Ione knew exactly what Helena must have felt the previous night after witnessing that small, sharp thorn—why she had hastily arranged this meeting with the magicians. That’s why she had thanked her.
Helena’s kindness was sweet and comforting, making it easier to overlook the subtle hostility from the magician. But the real problem was… she couldn’t feel purely grateful.
“I hope I’m not falling into the cliché of the spoiled, villainous ex-wife… I hate that I’m even doubting myself like this.”
Silently groaning, Ione suddenly noticed something odd—Seten hadn’t touched his tea or any of the tea snacks. She was the only one drinking. He’d asked for a tea meeting, yet he just sat across from her without taking a sip.
What is this about?
Just as she opened her mouth to offer him tea again, Seten spoke first, cutting her off.
“You’re from the South, I hear.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
So he
had
been picking his words.
“From the Clarke family…?”
“You know my father, the Baron?”
“Hardly. I just recall hearing that your estate’s finances were in terrible shape for a time.”
“Oh…”
Seten’s smile bloomed like a rose in full blossom—elegant and radiant. But to Ione, it felt like the sting of a thorn.
The conversation topic, the kind voice, the courteous tone—they all
seemed
pleasant. Yet somehow, it felt like he was subtly putting her down. He hadn’t said anything overtly rude, but…
What is this?
Ione blinked slowly. Every fiber of her being was warning her that Seten didn’t like her.
If only Helena were here—she would’ve gotten mad on her behalf, or steered the conversation back on track. But right now, it was just the two of them. No help to be found.
Is this how I have to take it? Powerless?
“Have your tea, Your Grace,”
Seten said smoothly.
“It’s a very rare blend.”
...There it is again—that faint, scratchy feeling under the surface.
It was a subtle jab. A provocation.
Why?
Ione couldn’t respond easily. After all, he was a magician—someone she
needed
.
Just hold it in.
But who exactly was Seten, anyway? If he had this much of a grudge against her, surely she’d remember him from the original novel. Yet… nothing came to mind.
As she tilted her head in confusion, a sudden thought made her clench her jaw.
Don’t tell me… he’s a new character, not in the original—someone added just to push me toward a darker path?
That slow, deliberate way of needling her—he was acting
exactly
like that kind of character!
But instead of anger, excitement surged through Ione at the realization.
A magician
not
featured in the original? That meant he wasn’t on the heroine’s side.
Which meant—
Thump-thump-thump
.
Her heart pounded with anticipation. She bit the soft inside of her cheek to calm herself. The sharp pain helped bring her back down.
Once she was centered again, she knew exactly what she needed to do.
“You should try some too, Lord Seten. This exquisite tea will grow cold.”
Smiling sweetly, Ione whispered in the gentlest voice she could manage.
“I heard you’ve been through a lot. You worked so hard in the Black Forest, didn’t you? Please—rest, even if just for a moment. Enjoy this tea time.”
Prompted twice now, Seten finally lifted his cup and took a sip.
I need to win him over.
I survived working under that nitpicking she-devil of a manager—I can manage a magician’s temperament, right?
A magician! Someone who could teleport, shield, attack, and even heal!
To Ione—whose life was hanging by a thread—there was no one more crucial.
Her desperation softened her eyes and added warmth to her voice.
“Is the tea to your liking?”
Seten, who had been silently watching her, let his lips curve ever so slightly.
“Indeed.”
“Oh? That’s a relief.”
“It’s a very… extravagant flavor.”
Relieved by his gentle expression, Ione was startled by his next words.
Even now, Seten smiled. Yet he continued to prick at her nerves with veiled barbs.
And just now, he hadn’t even bothered to mask it.
Why…?
Should I ask him directly? Or be more subtle, try to gauge what’s upsetting him?
While she mulled it over, Seten suddenly turned away to look at something—then gave a short, mirthless laugh.
“I think we should end here for today. I’m starting to feel a bit guilty.”
Guilty? How?
