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Riveria remained leaning back in her chair, but her mind was no longer within the pages of that diary. The figure of Celdia still lingered in her thoughts—a queen steadfast on the outside, yet crumbling in silence.
There was a resemblance between them.
But not entirely the same.
Celdia froze her emotions. Locked them away tightly for the sake of her duty and dignity as queen. She chose to endure, suppress, and bury her feelings until no crack remained for them to be expressed.
Riveria... was different.
In front of others, she was indeed cold. Elegant. Resolute. The image of a High Elf is unshaken.
But inside—
Warm.
Even... passionate.
Especially when it was just the two of them.
The corner of her lips lifted unconsciously as that memory resurfaced in her mind. The small storage shed they usually used for magecraft practice. The smell of old wood and thin dust dancing in the slivers of lantern light. That night, Shirou played a simple tune from a projected device he made, then—awkwardly—extended his hand.
"I would be honored to dance with you, Lady Riveria."
She could still recall his clumsy expression at that moment.
Riveria chuckled softly at the memory. She had accepted his outstretched hand with a graceful demeanor, even though her heart was beating far faster than usual. They danced in that cramped space—simple steps, a little stumbling, a little laughing.
Not magnificent.
Not romantic like in fairy tales.
But enough to make her heart tremble.
Afterward, they sat leaning against the wall. Riveria still clearly remembered how her mind at that time was filled with the tragic tale of Romeo and Juliet—a story brought to life by Shakespeare's Noble Phantasm, which Shirou had tested at her own request. The emotions of forbidden love, sacrifice, and misunderstandings leading to death were still etched in her mind, making her heart feel strangely warm and aching at the same time.
Perhaps because of that... she hadn't realized when her eyes began to close.
All she remembered was a feeling of comfort slowly creeping in. And when she woke up, her head was already resting on Shirou's lap. The man himself had fallen asleep, his face peaceful, his breath steady as if he didn't carry the weight of the world at all.
That night, for the first time in a long while, Riveria acted without thinking of dignity, without thinking of status.
She leaned down gently... and kissed his forehead.
Brief.
Light.
Almost like a dream.
"How foolish of me..." she murmured now, her cheeks faintly flushed.
What was even more foolish—
Shirou hadn't noticed it at all.
Didn't see the glances she showed only to him.
Didn't understand the warmth she had never shared with anyone else.
Riveria turned her face away, trying to calm her suddenly erratic heartbeat.
"Truly an oblivious man..." she whispered, with a tone of annoyance that actually held tenderness.
Riveria took a long breath, trying to quell her thoughts that were beginning to tangle aimlessly. Come to think of it, the situation felt strangely similar to the old story she had just read. Albert—the legendary hero—wasn't surrounded by just one woman.
Shirou was the same.
He was close to many people, unconsciously drawing them in with his sincere and unpretentious attitude. Even at the Hostess of Fertility, Riveria knew well that several women held a special place around him. She didn't need to mention names. Just imagining it was enough to make her chest feel tight.
"Tch..." she muttered softly, unconsciously.
But that wasn't the worst part.
What truly disturbed her peace was actually much closer. Lefiya—her own protege—who was increasingly seeking out Shirou under the pretext of training, cooking, or just asking trivial things. And Aiz... the child she had guided since childhood, who was usually uninterested in anyone, showed a strong interest in that red-haired young man.
And that was precisely the problem.
"That man..." she hissed softly, half annoyed. "Doesn't know his limits."
She sighed again, this time more heavily. If everything were left like this, wouldn't the situation become even more complicated? She imagined a possibility that made her want to laugh bitterly—what if the old story repeated itself?
Two High Elves...
defeated in matters of the heart by a mother and daughter pair.
Aria and Aiz.
That image made Riveria frown, then unconsciously massage her temples. Her head felt dizzy just thinking about complications that hadn't even happened yet.
"Truly chaotic..." she murmured.
With a slow movement, she closed Celdia's diary and placed it back on the table. For now, she didn't want to sink deeper—neither into the stories of the past... nor into her own thoughts.
Riveria took a slow breath, then shook her head as if to drive away the images that too often intruded without permission. No, she wouldn't let her mind keep circling that one name. With a calm motion, she reached again for the pile of ancient manuscripts on the wooden table, letting the scent of old paper and faded ink soothe her mind while Aina was heard bustling in the kitchen.
Her hands moved again, tidying the scattered pile of ancient manuscripts on the table. One by one, she sorted them carefully, glancing at titles in old script that were almost no longer used. Until finally, a thick book with a worn cover caught her attention.
The carvings on its surface formed a circular pattern—ancient runes.
Riveria's eyebrow rose slightly. She opened the book, and the old pages creaked softly when touched. Its contents discussed the ancient Elf rune system—not merely decorative symbols, but magical structures functioning as enhancers, stabilizers, even triggers for magical phenomena.
Her eyes began to sparkle.
Several pages later, an idea slowly formed in her mind. If these runes could be used as a mana stabilization medium, then that concept could be combined with the magecraft techniques she had been discussing with Shirou.
