The courtyard had fallen silent.
Spells hung frozen in half-formed circles. The writhing metal gate stood rigid. Even the wind seemed to hesitate.
Sumeragi Arata stood between the masked men and the two figures on the grass—his unconscious son and the trembling Azure Consort.
His eyes fell first on Rin.
Blood at the corner of his mouth. Mana channels visibly ruptured beneath pale skin. The faint distortion in the air around him—
Limitless Open.
Arata exhaled slowly.
He had told Rin countless times: never open it at this age. Never force your body beyond what it can withstand.
And Rin had agreed.
Rin was not reckless. Not arrogant. Not the type to abuse power or family status.
If he used Limitless Open—
Then he had truly been cornered.
A strange thought crossed Arata's mind.
Is this the first time he has ever been in a bind?
Rin had always been careful. Calculating. Reading books instead of causing trouble. Listening to tutors. Solving political puzzles quietly. Protecting others without drawing attention.
Arata had often wondered if he was failing as a father.
When had he ever truly taught Rin through hardship? When had he needed to scold him? Discipline him?
The boy handled everything himself.
Too well.
Which was why the sight of Harumi bursting into his assigned office within the Imperial Palace had startled him more than any court crisis.
She had held Rin's personal insignia tightly in her hand.
"Young Master is in trouble! Please—find him!"
There had been no hesitation.
Arata left the office instantly.
Between father and son, their positions were always faintly open to one another through Limitless Space. A private thread of awareness.
He followed it.
And arrived here.
Now his gaze shifted from Rin to the masked men.
"So," Arata said quietly, his voice calm but heavy, "you are the ones who pushed my son to this state."
No one answered.
No one could.
The air grew unbearably dense.
Isolation spread—not around himself, not around Rin—but around the masked men.
The space they occupied separated from the world like a sealed box.
They felt it instantly.
Mana refused to circulate properly. Movements felt delayed, suffocated.
Even the leader's metal element flickered.
Arata did not raise his voice.
"Lady Suzuki," he said gently, without turning, "please take care of my son for now."
Suzuki, still pale from shock, tightened her hold around Rin's unconscious form.
"Yes…"
No one else knew what had transpired.
Not yet.
But the masked men understood one thing.
They had made a catastrophic mistake.
—
Two days later.
The Imperial Capital buzzed with rumor.
Only two days had passed since the formal announcement of the consorts.
And already scandal had erupted.
The Azure Consort had been found unconscious in the outskirts of the capital—rescued alongside an unconscious heir of the Sumeragi House.
Suzuki had spoken.
She recounted the attempted defilement.
She named Daisuke Taiko.
The noble house of Taiko collapsed overnight.
To attempt to violate a holy consort of the Crown Prince was not merely a crime—it was sacrilege. An attack on imperial dignity itself.
The family was stripped of titles.
Assets seized.
Their lineage disgraced.
As for Daisuke—
His death was recorded as a consequence of criminal conspiracy.
The Parley Faction was exposed soon after.
Arata had not merely subdued the masked men.
He had dismantled them.
Under his isolation, identities were revealed, contracts broken, loyalties dragged into the light. The faction's leadership was arrested.
Those captured in the act were executed by decree of the Hoshimi Empire.
The remaining affiliated nobles were stripped of rank and influence. Families that once whispered political ambitions now scrambled to preserve what little remained of their honor.
All within two days.
And in the Imperial Palace infirmary—
Rin slept.
—
"How is he?"
Princess Aya stood at the doorway the first evening, her expression tight with worry. She had seen Rin's condition when Arata carried him through the palace gates.
Pale.
Blood-streaked.
Mana circuits destabilized.
Without hesitation, she granted emergency lodging within the palace grounds.
There was no political debate.
No delay.
"Stable," the court physician had replied. "He exhausted himself beyond safe capacity. It will take time."
Arata remained silent throughout.
Watching.
Waiting.
—
Morning of the third day.
Soft sunlight filtered through silk curtains.
Rin's eyes fluttered open.
The first thing he saw was the ceiling of the Imperial infirmary.
The second—
A face leaning far too close.
"Young Master!"
Harumi's eyes brimmed with relief.
"You're awake!"
Rin blinked.
"…Harumi."
His voice was hoarse.
She immediately adjusted his pillow, checking his temperature with practiced hands.
"You've been unconscious for two days," she scolded softly. "Two days! Do you have any idea how worried everyone was?"
