Episode 32
Ryan’s brow creased at Melody’s overly dramatic praise—but he quickly softened, speaking with smooth charm.
“How could I forget such a beautiful woman as you? Are you healed? It pains me that my actions caused you harm—even if it was the Duke’s doing.”
“Thanks to your concern, I recovered without a single scar.”
“Still, I can’t let this go.”
He offered a box of gold coins.
“I hear you are a magic tool maker. How about I become your patron as compensation?”
“I’m deeply honoured, Your Highness. I’m just an imperfect tool maker…” Melody met his gaze and smiled.
“I truly… thank you, Your Highness.”
Her sincere response caused his expression to flicker.
“So you’ll leave the Duke’s manor and work for me?”
“Yes, Your Highness. Nothing compares to the imperial palace. I love money, and I’d love to work where I’m paid well. My skills may be modest compared to temple creators, but I’ll work hard.”
Her admiration for the coins was genuine.
“You worked at the manor only for money?”
Leaning on his elbow, he watched her, though he soon looked bored again.
“I once worked a year without pay. It was awful.”
“How much?”
“Fifty silver coins.”
“Silver? Not gold?”
“Yes, Your Highness. I stayed for food. Otherwise, I might have built an exploding tool to blow it all up—and ended up in a holy prison.”
“To blow it up…?”
Ryan stared at Melody in disbelief.
“But it was your workshop, wasn’t it?”
“A paid employer is still an employer. I’m not a knight. And a whole year, Your Highness.”
“That’s harsh.”
Anger welled as she remembered the injustice, and she clenched her fists.
“So I decided then: I will work only where I’m paid well. I won’t sell my talent or mind for cheap.”
His eyebrow rose.
“You said your skills are modest?”
“Skills grow with practice.”
She said it cheerfully.
“Though temple supervisors scolded me daily, having a workshop in the palace? My father would be proud!”
At that moment, his expression stiffened.
“The palace?”
“Of course!”
Melody’s eyes gleamed as she continued.
“If I work for the Crown Prince, charging to the palace is only natural, right? You’re lending your name on these tools…!”
He cleared his throat.
“Yes. Someone working for me will obviously join the palace.”
He looked uneasy, but as someone who valued public image, he couldn’t argue. Melody clasped her hands in delight.
“Heavenly! A palace magic tool maker! What an honour, Your Highness! I may not be the best, but I will craft the finest tools—even for the Emperor…”
“Hold on.”
Ryan raised a hand, cutting off her excitement.
“The Emperor does not care for magic tools.”
His firm tone carried a hint of annoyance. He likely never intended to bring her into the palace—he avoided drawing the Emperor’s attention.
“Ah, I see,” she said, nodding innocently.
“Well then,” she continued, “to let nobles know I work for you…”
“Hold it. Why keep giving things away?” he interrupted.
“To announce that I belong to you!”
His pupils widened for an instant.
“I’d like to plaster flyers across the capital—my best are the palace’s wall lamps—and replace them all with my tools…”
“Stop.”
He set down his teacup with a clink.
“We’ll end here today and speak details later.”
“When is ‘later’?”
Melody leaned forward, eager. He leaned back.
“My schedule’s full. We’ll see when I’m free.”
“How about next week, Your Highness?”
“You’ll know when the time comes.”
“And the week after? If I visit your quarters, maybe…?”
Melody leaned in, trying to secure a promise—but Ryan’s eyes flashed.
“How dare you enter freely? The palace isn’t open to just anyone.”
He frowned and summoned his steward.
“Bring her here no more. I forgot I meet with the High Priestess today.”
“Sir? That’s tomorrow—”
“Not tomorrow—today!”
Their hushed argument played out as Melody maintained her bright smile.
“Good night, Your Highness. I’ll look forward to seeing you again.”
He hurried off, looking like he was fleeing.
‘I did it!’ she thought triumphantly. He’ll never look for me—she celebrated in her heart.
Ryan felt like he’d stepped in something foul.
Earlier that morning, his mood had been fine—even though today was the day of the Sacred Council meeting. While he sat before the mirror, being adorned by the handmaidens, he addressed his steward.
“I’m going to see that woman.”
“You mean the Countess of Yunaud? But Your Highness, she returned to the capital two days ago. Wouldn’t it be awkward if you met the Count?”
Ryan shot his steward a glare.
“Don’t pretend not to understand—my relationship with her was settled weeks ago!”
“Seven days ago, Your Highness.”
Ryan clicked his tongue, annoyed.
“That’s not the issue… I’m going to the Duke’s manor.”
“Oh—then who should I inform…?”
“The magic tool maker.”
“Pardon? Which Madame is that?”
“The one at the Duke’s house—the toolmaker I’ve heard of.”
As Ryan strode away, his steward hurried to open the door.
“So… what about the Sacred Council today?”
Ryan turned with a sharp, piercing look.
“I’m going to the Duke’s.”
His voice was low and icy. The steward nodded silently and followed without further question.
A Sacred Council meeting. After the Emperor’s orders, Ryan attended once—never again. Balls at least had dancing and wine; the Council was pure torture.
Nobles from all over would gather to debate church politics, monsters, and magical barriers. And always at the center of the talk was Deonis.
“His Grace the Duke has slain a beast in the Malakar Mountains, unlike Your Highness…”
“Do you know how many people suffer when the barrier breaks? It’s by the Duke’s efforts that it stands at all. Yet—”
Each time they praised Deonis, Ryan ground his teeth. He would have been content if Deonis were only good for monster-hunting! But comparing him to Ryan? The nerve!