"Interesting..." she murmured.
Perhaps this could be the next training material. Runes as a support structure for magecraft—a new approach she had never tried before.
She remembered Shirou's words some time ago, when he honestly said that he was merely a beginner magus and no longer had much to teach Riveria.
But that didn't mean their discussions had to stop.
Knowledge doesn't always flow one way.
Sometimes it's the exchange of ideas that opens new paths.
The image of the shed where they used to practice appeared in her mind—a quiet room with dim light, the echo of footsteps, and Shirou's figure standing nearby while explaining seriously. That memory made her shiver slightly, whether from nostalgia... or something more subtle.
"Riveria?"
Aina's voice from the kitchen broke her reverie.
"Ah—yes, I'm coming."
Riveria closed the rune book carefully, then stood up, her thoughts slowly returning to the present.
After dinner was finished and the dishes were cleared, the atmosphere of the house returned to calm. Small lamps were lit, providing a warm, gentle light inside the room. Riveria took a slow breath before looking at Aina seriously.
"Well then... shall we begin?"
Aina nodded, though she looked nervous. She stood up slowly, then removed her upper clothing before lying face down on the mattress. Her long green hair was brushed aside, revealing her slender back.
Riveria sat behind her.
Her voice was soft, but firm.
"This will hurt."
Aina swallowed. Her fingers gripped the sheets.
"I-I know..."
But her voice still trembled.
Riveria didn't start immediately. She reached out her hand, stroking her friend's back with slow movements, calming her. The touch made Aina's tense shoulders relax slightly, though her breaths were still short.
"Why are you pushing yourself this far?" Riveria asked softly.
Aina was silent for a moment.
Then, in a quiet voice, she answered, "Because... I used to get sick often. Too often."
Riveria frowned.
"Aina—that wasn't your fault."
But Aina shook her head.
"I know," she said quickly, before Riveria could continue. "But still... I felt like a burden. Unable to help much, unable to leave the house, just waiting for others to take care of me."
Her hands gripped the sheets tighter.
"Now... I have a chance to change."
Riveria listened in silence.
"Magecraft might not be something I'll use on the battlefield," Aina continued, trying to smile a little even though Riveria couldn't see her face. "Maybe... just for simple things. Cooking. Helping. Small things."
She took a deep breath.
"But still... It's mine. Something I can do on my own."
Riveria stared at her friend's back for a long time.
Then her hand stopped stroking.
"Alright," she said softly.
"If that's your choice... I'll help you."
"Please begin, Riveria..." Aina's voice was soft, yet steady. She closed her eyes, as if preparing to face something she couldn't see but already understood would be painful.
Riveria nodded slowly. Her hand moved towards Aina's back, then she closed her eyes for a moment to focus. Gradually, she began to flow prana from her palm, letting it seep into her friend's body using the structural analysis technique she had learned from Shirou.
The flow was gentle at first.
But Aina still flinched.
"Ah—!"
Her body tensed instantly. The sensation was like a thin electric shock creeping from her spine up to her shoulders. Her breath caught, her fingers reflexively gripping the sheets.
Riveria didn't stop. She continued tracing the pathways inside Aina's body—searching, touching, understanding.
And then she found it.
Magic circuits.
Their structure appeared in her perception like a glowing rune tree—roots spreading, branches curving, ancient patterns very similar to her own.
"...I found them," Riveria whispered.
She took a breath.
"I'm going to open them now."
Without waiting any longer, she flowed prana more intensely. No longer like a calm river stream—but like hot water poured directly onto that rune tree.
Aina's reaction was immediate and intense.
"AAH—!!"
Her body arched. Her hands gripped the sheets so hard the fabric wrinkled.
Riveria flinched. Compassion pressed on her heart, almost making her hand stop.
But Aina, amidst the pain, forced her voice out.
"Continue...!"
Riveria stared at her friend's back, hesitating.
"But—"
"Please... continue!"
That tone wasn't pleading.
It was a resolute request.
Riveria closed her eyes, suppressing the pity gnawing at her. She deepened the flow of her prana, letting it penetrate and open the pathways that had been closed for so long.
Seconds felt like minutes.
Minutes felt like hours.
Aina kept grinding her teeth, her breath ragged, her body trembling against the waves of heat spreading inside her.
Then—
slowly.
A faint glow began to ignite within Riveria's perception.
That rune tree... was alive.
She withdrew her hand.
"It's done."
Aina was still gasping, her breathing heavy, but her body slowly relaxed.
Riveria smiled slightly.
"Congratulations."
Inside her, the magic circuit shaped like a rune tree now glowed softly—a sign that it had been opened.
With her breath still catching, Aina slowly pushed herself up from her prone position. Her previously tied green hair was now messily loose, sticking to her back, which still felt hot from the prana flow.
Riveria immediately reached for the bra Aina had taken off and placed it beside her friend. "Put this on first," she said gently, giving Aina time to get comfortable again.
