Moonlight slipped through the tall window, glinting off the Baroque gold trim. A faint chill gathered near the stone walls, mixing with the soft warmth from the chandelier above. The air felt still—quiet enough that each breath sounded louder than it should.
"Not interested…" Haruto said. His tone stayed formal, calm, and composed. He crossed his arms, sinking into the couch with a slow, controlled exhale.
"That was quick," Ronóva replied. Her legs crossed smoothly, her hands folding over her lap. A thin breath slipped from her nose—soft, restrained impatience.
"Let me guess…" she said, voice dipped in cool certainty. "You don't want anything to do with royals because they're arrogant and annoying."
"That is one reason," Haruto answered. A faint tightening touched his brow. "I have been surrounded by individuals of that nature since childhood. The experience was… unavoidably tedious."
Ronóva's gaze sharpened. "Even so, you can't decline my invitation."
Haruto's eyes narrowed a degree. "Can't? There is virtually nothing I consider impossible."
Ronóva smiled—precise, intentional, a controlled curve of confidence.
"Remember," she said softly, "you promised me a date. I want us to attend the world's royal party together."
(Ugh… this woman. And yet—this is exactly why I love her.) Haruto thought, a faint exhale warming his throat.
"Very well," he said. "A promise is an obligation I will not neglect."
"I knew you'd accept." Ronóva leaned forward slightly, moonlight catching the edges of her pale hair. "Want to see the clothes I'll wear? You can choose."
"Ask your servants," Haruto replied, tone almost dismissive in its calm.
Ronóva's lashes lowered. A subtle tension flicked across her jaw.
"I want my boyfriend to do it," she murmured—bitterness woven into the softness.
Haruto blinked once. A small, nearly invisible shift in his expression.
(This may become… entertaining.)
---
A few minutes later.
Warm lights hummed above the dressing room, brushing gold across makeup trays and perfume bottles. A faint floral scent drifted through the air—powder, silk, and something sweet. Haruto sat on an ottoman, fingers tapping once against his knee.
A white curtain hung before him.
It slid open with a soft whisper.
Ronóva stepped out in a dramatic black-and-red gown. Ruffled layers moved like dark water. Gold embroidery shimmered with each breath she took. Light scattered along the floral patterns and butterfly motifs on her sleeves.
She spun. The gown blossomed around her.
Haruto leaned forward slightly, one hand lifting toward his mouth before he even noticed.
Ronóva's smile wavered.
"…Is this not to your liking?" Her voice trembled at the edges.
"You are… beyond perfect in that dress, Ronóva," Haruto said. His tone held no theatrics—only steady conviction.
Color warmed her cheeks instantly.
"There's more," she said, slipping behind the curtain. Fabric rustled—the soft thump of the gown hitting the floor.
"Darling," her voice drifted out, calm but casual, "when we go to the world's royal party, my sister will be coming along."
Haruto raised a brow.
"I see. Then it would no longer qualify as a date."
"She doesn't know I'm dating anyone," Ronóva continued. "I thought it'd be better if she meets you. Is that fine?"
"Yes. I see no issue," Haruto said. "Though you should have mentioned her existence earlier."
Ronóva leaned against the wall behind the curtain. Light brushed across her bangs.
"My bad… but she's overprotective."
"That is entirely acceptable."
She blinked, surprised. "Why?"
"I possess a protective disposition myself."
"A protective complex?" she teased. "I'd expect a god complex with your power."
Haruto lowered his gaze to his hands. Warm light traced his knuckles.
He didn't answer immediately.
"Who are you so protective of?" she asked, voice soft.
"I will tell you at a later, appropriate time."
"Full of secrets, aren't you?"
(Too many.)
"How did you even come to this world?" she asked.
"I do not know. I am investigating. At present, I have no leads."
Ronóva stilled behind the curtain.
(No leads…?) A quiet sigh left her.
"Have you looked into the Demon Lord Council?"
"No," Haruto replied.
"You should. Each one rules a multiverse."
(Multiverse… who desires governance of infinite realities?) Haruto thought.
Seraphina's voice echoed in his mind—cool and precise.
『Correction: Master is misinterpreting. A universe is one reality. A multiverse contains infinite such realities.』
(…I see.)
The curtain slid open again.
