FWDA 63

Chapter 63

“All that effort finally paid off.”

He had been rolling and crawling under Ellia’s command all this time.

Ellia was not the sort of person to go easy on someone just because they were her child—if anything, she was harsher.

“You’ve wasted enough time playing. You’ll have to work twice as hard to make up for it.”

When Rozian declared that he wanted to properly learn swordsmanship, Ellia warned him it would be far more grueling than he imagined.

And she was right.

The fact that Rozian was only twelve years old didn’t matter to her in the least.
What mattered was how desperate he was.

“Your desperation will show in your results.”

There were many times when Rozian wanted to give up.

By nature, he was more suited to being a carefree loafer than a disciplined knight.

But whenever that thought came to mind, he would recall Jeina—and gather himself again.

“Jeina risked her life and ran into the fire, even though she’s younger than me.”

Whenever he remembered how powerless he’d been that day, his fists clenched of their own accord.
He felt ashamed—pathetic—for being so weak.

Through that blood-and-sweat effort, Rozian had reached a point where he could now hold his own against trained knights.

“So… I think I deserve to act a little spoiled once in a while.”

He had always been the type to talk back to Ellia and Michael, even when he was younger, so the thought of real combat didn’t frighten him much.

“It feels nice being praised by Miss Jeina.”

Completely unaware that Rozian was only pretending to be bashful, Jeina gently patted his back for a while, then looked at him and said,

“You seem so different from when I first met you, Your Highness.”

“You think so too, Miss Jeina?”

Rozian’s smile bloomed like a flower sprinkled with water.

Watching him now, looking more mature than before, Jeina suddenly realized—he really did seem like the imperial grandson of the Empire.

“He just never had the chance before… but he really is the protagonist of the story, after all.”

“Actually, it’s all thanks to you, Miss Jeina.”

“Thanks to me? What do you mean?”

“I started learning swordsmanship because I was worried about you.”

His tone was light, but Jeina noticed the tips of his ears reddening.

“Since you’re a dragonkin, you have to live carefully so humans don’t notice, and… you’ll live far longer than any human.”

Gone was his usual sly smile—Rozian spoke with rare seriousness.

“Remember when you ran into that burning house? I was so worried I couldn’t sit still. But there was nothing I could do. That’s when I realized what it feels like when your heart sinks.”

“……”

“I used to wonder why Brother Michael cares for you so much… and then one day, I found myself doing the same thing. Thinking about you all the time, worrying, putting you before anyone else… When I think about that, I guess…”

Rozian scratched his cheek awkwardly, his entire face now flushed red.

And in his eyes—Jeina’s reflection filled them completely.

“I think I… like you, Miss Jeina—”

He ducked his head, unable to meet her gaze.
Just as Jeina opened her mouth to say something—

A mocking voice interrupted.

“What’s this, a confession?”

It was a boy’s voice, snickering nearby.

“Arnen.”

Rozian’s head snapped up, his expression hardening instantly—a very different look from when he faced Jeina.

* * *

Emperor Erga of the Dellaid Empire had, aside from his deceased children, two surviving offspring: Princess Ellia, the elder, and Prince Kelvent, the younger.

Unlike Princess Ellia, who had excelled in both the civil and martial arts from a young age, Prince Kelvent was infamous for his poor character and frail body.

“Her Highness Ellia is far more suited to be the next Emperor.”

Thus, the nobles unanimously supported Ellia as heir to the throne.
As the firstborn and a capable leader, even Emperor Erga had little objection.

However, there was one problem.

If Ellia became emperor, her only son, Rozian, would naturally be the crown prince—
and Rozian resembled his mother in neither temperament nor demeanor.

Moreover, Ellia herself had no great interest in power.
She believed she could serve the Empire in other ways, even without the throne.

“His Majesty is still in good health.”

Becoming crown princess would only bind her with political constraints, so she delayed her appointment and focused instead on her duties as knight commander.

Even so, most people assumed the throne would one day be hers.

But Kelvent and his close circle thought differently.

Ambition had taken root in their hearts.

“Prince Rozian lacks the qualities to be emperor. It would be best if Her Highness Ellia adopted her nephew and named him heir—but for the sake of legitimacy, wouldn’t it be better if Prince Kelvent succeeded instead?”
“Indeed, His Highness Kelvent has recently gained much popular support.”

Of course, only fools like Kelvent and his cronies would think such nonsense. The Emperor himself never once considered Kelvent a successor.

“Arnen, once I become Emperor, the throne will one day be yours.”

Unaware of reality, Kelvent would summon his son Arnen and smile greedily, dreaming of an impossible future.
And his aides, ever sycophantic, would flatter him.

“Prince Rozian hardly behaves like Her Highness Ellia’s son.”
“Exactly. Unlike you and Prince Kelvent, he’s far too unruly.”

Then one day, Rozian suddenly changed.

He began earnest sword training and diligent study.

Soon, the people hailed him as a reformed prince—his childish rebellion now seen as mere youthful wandering.

As talk of succession swung back toward Ellia, Kelvent and Arnen seethed.

They blamed Rozian for everything.

“If it weren’t for that brat Rozian… I could’ve been crown prince! What does he even have that I don’t?”

Since Ellia had given birth late, Arnen and Rozian were the same age—cousins born in the same year.

“We’re equals by birth, yet his status is leagues above mine. I’m the Emperor’s grandson too!”

From then on, Arnen picked fights with Rozian whenever he could.

Today was no exception.
He had come to find Rozian, having heard there was a social gathering.

“Rozian Dellaid, I thought you’d stopped chasing girls around by now.”

“And you’ve started chasing me instead, huh?”

Rozian smirked, not a hint of embarrassment remaining.

That relaxed smile only made Arnen grind his teeth.

“I—I’m just saying! As a member of the royal family, your behavior is disgraceful—”

“Arnen. How long are you going to keep pestering me? I’m not interested in men. Especially immature cousins.”

“Rozian! Don’t twist my words!”

“Rozian! Don’t twist my words~”

“Stop mimicking me!”

“Stop mimicking me~”

“Argh!”

Rozian burst out laughing at Arnen’s furious face.

“Arnen, you shouldn’t get jealous just because I’m not paying attention to you. You’re cute in your own way.”

“You’re always like this!”

“So you’re saying you didn’t come just to follow me around?”

“Of course not!”

“Then we’ll be going. You can stay here and have fun. Bye.”

Rozian took Jeina’s hand and walked away.

Watching their retreating figures, Arnen’s expression suddenly stiffened.

“Wait… that’s not like him.”

Normally, Rozian would keep teasing him until Arnen stormed off.

“He left that fast… like he didn’t want me to see that girl.”

Arnen recalled the report he’d received from a maid.

“The child living in the Mage Tower was seen accompanying Her Highness Ellia to a social gathering. Apparently, she’s close with Archmage Diarmid too—they even went together to a concert.”

A child backed by two powerful figures—and Rozian’s obvious interest in her?

“No way I’m letting this go.”

Good thing he’d followed Rozian today.

The so-called reformed prince, suddenly obsessed with swordsmanship, now personally escorting a girl in a carriage?

You’d have to be an idiot not to see what that meant.

“That girl must be the one Rozian likes. She’s not bad-looking either. If I can make her fall for me instead, Rozian will be the one begging for forgiveness.”

Arnen smirked darkly and pulled a small communication orb from his coat.

“Hey, you guys—ditch your uniforms and dress like thugs.”