The afternoon sun shone brightly overhead, casting long shadows across the corridors of the ancient and magnificent Shelb Castle. A girl in flowing white mage's robes darted through the halls, her steps hurried and purposeful.

Magda Valoria von Shelb was late.

Again...

The old men at the Mage Tower had detained her, their endless questions and requests consuming precious time.

She had no choice but to stop and help—not when the head of the Mage Tower himself had personally intervened. As an Imperial Mage, declining his request was out of the question.

Despite her dedication to research and helping others, Magda had one inviolable rule: she must reach Shelb Castle by noon for lunch and her chambers by 1:00 PM. Today, however, that rule had been broken.

She checked her pocket watch. 12:47 PM. She cursed softly under her breath, her crimson eyes narrowing in frustration. "I'll have to skip lunch," she muttered, picking up her pace. "I'll barely make it back in time."

She dashed through the expansive corridors, silently protesting against whoever had designed the castle to be so impossibly vast. At exactly one o'clock, she reached her chambers, her chest heaving as she clamored to the large Gothic window in her reading room.

"Made it in time," she breathed, relief washing over her.

Carefully, she settled onto the cushioned window ledge and pried through the curtains to peer at the garden below. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him.

A handsome young man stood under the shade of a century-old oak tree. His platinum blonde hair, tied back into a ponytail, gleamed in the sunlight. Micheal von Shelb's bright blue eyes were focused as he trained, his well-built frame moving with precision as he practiced close combat martial arts.

Magda swallowed hard as her gaze lingered. His white shirt, drenched in sweat, clung to his toned physique, highlighting every contour of his body. Her cheeks flushed, and she bit her lip, unable to look away.

"Peeking at your husband again, Your Highness?" a voice teased from behind.

Magda startled, nearly dropping the curtain. She turned to find her trusted retainer, Calista Merren, standing close enough that she could feel her breath.

"C-Calista! I was just…" Magda stammered, her crimson eyes darting nervously. "It's… coincidence. I happened to glance out the window."

Calista raised a skeptical eyebrow, her auburn hair streaked with silver catching the light. "Coincidence? You've been here at this exact time every day for the past year."

Magda's blush deepened. She tried to feign nonchalance, but Calista wasn't fooled. The retainer's sharp emerald eyes sparkled with amusement.

"Why don't you just talk to him?" Calista asked, crossing her arms. "He is your husband, after all. It's not like he can dismiss you."

Magda's gaze dropped, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her robe. "I… I've tried. But..." Her voice faltered as she remembered the day Micheal had changed his lunch schedule.

When Magda had first come to Shelb, she had adjusted her routine to align with Micheal's, hoping to "accidentally" share a meal. After three days of coincidental encounters, she arrived on the fourth day to find him gone.

A kind matron had gently informed her that Lord Micheal had changed his lunch hour to allow the princess her privacy. Magda's heart had stung at the revelation.

"Does he really want to avoid me that much?" she had whispered to herself that day.

Callista, standing nearby, stifled a laugh. "Your Highness," she said with playful mischief, "you look like a poet sneaking a glance at their muse."

"He's like a sculpted deity," she murmured under her breath. Her blush deepened. She hated how weak she felt around him, how easily he unraveled her composure.

Calista sighed, shaking her head. "You're giving up meals just to glimpse a man who doesn't even look your way. It pains me to see you like this, Your Highness."

Magda's expression faltered. "It's not his fault," she said quietly. "He's the victim here, too."

Magda sighed as she continued, "He was everything—handsome, generous, admired by everyone at the academy. And me? I was just a malnourished country noble, thrust into this role because the Emperor found out I was his daughter."

Her thoughts drifted back to their first meeting.

Micheal had been kind to her, a drunken teenager offering clumsy but heartfelt comfort to a girl drowning in the judgment of the court. Inspired by his words, she had worked tirelessly to earn the Emperor's approval, only to be married off to Micheal without her knowledge.

On their wedding day, when she saw her groom for the first time, her heart had nearly leapt out of her chest.

It was her senior, the man she had secretly admired for so long.

She had struggled to maintain her composure, grateful to whatever deity had brought him to her.

Magda, ever understanding, couldn't help but feel sympathy for him.

The man who, back in the academy, had shared fleeting smiles with her in the mess hall, was now her closest relative—one who refused to even dine with her. She found herself questioning how everything had unraveled so completely. 

Now, watching him walk away from the garden, Magda felt the familiar ache in her chest.

She allowed Calista to help her out of her robes and into more comfortable attire. Calista carefully folded the Imperial Mage uniform, her movements reverent.

To her, Magda was more than a mistress—she was a prodigy and an enigma. At just nineteen, Magda had become the youngest Imperial Mage in the Empire's history.

Yet here she was, pining over a man who barely acknowledged her presence.

Calista's heart ached for her mistress, knowing the depth of Magda's feelings and the toll they were taking on her already frail form.