Ronóva emerged in a sleek black evening gown. The fabric moved like liquid shadow. Star-flecked blue sleeves brushed against her arms. Silver accents shimmered with each step. A small constellation glittered in her headpiece.
She approached him slowly, perfume drifting in a cool floral wave.
She brushed a lock of his white hair behind his ear.
"What do you think? It's… a little tight at the waist."
Haruto looked up—momentarily silent.
Ronóva eased onto his lap. Their golden eyes met. Her breath warmed his cheek.
She leaned in—
Haruto placed his hands on her waist.
And tickled her.
Ronóva's breath hitched.
Her shoulders jerked. Fabric rustled wildly.
"Ah—! H-Hey! Th-That's unfair!" she gasped, laughter bubbling out despite herself.
"I am not in an appropriate mood for such advances," Haruto said, calm but faintly amused. "And if I were to begin… stopping would prove difficult."
He stopped.
Ronóva puffed her cheeks, crossing her arms.
"I just wanted a kiss…"
"Is that so…" Haruto murmured. He studied her face—light catching her features.
Ronóva nodded, shy.
The star-shapes in her irises shimmered softly.
Haruto's lips curved faintly.
"Not today."
He shifted, lifting her gently—she resisted with a small squirm, pouting.
"You're rude… rejecting my kiss like that."
Haruto stood. His cloak whispered against the floor. "My apologies. I have obligations. Visitors are on their way."
"Oh—right. Your students' tournament." Ronóva tilted her head.
"Yes. The day will be unnecessarily long."
"That's the price of ruling a country."
"Indeed. I must depart." Haruto turned.
"Okay. Bye. Love you."
"Bye." He stepped forward—and paused when her fingers curled around his arm.
He looked back slightly. Cold air brushed his cheek.
"I said… I love you," Ronóva repeated, voice steady and firm.
Haruto blinked once. "Okay…"
Her eyes sharpened. "If you answer me with just 'okay' again, you'll regret it."
(What did I do?) he wondered.
Seraphina chimed in his mind.
『Notification: Subject Ronóva desires a verbal expression of affection.』
Haruto exhaled quietly.
"…I love you too," he said. Calm. Controlled. Sincere.
Ronóva's sternness melted instantly.
"Love you too."
"May I go now?" Haruto asked.
"Yup." She clasped her hands.
A faint smile touched his lips. "Cute."
He vanished in a blink—soft light swallowing him.
Ronóva stared at the warm space he left behind.
"He just teleported away after saying something nice…" she whispered.
A soft knock tapped the door.
"Big sister…" came a quiet voice.
Ronóva straightened. "Yes, Kuroko. Enter."
The door opened. Kuroko stepped inside—black hair slightly messy, red-gold eyes glowing like a silent storm.
"Morning, sis," she murmured.
"Morning to you as well."
Kuroko's eyes widened. "You look… beautiful."
"I know," Ronóva said with a grin. "But hearing it from you is nice."
(Though my darling comes first.)
Kuroko smiled—then paused.
Her nose twitched.
Slow inhale.
(…Men's perfume?)
Her head tilted. The golden rose on the side of her head shifted.
One finger rose to her chin, tapping lightly.
(Sis only lets me and her maid in here. Why is a man's scent this strong?)
Ronóva watched her. "Is something wrong?"
Kuroko lifted her gaze. Her tone lowered—quiet, clipped, almost a whisper.
"…Were you with a man?"
Ronóva blinked. "Why do you ask?"
Kuroko's hands moved to her hips. She stood still, calm, but firm.
"A man's scent," she whispered, "is all over this room."
Ronóva smiled faintly.
"Let us head to the garden and speak," she said, her tone calm and commanding.
Kuroko only nodded. Her outfit shifted softly in the morning breeze—black wide-leg pants, a loose blouse with puffed sleeves, platform lace-up boots. A red waist belt hung at her hip, gold ribbon brushing her collar. Her steps were silent.
The morning sun slipped through drifting white clouds, warming the vast green garden behind the mansion. Flowers stirred under the breeze, releasing a faint sweet fragrance. The rustle of petals mixed with distant birdsong.
Ronóva and Kuroko settled at an outdoor table covered with elegant sweets.
A soft wind brushed through both of their hair, lifting the ends gently.
Kuroko lifted her teacup with quiet grace, her small pink lips taking a light sip before she set the cup neatly back onto its plate. Her posture straightened.