“The winters in the North are brutal,”
he said flatly.
“Thinking about how this expensive tea could have been firewood for the people instead… it makes me uncomfortable.”
Ah. So that’s what this was.
He didn’t just dislike her. He
despised
her.
Ione couldn’t find the will to stop him as Seten stood and left.
“Unbelievable,”
Adrian muttered.
“Pardon?”
Orgen, hurrying after him, blinked at the sudden remark.
“Seten,”
Adrian said with a tilt of his chin toward the inner courtyard.
Following his gaze, Orgen gave a small nod.
“Indeed…”
Just hours ago, Seten had seemed like he was about to unleash a catastrophic attack on the imperial palace. And now?
Orgen shook his head at the sight of Seten smiling pleasantly.
What kind of mood swing is that?
He had even
asked
Seten to get along with the Grand Duchess, but watching it actually happen… felt strange.
Though the windows were closed and the conversation inaudible, Seten’s face was visible—flashing an elegant smile, his manner graceful and composed.
So this was the poise of someone who had held the Tower Master’s title for centuries.
He moved with the polished grace of a nobleman—something entirely uncharacteristic of him.
“How curious,
” Orgen said.
“What is?”
Adrian’s voice was low, roughened by the cold air.
“Lord Seten. I thought for sure he’d misbehave again.”
“
Again
?”
“Yes.”
Orgen resumed walking, and Adrian followed suit.
Though Adrian looked outwardly fine, Orgen noticed his voice was rougher than usual, his expression more rigid.
After all, the Black Forest—bound only by his solo magical power—was no joke.
He must be exhausted.
Orgen walked faster, hoping to get Adrian out of the cold before his temperature dropped further.
“Lord Seten is extremely particular about people. He’s cold until he warms up to someone.”
“So now he’s wagging his tail like a dog in front of the Grand Duchess?”
“Must mean he likes her. Which is good, right? None of the previous Grand Duchesses got along with him.”
“….”
“There’s even a record of one flipping the tea table during a meeting with him.”
“And now he’s smiling like he might laugh himself to death?”
Orgen glanced again at Seten through the window.
That dazzling smile… he only wore it when he was dealing with nobles he
barely tolerated
.
“Eh? I wouldn’t say it’s that extreme, but… it’s good news, isn’t it?”
“Good news?”
Adrian’s quiet reply was lost in the wind.
That his wife hadn’t fallen prey to the magician’s cruelty—was
that
the good news?
Adrian’s lips curled in a bitter smile.
How dare he treat the Grand Duke’s consort like that?
Invisible waves of high-density magic—raw, unfiltered blessing—radiated from Adrian in all directions.
No ordinary person would notice.
But an 8th-circle mage like Seten?
He’d
know
.
He’d feel it: Adrian’s return.
“I was so worried when she first arrived in the North and fell ill. But now she seem to be recovering and even getting along with Lord Seten. I’m really glad,”
Orgen said.
Adrian didn’t reply.
Orgen eventually stopped speaking too, falling into step beside him.
Once they reached the manor and stepped inside, a wave of warmth greeted them—far more comforting than the chilled garden air.
Orgen rubbed his frost-nipped cheeks.
“Are you heading to your office?”
“Maybe.”
“I was going to suggest that you rest…”
Probing like that never worked on Adrian.
It was always better to be direct.
Adrian’s expression softened once they were inside, but even so—nothing beat rest for healing fatigue.
“I will. But I want to stop by the office first.”
“Which means… you’re working?”
“No.”
“Then why not go to your chambers?”
“I need to write a letter.”
“Right now?”
“Right now.”
Ah…
At that moment—Seten leaving the parlor, Ione now alone, and Orgen’s audible sigh—all happened simultaneously.
“What the hell was that?”
Snapping out of her daze, Ione muttered under her breath.
She didn’t know why that magician seemed to hate her—but it was crystal clear that he
did
.
“He’s the one who asked for this meeting…”
Why does he hate me so much?