The Clover Kingdom was alive with celebration. News from the front lines declared that the Wizard King had successfully negotiated a peace treaty with the Heart Kingdom, resulting in Heart's forces retreating back within their borders.
The cluster of fear and uncertainty that had plagued the common people seemed to vanish, like storm clouds clearing to reveal a bright, sunlit sky.
For the nobility and royalty, however, the announcement was met with little fanfare. The Heart Kingdom had always been a land of neutrality and relative peace. Aside from their Spirit Guardians and the Queen, their military was modest at best. Were they truly foolish enough to wage war? If so, the Heart Kingdom would undoubtedly suffer a swift defeat—especially after allowing the Wizard King himself to enter their lands.
If Alden Arcana chose to abandon restraint, if he unleashed his fury without regard for his own safety or the consequences, the Heart Kingdom's nearly twelve centuries of history could be erased in a single night.
The only thing that truly piqued the aristocrats' interest was what the Heart Kingdom wanted in the first place. What had Lord Alden conceded to secure such a swift retreat? What promises or compromises had he made?
For now, those questions would remain unanswered. Immediately after brokering the peace deal, the Wizard King moved from the western border to the far eastern edge of the kingdom. There, he joined the Purple Orca and Blue Rose squads, along with mercenaries, adventurers, and civilian soldiers, who were locked in a fierce battle against the Diamond Kingdom's advancing military.
The news of Alden's presence bolstered morale throughout the Clover Kingdom. The people, swept up in the euphoria of the Heart Kingdom's withdrawal, eagerly anticipated tales of the Wizard King's heroic exploits driving back the Diamond invaders.
But those tales never came.
Instead, the situation grew more dire. The Diamond Kingdom unleashed its full might, deploying its entire army, all eight Shining Generals, and nearly every elite combatant at its disposal. It was an unprecedented mobilization, one that confounded the Clover Kingdom's aristocracy.
Court whispers gave way to shouts of disbelief.
"What is the Diamond King thinking? Is he not afraid of Spade invading while his borders are defenseless?"
But Spade would not invade. Shortly after the announcement of Clover and Heart's peace accord, word of a similar treaty between Spade and Diamond swept across the continent. Spade's forces would remain within their wintery lands, leaving Diamond free to act.
This revelation silenced the nobility—though only briefly. Another question soon filled the air.
"What about Diamond's own citizens? With their masters gone, won't they rise up and revolt?"
Diamond had long been a kingdom ruled by oppression, where the common people toiled as little more than slaves, living in fear and torment. Surely, with their overlords away, they would seize this fleeting chance at freedom.
The Clover nobles couldn't help but envision the chaos: a bloody uprising, retribution against the Diamond royal family, and a civil war so brutal it would make Clover's own conflicts seem tame.
But once again, no such news came.
In fact they received reports from scouts that brought only more confusion. The Diamond Kingdom's common people—little more than glorified slaves—were behaving impeccably in the absence of their overseers. They continued to work tirelessly, mining minerals and completing their other grueling, inhuman tasks with the same diligence as before.
Clover's royal court was stunned into silence. How could the Diamond Kingdom's slaves, finally free from their masters, remain so obedient?
Determined to uncover the truth, they ordered their scouts to contact Clover's spies embedded within the Diamond Kingdom. But no matter where the scouts searched—among the slaves, the mage warriors, or any of Diamond's other forces—they found no trace of them. The spies had vanished without a word.
When this troubling news reached the royal court, a chill swept through the room. The smug arrogance that had pervaded their deliberations began to crumble. The court's members, for the first time, understood that this war was unlike any they had fought before.
Desperate for answers, they sent the scouts on a covert infiltration mission. Their objectives were clear: discover the truth behind Diamond's unusual behavior themselves and, if possible, assassinate the Diamond King. A power vacuum in Diamond would surely ignite a brutal succession war. Word was that King Goldstein had only one son—a frail, practically crippled prince. Without his father's protection, the prince would quickly fall prey to ambitious cousins or others hungry for power.
The plan seemed sound on paper, but within hours of the mission's commencement, all contact with the scouts was lost.
The sense of unease within the court deepened, a nameless dread gripping their hearts. Something was wrong—very wrong.
While the court managed to conceal these developments from the public, one thing they couldn't hide was the steady retreat of Clover's forces. From the Forsaken Realm to the Noble Realm, word traveled faster than any decree. Troops were being pushed back toward the strategic border outpost of Kiten. The demand for reinforcements and resources grew louder with each passing day.
The blame for these setbacks could hardly be placed on the Wizard King or his forces. Despite being outnumbered nearly thirteen to one—not just in quantity but also in quality—they fought valiantly.
The Purple Orcas and Blue Rose knights, though skilled, lacked the raw power and experience of the Crimson Lions and Silver Eagles. The ranks of mercenaries, conscripted civilians, and auxiliary soldiers offered little in the way of actual additional combat prowess. Instead, they handled support roles: guarding camps, delivering messages, securing rations, and tending to the wounded. The brunt of the fighting fell squarely on the shoulders of the true warriors—Alden and his magic knights.
Even so, the fact that Clover's forces were merely being pushed back, rather than annihilated outright, was a testament to Alden's leadership and the professionalism of his troops.
