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Chapter 4
“You’re Not My Child
Colorful dresses fluttered like flower petals.
The ladies, each hoping their attire appeared the most sophisticated, adorned their outfits with beautiful lace.
Yet their jewelry was modest, as if following an unspoken rule: no one should outshine Helena, who stood at the center of the gathering.
Helena Terloane, the beautiful widow of the late Duke Terloane, who had died from illness.
She was distantly related to the royal family, and her son, the current Duke Terloane, was a powerful magician whose influence was historic and the young minister of the Imperial Magic Department.
Even ignoring all these credentials, the middle-aged Helena, who had preserved the beauty of a twenty-year-old despite being over fifty, carried a charm that drew everyone’s attention wherever she went.
Always smiling, speaking elegantly, and kind to everyone, people still feared her.
Even the notorious Duke Calvert, a scoundrel of high society, acted like a meek lamb in her presence.
When she smiled, society smiled; when she cried, society shed tears alongside her.
When she paused, everyone stopped without being told, gazing wherever she looked.
Just like now.
“Madam, did you leave something behind? There’s nothing behind you.”
Helena stopped walking and turned to gaze at the western palace.
Though it seemed far after their long walk, the ladies’ eyes indicated they were willing to return if Helena wished.
Standing silently, her gaze fixed somewhere on the second floor of the western palace, she smirked and turned her head.
“I didn’t leave anything behind, but there’s something I didn’t get to see.”
“Something you didn’t see? Oh my, would you like to go back and see it now?”
“No. Thanks to Kalia, what was hiding has come out. Seeing it from afar is enough.”
The ladies exchanged puzzled glances, unsure what Helena meant by “what was hiding,” and dared not ask her directly.
Helena resumed walking, and they followed her through the doors leading to the main palace.
At that very moment, a window on the second floor of the western palace, the one Helena had been looking at, swung wide open.
Whoosh—
A generous gust of wind entered through the open terrace window, making the curtains dance.
Along with the swaying white chiffon, hundreds of documents stacked on the desk scattered into the air.
The wind ruffled the golden hair of Crown Prince Luymond, who was seated at the desk reviewing papers.
Sunlight struck his blond hair, making it glimmer like flowing honey.
The crown prince brushed the golden locks back with his thumb, exhaled, and lifted his head.
“Sigh.”
His deep, sea-blue eyes, resembling those of the late emperor, glared at his cousin, who stood with his back turned, holding the terrace railing.
With his back turned, only his silver-streaked hair caught the sunlight.
Broad shoulders and a straight back exuded a rigid, striking beauty.
“…Shaymon, what are you doing opening the window all of a sudden? Put those papers back right now.”
The man with his back turned didn’t respond but lightly flicked his hand.
With a sharp snap, the papers frozen midair returned to their original positions, as if time itself had rewound.
He wielded incredible magic so casually that it felt trivial.
Life was unfair in its distribution of talent and skill.
Even someone born as the emperor’s son felt moments of deprivation. How much more powerless must other magicians feel against such displays?
“…No, if it’s too overwhelming, they might just admire him.”
That explained why the rude and ill-tempered head of the Magic Department still received a certain respect.
Luymond turned his attention back to the hundreds of papers tormenting him and muttered indifferently,
“Has my aunt left?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t you go?”
“….”
His cousin didn’t answer, staring silently beyond the terrace.
No words, no gestures, but Luymond, knowing him well, sensed his subtle excitement.
The only thing that could excite someone so cold and indifferent to the world was a single possibility.
The scratch of a fountain pen marked the paper as Luymond muttered a name aloud.
“Could Kalia be coming?”
At that, Shaymon’s head turned slightly, and the corner of his mouth lifted in a whisper of admiration.
“I’m pleased the future emperor of this empire is sharp-minded. Though he treats his subjects like dogs without rest, he’s still impressive.”
…When he becomes emperor, I’ll have to find a way to seal the young head of the Magic Department’s mouth.
Yes, Shaymon’s greatest advantage was that he could cast many spells silently, without incantations.
So, perhaps he could do without a mouth?
‘No, summoning magic still requires words. Well, I’d like to hit him once on the back of the head someday…’
A small wish, seemingly trivial, but one he longed to fulfill.
“When is Kalia coming?”
Though his words asked one thing, his eyes remained on the papers—a rare skill, juggling three things at once, something only a crown prince constantly burdened with duties could manage.
“Now.”
“What? Now?”
Normally, such news would stop one’s thoughts, hands, and speech.
Luymond lifted his head, confused.
“I thought today was the Knight Commander’s day off… strange. Why would she give up her day off and come?”
“Who knows.”
Shaymon shrugged, staring at two long legs walking beneath the roofed corridor.
“She might have come to see you…”
His voice softened, a sly smile spreading.
“She came to see me, of course.”
Luymond clicked his tongue internally at Shaymon’s confidence. He didn’t understand it—especially since Shaymon never confessed.
Shaymon had always been confident regarding Kalia.
Understandably so: Kalia was a typical swordfighter who had spent the last seven years at the frontlines of war with no distractions, protected by Shaymon, an invisible wall no one could breach—not even Crown Prince Luymond.
In that sense, Shaymon’s confidence about being the only male left for Kalia was understandable—but recently, his attitude seemed different.
It seemed as though Kalia had feelings for him too.
‘It must have started around the victory party for Kalia after the Matahari Sea Battle, about two months ago…’
Since then, Shaymon had been unusually irritable, lost in thought, or staring into the void for long periods.
Seeing Kalia would make him nervous or flare up for no reason.
Meanwhile, Kalia’s behavior remained consistent. She had always treated Shaymon with rock-solid composure.
Why this great young minister had suddenly become so confident was a mystery.
“…Well, seeing her in full armor, I guess I’m not the only one impressed—the crown prince is too.”
Shaymon muttered as if disappointed, though not genuinely.
After all, being here meant he could meet her anytime.
“I was planning to see her tomorrow evening anyway, so this works out.”
“Don’t turn my office into a meeting place, though.”
Luymond shook his head in distaste, and Shaymon replied cynically,
“I was going out anyway.”
“No, I didn’t mean actually leave.”
“Fine. I don’t want to be involved in your work. I’ll go.”
Before he could finish, a guard informed them Kalia had requested an audience.
Shaymon smirked and climbed onto the railing.
“…If you’re going, why climb the railing?”
“For a dramatic entrance. I want to disappear from here and meet her privately. Later, tell me what you talked about.”
Luymond shook his head, amused and exasperated.
“You think the crown prince is ridiculous?”
“Not at all. I respect and cherish my cousin, the very capable crown prince.”
“…Perhaps you should demonstrate that respect through action, not just words.”
Shaymon exaggeratedly bowed on the railing.
“With respect and affection, I shall withdraw, Your Highness.”
Having gained the upper hand against his siblings, Luymond became the crown prince.
His greatest supporters in that victory were Shaymon of the Terloane family and General Kalia.
They had faced countless challenges together since childhood, shaping the future of the empire as a team.
Luymond rose and leapt from the terrace, spotting Shaymon walking through the garden below.
A man with silvery hair, shining like the surface of a calm lake, a color only someone who had reached true understanding could possess.
Luymond needed Shaymon.
The empire he envisioned had to be strong and young.
For the same reason, Kalia was equally indispensable.
If Luymond staked his heart and life on the empire’s future, Shaymon…
“Your Highness, General Kalia has arrived.”
Shaymon had staked everything on Kalia.
Luymond could not deny it, even if he wished.
No one could compete with Shaymon’s feelings for Kalia.
Turning back, Luymond faced the closed doors, offering his usual gentle smile.
“Come in.”