"So… you're gonna talk," she murmured, her tone soft and clipped.
"You may finish eating first," Ronóva replied, eyes half-lidded.
"I'm good." Kuroko's voice barely rose above a whisper.
Ronóva leaned back. Her eyes closed for a brief moment, a slow breath escaping. When she opened them, there was resolve.
"Then I'll be direct. I have been… seeing someone."
Kuroko froze. Her eyes widened, shock tightening her chest.
"H…how did that happen?" she whispered, disbelief trembling in her voice.
"It is a long story," Ronóva said, cold and solemn, yet softer than usual.
"Is it… one of the nobles?" Kuroko asked quickly. Worry slipped into her quiet tone—fearful of the answer.
Ronóva tilted her head slightly, lips curving down.
"No. I would never." Her voice carried a sharp, distant disgust.
Kuroko's shoulders dropped in relief, though her expression stayed dazed.
"Thank goodness… I'd hate the idea of you with some old noble." She exhaled quietly. "So—who is he?"
"You will meet him soon enough," Ronóva answered.
"Huh… I… see." Kuroko murmured.
"I never thought there was anyone who could stir romantic feelings in you," Kuroko added. "You're… picky, sis."
Ronóva's hand rose to her cheek, hiding the faint blush creeping up her skin.
"Yes… I was fortunate to find him so soon," she said softly. A small, genuine smile formed.
Kuroko studied her with sharp eyes, though a gentle warmth hid underneath.
(Sister really loves him… but I'll judge him myself. If he's unworthy, I won't let a loser touch her.)
Ronóva noticed the piercing stare.
"What is that gaze for?" she asked, voice cool.
Kuroko flinched, waving her hands slightly, her soft voice almost cracking.
"It's nothing."
Ronóva's eyes narrowed in suspicion but let it go.
Kuroko turned, sensing movement.
Far in the sky, a massive red dragon soared over the mountain range, golden eyes gleaming. Sunlight bounced off its scales.
Ronóva followed Kuroko's gaze.
"A dragon," she murmured, her voice carrying solemn intrigue.
"Yes. Seems they're leaving the nest," Kuroko whispered.
"It appears so."
Ronóva's gaze sharpened. A cold chill crawled down her spine. Her eyes widened slightly—instinctive, deadly focus settling over her features.
(…Die.)
Her ultimate skill activated—Thanotós Sovereignty, a command of instant death.
The dragon's immortality and regeneration meant nothing.
Its golden eyes dimmed.
Its wings folded mid-air.
The massive body spiraled downward toward the ocean, lifeless before it hit the water.
The wind carried the faint echo of its fall. Flowers trembled from the shockwave.
Huh… why did it suddenly fall into the ocean? Kuroko murmured, her voice suppressed, eyes narrowing as she tried to make sense of the sudden disaster.
(I could reveal my true power to Kuroko… but perhaps not yet.) Ronóva thought, lips curling into a faint, controlled smile.
"It's probably a sea dragon—that's why it fell into the ocean," she said softly, her tone measured, almost serene.
"Really… didn't that look like an Elemental Dragon?" Kuroko's voice remained subdued, her gaze sharp, scanning the horizon as if the ocean itself might answer.
Ronóva's eyes widened slightly.
(Oh no… that was a reckless move.) She exhaled through her nose, a whisper of concern brushing her composure.
"Dragons come in many forms, shapes, and classifications," Ronóva said carefully, tilting her head with a faint, contemplative smile. "It's difficult to tell what kind of dragon they truly are."
"Yeah… that's a fact," Kuroko replied, nodding, her tone neutral but thoughtful.
Ronóva allowed herself the barest hint of warmth in her expression, a small curve of happiness tugging at her lips.
---
Back in Haruto's country, the political hall stretched wide and imposing, the golden chandeliers reflecting off the polished floor. The room smelled faintly of parchment and oiled wood, a subtle hint of tea lingering from the table set at the center. Haruto sat at one end of a long couch, posture precise, exuding calm authority.
Across from him, Maeltharion reclined slightly, the delicate china plate of cookies between them emphasizing the tension that hung like a thick fog.
"Sorry… but we have to extend the tournament," Maeltharion said, taking a cookie with deliberate calm, though his eyes betrayed unease.
Haruto's brows knitted slightly as he leaned back, the soft leather of the couch creaking under him.