Day after day, Alden faced seven of the Diamond Kingdom's generals on his own. Meanwhile, the captains of the Blue Rose and Purple Orca squads alternated their roles—one engaging the remaining general in combat, while the other oversaw the battlefield as a tactician, managing troop movements and resources from the rear.
Despite the dire circumstances, they performed admirably. Their efforts were nothing short of extraordinary.
And though the nobles and royals of Clover felt the strain of the conflict, they were not overly concerned. Their confidence wasn't mere arrogance—it stemmed from a closely guarded secret known only to the highest echelons of power.
It was said that the 26th Wizard King, Alden Arcana, possessed a rare gift of divine prophecy and foresight. He could glimpse fragments of the future, making decisions and preparations to secure the best possible outcome.
This gift, they said, was why he had waited so long to end the previous civil war in the capital. He had been biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment to intervene and eliminate all the Diamond spies in one decisive move.
Those few nobles privy to this secret did not panic. They placed their unwavering faith in Alden, trusting that he had a plan and was merely waiting for the opportune moment to strike back. Their confidence spread to the lesser nobles and their vassals, calming their spirits and steadying their hearts.
But the masses—the commoners and peasants—did not share this perspective. How could they? They had no knowledge of the Wizard King's foresight or strategy. They understood nothing of the intricacies of war, nor did they care for statistics or tactical reasoning. Centuries of blind faith in the Wizard Kings had conditioned them to see these figures as invincible, almost divine. They forgot that even a Wizard King was still human—fallible, mortal, and susceptible to defeat.
And if the Wizard King was struggling, if the tide of war was anything less than a resounding victory, then to them, all hope was lost.
Fear and despair surged through the population.
In the eastern side of the Forsaken Realm, villages and towns "bravely" guarded by civilian soldiers and local troops were swiftly abandoned. The promise to defend their homes to the death crumbled under the reality of fear. People fled, grabbing whatever they could carry and heading inward toward the Common and Noble Realms, desperate to escape the fighting.
Hecairo, the largest and most prosperous town in the Common Realm, along with its slightly smaller neighbor, Pho, became overrun with refugees in mere days. Taverns, inns, and private residences were filled beyond capacity. The streets and town squares overflowed with hastily constructed tents, while alleyways became makeshift shelters.
The mayors of these towns reached their breaking point. With their towns far exceeding capacity, they closed their gates and ordered the remaining refugees to continue further inward, toward the capital.
But the Noble Realm would tolerate no such intrusion. To its residents, the "dirty" commoners were nothing more than riffraff, unworthy of sullying their pristine streets. The gates to the Noble Realm were locked, and only its denizens were permitted entry.
This time, the peasants and commoners didn't dare challenge the nobles' authority as they had during the civil war. Exhausted from their journey, weakened in body and spirit, they lacked the will to fight. Without the Wizard King's presence, they knew the magic knights and guards would show no mercy if provoked.
Early attempts to force entry into the Noble Realm ended in brutal displays of deterrence. Those who tried were swiftly executed, their bodies displayed on stakes and crosses as grim warnings.
Fear, after all, is a universal language. When words fail, actions—especially fear-driven ones—make the message unmistakably clear.
The refugees, cowed and hopeless, now congregated in the outermost reaches of the Common Realm. The once-bustling Castle Town of Kikka had devolved into a sprawling slum, with people sleeping wherever they could find space. The streets, once filled with merchants and travelers, were now lined with destitute families huddling together against the cold.
Huddled together for warmth as the cold nights of autumn set in, the people of Kikka braced themselves for winter's relentless approach.
The once-crowded marketplace was now a chaotic battleground. Goods and crops put up for sale vanished within minutes as desperate people fought like savages for food to fill their stomachs. There was an outstanding food crisis as now crops and other edible goods were only being transported into the kingdom from the western front.
The Church, overwhelmed by the need, quickly ran out of donations—food, clothing, blankets—all depleted within days. Even the Churches themselves overflowed with people seeking shelter from the biting cold.
Every day brought more grim news. From the front lines came word of mounting losses. Within the kingdom, stories abounded of starvation, freezing deaths, murders over scraps of food or fleeting warmth, and public executions of those who dared to incite rebellion or violence.
The Clover Kingdom was a shadow of its former self, gripped by despair.
This bleak reality was perhaps best illustrated by Sebastian and Acier's clinic. Where Sebastian once had only a handful of patients each day, he now faced an unending line stretching out of the door. By the time daylight faded, he was forced to leave for the Noble Realm, as curfews and lockdowns grew stricter. The new laws barred entry or exit from the Noble Realm between 5 PM and 8 AM, cutting his usual 7-to-7 schedule short.
Sebastian now treated patients by the dozen, working far beyond his limits. Where he once relied on traditional tools and bandages, he now expended vast amounts of mana and magic to provide any measure of relief, simply to move the endless line along. If before he could take his time, carefully treating each patient to ensure full recovery, now all he could do was administer basic first aid. Patients were then handed off to Acier, who had grown adept at wrapping bandages and applying ointments, before being sent on their way with a hope that their natural healing would suffice.
But poor diagnoses and rushed treatment left many at risk of infection or worse.
Business, meanwhile, was nearly nonexistent. Where one in five patients might have compensated Sebastian before, now it was closer to one in fifty. Few had anything to give anymore.
Neither Sebastian nor Acier cared much about the lack of payment. Sebastian still earned more than the average commoner, and Acier, as a princess, had little need for money. Their greater concern was their safety.
