Master Diarmid is a hero equal to—or even more revered than—Princess Ellia herself.’
Even the way she had stubbornly refused a reward the first time they met had left an impression—but now, that feeling was even stronger.
She was only about chest-high on him, maybe eight years old though she claimed to be ten—yet her eyes shone with a strong, independent light.
“Jayna, you’re really… unusual. No…”
Rozian smiled.
“You’re really special.”
Like the morning sun breaking through shadow, a strange, warm feeling spread in his chest.
It wasn’t a casual fondness.
Because Jayna was special, the feeling itself was… oddly special too.
“Enough of that—let’s get back to what we were talking about.”
Even Mikael, dull as he could be, sensed something odd and cut in.
“Kid, about your type—you like handsome, powerful, rich men, right?”
“Not really.”
“What? Then what kind of guy do you like?”
“It’s nothing much…”
“If it’s nothing, then tell us, Jayna.”
Jayna scratched her cheek. Why were these two suddenly so interested in her type?
“Just… ordinary.”
She tried to brush it off, but Rozian was persistent.
Just as the novel described, Mikael had teased him using his weakness—his obsession with “strength.”
Jayna felt cornered.
‘If I don’t answer, they’ll keep asking.’
Feeling their eyes on her, she decided to just tell the truth.
“There are three things that make up my ideal type.”
Her voice was clear—it was something she had thought about for a long time.
“And what are those three?”
“Why are you even asking? What are you going to do knowing that?”
“I’m just curious…”
“Kid, do you want to tell him your ideal type?”
Jayna shook her head.
“It’s… not really something I can say to others.”
“See? She doesn’t want to talk about it. So drop it.”
Mikael’s tone was firm.
Jayna also seemed unwilling to continue, so Rozian had no choice but to back down.
* * *
After the play, Mikael called Rozian out—without Jayna present.
“You figured out she’s dragonkind, huh.”
His tone was sharp—maybe because he was still irritated.
Before Rozian could respond, Mikael continued quickly.
“But don’t you feel anything from that?”
Rozian frowned at his cousin’s strange hostility. It was annoying.
“Coming from someone who always acts however he pleases, that’s pretty funny.”
“Would you still say that if you lost an arm?”
“Could you handle it if I did?”
“Ha. So you’re relying on your mother now? You’re just some pathetic brat who only has his bloodline to brag about.”
Mikael’s eyes swept him up and down with open contempt.
“I never liked you, but today you’re really unbearable.”
In Rozian’s memory, Mikael had never shown him the slightest affection as a cousin.
Rozian hadn’t cared much either—he was used to being teased, used to being treated differently.
But mocking his mother? That was a line even he couldn’t overlook.
His usual gentle face hardened into something cold.
“You—”
Just as Rozian was about to fire back, Mikael sighed.
“Dragons live a lot longer than you do.”
The unexpected comment stopped him short.
“You’re handsome, rich, and powerful, sure—but don’t hang around her like some lovesick fool.”
Mikael’s eyes wandered, his tone strangely wistful.
“Don’t pretend to be close when you can’t even take responsibility for what that means.”
Rozian froze.
He hadn’t expected that from Mikael’s mouth.
“When you die as a human, who’s going to take responsibility for the loss she’ll feel?”
“…”
“You don’t even have the guts to reach the higher realms. Don’t dream.”
More than Mikael’s uncharacteristic concern, what stuck in Rozian’s mind was the realization—
that Jayna, as a dragon, would face countless partings and loneliness over her long life.
“Even if you pretend to care, you’ll just be one of many who pass through her life. Don’t act like you’re something precious to her.”
And suddenly, Rozian remembered Diarmid’s words.
‘So that’s what he meant.’
At the time, he’d been angry, thinking Diarmid was just bringing up his parents to mock him—but now he understood.
“Of course, the Grand Prince would understand best—having parents like that.”
Princess Ellia had reached the highest realm, cursed to live for ages.
Her husband, however, had died early, leaving her with eternal grief.
Diarmid had been their companion. He’d seen that farewell with his own eyes.
‘So that’s why he said it…’
“That’s the second time I’ve heard that line.”
“From your mother? No way. Her husband died early—like she’d ever say that herself.”
“…”
Rozian didn’t tell him it had been Diarmid. He simply pressed his lips shut.
His mind was in turmoil.
Even after Mikael, tired of waiting for an answer, left him alone—Rozian stayed there, rooted to the spot.
* * *
After parting with Mikael, Rozian wasn’t sure why—but he felt he had to see Jayna.
‘They said her room’s in a storage shed?’
His expression was grave as he made his way there.
‘How can she live in a place like that? She’s still a child… she must be lonely and miserable.’
For someone raised in a royal palace, it was a shock—like being struck by a hammer.
Even if the Tower Master was terrifying, this was too cruel.
And Mikael knew about it—yet had lectured him instead?
Rozian rubbed his face in frustration.
‘No, this isn’t the time to blame others. What should I do? I can’t exactly bring her to the palace…’
Even as the Grand Prince, he couldn’t take someone from outside without reason.
And even if he did—he was still just a kid himself. How could he take care of someone else?
“Phew…”
Lost in thought, he suddenly found himself before the shed. He raised his hand and knocked.
Knock, knock.
“Come in!”
Her familiar clear voice answered.
When he opened the door, the inside was warm and clean—much better than he expected.
Rozian didn’t know it, but it was all thanks to Mikael and Hilbenzia, who had repaired the place.
‘Still… it’s not as bad as I thought.’
He had imagined a dark, dusty, cramped room—but instead, it felt surprisingly bright and cozy.
