Chapter 119
As Ianheart instructed, Riana placed her hand on the square-shaped door of the palace and infused it with mana.
The door absorbed the energy with a faint hum, kiing—.
Riana flinched slightly.
“…What was that?”
“Think of it as an entry procedure… I’ll explain properly in a bit.”
When she looked at him with a hint of unease, Ianheart avoided giving a clear answer once again.
A strange sense of déjà vu washed over her.
Hadn’t it been like this when they went to see Petchess last time? He’d dodged questions back then too.
That day had left a deep impression on her, so Riana instinctively braced herself.
Not because she feared something harmful, but because she suspected there might be another surprise waiting.
“…Huh?”
But contrary to her expectation, the space revealed behind the softly opening door was nothing unusual—just a normal-looking interior.
If anything, it was simply a little different in structure compared to the other palaces.
A short hallway stretched out, with doors on either side and one large door at the far end.
“This way first.”
Ianheart guided her to one of the doors on the right.
The moment they stepped inside, Riana couldn’t hide her astonishment.
The spacious room—nearly as wide as the Emerald Palace’s bedchamber—was filled with neatly arranged weapons displayed on racks and in cabinets.
And more than anything, every single one of them radiated unmistakable brilliance. They were all masterpieces.
Riana’s wide-eyed gaze turned to Ianheart.
“A… weapons storage?”
“Mmm, not exactly.”
Then what was this?
“…Ah.”
As she tilted her head, her eyes landed on a greatsword mounted on the central wall.
A broad, thick blade, its edge glowing faintly blue, paired with a simple hilt.
Though plain in design, its presence alone declared it a true masterpiece—far surpassing the greatsword she currently wielded.
“…Can I try it?”
“As much as you want.”
Ianheart readily nodded at her cautious question.
Normally, Riana was not greedy. But when it came to weapons, she couldn’t help herself.
Hadn’t she gone to the Crow’s Nest in Benpul City just to obtain a better sword?
And the blade before her now was in a league of its own.
“…Wow.”
The grip felt as though it had been crafted precisely for her hand, the weight perfectly balanced.
And the faint hum of mana coursing through it revealed just how extraordinary the material’s conductivity was.
It was, without doubt, the finest greatsword Riana had ever seen.
She swung it a few times, face alight with wonder, before her eyes met Ianheart’s fond gaze. Embarrassed, she gave a small smile.
“That one’s yours.”
For a moment, Riana nearly dropped the sword.
“…Mine?”
“Yes.”
At her dumbfounded repetition, Ianheart gave a quiet laugh and nodded.
“You missed your chance to visit the forge last time because of me, remember?”
Last time.
Riana immediately understood which time he meant—the day, months ago, when she had first met him at the Crow’s Nest.
“…You mean back then?”
She asked just to be sure, and Ianheart confirmed it with another nod.
“Does it fit your hand well?”
“Huh? Ah… yes, it does.”
Fit? It fit so perfectly her head was spinning.
“…You’re really giving this to me? I can accept it?”
Riana looked down at the sword in her grip, then back up at him.
And Ianheart, with not the slightest trace of impatience, smiled gently.
“It was made for you. If you don’t use it, no one else can. So don’t refuse.”
If you did… I’d be a little sad.
His quiet, playful words carried the weight of tender insistence.
Of course, she knew others could wield it. But Riana also understood exactly what Ianheart meant.
And she knew he hadn’t been joking about being sad.
“…I’ll use it well.”
“Good.”
“Really… thank you. Truly.”
Her voice was low and awkward, her heart pounding faster than usual, but the gratitude was sincere.
Ianheart chuckled softly.
“If you think of me whenever you look at it, that’d be even better.”
I already do, every day.
Instead of answering aloud, Riana simply nodded. She knew she wouldn’t be able to look at the blade without thinking of him anyway.
“Then, shall we move on to the next room?”
“…There’s more?”
“Maybe.”
At his evasive reply, Riana curiously followed him back out, carefully setting the greatsword aside.
This time, Ianheart kept hold of her shoulder instead of reaching for her hand as he led her across the hall.
The left room revealed yet another surprise.
Bookshelves—over ten of them—lined the space, each one filled with texts.
And not just any texts. Every single volume was about enchantments.
Ancient tomes no longer found in circulation.
Guides to magical sigils for weapons, armor, ornaments, and other tools.
Explanations of enchantment principles.
Treatises on efficiency.
Riana couldn’t pretend not to know what this meant.
Ianheart’s warm voice broke the silence.
“Have you looked around?”
She nodded numbly, her eyes trembling as they turned toward him.
And Ianheart gave a quiet smile, as if to say her guess was correct.
Really…
“Now, the last room.”
“…Is it what I think it is?”
“Probably.”
With a teasing grin, he led her to the large door at the end of the hall.
This time, he stepped aside and gestured toward it.
“Go ahead.”
Unlike the previous rooms, he left everything—from opening the door to stepping inside—to her.
Riana didn’t refuse.
Click.
The knob turned smoothly, and the door swung open with no resistance.
She stepped in, breath catching in her throat.
For a moment, she squeezed her eyes shut—not because she didn’t want to look, but because she feared she might be overwhelmed.
“….”
When she finally opened them, she almost trembled.
A large, sturdy desk.
Enchanting tools neatly arranged across its surface.
Stacks of magic stones, sorted by size and grade.
And an interior tailored to her tastes, through and through.
Riana knew instantly.
This was a space created solely for her.
A gift, prepared by the man now standing behind her.
Ianheart moved to her side, looking oddly uneasy for once.
“…When did you prepare all this?”
Her voice cracked—it was the lump in her throat.
Seeing her reaction, his own expression softened into relief.
“Maybe three weeks ago? I thought you’d like having a workshop of your own. You enjoy making magical tools, don’t you?”
“….”
“So when you bought weapons for practice the other day, I nearly panicked. I was worried you’d catch on.”
His tone was playful, but gentle.
As Riana lowered her gaze, Ianheart brushed her hand, stroking and tapping it lightly as he continued in a calm voice.
“No one else knows about this place. No one can even enter without your permission.”
“…How?”
“I had a bit of help from Petchess. I wish I’d managed it all myself, but my ability only goes so far.”
His lighthearted chuckle only made Riana’s chest tighten further.
This man…
Her lips trembled as she bit them.
Then, without warning—
“…!”
Riana threw herself into his arms.
Startled, Ianheart instinctively pulled her close, holding her firmly.
Her face pressed against his chest, her voice muffled.
“It’s far too generous a gift…”
And she meant every word.