Their silver hair, a distinctive marker of royal lineage, could draw the ire of the increasingly resentful and frustrated common people. Even though many of their patients expressed gratitude, Sebastian and Acier knew that sentiment might not endure if their identities were exposed.
To avoid attention, they wore heavy cloaks and masks that obscured their appearances. Regular patients and local vendors, already aware of their identities, kept silent. When questioned by curious onlookers, these allies merely shrugged and claimed ignorance.
Sebastian and Acier deeply appreciated this discretion—especially Acier, as the Castle Town had become particularly unsafe for women, let alone an attractive princess. If she wanted to continue assisting Sebastian without a Silver Eagle guard shadowing her every move, her identity needed to remain a mystery.
Thus, Castle Town came to know the enigmatic "Twin Masks," selfless healers who charged not a single yule for their services.
But even the "Twin Masks" had their limits. Despite their tireless efforts, there were times when Sebastian could do no more. He was human, after all, and humans have breaking points.
November 21, 1600
Acier flew swiftly down the Silva estate on her broom, a flicker of panic in her narrowed eyes. She veered toward the outer edge of the estate, heading straight for Sebastian's plot of land.
For weeks now, they had developed an unspoken routine: meeting at the gates of Castle Silva by 7:30 each morning before traveling together to the outskirts of the noble realm by 8:00. But today, she had waited until 7:45 without any sign of him.
That alone might not have been alarming, but her attempts to contact him through their linked magic transponders had gone unanswered.
Now, worry gnawed at her as she surged toward Sebastian's modest home, her broom slicing through the crisp November air like a comet. She couldn't shake the hope—however faint—that she wouldn't be greeted by another distressing scene.
That hope faltered the moment her broom jerked to a stop, forcing her to dismount gracefully, her boots landing softly on the ground.
Sebastian's tent—his home—stood intact, but it was the unfinished structure beside it that caught her attention. Stacks of wood and planks were scattered around the square foundation of what he had been rebuilding. His shack, his house. They had talked about this before, and though she had offered to help—or to hire help—he had always turned her down.
She respected his independence, knowing her interference might overwhelm him or push him away. But now that respect turned to regret.
There, on the base of the structure, lay Sebastian.
Tools and screws were spilled around him, and his body trembled visibly.
Sebastian had collapsed.
The realization sent a jolt of fear through her. "Sebastian!" she screamed, rushing forward.
She leapt onto the wooden base, the floorboards creaking under her weight, and knelt beside him. He was lying on his side, shaking uncontrollably. She gently rolled him onto his back, gasping as her hand met his forehead. His skin was ice-cold.
Acier's heart clenched. She had seen colds and fevers while working alongside him in their clinic, but this was unlike anything she had ever encountered.
Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around him, trying to warm his freezing body. "Sebastian, wake up!" she called, her voice trembling. But there was no response, only faint groans of pain.
She gritted her teeth and looked toward his tent, then back at him. His normally pale complexion—though never as ghostly as that of her detested "cousin" Lux—was now flushed with an alarming rosy hue. Despite his weak protests, she scooped him up in her arms.
"Just hang on, Sebby!" she whispered, her voice cracking.
Carrying him bridal style, she hurried toward his tent. She shifted his weight carefully, balancing him against her shoulder as she unzipped the entrance and stepped inside.
The tent's interior was cluttered with scattered objects, but Acier navigated it with urgency. She made her way to the back, where a sleeping bag was laid out. Gently, she lowered Sebastian into it, tucking him inside and zipping it closed.
Placing a hand on his forehead again, she reached for her magic transponder, pouring mana into the device until its gem glowed faintly.
A cold, familiar voice answered. "Yes, Acier?"
"Dad," she said quickly, her words spilling out in a rush. "I need help. Sebastian collapsed—he's unconscious. Please send someone to his house right away!"
There was a brief pause. Then came the response: "Very well. Help will be there shortly."
The gem's glow faded as the connection ended.
Acier let out a shaky breath of relief, her hands trembling as she brushed a stray lock of hair from Sebastian's face. Her eyes flicked over him, worry etched into every line of her expression.
"Don't you dare scare me like this again," she murmured, voice wavering.
Her fingers lingered for a moment before she sat back, glancing toward the tent's entrance. All she could do now was wait—and hope.
—
House Silva
"Mana overexertion?" Acier repeated, her head tilting in confusion as she echoed the term back to the elderly, gray-haired doctor standing before her.
"Yes, Princess," the doctor replied with a solemn nod. He gestured toward Sebastian, who lay asleep on the grand king-sized bed in the guest room, bundled under thick covers with a warm compress resting on his forehead.
The House Silva retainers had acted swiftly, arriving at Sebastian's tent soon after Acier's call for help. They had carefully transported him on a stretcher, opting only for basic first aid while en route. None of the healing mages dared to perform any advanced treatment without knowing exactly what they were dealing with, fearing they might inadvertently worsen his condition.
Acier, being Acier, had insisted they bring Sebastian to her room—to her bed. Her retainers had stared at her blankly before making a different decision entirely: they carried him to an unused guest room instead.
They didn't have a death wish.
Acier had pouted at their choice, but her protests went ignored.
Now, standing in the guest room, she watched as the doctor adjusted his glasses and wiped them with a corner of his coat.
