* * *

I nodded at Jerome’s words and handed the champagne glass back to Carlisle.

Carlisle looked at me, his expression a mix of disbelief.

I had no idea why he seemed so confused. I could feel Jerome’s hand on my shoulder tighten.

Carlisle’s expression darkened as he watched my unbothered reaction and, with a subdued voice, he asked,

“What have you done?”

“What’s strange about a married couple having a child?”

“……”

“Even the Imperial family wouldn’t make a pregnant woman the Crown Princess.”

Carlisle’s lips parted slightly.

It seemed Jerome was already aware of the marriage discussions between the Imperial family and Efilia.

Jerome’s voice, though smiling, was laced with venom as he said,

“Then go tell the First Prince: leave other men’s wives alone and focus on ruling properly. The state of the country is a mess.”

The air grew icy, and the easy demeanor Carlisle had shown was gone.

I felt anxious seeing the rising tension between them.

Carlisle, who had been staring at Jerome, suddenly chuckled.

“That’s a funny story. A child that hasn’t even been born yet…”

“……”

“Would just mean adding one more small coffin next to yours.”

“How cruel. Makes me want to kill you.”

Their faces were full of grins, but the words they exchanged were sharp as finely honed blades.

It seemed like a perfect example of noble conversation, yet it felt like a real fight could break out any moment.

Just as I was about to intervene, the atmosphere was disrupted by Marchen, who appeared wearing a luxurious mink shawl.

Upon seeing me, he beamed and waved.

“Oh, my little grape! Even in something so plain, you look so cute and beau—”

Both Carlisle and Jerome turned to look at Marchen at the same time.

Noticing the hostile energy, Marchen halted, holding his champagne glass awkwardly.

He forced a nervous smile.

“Oh, must have mistaken someone else. Where could my little grape be?”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t see us.”

I grabbed Marchen as he tried to flee.

Stuck between the two, it felt like they were about to clash even more.

Ignoring Marchen, who whispered, “Please let me go. I don’t want to get caught up in any more love drama,” I spoke in a calm voice.

“I’ll go see Lady Freya with Marchen. Both of you, make up already. Aren’t you tired of this? Don’t act like kids.”

“……”

“……”

Leaving the two behind, I dragged Marchen along.

Despite how well they coordinated during battles with Parak, off-duty they were rivals like no other.

Marchen whispered in a trembling voice,

“Jeanne, you have to explain to Jerome later that there’s nothing between us. I’ve had a childhood crush on someone else forever, okay?”

Marchen’s mix of audacity and cowardice was both a strength and a flaw.

I couldn’t help but find his fearful demeanor pitiful, so I asked,

“By the way, did you ever confess?”

I thought perhaps Marchen and Freya had gotten closer after the Parak incident.

When I asked, Marchen tilted his head curiously.

“Huh? Why should I confess?”

“What? Because you like Lady Freya…”

“Well, I have no desire to actually be with her. She’s got more problems to deal with than I can count. Why add myself to that burden?”

Marchen gave a small laugh, leaving me feeling unexpectedly disappointed.

I’d secretly hoped they’d end up together.

I asked, sounding a bit annoyed,

“What if Freya falls for someone else?”

“That’s fine. My love for her won’t change. I’d raise her child as my own, making sure they never miss their absent father. That’s my love, as Marchen.”

“……”

“You’re too young to understand what I mean.”

Love that asks for nothing in return.

It struck me as perhaps more noble than any other kind of love.

Marchen, who usually seemed so carefree, looked quite admirable.

He turned away suddenly, his face serious, and whispered so only I could hear,

“But that man who just passed by—quite the beauty, wasn’t he?”

“Get a grip.”

“Oh, and the potion to delay transformation is almost complete. It still needs some research, but soon it’ll be ready for distribution among civilians.”

It was welcome news.

As my face lit up, Marchen smiled too.

He reached out and tilted my chin, saying with sincerity,

“It’s all thanks to you, Jeanne.”

“……”

“As a reward, I’ll give you one of my passionate kisses.”

In the original story, Marchen destroyed all his potions after Freya’s death, driven by despair that his research was meaningless if he couldn’t save her.

But now, he was giving his all to prevent a second Freya tragedy.

This potion, developed by the genius alchemist Marchen, would go on to save thousands, maybe tens of thousands.

I looked at him in awe, then smiled brightly.

“I’ll be sure to tell Jerome your last words.”

“Take that back! I take it back! Forget I said that!”

This is a tale of the distant future, but one day, this genius alchemist’s potion would be named ‘Camelia.’

A flower that bloomed stronger and more beautifully in the coldest winter—a symbol of humanity’s fragile yet resilient spirit.

Slowly but surely, the future was changing, bit by bit.

Towards a world where no one would be hurt.

✽ ✽ ✽

Once Jeanne left, Jerome turned away, as if he no longer had any business with Carlisle.

