Location: Newly Constructed Road
The sun hung high in the sky, its golden light casting a warm glow over the Shelb Estate grounds. The earthy scent of freshly tilled soil mixed with the faint hum of mana in the air as Micheal von Shelb stood beside the sleek, mana-powered horseless carriage. His sharp blue eyes roved over its polished surface, catching every detail. The glint of the metallic frame reflected the precision and care he had poured into its design.
Micheal's broad shoulders shifted as he leaned forward, his hands brushing over the intricate mechanisms. The light breeze tousled a few loose strands of his platinum hair, tied neatly back in a half-ponytail. His voice, smooth and assured, filled the air as he muttered observations to Arthur.
Arthur, standing nervously beside him, adjusted his collar and fidgeted with his cuffs. "Do I really have to drive it later, Micheal? It's... a lot of responsibility."
Micheal smirked, straightening to his full height, his tailored coat emphasizing the strength of his frame. "It's just a test run, Arthur. No pressure."
Arthur let out a nervous laugh, clearly unconvinced.
The sound of soft, deliberate footsteps interrupted them. Micheal turned, and his gaze landed on Magda approaching from the direction of the mage tower.
Her crimson eyes glimmered with curiosity, her long, ink-black hair swaying gently with the breeze. The faint scent of lavender followed her, subtle yet intoxicating. She was dressed simply but elegantly, the rich fabric of her gown moving fluidly as she walked.
"Is this the new carriage you've been working on?" she asked, her voice carrying a note of intrigue as her eyes scanned the sleek design.
Micheal's smile widened, a rare softness creeping into his otherwise stoic expression. "It is. Would you like to join us for the test run?"
Magda hesitated for a moment, her crimson eyes flickering between Micheal and the carriage. "Why not? It looks... fascinating," she said finally, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
Her gaze lingered on him for a second longer than necessary, catching the way the sunlight kissed his platinum hair and the confident way he held himself.
Seated behind the controls, Micheal started the carriage. The hum of its mana engine resonated with a steady rhythm, a testament to his ingenuity. Magda climbed into the back seat, her crimson eyes darting between the glowing dashboard runes and Micheal's precise movements as he adjusted the controls. Arthur, seated nervously beside him, gripped the edge of his seat like it might save him from impending disaster.
The carriage rolled onto the newly constructed road, the smooth surface enhancing the sleek vehicle's seamless glide. Micheal's voice filled the cabin, animated and full of pride. "The new suspension system absorbs most of the impact from uneven terrain. Notice how even on bumps, the ride remains smooth. The mana regulator ensures—"
Magda leaned forward slightly, ostensibly to better see the controls. Her gaze, however, lingered on Micheal's hands. She watched the way his fingers moved deftly over the levers, his knuckles taut with control. Her eyes drifted to his broad shoulders, the way they flexed subtly with each adjustment he made.
Her fascination wasn't with the technical details he was explaining but with the man behind them. His voice, smooth and confident, wrapped around her like a warm embrace.
"Magda?"
His sudden question jolted her from her reverie. She blinked, her cheeks heating slightly as she realized she hadn't heard a word he'd said.
"What do you think?" Micheal repeated, glancing at her over his shoulder, his sharp blue eyes gleaming with curiosity.
Caught off guard, she quickly replied, "I was looking at the road. Sorry, I didn't hear you."
Micheal chuckled, shaking his head. "That's alright. I suppose I'm doing most of the talking anyway."
Magda smiled faintly, her heart fluttering at his easy humor. "You do get quite enthusiastic about these things, Micheal."
Her tone was teasing, but her gaze softened as she spoke. She had rarely seen him so relaxed, so at ease.
Micheal glanced at her through the rearview mirror, his sharp blue eyes catching hers for a fleeting moment. His lips quirked into a faint smile before he turned his attention back to the road, as her eyes lingered on the curve of his lips, she couldn't shake the faint ache in her chest, a longing she couldn't fully name.
The newly constructed road stretched out before them, a ribbon of smooth, glimmering stone that promised a seamless ride. Micheal eased the carriage to a stop and turned to Arthur, a faint smirk playing on his lips.
"Alright, your turn," he said, his voice both encouraging and teasing.
Arthur's face went pale, his hands instinctively gripping his knees. "My turn? Are you sure about this?"
Micheal chuckled softly, stepping out of the driver's seat with effortless grace. The morning sun caught his platinum hair as he adjusted his cuffs, his sharp blue eyes sparkling with amusement. "Come on, Arthur. You've got this. I'll guide you the whole way."
Arthur sighed heavily, reluctantly sliding into the driver's seat. His hands trembled as they wrapped around the controls, the glowing runes on the dashboard flickering like they sensed his hesitation.
