**Episode 20**
“Good evening, Sir Magnum.”
“You’ve done well.”
When Magnum reached for the identification bearing his family’s crest, the servant waved it off, not bothering to check and instead ushered us forward without question.
“Please take us to a quiet corner,” Magnum requested.
“Of course.”
We were led to a secluded table tucked away from the crowds. The interior resembled a miniature botanical garden—large plants were arranged like partitions, separating each table with natural barriers. Perhaps it was because of this that every table felt isolated, like its own private room. Between the leaves, couples sat, murmuring softly to one another.
*I didn’t know there was a place like this in the imperial palace.*
“May I take your order?”
It seemed Magnum was a regular here. Without even glancing at the menu, he placed his order and passed the menu to me. I glanced around and, not wanting to seem unsure, ordered the house specialty.
“And the wine, sir?”
“Ice wine, please.”
“Certainly.”
Before the food arrived, the server brought the wine. The pale, translucent liquid filled half the glass, shimmering like white grapes in the light. It looked much like white wine, so I took a sip—and was surprised by how sweet it was. My face instantly lit up, and Magnum, catching my reaction, swirled his own glass with a warning:
“It may taste sweet, but it has a strong kick. Don’t drink it like juice.”
“Right, I’ll pace myself.”
Tearing into the bread provided before the main course, I launched into the reason we were meeting. Magnum responded to my questions with calm candor, taking occasional, thoughtful sips of wine.
I had expected his love stories to be extravagant, but they turned out to be surprisingly ordinary.
“My partners were usually nobles, so we’d go on dates in the palace gardens. If I adjusted my shifts, I could make time for dinner or a brief outing. We’d dine in places like this, and on weekends, go into the city. If I dated someone who enjoyed horseback riding, we’d take trips to the countryside. Honestly, the process is the same for most couples. And if it felt too soon to part ways… we’d spend the night together.”
The casual mention of spending the night together made my face flush. Embarrassed that I, the interviewer, was the one blushing, I took another sip of the crisp wine to steady myself.
As I listened, fork halfway to my mouth, curiosity nudged me toward a new question.
“Was there ever a relationship that really stood out to you?”
“One did have an unusual beginning.”
“How so?”
“I dated a woman who was already engaged. I knew it at the time.”
“You *knew*? But why would you—”
“Her fiancé’s jealousy amused me.”
“Oh…”
“It was a long time ago,” he added, half teasing, half sincere.
At his mischievous smile, I was momentarily at a loss for words. He leaned his elbow against the table and rested his chin on his hand.
“Now that I think about it, something similar happened recently.”
“Really?”
Eager for the scoop, I flipped open my notebook like a diligent student, eyes bright with academic fervor.
“Could you share the strategy you used to provoke jealousy? And how the other person reacted?”
“Hm…”
He tapped his cheek with his index finger, looking amused. I tilted my head in confusion. Then he smirked.
“On second thought, perhaps that story isn’t suitable for print. No comment.”
I didn’t close my notebook. Instead, I switched gears—this conversation was too rare an opportunity to waste.
“You seem like someone full of love, Sir Magnum. Do you believe in everlasting love?”
“No. Nothing lasts forever. Not even love.”
He sounded almost cynical. Strange, coming from someone with such a rich history of romantic affairs.
“I suppose the reason I only date is because I don’t believe in marriage.”
“But isn’t marriage the natural goal of a relationship?”
“Not for me.”
His firm reply caught me off guard. I scratched out the words *everlasting love* from my notes, rewrote them, and scratched them out again. The more I spoke with him, the more he seemed detached from romance. He had experienced many relationships, yet his heart felt more withered than even Prince Jereon’s.
“Is it because you’ve been through many breakups?”
“Not exactly. I just see things for what they are. I’ve seen too much. For example—once, a titled nobleman had a secret relationship with a commoner woman. When I showed her a bit of kindness, he warned me off. So I told him the truth: I don’t have a title to inherit, so I could marry anyone. But *he*—a legitimate heir—couldn’t. I asked him if he planned to keep the woman hidden in the shadows as his lifelong mistress.”
“And what did he say to that?”
“He declared he’d never marry.”
“Wow. He must have really loved her.”
“I doubt it. It felt more like pride—he didn’t want to lose to me. Love fades, but the thirst for power only grows stronger.”
“So… what happened to them?”
“Exactly what I expected. He married a noblewoman from another house. The commoner woman… took her own life.”
“…That’s such a heartbreaking ending.”
“Hardly fitting for a romance novel, right?”
“No, not at all. Some love stories *are* meant to end in sorrow.”
He nodded faintly, like a candle flame flickering in the wind. Staring into that invisible light, he finally whispered,
“Then I suppose… my first love was a tragic one.”
“…What?”
“The man… was my older brother.”
I went dry in the throat. I had only come here to ask about romantic experiences, and now I felt like I was walking barefoot on shards of glass. He looked at me with a desperate earnestness, as though he’d waited years to finally share this.
“I had no idea… You always seemed so carefree, I thought you’d never known pain.”
“That’s the problem. Everyone assumes that. Even you—when you asked me to talk, I thought you might have other intentions.”
“Other… intentions?”
That wasn’t exactly wrong, but I played dumb.
“I see.”
“People hear rumors and approach me with lighthearted curiosity. But when I show them the reality, they suddenly think they’re different. Special. That they can *save* me.”
“Save you?”
“Yes. With so-called true love.”
He lifted the glass to his lips. There was something desperate in the way he drank, like a vampire in a gothic novel—one that couldn’t quite quench his thirst.
“So what you’re saying is… no one ever succeeded?”
“I never *asked* to be saved. I never believed it was possible. I just needed someone appropriate at the right time. Like migratory birds changing locations with the seasons—relationships are no different.”
“…That’s… complicated.”
“But what about you? Why did you break up with your ex?”
Compared to Magnum’s confessions, my story was laughably childish. My voice grew quieter with every word.
“He… said he was going off to search for Treasure Island.”
Magnum nearly choked, struggling not to laugh.
“Oh my. Couldn’t you have waited for him?”
“I *was* willing to wait—maybe a year. But he said he didn’t know when he’d come back. I’ve been alone ever since my parents died, and I hate being left behind. Waiting felt… too painful. So we broke up.”
“See? There’s no such thing as eternal love.”
“You’re really killing my vibe right now. I’m stuck on what to write next in a scene where the crown prince kisses the heroine.”
“What did you write in *The Crown Prince’s First Love*?”
“The kiss was near the end… and right after that, I made him go bald. I didn’t have this problem back then.”
Seeing my sulky expression, Magnum set his glass down and leaned closer across the table. He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
“So, let me ask… did you call me here because you wanted to *experience* it for yourself?”
The idea had never even crossed my mind. My face went scarlet.
“N-no!!”
My outburst startled the other diners. I quickly bowed my head in apology and then shot Magnum a glare.
“I’d love to show you what comes *after* a kiss… but His Highness forbade even cheek kisses, remember?”
“You can just tell me…”
“Words can only take you so far. And if I get too explicit, it’ll sound like harassment.”
“Then what should I do?”
“There’s only one way.”
“What is it?”
“You watch it happen.”
“Where would I do that?!”
“I know a good place. Just finish your wine and come with me.”
Where on earth was he planning to take me?
By the time we stepped out of the White Garden, it was past nine. The nearby walking path was dimly lit—the royal maintenance team only lit every other lamp unless a ball was being held.
As we strolled side by side under flickering lamplight, his face kept appearing and vanishing in the dark like a firefly.
