* * *
‘Why do I feel so uneasy…?’
Eren bit his lip hard without realizing.
He never felt particularly positive around Carlyle to begin with, but this was different.
There was something… off.
‘…Is it just me?’
He tried to convince himself it was nothing, but it didn’t work.
This world never let him relax—not for a moment.
Nothing had ever gone the way he’d wanted.
Even when he thought he’d changed the original story by escaping from the main characters’ grasp… it hadn’t been enough.
And now, the proof was right in front of him.
Still warily watching Carlyle, Eren eventually turned his head at the sound of the Emperor calling him.
Under the Emperor’s smiling, calculating gaze, a prize draped in a red silk cloth was presented to Eren.
“…Is His Majesty supposed to be the one presenting this?”
“No. Traditionally, the winning duke should hand it to you himself.”
“Then why are you—”
“Well, considering you turned down my offer to be my aide, only to flaunt your romance with the Duke in front of me… I’m feeling a bit salty.”
The Emperor’s lips curled into a sly grin.
He had no intention of letting Ashard hand over the prize, not even as a formality.
Somehow, Ashard was already surrounded—restrained, though not openly—by the Emperor’s knights.
Before Eren could even respond, the Emperor thrust the prize at him.
He instinctively took it, and polite applause rippled through the watching nobles.
“What are you waiting for, Count? Go on, open it.”
‘You handed it to me—how do you expect me to open it, exactly?’
Honestly, the man was a snake in human skin.
Eren shot a sharp glare at the Emperor, who merely laughed heartily.
Then, as if deciding he’d have to reveal it himself, the Emperor added, “Well, I didn’t expect it to go this way, but I suppose I’ll have to unveil it myself.”
He began to slowly lift the red cloth.
‘…What?’
Eren’s eyes shook violently.
He’d been certain he knew what was inside.
But what he saw… stunned him.
This wasn’t what he’d expected at all.
Something was terribly, horribly wrong.
“This year’s tournament prize is a holy relic, imported from the temple.”
Crafted from gleaming gold and adorned with rubies, the relic radiated an aura that made it clear—this wasn’t something even nobles could dare touch.
A true sacred artifact, revered and untouchable.
“A… a relic…?”
“It appears to be genuine, yes…”
Even the nobles were left speechless, jaws slack in disbelief.
A sacred relic?
Not even mountains of gold could buy one.
It was the pride of the high priests themselves.
The kind of thing no one dared dream of owning.
The room was filled with stunned admiration—but one person couldn’t bring himself to smile.
‘…This isn’t the indulgence?’
Eren knew this relic was just as valuable—if not more so.
But that wasn’t the point.
The issue wasn’t the price.
The problem was…
The original story had changed.
Yes, he’d interfered.
He’d changed who the winner was.
But that was all. He hadn’t tried to change anything else.
Yet something else—something he hadn’t touched—had changed entirely.
And not just anything.
Something he desperately needed.
This wasn’t like when the three main leads had suddenly appeared in Trovien.
That had followed the original plot to a degree—it served the story.
If things had followed their natural course, Helid should have been the victor.
But this time, something he didn’t want to change had changed anyway.
Something he was counting on.
‘What the hell is going on…?’
It wasn’t just that the prize was different.
The main storyline itself had begun to warp.
And the thought that “maybe this is just a one-time thing” rang hollow in his ears.
And then—
[Oh dear. It seems you don’t like my gift.]
The voice rang out like a thousand bells, as if parting the veil of the heavens.
It wasn’t heard with the ears—it registered in his mind like text on a page.
Eren spun around instinctively, as if whipped by a force.
The Emperor’s smile froze at the sight of Eren’s face, gone pale as death.
“Was that… Your Majesty just now?”
“I didn’t say anything. What, are you so moved you’re seeing things? Though judging by that face, I doubt it.”
Not the Emperor. Then who—?
Before he could dwell on it further, the voice echoed again, majestic and overwhelming:
[No need to strain yourself. We’ll meet soon enough.]
With those words, the momentary silence that had enveloped the surroundings faded, and everything returned to normal.
An unidentified voice.
Eren had many questions, but sensing dimly that the voice would not speak again, he clenched his fists tightly.
Unwanted ominous thoughts began to churn in his head.
As if to shake off such distractions, Ashard’s voice gently disrupted his brooding.
“What’s on your mind?”
It seemed neither the emperor, Ashard, nor the nobles had heard the voice.
It had undoubtedly been meant for him alone.
Whoever—or whatever—had spoken those words to him, their intentions were unclear, and there was no way to find out now.
“It’s… nothing.”
As Ashard stepped closer to Eren, the nobles, who had been watching cautiously, began to approach one by one.
Their thinly veiled greed for the sacred relic was plain to see.
Perhaps because of the swarming nobles, Eren failed to notice the figure who had been sitting rigidly before slipping away unnoticed.
“So it seems I wasn’t the only one who heard that voice.”
Whether it was mental exhaustion or physical fatigue, Eren had unknowingly fallen asleep in the carriage on the way back to the estate.
His long lashes rested peacefully, and Ashard couldn’t bring himself to wake him, simply staring instead.
His eyes, more swollen than usual—how much had he cried?—were tenderly brushed by Ashard’s fingers.
“Your Grace, we’ve arrived at the estate… Ah!”
The coachman, who had opened the carriage door for Ashard and Eren, quickly clamped his mouth shut upon seeing Eren fast asleep.
With quick understanding, he closed the door again and sent away the servants who had come to greet them.
Ashard had intended to wake Eren soon, but with the surroundings now quiet, he decided to stay in the carriage a little longer.
That small body had rushed into the middle of the hunting competition just to see him, and without proper rest, exhaustion was only natural.
As Eren’s head drooped forward, Ashard gathered him into his arms.
With nothing to support it, Eren’s head soon found comfort against Ashard’s chest.
Ashard, too, was weary.
Just as he considered closing his eyes until Eren woke, the boy in his arms stirred, rubbing his cheek before blinking his eyes open.
Though he couldn’t see, Ashard was certain Eren was looking at him.
To give him time to gather his thoughts, Ashard pretended to still be asleep.
The adorable squirming in his arms nearly made him laugh, but he barely held it back.
What is he planning?
The question didn’t linger long.
Without warning, a refreshing energy enveloped his entire body.
He had received countless healing spells before, but none compared to this—a pure radiance seeping into his very being.
By the time the energy faded, Ashard realized the faint pain in his back had completely vanished.
And he understood: Eren had used the sacred relic to heal his wounds.
“If I’d known you’d use it like this right away, I would’ve given it to you later.”
“Ah… You were awake?”
“Hard to sleep with someone wriggling in my arms.”
“How… How do you feel?”
“Why ask? It certainly lives up to its name.”
At that, Eren visibly sighed in relief. Ashard flicked his forehead lightly.
“Should you really be wasting something so precious like this?”
The sacred relic could only be used three times.
As long as the user wasn’t dead, it could heal any injury or illness.
Those touched by its power would remain free from disease for the rest of their lives—a power to defy death itself.
That was why everyone coveted it.
And yet, Eren had used it immediately.
On him, no less.
If he knew how precious it was, he should’ve saved it for himself.
But perhaps he’d known Ashard would stop him, hence the quick execution while pretending to sleep.
“It’s fine. What does this matter? You’re more important to me.”
“…Haah.”
Ashard was irritated that Eren carried guilt over his injuries, but the boy’s teary eyes softened his anger.
Wrapping Eren’s arms around his own neck, Ashard tightened his hold.
“You didn’t need to waste the relic. I’d have given you anything you wanted anyway.”
* * *
