Chapter 24
Demeidian’s intentions were known not to be malicious, even to Duke Vladimire.
In reality, the two kids had only exchanged a pitiful greeting from more than ten meters apart before parting ways.
So by now, Winter was probably safely on the ship, heading toward Manutra Island.
But regardless of that, Duke Vladimire felt a sudden urge to test this audacious little one.
“You ungrateful little brat. Do you really think I’d let you go just like that?”
“…I’m prepared for whatever comes.”
Receiving the overwhelming aura of the duke—an aura that even adults would flinch at—Demeidian’s face went pale.
Yet the small child didn’t flinch in the slightest, answering calmly.
At that sight, Duke Vladimire raised the corner of his lips slightly.
He was reminded of his daughter, who had once declared with sparkling eyes:
‘Mom, I think you’d be able to handle your work much better than you think.’
Although he didn’t particularly like that face that so closely resembled the late Queen Michelle, Duke Vladimire had already made a promise to Winter.
He would take care of this arrogant little child until she grew up and could be responsible for herself.
Of course, “taking care” would be done in Duke Vladimire’s own way.
“Prepared, huh? Very well. Let’s see just how much determination you have.”
With that, Duke Vladimire called Nayla, who had been waiting outside the room.
“Take this one and train her rigorously starting today. When she grows up, she will be placed as a member of the Secret Guard to fulfill her role.”
Nayla flinched at the sudden order. They had never admitted someone this young into the Secret Guard before.
But such personal impressions didn’t matter. Nayla was someone who would follow Duke Vladimire’s orders unquestioningly, even if it meant making a dog fly.
“…Yes, sir.”
Bowing briefly, Nayla led Demeidian out.
From that day on, hellish days began for Demeidian.
In addition to learning swordsmanship from Eustace, she had to undergo training in ambushes, poisonings, and other missions to join the Secret Guard.
Demeidian trained relentlessly every day—both magic and physical conditioning, along with swordsmanship.
But the more she tried, the more she felt as if she were sinking into a deep pit of inadequacy.
“…This isn’t enough. This… this won’t do…”
Her magic couldn’t even bloom a single flower, and she fell into despair daily.
“Then develop it in another way. Make it useful for your lady, if possible.”
Following the instructions of the mage who had taken Winter away, she tried to control the magic she had started to awaken, but failure was constant.
With her natural magic, she couldn’t even save Winter, let alone provide her with meaningful help.
The one who comforted Demeidian in her despair was none other than Hanta.
Because Winter had called him her uncle, Hanta could occasionally meet Demeidian on the days he delivered goods to Duke Vladimire’s estate.
Fortunately, swordsmanship and handling magic were Hanta’s areas of expertise.
Demeidian was naturally talented, so nothing was particularly difficult for her, but Hanta’s casual guidance often helped more than she expected.
At first, Demeidian thought Hanta was a strange person, but over time, she became close enough to occasionally start conversations with him—even if she didn’t fully trust him.
And the fact that Hanta was secretly overjoyed by this was not exactly a secret.
Elisson had been watching for opportunities, hoping Demeidian would become close to Hanta.
When Demeidian turned twelve, Elisson finally revealed his birth secret to him.
“I… I’m a prince?”
“Yes! That’s correct.”
Surprisingly, the one who was more emotional at the revelation was Elisson herself, who even shed a few tears.
But Demeidian’s curiosity was focused elsewhere.
“Does my lady know that too?”
“Yes? Ah, of course. She was actually the first to tell us.”
So… had Winter been kind to him because he was a prince?
Demeidian had always been sensitive to others’ feelings, especially affection.
Her clever young mind realized Winter wasn’t being kind just because of his royal status.
Yet his heart still fluttered with an inexplicable, endless affection.
Even if Winter’s kindness was only because he was a prince,
“…It doesn’t matter.”
Demeidian murmured, forcing himself to suppress his unease.
“But being a prince doesn’t really need to be announced, right? That’s fine?”
“…Yes?”