"Princess, your frie—" The doctor hesitated mid-sentence, hurriedly correcting himself. "The Young Master, I mean…" He faltered, unsure of how to address Sebastian. Though Sebastian held no official title within House Silva, his frequent time spent with Acier had already sparked whispers among the staff. The doctor decided to take a chance.
The smug grin that spread across Acier's face confirmed he had made the right call, though he might have reconsidered that thought had he noticed Nathaniel standing outside the room, his face darkened and one brow twitching in irritation.
Clearing his throat, the doctor glanced between the sleeping Sebastian and Acier. "The Young Master has been exposed to numerous illnesses from treating patients afflicted with all manner of infections and diseases," he began.
Acier blinked in surprise, a question forming in her mind.
The doctor continued, sensing her confusion. "The reason you've remained unaffected, Princess, is that the Young Master takes it upon himself to handle the worst cases—the sickest and most infectious patients. Isn't that correct?"
Acier hesitated, recalling their time at the clinic. It was true that Sebastian often insisted she assist with more straightforward cases, while he handled the gravely ill. She had accepted his reasoning at the time—that her inexperience might lead to mistakes in complicated situations.
But now, as the doctor explained, a more profound realization dawned on her. It wasn't just about her lack of experience. Sebastian had been shielding her, keeping her away from the gravest dangers.
Her lips pressed into a thin line as she cast a frustrated glance at Sebastian's sleeping form. This idiot.
Shaking her head to dispel the thought, she refocused on the doctor. "So he's contracted various illnesses… but what does that have to do with mana overexertion?"
The doctor inclined his head. "Yes, Princess. While those illnesses could have been fatal, the Young Master appears to have adhered to excellent health practices and utilized his own healing expertise to fend them off. However…"
Acier's sharp eyes narrowed. "However?"
"Previously, the Young Master treated patients primarily without magic," the doctor explained. "But since the influx of patients brought on by the mass migration, he's been forced to rely heavily on magic to keep up with demand."
Acier crossed her arms, her expression puzzled. "And that's a problem… why? Isn't magic meant to be used?"
The doctor spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully. "Normally, no. But it's clear the Young Master isn't accustomed to using such large amounts of magic so frequently. Mana is tied to life, Princess, and his body isn't conditioned to withstand such consistent depletion. This sudden change in routine has finally caught up with him."
He adjusted his glasses and continued. "Adding to that is the fact that the Young Master doesn't possess a grimoire. The very idea that he can cast any healing magic at all is extraordinary. Without a grimoire, it's significantly harder to access and control one's full mana reserves. He has essentially been forcing his mana out—against his body's natural protests—in order to keep treating his patients."
The doctor's tone grew graver. "And that's not all. His mana reserves are relatively modest to begin with. Pair that with the physical strain of tasks like building that home of his—work he's clearly undertaken during long, cold nights—and it was inevitable that his body would eventually shut down. He's been emptying his mana reserves repeatedly, and now the latent diseases and illnesses he had been suppressing with his magic have surged forth, culminating in this severe cold."
Acier blinked, her fists clenching as she fought the urge to slap some sense into Sebastian—and maybe punch him for good measure. Seriously, Sebby? Are you stupid or just dumb? Maybe both.
She inhaled deeply, pushing her frustration aside, and fixed the doctor with a scrutinizing gaze. "So fix him," she demanded, her voice sharp. "I know you can. Why aren't you?"
The doctor bowed his head respectfully. "Princess, forgive me, but this is for the Young Master's benefit."
Acier's brow lifted, her expression skeptical. "How so?"
Clearing his throat, the doctor explained, "All human bodies possess a latent healing factor—an ability tied to our physical organs and structure, not just mana. The Young Master's habitual reliance on magic to repair himself has left those natural healing mechanisms dormant. By constantly abusing his mana to 'fix' himself, he's essentially bypassed these systems, leaving them untrained and inactive.
"When his mana reserves ran dry, these dormant systems failed to counteract his illnesses. This extreme cold, while severe, is nonfatal. Instead of immediately healing the Young Master, we must allow his body's natural healing mechanisms to reawaken. His organs need to 'learn' to function properly again. Only then can his body combat this cold effectively, and his mana reserves will replenish naturally—without the aid of mana-rich foods, magical tools like Eilia's booth, or outside intervention."
Acier frowned, her lips forming a small o of understanding. She was about to nod when the doctor added, "This approach also serves to teach the Young Master a valuable lesson: to respect and cherish his body. He must understand the consequences of such reckless behavior to avoid making the same mistake again."
Acier's expression darkened—not at the doctor, but at the sleeping Sebastian. A devilish grin crept across her face. Oh, you hypocrite. You definitely need to learn this lesson.
The doctor gave a final nod. "So, Princess, ensure the Young Master gets plenty of bed rest. Contact me immediately if any unforeseen complications arise."
Acier nodded, barely acknowledging the doctor as he left the room, his pace quickening when he caught sight of Nathaniel's piercing glare from the hallway.
Turning back to Sebastian, Acier's sly grin widened. Well, this isn't exactly how I imagined you sleeping under my roof, but now that you're here, don't think for a second about leaving.
And so began Sebastian's reluctant "coexistence" with the Silva family.
And so began Acier's fun.
She was going to enjoy every moment of this.