Rin attempted to sit up.
Pain lanced through his shoulder and along his mana channels.
He winced.
Harumi immediately pressed him back down.
"No! Absolutely not. Doctor's orders."
"…I can sit," he muttered weakly.
"You cannot."
She already had a bowl prepared.
Light rice porridge—easy to digest, gentle on the body.
She scooped a spoonful and held it near his mouth.
"Say ahhh, Young Master."
Rin stared at her.
"I can eat on my own."
"I know."
She smiled sweetly.
"But I will feed you."
He sighed faintly.
He could, in fact, lift his hand.
But arguing seemed more exhausting than surrender.
"…Ah."
She beamed and fed him.
He swallowed obediently.
"Another one. Ahhh."
He complied again.
Truthfully, he was hungry.
Two days of unconsciousness had drained what little reserves he had left after forcing Limitless Open.
Harumi watched him carefully between bites.
"You pushed yourself again," she said quietly.
Rin's gaze shifted slightly toward the window.
"…I had to."
"You promised your father."
"I know."
She didn't scold him further.
Because she understood.
If Rin had done it—
Then someone had been in danger.
After a few more spoonfuls, she set the bowl aside.
"You're to remain in the capital for recovery," she informed him. "By order of Duke Arata and Princess Aya."
Rin blinked slowly.
"…I suspected."
"You are not allowed to leave until cleared."
He exhaled.
"Understood."
There was a brief silence.
Then—
The door slid open gently.
Arata stepped inside.
Harumi immediately stood and bowed.
"Duke."
Rin turned his head slightly.
Their eyes met.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Arata approached the bedside calmly.
"You opened it," he said.
Not accusatory.
Simply stating fact.
Rin held his gaze.
"Yes."
A pause.
"Was it necessary?"
"Yes."
Another silence.
Arata studied his son carefully—the bandages, the faint discoloration along his mana channels, the way he remained composed despite obvious pain.
"…Then I will not scold you," Arata said at last.
Harumi looked slightly surprised.
Rin blinked once.
"But," Arata continued, "next time, inform me sooner."
A faint hint of dry humor touched his tone.
Rin almost smiled.
"I'll try."
Arata's gaze softened—just slightly.
"Rest," he said. "The political matters are handled."
Rin nodded.
He already knew.
If his father had intervened personally—
Nothing would have been left unresolved.
As Arata turned to leave, he paused at the doorway.
"The Azure Consort expressed gratitude," he added without looking back. "She insisted it be conveyed when you awoke."
Rin's eyes shifted faintly.
"…I see."
The door closed softly.
Harumi returned to his side.
"You really scared her," she said lightly. "And me."
Rin leaned back against the pillow.
His body still ached. His mana channels still burned faintly from backlash.
But the crisis had passed.
Suzuki remained the Azure Consort.
The plotline remained intact.
And for now—
Peace.
Harumi lifted the bowl again.
"One more spoonful, Young Master. Ahhh."
Rin opened his mouth obediently.
Outside the infirmary, the Imperial Palace continued its measured rhythm.
Inside—
The heir of the Sumeragi House rested.
Alive.
And watched over carefully.
The rest of the day passed in a haze of medicine, fruit slices, and Harumi's relentless pampering.
Rin had never thought being injured would feel this suffocating.
"Harumi… I can hold the cup myself."
"No, Young Master, you cannot," Harumi replied firmly, lifting the glass to his lips as though he were a child. "The physician said minimal strain. If you move too much, your shoulder will reopen."
Rin sighed and obediently drank.
He had been propped upright against embroidered pillows, bandages wrapping his shoulder and ribs. The afternoon sunlight spilled through the tall palace windows, warm and golden, making the room almost peaceful—if not for the steady stream of visitors.
Nao had come first.
The moment she entered and saw him bandaged, she burst into tears.
"My poor Rin! My poor baby!" She had rushed forward without dignity, hugging him far too tightly for someone with cracked ribs.
"Mother—c-can't breathe—"
"Oh! Sorry, sorry!" She wiped her tears, only to start crying again. "Why must you always throw yourself into danger? Could you not have tripped and sprained your ankle instead? Something less dramatic?"
Rin had smiled helplessly.
She fussed over him for a full hour before announcing that since he was alive and conscious, she had a date with his father and would not waste it worrying further.
"You rest properly! I will scold you more tomorrow!"
And just like that, she left.
Rin had barely recovered from that when another visitor arrived.
