Chapter 55
Diarmid had never been the kind of man to concern himself with others.
To him, the only thing that truly mattered was his own strength.
But this time, even he couldn’t help but pay attention to someone else.
‘That is…’
Each maid and mage passing by was holding a small packet of cookies.
Apparently, that girl had handed them out herself.
‘So I’m the only one who didn’t receive any.’
Before he realized it, Diarmid found himself walking toward where Jaina usually was.
He called for Izren, who—despite having become a formal knight—still remained loyally at Jaina’s side.
“Where is she now?”
At Diarmid’s question, Izren answered fluently in the Empire’s tongue—a reward for his three years of diligent study.
“Ah, she was just handing out cookies to people nearby. She’ll be back soon.”
“I see.”
There was something strangely expectant about Diarmid’s face, which made Izren tilt his head curiously.
After a while, Diarmid finally encountered Jaina, just as he had hoped.
Over the past three years, Jaina’s wariness toward him had eased considerably.
And Diarmid, for his part, had begun to drop by her room occasionally to share tea.
They hardly spoke during those visits, but still—it was progress.
‘Ah, Sir Izren must be back.’
Jaina hurried over to where Izren was standing by her door and handed him some cookies and a small floral decoration.
“Thank you. Oh, this is the topiary you made before, isn’t it?”
Izren’s face brightened as he recognized the small potted arrangement Jaina had made from greenhouse flowers.
“I remembered you said your room felt a little empty.”
Izren smiled, completely forgetting that Diarmid was standing nearby watching them.
The two laughed and chatted for a while, until Izren suddenly turned—and froze.
There stood Diarmid, eyes cold enough to make the air itself feel icy.
Izren had no idea what he’d done wrong, but instinct screamed that he should leave immediately.
He quickly bowed to Diarmid and retreated to his own quarters.
Unfortunately for Diarmid, the day’s humiliation didn’t end there.
Still hovering around Jaina afterward, he happened to see her handing a floral topiary to Michael as well.
“Sir Michael, I only gave you cookies earlier. This is a topiary I made.”
“Oh, you made more than just cookies— huh!”
The moment Michael met Diarmid’s eyes, he froze, muttered something about having business elsewhere, and fled.
Jaina blinked in confusion at the two men who’d abruptly walked off, but quickly shrugged it off.
Diarmid glanced down at his empty hands. Then, wordlessly, he turned and strode toward Hilbenzia’s lab.
“Hilbenzia. I’m coming in.”
“Yes, Archmage.”
He’d originally come to discuss a new reagent formula, but as he spoke, his gaze drifted over the piles of reports on her desk.
“Using the materials you provided, I’ve continued the experiments…”
While explaining her research, Hilbenzia suddenly sensed something off.
Diarmid’s gaze wasn’t on her—rather, it was fixed behind her.
She turned—and inwardly winced.
‘Ah. Right.’
Jaina had just visited earlier and gifted her a topiary. It was sitting prettily on her desk.
“…At this rate, I’m not sure when the reagent will be ready,” Diarmid muttered, tone heavy. “Without divine intervention, even curing someone may be beyond human reach.”
Today, his mood was particularly foul.
Hilbenzia, quick as ever, immediately pieced together the reason.
‘He must be frustrated that his research isn’t progressing.’
That was one possibility—but her instincts said otherwise.
Though Diarmid had never once mentioned Jaina to her directly, his gaze had been fixed on that topiary the entire time.
‘For someone who claims not to care, he’s awfully preoccupied.’
Three years had been enough to thaw his frozen heart—but not enough to melt the walls around the child’s.
‘Maybe things went wrong from the start.’
No, that wasn’t quite right either.
If anything, she had been the one who made a mess of things—talking about creating potions with dragon’s blood when they first met.
Still, at least now Jaina was making and exchanging gifts with people.
‘She probably trusts me most.’
Hilbenzia had never asked Jaina outright, but she liked to think so.
Smiling to herself, she shrugged, then glanced back at Diarmid.
‘Is it just his personality? Or is this about Lady Bezriche…?’
Hilbenzia had noticed Diarmid was trying, in his own awkward way.
He’d given Jaina a spacious room, maids, and even allowed outsiders into the Tower to teach her.
And yet—father and daughter remained painfully distant.