November 22, 1600
Sebastian stirred awake, his eyelids fluttering open to meet an unfamiliar ceiling.
Groggily, he attempted to sit up, only to realize he couldn't. His entire body felt drained—so weak and empty that even moving a finger was beyond him. He was completely unresponsive.
Perhaps that was a mercy.
Because if he had been able to move, if he could even crane his head to look down, he would've noticed the heavy metal cuffs binding his wrists and ankles to the sides of the bed.
And that would've terrified him.
"Oh, good. You're awake."
Sebastian blinked at the familiar voice, his dry lips parting to speak. "...Acier?" he rasped weakly, barely louder than a whisper.
The sound of footsteps approached, and soon her figure entered his limited view.
When his eyes focused on her properly, they widened ever so slightly. She wasn't wearing her usual attire.
Acier stood before him in a crisp white nurse's outfit—a long, modest dress, apron, and cap perched on her silver hair. The juxtaposition of the Princess and heiress of House Silva dressed like a nurse was enough to jolt what little energy he had left into faint shock.
Acier grinned, crossing her arms smugly. "Hey, boy. Like what you see?"
Sebastian didn't.
Sebastian was terrified.
Sebastian wanted to leave.
But all he could do was lay there, helpless, as Acier sauntered over and perched herself at the edge of the bed.
Her hand reached out, and she began running her fingers through his hair, trailing down his face with a touch that sent sharp, electric tingles through him. For the first time since waking up, he felt something—and it terrified him more than anything else.
Because Sebastian feared how much he wanted that feeling to intensify.
He opened his mouth, trying to protest, but no words escaped before her finger pressed gently against his lips.
"Shush," she said softly, shaking her head. "It's my turn to speak."
He tried to nod—or at least signal his understanding—but his body refused even that small act.
"You did a very stupid thing, my dear Sebby," Acier continued, her tone light but her eyes sharp. "Working on that house of yours all alone, through countless sleepless, freezing nights, refusing any and all help."
She leaned closer, her voice dropping into a scolding murmur. "Overexerting yourself to tend to patients without rest, skipping meals, and pushing yourself well past your limits."
Her expression darkened, and Sebastian swore the air in the room grew heavier.
"You've made me very angry, Sebby. So very angry."
Sebastian felt his cold, weak body suddenly heat up, his skin prickling with perspiration as beads of sweat began to form.
Acier leaned in even closer, her breath warm against his ear. "While you were suffering, you left me alone to relax—like I was useless to you. Like I wasn't your partner. Like you didn't need me."
Sebastian stiffened as her words sank in, his pulse weakly fluttering in his chest.
Acier's tone softened again, but the edge remained. "I'm your assistant, Sebby. I'm supposed to help carry your burdens, to lighten the load on your shoulders. Not the other way around."
She pulled back slightly, her lavender eyes locking onto his, her gaze both piercing and unsettling. "So, here's what's going to happen."
Her lips curved into a sly smile, the mischief in her expression unmistakable.
"I'm going to show you my healing skills. I'll prove to you just how amazing I am. And I'm going to nurse you back to health."
Sebastian shivered despite himself, his body trembling faintly as her words echoed in his ears.
Her lavender eyes softened—no, they shifted, curving slightly, almost resembling hearts.
He wanted no part of it.
"I'll take very good care of you… Doctor," Acier whispered, her voice honeyed with something he couldn't quite place.
And then she licked her lips.
November 23, 1600
Sebastian trembled as Acier, still dressed in that same nurse outfit, took his temperature and clicked her tongue.
"You're getting colder. That's not good."
"I-I'm f-fine, r-really," Sebastian stammered, though his shivering and chattering teeth didn't help sell the lie.
Acier shook her head, letting out a dramatic sigh as she rhythmically tapped her index finger against her right cheek.
"What to do? What to do?"
Her gaze drifted to the blankets piled over Sebastian and the warm compress pressed to his chest. Another sigh escaped her lips as she shook her head again.
"It's clear this isn't enough. We'll have to take things to the next level."
"W-what… d-do y-you… m-mean?" Sebastian managed, his teeth clicking with every word.
He stiffened when he saw her fingers move to the top of her dress, unbuttoning it without a word.
"Hey, Sebastian," Acier began with a playful smile, her eyes sparkling. "Did you know the human body can give off heat? Well, of course you do—you're the one who told me that."
Sebastian's eyes widened in alarm. He thrashed weakly against his bindings, his voice rising in panic.
"A-Acier, w-what are you t-trying to d-do?"
Still smiling, Acier tilted her head innocently. "Isn't it obvious? I'm going to warm you up with my body. These clothes are just in the way."
Sebastian froze. His face turned beet red as he struggled to form a coherent thought. Then, at the sound of another button popping open, his eyes rolled back, and he slipped into unconsciousness.
Acier blinked, then let out a disappointed pout as she calmly redid her buttons.
"Well, that didn't go as planned," she muttered to herself, glancing at Sebastian's limp form.
Ever since she'd drawn the line with Nicklaus, Acier's previously censored and sheltered education had been lifted. Now free to learn about anything she desired, her interests naturally turned toward boys—specifically, Sebastian.
To gain some insight into how to "reel" him in, she had turned to Amber for advice on progressing their relationship. Amber, however, refused to indulge her schemes and simply recommended she read a few "explicit" novels.