The door opened to reveal the familiar, smug expression of Shinegori Akane.
"Well, well. You look terrible."
"Thank you for the greeting," Rin muttered.
Akane crossed the room confidently, placing a bouquet of white lilies on the bedside table. "We've made progress on the barrier device. Prototype stability has increased by twelve percent. Your inspection will be required."
"I'm injured."
"Yes. That's why you should recover quickly." She smiled with infuriating satisfaction. "Quality control cannot be left to incompetent hands."
Harumi observed her carefully. In the novel, Akane had been calculating and self-serving. Yet here she was, bringing flowers and drinks.
Akane placed several glass bottles on the table. The dark liquid inside fizzed faintly.
"I brought samples from my new beverage line."
Rin blinked. "Is this… cola?"
She paused thoughtfully. "Cola? Hm. That name lacks refinement."
"What is it then?"
She tapped her chin. "Carbonated Black Nectar."
Rin stared. "That sounds ominous."
"It is memorable," she said proudly. "Consider this a test. If you survive drinking it, production proceeds."
Harumi covered a smile.
Akane lingered only long enough to ensure Rin promised to recover swiftly before departing with her usual composed stride.
When the door shut, Harumi exhaled slowly.
"They are all… different," she murmured to herself.
The Akane in the novel had never visited an injured person out of concern.
Late afternoon deepened into evening.
The sky outside turned indigo when another knock sounded.
Harumi opened the door and stiffened.
Standing there, silver hair catching the lantern light, was Chinen Suzuki.
The Azure Consort.
Harumi bowed instantly. "Lady Suzuki."
Suzuki's expression was as cool as ever. "I heard he was awake."
Her tone was detached.
But the moment her eyes landed on Rin sitting upright, pale yet smiling faintly, something in her composure cracked.
She stepped forward.
Rin blinked. "Lady Suzuki. Good evening."
She said nothing at first.
Instead, she approached his bedside and gently took his injured hand—the one not bound too tightly.
Her fingers trembled.
"I'm sorry."
Harumi's eyes widened.
Suzuki's voice was soft. Vulnerable.
"You were hurt… protecting me."
Rin gave a small, tired smile. "It's fine. I chose to stand there. My own decision."
"You shouldn't have."
Her grip tightened slightly.
"I was just someone who approached you at a ball."
Rin tilted his head. "You are the Azure Consort. That alone makes you someone important. At the very least, not a stranger."
Harumi watched, stunned.
This was the aloof prodigy of the novel. The one with the rare Psychic Elemental dual magic. The one who never allowed emotions to cloud her judgment.
Yet here she was, eyes shimmering.
Suzuki looked away briefly, then back at him.
"Then what am I to you?" she asked quietly. "For you to risk yourself like that?"
Rin faltered.
In truth, he had acted because the plot demanded it. Because she needed to live for the future. Because without her, the world would collapse in the Aeon of Destruction.
But he could not say that.
"I… wonder that myself," he admitted softly. "I simply wanted to save you."
Suzuki stared at him.
Then she looked away, cheeks faintly tinted.
"You're an idiot," she muttered. "Saving someone who isn't even your friend."
Rin chuckled weakly. "Perhaps."
Silence settled between them, strangely warm.
And then—
Knock knock.
All three turned.
Harumi opened the door.
And nearly dropped the handle.
"Y-Your Highness!"
Standing there, holding a basket filled with apples and grapes, was Princess Aya.
She stepped inside with careful grace, though her eyes immediately searched for Rin.
"Hello, Rin," she began, smiling a little too brightly. "I brought fruits to help with your recovery. I was… occupied earlier, so I could not visit sooner. Please accept this as a gesture of goodwill."
She was rambling.
Harumi noticed.
Princess Aya—usually poised, flawless, untouchable—was speaking slightly too fast.
Then Aya saw it.
Suzuki seated close to Rin.
Holding his hand.
The air changed.
Aya's smile froze for half a second before she corrected it.
"I see Lady Suzuki is here as well," she said sweetly.
Suzuki released Rin's hand slowly but did not stand. "Princess Aya."
Rin nodded politely. "Princess Aya. Thank you for your concern."
Concern.
Such a formal word.
Aya placed the basket down. "It is only natural. You were injured during an incident connected to the palace."
She moved closer to the bed.
Too close.
Harumi stood near the wall, heart pounding.
This was wrong.
In the novel, Aya remained distant, elegant, nearly unreachable. She had no close friends and maintained perfect decorum at all times.
