Episode 33
All through the Sacred Council, he’d wanted nothing more than to force that beast’s pathetic moans to fill the room. If they learned he was a mage, every mouth would snap shut instantly.
‘Do you know how many knives were sharpened the day I claimed your position? If I killed him, the old emperor’s loyalists would all turn on me. Is that what you want? A nation soaking in blood again?’
‘But…!’
‘Leave the Duke be. He serves the Empire’s rough work.’
If not for the Emperor’s plea, he would have done it long ago.
Ryan felt like he was hanging over an abyss. Every time he saw the Emperor’s gentle eyes shining on Deonis, every time he was blamed for failing to surpass that beast, he felt suffocated.
‘So you must give me something in return—for balance.’
Ryan raced to the Duke’s manor to find the magic tool maker.
“Your Highness, the tool maker is out. Shall I send for her?”
“No,” he replied calmly. “I’ll wait.”
He dared not leave a bad impression—he’d wait.
Minutes dragged. His patience, unseen before, held firm. Finally, she appeared.
“Your Highness,” she said.
The woman in the pale apricot dress was even more beautiful than he remembered. Her delicate features reminded him of a rabbit, and her smile—a shy dimple—melted his remaining anger about making her wait.
Then she spoke—and Ryan felt the mud under his feet again:
“I like money.”
She said it without shame.
“I’ll do my best to make magic tools for the Emperor!”
Clueless.
“And the Duke’s home… it’s nothing compared to the Imperial Palace.”
He turned away in a flash of disinterest.
He couldn’t let a lowborn, incompetent tool maker run around the palace. The Emperor hated nothing more than incompetence—and he hated Ryan’s foolishness a close second. The moment she strutted around the palace, his reputation would crumble.
“Enough,” he said.
She was a mistake Deonis had made. Judging by her acceptance, he was done with her.
“I forgot I have an appointment.”
But his steward—horrendously clueless—added to the mess:
“Your Highness, you have no appointments today.”
Ryan glared.
“I forget the meeting with the Deputy High Priest is today.”
“But Your Highness, it’s tomorrow.”
“Do you think I wouldn’t know that?”
The steward stumbled:
“Why didn’t you tell me? And did you… set a private meeting without notice?”
Ryan ground his teeth.
“I said stop going.”
He strode toward the door, the steward scrambling behind.
“Then… when shall I arrange your next meeting with the tool maker?”
Ryan responded with a cold glare.
Stepping out of the Duke’s manor feeling as if he’d walked through mud, Ryan spotted the Duke’s carriage returning.
“Damn it—use the back entrance,” he ordered the coachman.
The Duke stepped down, unsteady on his feet. Ryan watched closely as he walked—not toward him, but to the woman who’d been with Ryan moments ago.
He noticed her worried gaze and saw the Duke’s face soften and relax.
“Interesting,” Ryan muttered, a cruel smile twisting his lips.
The carriage rumbled loudly as it passed through the Duke’s main gate.
“Here he comes!” Anna cried before Melody even finished turning.
Melody dashed to the entrance. The door of the halted carriage swung open, and Deonis appeared—not his usual calm self.
His silver hair was messy, his eyes bloodshot and unsteady. Pain’s mark was etched deep into his face. Melody bit her lip without knowing why.
“…Welcome back,” she whispered.
Deonis didn’t respond. Instead, he lifted his body upright with great effort and took a step forward—then swayed violently.
Without hesitation, Melody caught him in her arms. She didn’t think about whether the Crown Prince was still in the house, or if servants were watching.
“Are you alright?” she asked.
“It hurts. So much,” he breathed.
Melody felt her heart tighten. Deonis never showed pain—even through the final chapter of the book he appeared in, his identity as a mage was hidden because of his stoicism.
Yet now, he confessed his suffering.
“You held on well,” she soothed.
“Yeah,” he murmured.
“You seem more human now.”
“Not a ghost,” he replied with a weak smile.
Melody matched his tone with her own gentle laugh.
“Let’s get you inside to rest.”
That comforting moment didn’t last.
“As the Sacred Council ends, I see,” a familiar voice announced as they moved inside—Ryan had entered the mansion.
His blue eyes met Melody’s sharply from beneath his cobalt hair. A twisted smile flickered at his lips.
Why are you still here?! Melody’s heart raced as she realized she was still holding Deonis’s arm.
This looks too intimate… Please no.
She subtly withdrew her hand, only to see Ryan’s smirk deepen—an ember rekindled in his expression.
No!
She silently dreaded the trouble to come.
“What business brings you here, Crown Prince?” Melody asked. “Isn’t it too early for a night’s entertainment?”
She looked up to see that Ryan had blocked Deonis’s broad shoulders with his presence.
Amused, Ryan spoke:
“I came to see the tool maker. I think we need to finish that conversation.”
At those words, Deonis’s shoulder tensed, and an ominous presence filled him.
“So, you’re looking for the tool maker? Planning another monster hunt?”
Melody bit her lip as Ryan interrupted gently:
“I want wall sconces made. Why go to every other tool maker in the temple when I can find one of mine?”
Ignoring Deonis, Ryan turned to Melody:
“Now that you’ll be working in the palace, tell me—when do you start? I’ll pay whatever you want. You’ll be the Crown Prince’s official maker. Speak freely, go wherever you wish.”
As the words hit home, Melody reluctantly met Deonis’s blood-red eyes. His stare was sharper than anything she’d seen since he forced her into a contract.
“Did you say you want to become the Crown Prince’s person?” he echoed ice-cold.