Romanticized and overly sexualized portrayals of love were a staple of noble society, where loveless marriages were common. To fill that void, artists, musicians, and authors churned out works to satisfy these desires—and to profit. Smutty novels, in particular, were wildly popular among the upper class.
Acier had no trouble finding a few to read for "research purposes." She'd gone through them eagerly, jotting down ideas and inspiration.
She glanced at Sebastian one last time, still unconscious and looking no warmer than before. With a sharp stomp, she turned and walked away.
I'll get him tomorrow.
November 24, 1600
Sebastian's eyes nearly popped out of his head. Acier wasn't wearing the nurse outfit anymore—she'd upgraded to a maid's uniform.
He watched in disbelief as she moved around the spacious room, dusting every surface, and crouching into every nook and cranny. Naturally, this meant she bent over several times, each time deliberately angled in his direction.
Don't fall for it. Don't fall for it. Sebastian shut his eyes firmly, refusing to give in to what was clearly the devil's temptation. To block out even the faintest glimpse, he slid the warm compress over his eyes.
But somehow, that made things worse. His closed eyes betrayed him, conjuring an even more vivid image of her form than before. It was as if his mind had turned traitor, replaying a split-screen vision of Acier in both her nurse and maid outfits.
Why is this happening?! He screamed internally, his frustration mounting. Where is everyone? How can a princess get away with shamelessly dressing like this?!
Sebastian's torment was interrupted by Acier's voice, soft and teasing as it drifted into his ears.
"I'm done cleaning your room, Master. Is there anything else I can help you with?"
He groaned, the extent of his suffering spilling out in his words.
"Acier… I'm sorry. For everything I did. I promise I won't neglect my health anymore, I won't be a hypocrite… So please, just stop. I hate this."
But Acier's tone was anything but sympathetic.
"Master, your words say one thing, but your body tells another story. It's clear that what you're feeling is anything but hate."
Sebastian froze. A slow, dawning horror washed over him as he processed her innuendo. Then, with a sudden, mortified realization, he felt an unwelcome discomfort in his lower half. His face turned crimson, and before he could stop himself, he fainted once more.
Acier let out a long, exaggerated sigh, though the sly smile tugging at her lips betrayed her amusement. She moved toward the door, intending to leave, but the moment she swung it open, her smug expression vanished.
Standing on the other side was none other than Nathaniel Silva, her father.
Acier froze, trembling under his piercing, dark glare. She stammered out a shaky greeting.
"H-hello, My Lord. H-how can I—"
"Don't." Nathaniel's cold, cutting tone stopped her mid-sentence.
His glare was withering, the kind that brooked no arguments. Acier shrank under its heat, knowing full well that her fun had come to an abrupt end.
Well, she thought bitterly as she glanced back at Sebastian's unconscious form, most of it, anyway.
November 25, 1600
Several maids bowed politely to Sebastian, their eyes respectfully downcast, their demeanor professional.
"If you need anything, please just ring the bell, sir," one of them said, gesturing to the golden bell placed on the table beside him.
Sebastian followed her gaze and noticed the bell. His attention, however, quickly shifted to Acier, who sat across the room by the window. She was perched on a chair, arms crossed, lips set in a heavy pout.
Unlike her recent antics, she was dressed in her traditional attire, which lent her an air of formality, and thank god, decency.
For the first time in days, Sebastian felt at peace. He was about to dismiss the maids when they turned to Acier.
"Now, Princess, please leave. Sir Sebastian needs his bandages changed and must rest," one of the maids said firmly.
Sebastian froze. He watched in rising dread as Acier casually waved a hand in dismissal.
"Oh, no need to worry. I won't make a sound. Besides, it's not like I haven't seen it all before."
Sebastian's face drained of color. He opened his mouth to protest but was too stunned to utter a word. The maids, however, exchanged unamused wordless glances, their expressions darkening.
Without a shred of hesitation or deference, they yanked Acier off her chair as if she were a sack of groceries and unceremoniously tossed her out of the room.
Acier blinked, dumbfounded, as the door slammed shut in her face.
The maids turned back to Sebastian and bowed.
"Please disregard the Princess' uncouth words, sir. She has seen no such thing," one of them assured him, her tone calm but firm.
Sebastian let out a long sigh of relief, his shoulders finally relaxing.
That relief didn't last. A moment later, he was unceremoniously stripped and manhandled by the group of maids.
November 26, 1600
Sebastian squirmed weakly in his bed, his fever now overpowering the chill that had plagued him earlier. He tried to reach for his blankets and warm compress, desperate to yank them off, but his strength failed him.
Even the golden bell by his side felt impossibly far away.
Why did I push Acier away? he thought, regret twisting through his fever-addled mind.
Eyes shut tight, too dizzy and out of it to notice his surroundings, he missed the sound of the door creaking open and the soft footsteps approaching his bed.
A moment later, his restless twisting stopped as a wave of icy cold swept over him, cooling his overheated body to room temperature.
Layers of blankets were gently lifted away, the oppressive warmth dissipating. The warm press lying on his head was removed, only to be replaced moments later with a fresh, cool one.
Sebastian groaned faintly, trying to pry his eyes open, but his exhaustion won out. His lips barely moved as he whispered a weak, "T-thank you…" before drifting into a deep sleep.
Amara retracted her hand, the chilly breeze of ice ceasing as her grimoire floated back to her satchel.