Deciding she ought to step in for Jaina’s sake (and not for Diarmid’s), Hilbenzia resolved to broach the topic herself.
She would rather lose her place as Jaina’s closest protector than risk another dragon attack catching them unprepared.
The next day, Hilbenzia approached Jaina carefully.
“Jaina, dear. Did you perhaps forget to give the Archmage any cookies or a topiary?”
Jaina blinked, clearly surprised.
“Should I give some to him, too?”
“Hm?”
“Well… he did let me stay in the Tower, and I am grateful. But I thought he’d get angry if I did.”
Hilbenzia nodded; it wasn’t an unreasonable thought.
She gently suggested that Diarmid had lately developed a taste for sweets, and that giving flowers alongside cookies wouldn’t hurt.
“Really? Hmm… come to think of it, he did let me have dessert at our last tea time. Said it was better than throwing food away…”
After some thought, Jaina decided to prepare a gift for him too.
She asked Izren for help and waited along one of the corridors Diarmid usually passed.
Finally, she saw him.
“Um… Archmage.”
“What is it.”
Now that he was actually in front of her, Jaina hesitated.
Seeing his cold, unreadable expression, she suddenly felt that her handmade cookies might be doomed to end up in the trash.
Still, she gathered her courage.
“Archmage, I’ve been giving cookies to people around the Tower… Would you like some too? I thought you wouldn’t, so I hadn’t made any for you specifically.”
For a heartbeat, Diarmid’s heart dropped.
“…No, that’s fine.”
He couldn’t bring himself to say he wanted them, and turned to leave.
He headed straight for Michael’s room.
“Michael. Do you truly need that flower?”
Thud.
The question hit like a thunderbolt.
Michael’s face drained of color.
‘Don’t tell me… he’s going to take my topiary?!’
Realizing the Archmage wanted one, Michael bolted to Jaina’s room.
“You—uh—do you have any topiaries left?”
“What?”
“Uh, well… it’s just that the Archmage seemed… interested in them.”
“No way. I asked him directly if he wanted one. He said no.”
“…Still, don’t you think it’s kind of rude if everyone else has one except him?”
Michael urged her, terrified that Diarmid might come after his.
“Well… I guess that makes sense. I did make a few extras anyway.”
Michael silently cheered—only for Jaina to snatch the pot out of his reach.
“I’ll give it to him myself.”
“Archmage, would you accept my gift?”
“…”
“I know you already have everything you could ever need, but I really wanted to thank you properly.”
“…Very well.”
Diarmid accepted the flowers and cookies with his usual bluntness.
Then, unexpectedly, he said,
“In one week, at eight o’clock. Wait for me here.”
“…What?”
“Do you have other plans?”
“No, not really, but—”
“Then it’s settled.”
With that, he disappeared as abruptly as he’d come.
When Jaina returned to her room, she gathered Michael, Hilbenzia, and Izren to discuss what had just happened.
“So he told you to wait there in a week at eight o’clock? Has he lost his mind?”
“What could he possibly be planning?”
“…I see.”
None of them took the Archmage’s words lightly.
“Pretend to be sick that day! Whatever happens, don’t go, got it?!” Michael barked.
“I don’t think it’s dangerous,” Hilbenzia mused. “If he meant you harm, he wouldn’t go to such lengths.”
“I’ll go with her,” Izren said firmly.
Michael continued to oppose the idea, but in the end, Hilbenzia and Izren convinced Jaina it would be fine—as long as Izren accompanied her.
On the appointed day, Diarmid’s expression hardened the instant he saw Izren following.
“Leave him.”
“But…”
“You are my knight, not hers. Who is protecting whom here?”
Leaving the confused Izren behind, Diarmid turned to Jaina.
“Take hold of my sleeve.”
The warning Michael had once given her flashed through Jaina’s mind.
“The Archmage hates being touched. Like, obsessive-level hates it.”
She hesitated—but ignoring his command didn’t seem wise either.
Cautiously, she looked up at him.
For some reason, she felt certain he wouldn’t hurt her.
“Come.”
At his quiet urging, Jaina reached out and lightly grasped the edge of his long sleeve—just as she had that day when he saved her from the dragon.
The instant her fingers touched the fabric—
Woom!
The ground trembled beneath them, and in a blink, the scenery warped.
She caught one last glimpse of Izren’s wide-eyed face in the distance—
—and then, he vanished from sight.