Magda, seated behind them, watched quietly, her crimson eyes flitting between Arthur's nervous movements and Micheal's calm instructions.
Micheal leaned slightly over Arthur's shoulder, adjusting the controls to ensure the carriage started smoothly. His broad shoulders stretched the fabric of his coat, and Magda's gaze lingered, drawn to the way his muscles flexed subtly with each movement.
"You're doing fine," Micheal said, his voice low and soothing, though his sharp eyes flicked briefly to the reflection of Magda in the polished dashboard. Her focus on him didn't go unnoticed, and a faint, knowing smile tugged at his lips.
To Magda, it seemed entirely natural when Micheal shrugged off his coat and draped it over the seat behind him. The casual gesture exposed the sharp lines of his shoulders and the hint of his collarbone where his shirt opened slightly. She swallowed, averting her gaze quickly, but not before her cheeks betrayed her with a soft blush.
"Magda," Micheal said without turning, his voice carrying a teasing edge, "you're awfully quiet back there. Any thoughts?"
Her eyes darted to his hands, then to his face, and finally to the window as she stammered, "The... road looks good."
Micheal chuckled, his tone knowing but not unkind. "I'm glad you approve."
Arthur's knuckles were white as he guided the carriage forward, the smooth hum of the engine contrasting sharply with the uneven rhythm of the wheels as he hit a series of small bumps.
"Easy," Micheal instructed, his voice calm but firm. "You're doing fine. Just ease up on the regulator—"
But Arthur's nerves got the better of him. In his attempt to correct a minor veer, he overcompensated, and with a sudden jolt, the carriage lurched backward. Before anyone could react, the rear of the vehicle collided with a tree, the impact sending a sharp vibration through the cabin.
Magda gasped as the jolt caused her to bump her head against the back of the seat. Her hand flew to her forehead, her vision blurring momentarily.
"Magda!" Micheal's voice rang out, filled with alarm. He was out of the carriage in an instant, his long strides eating up the distance as he reached her door.
The door flew open, and Micheal crouched beside her, his sharp blue eyes scanning her face. "Are you alright? Let me see."
Magda shook her head weakly. "It's nothing," she murmured, though her voice faltered.
"Nothing?" Micheal repeated, his tone tinged with a mix of disbelief and concern. Gently, he brushed her hair aside, his fingers grazing her temple as he inspected the spot where she had hit her head.
Magda's breath hitched at the unexpected contact. The warmth of his hand, the intensity of his gaze—it all made her heart pound in a way she couldn't control.
"It's just a bump," she said softly, though her cheeks flushed under his scrutiny.
Micheal's jaw tightened, and for a moment, he simply stared at her, his sharp features taut with emotion. "You hit your head. That's not nothing."
Magda averted her gaze, her voice barely above a whisper. "Really, Micheal, I'm fine."
But Micheal wasn't convinced. His mind raced with what-ifs, the image of her pale face and dazed expression etched into his thoughts. His hands trembled slightly as they lingered near her face, his thumb brushing against her cheek as if to reassure himself that she was truly alright.
His voice softened, but the undercurrent of intensity remained. "I should've been more careful. This was my fault."
Magda looked up at him, her crimson eyes wide with confusion. The way he was looking at her—like she was the only thing in the world that mattered—made her chest tighten.
For a brief moment, Micheal's gaze dropped to her lips, and his breath hitched. He forced himself to look away, his fingers brushing against her hand as he pulled back. "Stay here. Don't move."
As he stepped out of the carriage to assess the damage, Micheal took a deep breath, his heart pounding like a war drum. He clenched his fists, willing himself to calm down, but the image of Magda's flushed face and wide eyes haunted him.
She was his wife, yet in moments like this, she felt like a forbidden temptation—a mystery he longed to unravel.
After ensuring Magda was unharmed, Micheal exhaled slowly, suppressing the lingering panic that clawed at his chest. His sharp blue eyes darted to Arthur, who stood awkwardly beside the carriage, his face pale and guilt-ridden.
"Arthur," Micheal said gently but firmly, "return to the estate on foot. It's only a short walk to the workshop. I'll take Magda back myself."
Arthur opened his mouth to protest, but one look at Micheal's tense expression silenced him. He nodded hesitantly and trudged toward the path, leaving Micheal and Magda alone.
Micheal climbed into the driver's seat, his hands gripping the wheel tightly as he started the carriage. Behind him, Magda sat quietly, her crimson eyes flickering with a mix of emotions. The rhythmic hum of the mana engine filled the silence between them, but Micheal's thoughts churned like a storm.
His gaze briefly shifted to her reflection in the polished mirror. She seemed so small, so delicate at that moment, her hand resting lightly on her lap as her gaze drifted toward the window.