Her soft pink gaze lingered on Sebastian's sleeping form for a moment. Without a word, she turned and walked toward the door, shutting it quietly behind her.
November 27, 1600
Sebastian, still lying on the bed, glared coldly at the figure standing in front of him.
Nicklaus met Sebastian's ocean-blue eyes with an equally icy stare, his silver pupils glinting with quiet intensity.
The two locked in a silent standoff until the frail, withered old man shifted his weight onto his crutch and turned away, shuffling out of the room without a word.
Sebastian closed his eyes with indifference and drifted off to sleep.
Neither of them noticed the incredibly thin silver needle hovering in the top left corner of the room, angled directly toward Nicklaus.
—
Patriarch's Office
Nathaniel watched the exchange through his circular projection device, his gaze cold and calculating.
As soon as his father turned and left Sebastian's room, Nathaniel closed his eyes and released a quiet breath of relief.
His grimoire, which floated beside him, snapped shut and returned to his satchel. At the same time, the silver needle in Sebastian's room vanished without a trace.
November 28, 1600
"Hey Brother, I have great news!"
Sebastian forced a strained smile and nodded weakly from the bed.
"What is it, Aurelia?"
Aurelia beamed, her excitement palpable.
"Did you know some of the servants are calling you 'Young Master'? They're already accepting you! Isn't that great?"
Sebastian froze, his smile faltering. Slowly, his gaze shifted from Aurelia to Acier, who was seated next to her.
Acier's smile widened, and her tone dripped with honey as she chimed in.
"Yeah, Sebby, isn't that great?"
Sebastian's trembling smile returned as he nodded stiffly.
"That's… wonderful."
Aurelia and Acier both lit up with delight, their faces glowing.
November 29, 1600
Acier pouted in disappointment as Nathaniel, without ceremony, cut through the bindings that had held Sebastian to the bed.
Sebastian's face lit up with joy as he began to sit up, ready to celebrate his newfound freedom—only to freeze as Nathaniel's icy glare pinned him in place.
"You will stay in that bed for one more night," Nathaniel said, his voice sharp. "You can return home tomorrow."
Sebastian opened his mouth, speechless, before lowering his head obediently.
"Yes, My Lord."
Nathaniel nodded and turned away, heading for the door. He had barely taken a few steps when he froze in place, his shoulders stiffening.
Behind him, Acier's teasing voice rang out.
"You should've said, 'Yes, Father.' Or maybe even 'Yes, Dad.'"
Both Sebastian and Nathaniel twitched in unison, their faces darkening in comical exasperation.
November 30, 1600
"Thank you for all the care and compassion you've shown me these past few days. This will not happen again."
Sebastian bowed deeply and respectfully in front of Castle Silva. Before him stood Nathaniel, Amara, Acier, and Aurelia, flanked by a multitude of House Silva's servants and retainers lined neatly behind them.
His poised demeanor shattered the moment the army of servants bowed and curtsied in perfect unison. Just as Nathaniel opened his mouth to speak, the servants chorused, their voices sharp and coordinated.
"It is our honor to be of service, Young Master."
Damnit, do you want to kill me?! Sebastian inwardly cried as his head, still bowed, began to rise reluctantly. His gaze darted to Nathaniel, bracing for a reaction.
To his relief, Nathaniel's expression remained cold and unreadable, the same as always.
Amara gave Sebastian a subtle nod. Confused but polite, he returned it swiftly.
His attention then drifted to Acier and Aurelia—Acier was radiating smug delight, while Aurelia's smile was pure and brimming with joy. He chose to ignore them both.
Sebastian bowed once more and turned to leave, but before he could take a step, Acier skipped up to him with a magic broom in hand.
"Come on, Sebby, I'll take you home."
Sebastian waved her off hurriedly.
"There's no need, it's merely lunch time. I can walk—"
"Don't reject her."
The sharp command stopped him mid-sentence. He jerked his head toward Nathaniel, who shot him an icy glare before turning wordlessly back to the estate.
Amara and Aurelia followed suit, each offering him a brief nod as they passed. The servants also bowed deeply before Sebastian.
Sebastian blinked in confusion. They didn't disperse—just stood there, waiting. He glanced at Acier, who was giving him a sly, conniving look.
Blinking again, Sebastian recalled his lessons with Count Vardy. They're waiting for me to dismiss them?
I'm not your damn Young Master! he fumed internally. She's your heiress, not me—ask her!
Despite his grievances, Sebastian bit his tongue, forcing down his frustration.
"You may leave," he said begrudgingly.
Not a second later, the servants departed in a perfectly ordered line.
Sebastian turned back to Acier, who was now smiling at him with radiant joy.
He sighed in surrender.
Whatever. As long as you're happy.
—
As Acier and Sebastian flew back to his home at a modest pace, the wind brushing their faces, they enjoyed the fresh air. Acier, feeling playful, spun around on the broom, facing him while somehow maintaining perfect control.
She leaned forward with a sly smile.
"You should've just stayed in the castle, forever."
Sebastian met her gaze with a blank stare and said nothing, opting to ignore her.
Acier grinned, twirling back around with an air of triumph, guiding the broom toward his house with barely contained excitement.
—
Sebastian blinked at the structure before him.
His lips pressed into a tight line as a swirl of conflicting emotions flickered in his eyes.