Yet right now, her gaze flickered toward Suzuki with unmistakable competitiveness.
Suzuki, for her part, had regained some of her composure.
"I was thanking Sir Rin," Suzuki said calmly.
Aya's fingers tightened slightly around the fruit basket handle.
"Indeed," she replied. "It must have been frightening."
Suzuki met her eyes.
"It was."
A pause.
Rin, oblivious, tried to ease the tension.
"Please, both of you, there is no need to trouble yourselves."
Aya turned to him immediately. "It is not trouble."
Suzuki added quietly, "You were hurt."
Harumi swallowed.
Young Master… you are completely blind.
Aya picked up an apple. "You should eat properly to regain strength. Would you like me to cut it?"
Before Rin could answer—
"I can handle it," Suzuki said, reaching for the fruit knife.
Aya's smile sharpened.
"It is fine, Lady Suzuki. As a member of the royal family, I am accustomed to caring for injured retainers."
Suzuki's eyes narrowed slightly. "Sir Rin is not your retainer."
Silence.
Harumi felt like she was witnessing a duel without swords.
Rin blinked. "Ah… Princess Aya, Lady Suzuki, please don't argue."
"We are not arguing," both said simultaneously.
They paused.
Harumi nearly fainted.
Aya cleared her throat. "Lady Suzuki must still be recovering from her ordeal. Overexertion would not be wise."
Suzuki responded evenly, "I am perfectly capable."
"And yet," Aya continued, "it was Rin who shielded you."
Suzuki's hand tightened.
"And I am grateful."
Their gazes locked.
Rin shifted awkwardly.
"I truly am fine," he insisted weakly.
Neither girl looked at him.
Harumi's thoughts spiraled.
This is impossible.
Suzuki was never emotional in the novel.
Aya never displayed jealousy so openly.
Both of them… circling Young Master like this…
Has the story already diverged?
Aya finally stepped back slightly, smoothing her dress.
"I did not come to cause discomfort," she said softly, though her eyes lingered on Suzuki. "Rin, please recover quickly."
Suzuki rose slowly as well.
"I should not tire you further," she said to Rin, voice gentler again. "Rest."
Rin nodded. "Thank you, Lady Suzuki. Princess Aya."
Formal. Oblivious.
Aya glanced once more at Suzuki.
Suzuki glanced back.
Unspoken words hung between them.
Harumi stood frozen, wondering if she should pretend to faint to escape.
Aya thought:
She is closer to him than I expected… and she is not as cold as rumors say. That makes her harder to predict.
Suzuki thought:
The Princess is not as distant as I believed… and she clearly cares more than courtesy demands.
Both of them smiled politely.
Both of them stepped toward the door.
And both of them, in their own hearts, concluded the same thing.
The other is very difficult to approach.
Rin let his body sink deeper into the bedding once the door finally shut behind the two noble ladies.
Silence.
Blessed, fragile silence.
He exhaled slowly and allowed his head to rest fully against the pillow. The room still smelled faintly of apples and lilies.
Harumi stood near the door for a moment longer, as if ensuring neither princess nor consort would suddenly reappear. When she was certain the hallway was empty, she turned back toward her young master.
She approached the bed carefully.
"Young Master…"
Rin hummed lazily in response.
"Those two are acting weird."
He blinked one eye open and tilted his head slightly. "Weird?"
"Yes. Weird."
"They were being considerate," he replied calmly. "Lady Suzuki was saved by me after all."
Harumi stared at him.
"Princess Aya seemed to care too much," she added carefully.
Rin closed his eyes again. "Don't worry about her. Her position as a princess makes it necessary to form connections with the Sumeragi house. I am the future Duke. Political goodwill is natural."
Harumi's thoughts exploded.
Because she wants you to love her, you oblivious noble block of marble!
Outwardly, she only pressed her lips together.
Rin continued, entirely serious, "She no longer asks directly for friendship. That is progress. It seems she understands boundaries."
Harumi nearly choked.
Progress?
Boundaries?
Is this really how a noble interprets affection?
Then again… she reconsidered.
Rin had grown up surrounded by political marriages, alliances, and strategic smiles. For him, affection from a royal probably did equate to diplomacy.
Still—
Even I could see it. Princess Aya was practically glowing when she walked in. And Lady Suzuki… since when does she cry?
Harumi folded her arms, thinking deeply.
