chapter 43
“Bracelet? Are you finally making me your fiancée—”
“That’s not what this is.”
“Oh, what a pity. But if you ever want to get engaged to me, just say the word. I’ll be waiting.”
If only you were healthy, an engagement might not be so hard to arrange.
Damian swallowed that thought with a sigh before it could escape his lips.
Because of that, he didn’t notice how Melanie’s cheeks turned pink as she stroked the bracelet, or how she had mentioned “engagement” just to hide her embarrassment.
“Thank you, Tower Master. I’ll wear it well. This is actually the first time I’ve ever received something like this.”
Did that Polius bastard never give her a single gift even though he was her fiancé?
All she received was a bracelet, and yet she acted like it was something unfamiliar.
But what really bothered him most was her wrist.
How could she have gotten thinner after only a few days?
‘I did choose a purple mana stone, at least.’
He consoled himself with the thought that the color suited her well.
Damian nervously watched as Melanie put on the bracelet he had given her.
“It doesn’t symbolize an engagement, but it does contain my magic. It might help reduce your pain.”
“……”
“Representative Clotilde?”
But Melanie’s expression after wearing it was strange.
“Are you feeling pain again? Or did putting on the bracelet make something worse?”
Startled, Damian quickly approached her, worried she might be hurting again. He was about to call for someone when—
“Tower Master.”
Damian froze where he stood.
Melanie was looking up at him, her voice clearer than before.
“The pain… it’s gone. It feels just like when I received the blessing of a fairy.”
She had pinpointed exactly what Damian had hoped for.
He stared at her, speechless.
Melanie smiled brightly, saying she felt refreshed, her face lighter and more peaceful than he’d ever seen it.
“This feels so strange. I couldn’t live without painkillers for so long… Is this what a world without pain feels like?”
“Of course, your illness isn’t cured. The condition seems the same. But as you said, you really don’t appear to feel much pain anymore.”
“How odd. Why does it hurt less if I’m not actually cured?”
Just as the physician had said when he examined her, the illness hadn’t disappeared.
However, without the side effects from painkillers and freed from constant suffering, Melanie looked far more at ease.
“Ah, actually… I’d been gradually increasing the dose of my painkillers. This is really incredible.”
Melanie was a cautious person—especially when it came to her father.
“But I’d like to delay telling Father for a little while. Just in case this is only temporary…”
Her illness had lasted for so many years.
There had been times when she had shown signs of recovery before, moments when she even believed she was getting better.
So she wanted to be sure before sharing the news.
* * *
While Melanie had collapsed from illness, Polius had been busy with other matters.
He had dropped by to check on how The Thirteenth Knight production was going—
only to be ambushed by actor Robio Tamdaje, who had been waiting for him.
“With equipment that’s twenty years old, how are we supposed to film? At this point, I’m more worried about accidents than quality!”
“Hey, I told you I want to replace it, didn’t I?”
“You said if we waited a little longer you’d replace it, so I postponed that part of the schedule—”
Polius pressed his throbbing temples and looked away from the man before him.
Robio’s voice grew sharper at the sight of Polius’s disinterested attitude.
He had been the one taking the lead, shouldering responsibility because at least Polius would listen to him.
But Polius clearly had no intention of putting in the effort to produce a proper recording stone for The Thirteenth Knight.
“I thought all recording stones were like the ones used by Black Moon, but I guess I was wrong.”
“What?”
“You think you can outdo Black Moon just by throwing money around and printing articles? Do you think noise and pomp will make everything work?”
There wasn’t even a competent director.
They were already selling the theater building, so they had to rent a place to film.
At a time when they should be pouring their hearts into it, Polius wasn’t even watching how things were going—and he wasn’t planning to invest either.
“At this rate, we’ll all go under—”
“Enough!”
Polius shot up from his seat and shouted.
The sudden burst of anger left Robio staring blankly up at him.
“Listen, Robio Tamdaje. You already signed the contract. Just act as you’re told. Investment is my responsibility.”
“But—”
“Shut your mouth, you lowborn!”
The insult, so openly wielding his social status, left Robio speechless.
“What…”
“The reason we can’t afford new equipment is your appearance fee!”
That wasn’t true.
Robio had actually accepted the lower fee Polius offered, thinking the project was meaningful.
“Then why did you cast me in the first place? Just so you could blame me for everything?!”
Polius stormed away with large, hurried strides, ignoring Robio’s voice behind him.
“In that case, The Thirteenth Knight should’ve been left as a cherished memory for everyone!”
But that last sentence pierced straight into Polius’s chest.
‘Damn it…’
He hated it because he knew Robio wasn’t entirely wrong.
This wasn’t the first time Robio and the production team had protested so fiercely.
Until now, Polius had kept postponing decisions, assuming that Melanie would eventually accept his offer to become co-director of Black Moon with him.
But after she refused—and the promised deadline arrived—he could delay no longer.
Staff were leaving because they hadn’t been paid.
Progress was stalling as he tried to replace them.
Quality was deteriorating.
‘What am I supposed to do if there’s no money?’
He wanted to call back the people from the Velderte Troupe, but Melanie had already taken them away.
Hiring new people, calculating production costs—it was all exhausting.
If the budget is limited, where should you cut costs, and where should you invest?
How do you even know if the production funds are being used properly?
He’d never realized how competent the Velderte troupe members were until now.
And since this was a new medium—recording stones instead of stage plays—it was even more of a headache.
‘Damn it, how did Melanie even manage to make those recording stones?’
He had thought it would be easy, since she had done it.
Polius cursed and ruffled his hair in frustration, his throat dry.
At least the theater building he’d put up for quick sale had finally been sold.
‘Phew, finally—money.’
Polius counted the payment he’d received.
Given the building’s location, the price was ridiculously low, and Josephine hadn’t been pleased.
“No matter how you look at it, there was no need to sell it so hastily—”
“Lord Polius, you’re amazing!”
But Clara was always there to bolster him.
“When ordinary people hesitate and panic, great people make decisions. That’s what makes them extraordinary!”
“Ha-ha, you think so?”
“Anyone can follow the crowd—but it takes courage to say no when everyone else says yes. That’s who you are, Lord Polius!”
Polius puffed up with pride, clearing his throat a few times.
He could already picture himself basking in success, while Melanie regretted breaking off their engagement.
He didn’t think Clara’s flattery had swayed him.
No—he believed he had made a wise decision.
‘Josephine’s not stupid, but it’s true that Clara—who’s succeeded in business—feels more trustworthy.’
To top it off, Clara had even used her network to find him a mage who could help produce the recording stones.
“Black Moon was made under the Magic Tower’s supervision, so stealing their techniques is almost impossible. Imperial mages won’t dare touch a project like that.”
“Then what do we do?”
“…Luckily, I know some foreign mages.”
After a short pause, Clara smiled sweetly.
“I’ll introduce you to someone reliable. Don’t worry—just trust me.”