Finally, he let out a soft sigh and murmured under his breath, "you've gotta stop doing things like this."
Acier's expression softened as her gaze followed his to the building.
Where there had once been only a crude wooden square base, now stood a modest rectangular shack with a triangular roof. The structure, while simple, was far more refined than before.
Acier had hired the carpenter responsible for building Sebastian's clinic to finish his shack while he was unconscious.
Originally, she had toyed with the idea of going all out—commissioning a full mansion or even repurchasing Sebastian's childhood home from the bank. But she'd decided against it.
She knew he would never accept a mansion, and as for his old home… she wasn't sure how he'd feel, given its association with so many painful memories.
To her, this was a fresh start for Sebastian. A new chapter with her and her family. So, with characteristic boldness, Acier had gone through one of his journals, stumbled across a rough blueprint for his ideal house, and handed it to the carpenter with specific instructions to follow it.
Of course, she'd taken the liberty of adding a few extra amenities and flourishes.
Acier smiled faintly and whispered, "this isn't you shamelessly taking advantage of me. This is me doing what I want for the man I love."
Sebastian clenched his jaw, biting his lip and balling his fists. He remained silent, then wordlessly moved forward.
Acier followed him, her smile unwavering, as he opened the door and stepped into the single-room structure.
To the right was a sturdy bed built into the wall, already fitted with mattress covers and pillows.
Over the bed, Sebastian noticed built-in shelves holding his belongings, along with several extras he didn't recall ever owning.
He pulled open the drawers beneath the bed and froze at the sight of clothes—expensive ones—far more than he'd ever possessed or could afford. He chewed his lip as his gaze shifted to a simple wooden fireplace that doubled as a stone stove, tucked under a chimney that promised warmth in the winter.
On the opposite side stood a wooden desk, accompanied by a chair and surrounded by shelves similar to the ones above the bed. These shelves were filled with books, many of which were brand new and clearly medical in nature.
Sebastian's eyes lingered on the medical texts, recognizing their rich knowledge and potential to fill the gaps in his self-taught education. His gaze roamed further, taking in the many little additions: built-in coat hangers, new writing utensils, clean pots and pans, fresh medical tools, and even a safe for his belongings.
Two glass windows let in natural light and fresh air, while the carpeted floor muffled creaks.
Then, his eyes landed on a large picture frame hanging above his desk—a portrait of Acier herself, smiling smugly.
Sebastian froze, his brows twitching as his eyes began to sting and water. He rubbed them furiously, but his vision remained blurred.
He sniffed, then turned toward Acier, who was nervously fidgeting. She blushed and twirled her silver hair as she spoke meekly.
"I knew you were scared about winter… that's why you rushed to build your shack. You didn't think you'd survive the storms in that tent. And… I understand it's too soon to force you into my house, so I had this done for you as… as reservedly as I could."
Sebastian's gaze softened as Acier twiddled her thumbs. She hesitated before continuing, "What do you think—"
Before she could finish, Sebastian crashed into her, wrapping his arms around her tightly.
Acier stiffened for a moment, then realized what was happening—he was hugging her. He was finally hugging her.
Blushing, she nuzzled her head against his chest, and they stood there in silence for minutes, Sebastian holding her close.
That embrace spoke volumes—boundless gratitude, a willingness to relent and return her feelings, and a quiet promise to move forward with their relationship, whatever it might become.
They stayed like that a moment longer before, true to form, Acier couldn't resist ruining it.
She lifted her head, her lavender eyes locking onto Sebastian's ocean-blue gaze, and grinned slyly.
"Is this the part where you make love to me?"
Sebastian blinked. Then blinked again. And once more for good measure.
Finally, he smiled—a dark, annoyed smile.
Before Acier could react, Sebastian guided her to the door, turned her around, and delivered a swift kick to her rear.
"Eep!" Acier yelped, clutching her backside as she tumbled onto the grassy ground.
"Sebby—"
Her protest was cut off by the resounding bang of the door slamming shut in her face.
Acier blinked, staring at the closed door. Is this going to become a new pattern…?
After a moment, she stood up, dusting herself off. She grabbed her broom, cast one last look at the shack, and took to the skies.
As she flew away, her brow furrowed as she sensed a call through her transponder gem. Recognizing the familiar mana signature, she answered in a sly sing-song tone.
"Yes, Sebby?"
A moment later, Sebastian's voice came through softly.
"I love it, Acier. Thank you."
Acier's lips curled into a radiant smile as she replied gently, "That's great. See you tomorrow."
Just as the gem dimmed, Sebastian's voice came through again.
"See you tomorrow… love you too."
The line went silent.
Acier froze midair, her face turning scarlet. For a moment, she lost control of her magic and plummeted before quickly steadying herself.
Flustered, she poured mana into the transponder, trying to reconnect the line, but no answer came.
Her frustration erupted into a scream.
"You can't say something like that and then ghost me!!!"
"Sebby!!!"
Determined, Acier spun her broom around and bolted back toward Sebastian's home.
They spent the rest of the day together, not doing much of anything.
It was a good day.
Author's Notes:
[1] You might, emphasis on might, very big emphasis of might, crystal clear emphasis on might, get one more update tomorrow, and then no updates till after wednesday due to my exam
[2] Feel free to join the discord: https://discord.gg/s3MME8X8ar