Aina nodded slightly. Her fingers were still a little shaky as she put her clothing back on. While fastening the clasp at the back, she glanced towards Riveria.
"So... does this mean I can use magecraft now?"
Riveria smiled faintly. "In theory, yes. But don't run before you learn to walk. You still need to practice the basics first."
Aina's eyes immediately sparkled. She imagined the possibilities opening before her—not for fighting, not for glory, but for simple things.
"Then... maybe I could reinforce my cooking as you showed me before?" she said enthusiastically. "Imagine, dishes that are not only delicious but also magically nourishing!"
Riveria chuckled softly at that enthusiasm. But she raised her hand, calming her down.
"Slow down. Your body just endured a heavy process. Rest tonight. We can start light training tomorrow."
Aina nodded obediently. She pulled on her nightgown, straightened it, then sat comfortably on the edge of the bed.
A few seconds of silence passed.
Then she giggled softly.
"I think I'm starting to understand now," she said, looking at her own hands, as if feeling something new. "The reason you are always so enthusiastic about magic."
***
Shirou's steps felt light as he ascended the stairs to the second floor of Twilight Manor. The day at the Hostess of Fertility had proceeded as usual—busy, warm, full of customers' laughter and the clatter of dishes.
But there was one thing that had been bothering his mind since noon.
The scent.
That faint winter flower fragrance—usually subtle, almost imperceptible except when very close—today was so distinct. The same fragrance as Syr's, but this time it felt more alive, more real, as if it had just bloomed.
A few days ago, that scent had faded—not just weakened, but felt strangely off, like the beautiful yet hollow scent of a flower, as if it were merely a synthetic imitation without a soul, like an artificial flower pretty to look at but never truly alive.
Now... it was back to how it used to be.
Shirou frowned. "What changed...?" he murmured inwardly.
He found no answer.
As he turned in the corridor, he nearly collided with Loki, who was walking unsteadily. The Goddess looked half-conscious, her face flushed, a drink bottle still clutched in her hand.
"Oii~ Shiroouu~!" she called out in a hoarse voice, then laughed to herself.
A divine aroma immediately assailed Shirou's nose—strong, layered, like a party that was too crowded. A sharp, dizzying mixture of scents, far different from Syr's gentle fragrance. His sensitive sense of smell felt almost burned by the contrast.
Behind Loki, Lefiya looked extremely annoyed.
"Goddess Loki, stop pulling my hair!" she protested as Loki mischievously pinched the tip of her light brown hair.
"Hehehe~ elf hair is so soft, you know?" Loki replied unrepentantly, still laughing.
Shirou just shook his head slightly at the commotion.
A... usual sight.
Yet his mind remained fixated on something else.
He stepped past them and entered his room, closing the door quietly behind him.
The mystery of the scent still lingered in his mind.
Shirou pulled the curtains, leaving only a thin gap for the moonlight to enter. He took off his shoes, hung his cloak, then sat on the edge of the bed for a moment before finally lying down.
The mattress was simple. Not overly soft, not too hard. Just enough for an adventurer returning with a tired body.
He stared at the dark ceiling of his room.
His thoughts drifted to the behavior of the gods in this world—Loki, drunk and mischievous; gods who love parties, who laugh, who bet on their followers' fates for entertainment. They descended to the Lower World not to rule with absolute power, but to play as "spectators."
Strange.
After experiencing the pressure of Rudra's divine power in his dream—the wind that tore at his body and even his magic circuits—Shirou truly understood one thing: the gods in Orario actually restrained themselves greatly.
If they wanted, a single thought would be enough to destroy this city.
But they chose not to.
They limited themselves, only channeling power through Falna, giving blessings to followers, letting humans grow through their own efforts.
"At least... they don't intervene directly," Shirou murmured.
He closed his eyes, remembering again the sensation of Rudra's divine wind tearing at his soul. The pain was so real that even its shadow now made his breathing a little heavy.
He didn't want to experience it again.
"I don't want... to fight a god again," he sighed quietly.
Fighting monsters, adventurers, even strange beings like Creatures—that was still within a realm he could understand. But fighting an entity whose existence was beyond the concept of mortal life? That was different.
He took a long breath.
In his cynical little heart, he even thought—if he were to die one day, perhaps facing Alaya like Archer would be better than meeting Rudra again.
At least Alaya has no personal intent.
That Counter Force is cruel, yes. Merciless. Forcing Archer to do dirty deeds for the "balance of humanity." But it's not out of hatred or the pleasure of tormenting.
It's a system.
It's a mechanism.
Not vengeance.
"If I have to be tormented..." Shirou murmured, half asleep, "better by something that doesn't hate me."
His lips curved slightly, bitterly.
Rudra was different. There was emotion there. A desire for payback. A delight in watching him suffer.
Shirou turned over, pulling the blanket up to his chest.
"Hopefully... tonight is peaceful," he whispered.
And slowly, with his mind still filled with visions of gods and this absurd world, he let his consciousness sink into sleep.