Unexpected, Elisson and Hanta froze.
“I mean… all that prince business is bothersome.”
“No, sir. If you return to the royal palace, your family will be waiting, and there will be all kinds of delicacies and treasures. You wouldn’t need to suffer like this here at all. So why are you so indifferent?”
Elisson tried hard to persuade him of the advantages of being a prince, but Demeidian remained indifferent.
Instead, he scoffed lightly and asked:
“Do you really think that?”
“Well… yes, I guess…”
Elisson hesitated, unable to lie outright.
For a twelve-year-old, Demeidian had already experienced too much of the world’s bitterness.
The regent emperor had reigned for over ten years after seizing the throne from his sister. Excluding Demeidian, the only other prince, Aster, was known to be weak under his uncle’s shadow.
From Demeidian’s perspective, there was no real benefit in accepting the throne.
“Only troubles would come with it. Poisoning attempts included.”
Seeing Elisson’s troubled expression, Demeidian smiled faintly.
“So I’ll just stay here, living an ordinary life as the stable master’s son.”
Although his appearance and abilities were extraordinary, young Demeidian wasn’t yet aware of that.
For months, Elisson and the Arca members had tried repeatedly to persuade Demeidian to accept his royal status.
But he remained unyielding.
There was simply no reason to accept the throne when it offered no benefits.
One day, a frustrated Elisson accidentally discovered a clue while watching Demeidian train his magic.
“Prince… why are you trying to change the nature of your magic? You know innate magic can’t be altered, right?”
Normally, Demeidian would have ignored such questions, but this time he answered unexpectedly.
“If I could reverse it… maybe I could save my lady.”
The petals in his hands crumbled lightly to the floor.
Elisson’s gaze sharpened instantly. She had finally found a way to motivate Demeidian.
“You mean your lady…? You said her heart is weak, right?”
“…Yes. Do you have any idea how?”
Knowing Elisson’s brilliance, Demeidian averted his gaze.
Then, as if sharing a secret, Elisson whispered softly:
“If her heart can’t withstand magic, why not give her another heart?”
Demeidian tilted his head in curiosity.
“Do you mean mine?”
Elisson’s expression turned cold at the absurd suggestion.
“No, not like that.”
“Then what other method is there?”
“This is a secret from the royal archives.”
Demeidian’s ears perked at the word “secret.” Elisson lowered her voice further.
“In the emperor’s treasury… there’s said to be the heart of a dragon.”
“…A dragon’s heart, huh.”
“Yes. If you become emperor, you could acquire any heart on the continent, not just that one.”
Some might have laughed at the idea of confronting the regent emperor to obtain a dragon’s heart.
But Demeidian was different. With his abnormal obsession over Winter, he would definitely fall for this reasoning.
And, as expected, she was right.
“…So, what do I need to do?”
Demeidian stopped polishing his sword and turned fully toward her, brimming with the energy of someone ready to strike down the regent emperor.
The dragon’s heart in the imperial treasury… that was the reason Demeidian wanted the throne.
Back in the present, Demeidian’s gaze remained relentlessly fixed on Winter, just as it had in his childhood.
“Deborah, how’s your condition? Feeling better?”
“I-I’m fine. Please, go ahead.”
Still, his lady was kind-hearted as ever.
Even though she knew that some were hostile toward her, Winter treated even the stubborn Deborah gently.
Observing Winter busy checking the luggage, supervising the coachmen and horses, Demeidian clicked his tongue softly.
Ever since that awkward “welcome” kiss, Winter had maintained her distance from him.
He knew it wasn’t dislike, just awkwardness, but it still twisted his heart.
Your gentle touch… is mine alone.
Demeidian’s red eyes flickered dangerously.
It seemed he would soon have to deal with those obstacles thoroughly.
As he silently vowed this, he lifted his gaze to the sky.
The storm, which had been approaching from afar, had been raging for days, making it impossible to navigate the canals safely.
“Well, at least the ship won’t get damaged,”
Demeidian chuckled softly to himself, then smiled brightly.
