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Scarlette spoke—and the moment her cold voice reached him, something inside Asterion burst without warning.
It was not loud, nor was it particularly warm. Her tone carried neither softness nor gentleness, yet it cut through the ambient noise of the arena with unsettling clarity. The voice was sharp, composed, and distant, as though tempered by years of restraint.
For reasons Asterion could not explain, his heartbeat faltered.
A strange heat rushed up his neck and settled across his cheeks, catching him completely off guard. He stiffened, momentarily forgetting where he was, instinctively clenching his jaw as if that alone might suppress the unfamiliar sensation.
What… was that just now?
He had faced death more times than he could count. Battlefields drenched in blood, enemies far stronger than himself, moments where survival hinged on instinct alone—none of those had ever made his face feel this warm.
Yet a single sentence from an unknown woman did.
Before he had time to process it, something else happened—something far more unsettling.
A gentle pulse echoed against his chest.
Asterion's brows furrowed. He lowered his gaze instinctively, fingers hovering over the fabric where his necklace rested beneath his uniform. The silver pendant—Lunaris Astra—felt… alive.
Not hot.
Not burning.
But warm.
And responding.
A faint vibration passed through it, almost imperceptible, yet undeniably real. It wasn't erratic or violent—rather, it felt measured, deliberate, as though the necklace was acknowledging something nearby.
No.
Someone.
Asterion inhaled sharply.
"That's… impossible," he muttered under his breath.
Lunaris Astra, his grandmother's heirloom, had never reacted like this before. Not during war. Not when he awakened as a Swordmaster. Not even when he stood before the Emperor himself during his promotion.
And yet now—standing beside a mysterious, black‑hooded woman—it stirred.
His confusion deepened as his thoughts raced back to the countless times he questioned the necklace's origin. Even its name intrigued him. Lunaris Astra—Moon of the Stars. It was a poetic name, grand and celestial, much like the names carried by the Valehart line itself.
He often wondered if his grandmother's family simply favored such themes, or if there was something deeper behind it all.
Once—only once—he gathered the courage to ask the Emperor about Asterielle Valehart.
The memory surfaced vividly.
The Emperor had listened silently, gaze distant as Asterion spoke of Lunaris Astra and his curiosity regarding his grandmother. When Asterion asked whether Asterielle ever spoke of it, the Emperor offered him a quiet, bittersweet smile—one laden with old grief.
"You know… even though I was your grandmother's sworn sibling,"
"Asterielle was… a secretive woman."
The Emperor paused, eyes darkening with reminiscence.
"It wasn't that she didn't trust me. I could tell from her eyes that she carried something sacred."
"A responsibility, perhaps. One that belonged only to her—or those bound by the Valehart bloodline."
He shook his head gently then.
"As for what that duty was…"
"I never knew. All I could give her was my unwavering trust."
At the time, Asterion recognized the unspoken boundary in those words. The Emperor was withholding something—not out of deception, but respect. He did not press further.
As his mother often told him:
When the time comes, you will understand.
Until then, waiting was all he could do.
Now, however, that waiting felt more restless than ever.
Because Lunaris Astra reacted.
And it reacted when the mysterious woman spoke.
The realization unsettled him, though he quickly forced his expression to remain calm. They were still hidden within a quiet corner of the arena, shaded and unnoticed by most spectators. He exhaled slowly, grounding himself.
At least… he thought they were unseen.
From the royal platform above, two pairs of eyes gleamed with amusement.
The Emperor leaned forward slightly in his seat, arms crossed, a knowing smirk resting on his face. Beside him, the Crown Prince struggled valiantly not to burst into laughter.
The sight of the revered Marquis—one of the Empire's most composed and dignified figures—blushing like an inexperienced youth was far too entertaining.
The Crown Prince bit his knuckle, shoulders shaking faintly.
"Father… this is really bad," he whispered.
The Emperor let out a low chuckle. "Is it?"
"It's the first time I've ever seen him react this way," the Crown Prince replied, eyes flicking between Asterion and the hooded woman. "Noble ladies line up just to speak with him, and yet he barely blinks. But now?"
He paused, watching Asterion fidget ever so slightly.
"…he looks like a maiden experiencing her first crush."
The Emperor sighed, shaking his head with amusement. "Perhaps fate has a sense of humor."
The Crown Prince winced. "That's not the problem."
The Emperor raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
The Crown Prince leaned closer. "That woman. I recognize her."
The Emperor's smile deepened.
"So do I."
A beat of silence followed.
"It seems Scarlette decided to grace this event after all," the Emperor said casually. "I was under the impression she disliked competitions."
The Crown Prince smiled awkwardly. "She's unpredictable. You know that better than anyone." He hesitated briefly before adding, "After this… perhaps we should invite her to dinner. Mother's been asking about her."
The Emperor hummed thoughtfully. "Yes. That would please her."
They both returned their attention to the arena.
Below, entirely unaware of the royal scrutiny, Asterion steadied himself. He felt the faint warmth from Lunaris Astra fade back to its usual stillness, as though it had completed its quiet acknowledgment.
This isn't the time, he reminded himself.
Whatever that reaction meant—if it meant anything at all—he would deal with it later.
The semi‑final round was about to begin.
One by one, contestants were called forward to draw numbers. Scarlette stepped out of the shadows first, retrieving hers with a curt nod before returning to her place. Asterion followed shortly after, expression composed once more.
Scarlette glanced at her number.
Last.
Figures, she thought flatly.
The matches unfolded quickly. Skill clashed, spectators cheered, and eliminated contestants exited the stage one after another. When the final match of the semi‑finals arrived, Scarlette walked onto the platform with her usual calm composure.
She didn't even look surprised when her opponent entered from the opposite side.
Marquis Asterion Varyn Valehart.
The murmur of the crowd intensified immediately.
They took their positions. Silence fell.
Before the signal could be given, Asterion spoke.
"I watched your fights earlier," he said evenly, gaze sharp. "You're different from the rest. You know exactly what I mean."
Scarlette didn't reply.
"Give me your all," he continued. "Don't hold back."
She paused, then sighed—a sound filled with unmistakable irritation.
This guy…
She composed herself swiftly and turned her head toward the host of the event stationed nearby.
"Tell me," she asked calmly, voice echoing across the arena. "What would happen if I accidentally wounded the Marquis? Since he is a noble and I am a commoner, will I be apprehended?"
A ripple of tension traveled through the audience.
Her voice carried no hostility—just cold, absolute clarity. Even those unfamiliar with her reputation felt shivers down their spines.
A few spectators who recognized her instantly went pale.
"…."
From the royal platform, the Emperor chuckled, deeply amused.
Well, since she is my daughter—even if adopted—this much I can allow, he thought.
He rose from his seat.
The crowd fell silent as His Majesty stepped forward.
"No need to worry," the Emperor said warmly, though his words carried authority. "If such an event were to occur, you have my word."
He hesitated for a fraction of a second.
"S—… ehem." He cleared his throat smoothly. "Lady. Simply refrain from killing intent and excessive violence, and there will be no issue."
The Emperor smiled benignly.
Only two people noticed the slip.
The first was the Crown Prince, who stiffened slightly before schooling his expression back into neutrality.
The second—
Was Asterion.
His keen hearing caught it immediately.
'S—'
What was he about to say?
Asterion's eyes narrowed subtly.
The Emperor knows her.
The realization only strengthened his curiosity—but now was not the time for questions.
Scarlette bowed respectfully.
"Thank you for clarifying, Your Majesty," she replied calmly. "I will keep my word as well."
He almost exposed me with that mouth of his! Tsk! How troublesome….
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