Despite their strange behavior around Rin, both girls had acted perfectly normal in public. Aya was still the elegant, flawless princess before others. Suzuki still carried that cool, aloof genius aura in the academy and court.
No visible anomaly.
No memory distortions.
No sign of possession or external interference.
Just… weird when Rin is involved.
That might be the scariest part.
Rin sighed and shifted slightly under the blankets.
"I'm not even tired," he muttered.
Harumi looked down at him. "You were stabbed."
"I have the limitless buff," he replied matter-of-factly. "My stamina regenerates absurdly fast. I am bored."
She resisted the urge to flick his forehead.
"You are injured. Boredom is a luxury."
He stared at the ceiling. "I would prefer paperwork."
"You absolutely would not."
"…True."
Harumi sighed and walked toward the small pile of belongings Nao had left earlier.
"As expected of Madam Nao," she murmured.
Rin glanced sideways. "What did Mother pack? Emergency scolding scripts?"
"A change of clothes, herbal supplements, and…" Harumi pulled out a thick book with a knowing smile, "…this."
Rin narrowed his eyes.
The cover was decorated with dramatic swirls, a silver-haired knight holding a blushing maiden against a sunset.
He felt a foreboding chill.
"That is not… what I think it is, right?"
Harumi turned the cover toward him proudly.
It was a romance novel—one from a completely different world than the one they currently inhabited. A reincarnation fantasy involving a villainess who avoided her doom by seducing the cold northern duke.
Rin covered his face with his uninjured hand.
"Mother is terrifying."
"She understands you very well."
"She understands you very well," Rin corrected flatly.
Harumi clutched the book protectively. "Young Master, this is peak literature."
"It has sparkles on the title font."
"Exactly."
Rin sighed.
"I can read on my own."
Harumi sat beside his bed, holding the book to her chest, her eyes shining in a way that felt deeply nostalgic and extremely dangerous.
She did not speak.
She did not move.
She simply stared at him with the most expectant expression imaginable.
Please let me read it out loud.
Rin recognized that look.
After all, she was reincarnated too.
Unlike him, who had been thrown into a plot-heavy noble tragedy, Harumi had clearly been raised on romance tropes. Her tolerance for dramatic tension was dangerously high.
He looked at her.
At the book.
Back at her.
She leaned forward slightly.
"…Fine."
Her entire face lit up like she had just received a divine revelation.
"Thank you, Young Master!"
"I will regret this."
"You will not."
"I already do."
She settled comfortably beside him, careful not to jostle his injuries. She cleared her throat dramatically, as if addressing a grand audience.
Rin closed his eyes.
"If the male lead says something cringeworthy, I reserve the right to critique it."
"No interrupting," Harumi warned.
"That is censorship."
"That is survival."
She opened to the first chapter.
"In the snow-covered lands of the North, where wolves howled and hearts froze—"
Rin groaned softly. "It begins."
Harumi ignored him.
"—the feared Duke Armand, known as the Frost Tyrant, had never once known love."
"Predictable," Rin muttered.
Harumi lightly tapped his arm. "Shh."
She continued reading, her voice surprisingly expressive.
Rin listened half-heartedly at first. His mind drifted to the day's events—the tears in Suzuki's eyes, Aya's too-bright smile.
He frowned slightly.
Why were they so emotional?
Was it simply trauma?
Suzuki had nearly been kidnapped successfully. Aya likely felt political pressure over the incident.
Yes.
That must be it.
He shifted slightly.
Harumi glanced at him. "Does it hurt?"
"No. Just thinking."
"Dangerous pastime."
He snorted softly.
She resumed reading.
As the story progressed, the villainess character—misunderstood, sharp-tongued, and secretly soft-hearted—was introduced.
Harumi's voice softened unconsciously when she read the girl's internal monologue.
Rin noticed.
"You relate to her," he said quietly.
Harumi paused.
"…Maybe."
"The misunderstood part?"
"The trying very hard but being misinterpreted part," she corrected.
He opened his eyes and looked at her.
For a moment, her expression was thoughtful rather than cheerful.
"We're both outsiders here," she added softly. "Even if we've adapted."
Rin hummed in agreement.
That was true.
No matter how well they played their roles, there was always that faint awareness—they remembered another world.
Harumi shook off the mood quickly.
"Anyway, this duke is clearly going to fall in love by chapter five."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. Watch."
She resumed reading enthusiastically.
Minutes passed peacefully.