Jerome stared intently at Carlisle’s arm, which was blocking his way, and said seriously,

“If you’re planning to ask me to be your dance partner… let me make this clear.”

“……”

“You’re not my type.”

“You must be insane.”

Carlisle sighed, lowering his arm.

Young ladies gathered in groups, blushing as they watched the two of them.

The entire Empire knew of these heroes, once called the Sun and the Moon.

Carlisle, feeling the weight of their stares, nodded, signaling Jerome to follow.

Jerome followed him without a word.

Thud.

In the darkened parlor, Carlisle closed the door behind them.

Jerome, seated with legs crossed on the sofa, ruffled his meticulously styled hair.

Carlisle folded his arms.

“Explain. Now.”

“Explain what?”

“The pregnancy claim.”

“If you’re here to congratulate me, save it. There’s an old wives’ tale that fussing early on can harm the baby.”

Jerome flashed a grin. Carlisle raised an eyebrow at that smile.

‘I can’t let my guard down. Jerome is capable of mind-control magic. I can’t rule out the possibility Jeanne’s been brainwashed. But why on earth would he make up a lie like this?’

From a young age, Carlisle, who had been by Jerome’s side, knew him better than anyone.

Jerome was a man who didn’t know how to love or care for anything.

He was bound to have some other insidious plan.

Carlisle, who had been tapping Jerome’s thick forearm with his index finger, broke the silence and spoke.

“Will she become the temple’s Saintess, or the Imperial Crown Princess? Soon, the empire and the temple will start fighting over Jeanne. The symbolism of the Saintess of Maya is frighteningly powerful.”

“……”

“But that’s not what you want, is it? So why are you so obsessed with her? Are you seeking revenge on the empire?”

Jerome, who had remained silent, slumped lazily on the sofa and replied.

“People sometimes forget something crucial: we’re actually quite lucky. So many civilizations emerge suddenly, only to vanish just as abruptly. For the most trivial of reasons…”

A hint of worry clouded Jerome’s eyes as he looked out at the falling snow.

Even when he was young, there had always been an air of detachment about him.

He could be playing happily with other children and then suddenly stop, standing motionless to observe a tree split in two by a lightning strike.

Despite having the kind of beautiful appearance that everyone admired, Jerome exuded an unsettling atmosphere that drew both men and women alike.

Carlisle quietly envied Jerome for effortlessly capturing people’s hearts.

It was because of the advice his father had once given him.

His father had said that to become a good ruler, one needed to win the hearts of the people, not through wealth or power but genuine connection.

Carlisle learned to speak kindly, maintain a relaxed demeanor, and embody virtues like generosity, never allowing himself to make impulsive, selfish decisions.

Each time he wanted to give in to envy or aggression, he reminded himself of his father’s words.

A good ruler doesn’t make choices for personal gain.

They make them for the greater good.

Petty feelings like jealousy or rage needed to be suppressed. Carlisle clenched his fists.

“I sincerely hope you’re not planning to burn the entire empire to the ground over a mere girl.”

Unconsciously, Carlisle’s voice came out restrained.

Jerome, who had been staring into the darkness outside, slowly turned his head.

The emptiness in Jerome’s gaze made Carlisle flinch and look away.

It wasn’t an expression of good or evil, but pure, unadulterated void.

That void now stared directly at him.

Jerome spoke in a light-hearted tone.

“Perhaps I will.”

“……”

“No, actually, I intend to.”

Bang!

Books tumbled from the table Carlisle had shoved forward as he grabbed Jerome by the collar, veins bulging in his neck.

Jerome’s laughter lingered as Carlisle yelled, his voice strained with emotion.

“I did everything I could to protect you from the temple! So, the least you could do is yield to me just once, can’t you?”

“Everything? You mean running away. Running from the countless comrades you failed to choose that day, leaving them to their resentment.”

“Hey.”

Even as the atmosphere grew tense, Jerome continued, undeterred.

“I visited the sanatorium recently. Met with Fernan. Do you know what he begged of me? With no limbs left to end his own life, he asked me to kill him.”

“……”

“When I said I couldn’t because I had a family now, he bit his own tongue and killed himself. Just a few days ago.”

Carlisle’s grip loosened, his shocked expression giving way to disbelief.

As he stumbled back, Jerome rose quietly and approached, hands clasped behind his back.

“The empire and the temple abandoned us even when we gave them everything. They refused to open the dimensional gate despite the risk of the monsters crossing over. Only when I sealed Mephisto inside me…”

“……”

“Did they finally let us escape that hellish subspace, right?”

At Jerome’s mention of the past, Carlisle’s eyes trembled.

Jerome smirked as he touched a lily in a nearby vase.

The moment his fingers brushed it, the bloom crumbled to black ash.

Carlisle, silent for a long moment, finally spoke.

“What do you want from me?”

“Let’s finish that chess game from last time.”

Jerome’s eyes briefly flickered with madness.

“Sure. This time, let’s stake our lives on it.”

* * *