"Are you feeling alright?" he asked, his voice softer than usual.
Magda startled slightly, glancing at him. "I'm fine," she replied, though her voice carried a hint of frustration.
Micheal didn't push further, his focus returning to the road. His knuckles whitened on the wheel, but his mind was elsewhere, consumed by the image of her flinching from the impact, her pale face etched with confusion.
The carriage rolled smoothly into the courtyard of the Shelb Estate, and Micheal stepped out quickly, rounding the vehicle to open Magda's door. He offered her his hand, and she hesitated for a moment before taking it, her fingers brushing against his palm.
Micheal's touch lingered longer than necessary, his sharp blue eyes scanning her face for any sign of discomfort. "You should rest," he said softly, his voice laced with concern. "I'll have someone bring you something for the pain."
Magda nodded, her crimson eyes searching his face. "Thank you," she said, her voice quiet but steady.
He escorted her to her chambers, his movements deliberate and careful, as though the slightest misstep might shatter the fragile peace between them. When they reached her door, Micheal paused, his sharp features taut with restrained emotion.
"Goodnight, Magda," he said finally, stepping back with a polite nod.
"Goodnight," she replied, watching him retreat down the hallway. The click of his boots against the polished floor echoed in her ears, amplifying the swirl of thoughts that consumed her.
Location: Magda's chambers
Once inside her chambers, Magda leaned against the closed door, her hand pressed lightly to her chest. The memory of Micheal's touch lingered, his fingertips brushing her hair aside as he inspected her injury.
But even in that moment of closeness, he had been distant—fussing over her like a mother hen rather than a husband.
Her gaze drifted to the mirror, and her reflection stared back, filled with doubt. "Is it me?" she whispered to herself, her voice trembling.
She remembered the other girls at the academy, their desks piled high with love letters, their names whispered among the male mages with admiration and desire. Yet she had received none—not a single note, not a single glance. To them, she was the overeager mage who debated professors and outshone her peers, not someone to admire as a woman.
Her crimson eyes filled with a mix of frustration and sadness. "Even Micheal…" she murmured, her thoughts trailing off.
She recalled the moment in the carriage when his hand had accidentally brushed against her chest, the heat that had rushed to her face. Yet he had reacted as though it hadn't even happened, his focus solely on ensuring she was unharmed.
Magda clenched her fists, her resolve hardening. "I won't lose him," she whispered, her voice steadying. "I'll find a way to reach him."
Location: Shelb Estate Workshop
The workshop was eerily silent, the only sound the faint hum of mana lingering in the air. Micheal stood alone, his sharp blue eyes fixed on the carriage that loomed before him. The sleek design, a testament to his ingenuity, now felt like a cruel reminder of his failure to keep Magda safe.
Arthur's earlier apology echoed in his mind.
"I'm sorry," Arthur had said, his voice trembling with guilt. "I'll do better next time."
Micheal had shaken his head, his voice kinder than usual. "There won't be a next time, Arthur. I won't force you to drive again. That was my mistake."
He had meant every word. It wasn't Arthur's fault—forcing him to take the wheel had been Micheal's own decision. And yet, his heart felt heavy as he watched the man walk away, his own carefully crafted mask slipping once Arthur was out of sight.
Now, as the moonlight filtered through the workshop windows, Micheal's composure began to crack. His hands, usually steady and precise, trembled as he reached for a sheet of parchment. Gripping the quill tightly, he began sketching safety features for the carriage with hurried strokes.
The faint outline of a reinforced cabin formed on the page, followed by enhanced restraints, impact buffers, and an emergency mana shield. But no matter how many designs he added, the fear that clawed at his chest refused to abate.
The image of Magda bumping her head replayed in his mind—the way her crimson eyes had fluttered shut for a brief moment, the soft wince of pain etched into her face.
What if it happens again?
The question sent a chill down his spine, and his strokes grew frantic. Each line he drew felt like a desperate plea, an attempt to shield her from a future he couldn't bear to imagine.
The fear was too familiar. It brought him back to the day of the red sky and red fog—the day he had almost lost her.
Micheal had been fighting on the front lines, his focus on the beasts that threatened to overrun their defenses, when he realized something was wrong. Magda wasn't in the central formation for mages.
His heart had dropped as Mage Edran delivered the news: Magda had willingly stepped forward to shield the camp with her life.
For days, he had fought with the gnawing uncertainty, not knowing if she had survived. The Emperor had taken her—Raphael's intervention had saved her—but Micheal hadn't known for days if she would wake again.
Even now, the memory of those endless nights, pacing and waiting, haunted him. The fear of losing her had burrowed so deeply into his soul that even the smallest threat to her safety left him shaken.
He worked through his sketches with a fervor, as if they were his silent prayer to keep his beloved wife safe.