Rin found himself relaxing despite his earlier boredom. Harumi's reading voice was steady, almost soothing.
When the duke in the story coldly declared, "I have no need for affection," Harumi dramatically scoffed.
"Liar."
Rin chuckled.
"You sound personally offended."
"These types are always the worst. They pretend they don't care, then fall the hardest."
Rin considered that.
Fall the hardest, huh?
He closed his eyes again.
"I do not understand why people make things so complicated," he murmured.
Harumi paused mid-sentence. "What do you mean?"
"If someone wishes to express gratitude, they can simply say so. If someone wants friendship, they can request it. Why layer it with strange tension?"
Harumi stared at him.
Because feelings are not political contracts, you dense heir.
Out loud, she only said, "Humans are not that simple."
Rin hummed noncommittally.
Harumi studied his face quietly.
He truly did not see it.
Not Aya's soft glances.
Not Suzuki's trembling fingers.
To him, everything filtered through logic, duty, and plot.
Maybe that was why they were drawn to him.
Or maybe that was exactly why this would become complicated later.
She looked down at the romance novel again.
In the story, the villainess was slowly realizing that the duke's coldness masked deep care.
Harumi's lips curved faintly.
"Young Master."
"Mm?"
"If a girl were to like you… would you notice?"
He opened one eye lazily. "That is a strange hypothetical."
"Answer it."
"I would assume political motive first."
She buried her face briefly in the book.
Hopeless.
Completely hopeless.
Still…
As she resumed reading, Harumi couldn't shake the thought that the story they were living in was drifting further and further away from the original novel.
Suzuki wasn't as aloof.
Aya wasn't as distant.
Akane wasn't as selfish.
And Rin—
Rin remained painfully, consistently himself.
Harumi turned the page with a small sigh.
This is going to be troublesome, isn't it?
Beside her, Rin listened to the dramatic confession scene beginning in the book and thought only one thing.
At least fictional nobles are more direct than the real ones.
Neither of them realized just how ironic that thought truly was.
The palace corridors were quiet as Chinen Suzuki made her way toward the waiting carriage.
Servants bowed.
Imperial guards straightened.
She walked past them with her usual cool composure—back straight, chin slightly lifted, silver hair flowing neatly behind her. The Azure Consort. The prodigious mage. The noble lady who had endured a kidnapping attempt without shedding a tear in public.
No one saw the way her fingers subtly tightened around the folds of her sleeve.
It was a shame she had to leave.
Her savior was still injured.
For a split second, her aloof mask almost faltered.
Almost.
The carriage door was opened for her. She stepped inside.
The door closed.
And the moment it did—
She deflated.
"I don't want to leave yeeeeet…"
Across from her sat Chinen Kaito, heir to the Chinen Dukedom, two years her senior. Technically her cousin, but raised so closely they might as well have been siblings.
He blinked once.
Then smiled.
"Well," he said lightly, "that tells me you've recovered quite well."
Suzuki slumped against the cushioned seat and grabbed the small bear plush that was always kept in the carriage for long trips. She began poking it repeatedly.
"Sir Rin is still injured," she muttered, cheeks puffed in a pout entirely unbefitting of the Azure Consort.
Kaito chuckled softly.
In public, Suzuki was untouchable. Cold. Distant. A magical prodigy who rarely allowed anyone near her.
But within the Chinen family's inner circle—
She was this.
Emotional. Easily flustered. Capable of tears. Capable of whining.
She trusted very few people enough to show that side.
The fact that she had dropped her mask in front of Rin earlier… and now was reacting like this…
Kaito leaned back thoughtfully.
"Rin Sumeragi, hm?"
The heir of the Sumeragi Dukedom.
Same generation. Same weight of responsibility.
Yet that boy had managed to save the Azure Consort from a kidnapping attempt in the middle of the imperial capital.
Impressive.
More than impressive.
Kaito observed Suzuki carefully.
The way she clutched the plush.
The faint redness at the tips of her ears.
Ah.
So she showed him that side.
Interesting.
It could be dangerous, if the Sumeragi heir were the type to exploit emotional vulnerability. A consort emotionally attached could be influenced.
But the Sumeragi house did not operate through petty manipulation. If anything, they preferred clean exchanges—favors balanced with favors.
Still.
Kaito sighed.
"Suzuki."
She looked up, still pouting.
"You must control yourself in public. You are the Azure Consort now. People watch you."
"I know…" she muttered.
"And do not do anything that damages your reputation. Rin saved you, yes. Feelings may develop." He said it evenly. "But you are engaged to the Crown Prince. That remains your duty."
Suzuki puffed her cheeks more dramatically.
"I will do my duties."
"Good."
"But I want to get close to Sir Rin at the very least."
Kaito raised a brow.
She straightened slightly, defensive now.
"Hmph. Having connections to the Sumeragi family—especially the next Duke Sumeragi—is not a bad political position."
Ah.
There it is.
The noble justification.
Kaito smiled faintly.
"Be careful with your actions. People may misunderstand and think you are pursuing him."
Suzuki froze.
"…I understand."
"Good."
"I'll be careful, Brother."
The carriage began moving, wheels rolling over stone.
After a moment of silence, Kaito spoke again.
"The official reports were… lacking. Tell me what truly happened."
Suzuki's fingers stilled on the plush.
Her eyes shifted slightly.
Then—
Her aloof expression melted into something brighter.
"Sir Rin is very powerful."
Kaito's interest sharpened.
She leaned forward slightly, animated now.
"I was about to be—" She stopped, jaw tightening briefly. "Daisuke was there."
Her voice cooled for a second.
Then it warmed again.
"And suddenly—"
She lifted her hand and mimicked a descending motion.
"He came down from the rooftop. The moonlight was behind him. It was like…" She hesitated, searching for words.
"Like?" Kaito prompted.
"Like he just dropped into the scene."
Her fingers formed a small two-finger gun.
"He didn't chant. No incantation. No preparation. He just—bang."
She flicked her fingers.
"Daisuke went flying."
Kaito blinked.
"No chant?"
"None."
"That's impossible for mid-tier offensive magic."
"I know!" she said, eyes shining slightly. "It was instant. Like breathing."
Kaito leaned back slowly.
Interesting.
Suzuki continued, fully immersed in the memory.
"I was restrained by suppression chains. I couldn't cast. But he used an attraction spell to pull wooden debris into the hallway to block pursuit. He bought time."
She hugged the plush closer without realizing it.
"When the chasers came, he didn't let them complete their casting. He interrupted them every time."
"Interrupted how?"
"He attacked the moment their mana flow shifted. Before the spell formed."
Kaito's smile faded into a serious expression.
To break casting like that required either overwhelming speed or terrifying perception.
"And he fought with a sword too," Suzuki added. "Against someone larger than him. Probably a strengthening spell layered on his body. It was efficient."
She looked almost frustrated.
"My 'Psychic Elemental' technique is powerful. I can use fire, wind, water, lightning—enhanced by psychic amplification. But I need casting time. Structured formulas."
Rin's style had been different.
Small spells.
Fast.
Precise.
Zero openings.
"He overwhelmed them," she murmured. "It wasn't flashy. It was controlled."
Kaito watched her carefully.
She was not just impressed.
She was inspired.
"He never let them breathe," she continued. "Every time they tried to form a spell, he disrupted it. I learned something watching that."
"Oh?"
"Magic doesn't always have to be large-scale to dominate. Speed and control can suppress stronger output."
Kaito nodded slowly.
That level of real-time tactical magic usage…
For someone their age?
Monstrous.
"And when you ran?"
"He covered behind me. If I stumbled, he moved forward. If someone came from the side, he adjusted." Her voice softened. "He didn't hesitate."
Kaito studied her expression.
There it was again.
Trust.
Admiration.
Perhaps even something gentler.
"Suzuki."
She looked up.
"You sound as though you've found a rival."
Her lips curved faintly.
"…Maybe."
"Or something else?"
She immediately looked away.
"It's only respect."
"Mm."
The carriage rocked gently as it moved further from the palace.
Kaito folded his hands thoughtfully.
Rin Sumeragi.
A noble heir with near-instant casting.
High-speed disruption capability.
Physical enhancement integration.
And now—
The emotional trust of the Azure Consort.
This generation is going to be troublesome, he thought quietly.
Suzuki resumed poking the plush bear.
"…He told me I'm not a stranger."
Kaito smiled faintly.
"And what are you to him?"
She paused.
"…I don't know."
Outside, the palace grew distant.
Inside the carriage, the prodigious, aloof Azure Consort sat hugging a toy bear, quietly replaying the image of a boy descending from the moonlit rooftop—casting without words, moving without hesitation, standing in front of her without fear.
And for the first time in a long while—
She felt like her magic still had much to learn.