"No need to apologize—but why the sudden hold?" His voice was calm, formal, curiosity tempered with precision.
Maeltharion folded his arms, the room growing heavier with unspoken gravity.
"A few of the summoned heroes… died," he said, voice low, deliberate.
Haruto's eyes widened fractionally, a brief flash of shock crossing his otherwise composed face.
(That's unfortunate.) He murmured internally, the thought as measured as his tone.
"We are investigating whether they are truly gone… I hope they are still alive," Maeltharion continued, gaze flicking toward the floor, fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the table.
"I hope you find them," Haruto replied calmly, voice steady, almost detached.
(Huh? I don't feel sorrow over the possibility of a few classmates dying… but that is the reality. No need for needless worry.)
Maeltharion gave a small, measured nod.
"If I have nothing else to explain, I will take my leave now," he said, rising smoothly from the couch, posture precise and formal.
"No, wait…" Haruto interjected, hand lifting slightly, eyes narrowing with subtle focus. "I have something to give you."
Maeltharion paused mid-step, a faint flicker of surprise crossing his composed expression. Slowly, he returned to his seat, the air between them taut with anticipation.
It would've taken you an entire month to reach my kingdom," Haruto said, voice calm and precise. "But with the new roads, it only took a week."
Maeltharion arched a brow. "So what are you getting at?"
Haruto allowed a faint smile. He extended his hand, palm open.
Mana shimmered.
A crystal appeared—large, polished, with several small floating shards orbiting it like silent moons.
"This is a Teleportation Crystal," Haruto said. "One of my craftsmen created it."
(It was me, of course.) Haruto thought, expression neutral.
Maeltharion leaned in slightly, eyes narrowing in shock.
(Teleportation Crystal… I've never even heard of such a thing.)
"With this," Haruto continued, "we can make trade and travel far easier between our nations."
Maeltharion's eyes widened again. The weight of Haruto's words settled in the room like a shifting pressure.
"This is acceptable to you, yes?" Haruto asked.
"Yes—of course!" Maeltharion replied, voice louder than intended, surprised by his own excitement.
Haruto's smile deepened by a fraction. "Since our partnership is strong, I will grant you forty-five percent ownership. The remaining fifty-five stays with me."
Maeltharion blinked.
(Forty-five percent? That's generous… He knows exactly what he's doing.)
He folded his arms. His tone grew serious.
"Is the Teleportation Crystal restricted to nobles only?"
"No," Haruto replied calmly. "I intend to open it to everyone. Though, naturally, there will be a fee."
Maeltharion inhaled sharply.
(This will reshape the entire world's structure… trade, travel, communication—everything.)
He extended a hand toward Haruto.
"Then I'm all in."
Haruto shook his hand, offering a soft, composed smile.
---
Two weeks later
In the heart of Haruto's city stood a massive glowing crystal.
Radiant light pulsed slowly inside it like a breathing star.
A long line of citizens stretched before it—adventurers, merchants, elders, children, nobles, farmers.
All waiting.
All whispering in excitement.
A maid stood before the crystal. She had sharp green eyes and long black hair tied neatly behind her shoulders.
"Where would you like to go?" she asked gently.
"Um… t-to my parents," said a nervous mother holding her small child on her right hip.
The maid pointed to the shimmering crystal behind her.
"Please place your hand on the surface and picture the place you wish to visit."
The mother stepped forward, breath shaky.
She pressed her palm softly to the warm crystal.
Her eyes closed.
She imagined her parents' home.
A flash of light erupted—clean, silent, instantaneous.
Mother and child vanished.
A wave of shocked gasps spread through the crowd. Then the whispers exploded into loud chatter:
"It actually works?!"
"I can visit my wife and children every day after work!"
"This changes everything!"
People spoke over one another—voices full of awe, hope, and disbelief.
Haruto's invention had shaken the world awake.
In the clear blue sky, Haruto levitated effortlessly above the crowd gathered around the crystal. His hair caught the sunlight, and his long cape billowed dramatically in the strong wind, flaring like liquid silk.
(Everything is proceeding as planned… I should reward that girl with the green eyes.) Haruto thought, his voice a quiet, almost imperceptible murmur only he could hear.
Beside him, Tsukasa hovered silently, her eyes narrowing as she scrutinized the maid at the crystal. The girl's sharp green eyes and long black hair stood out against the bustling crowd.
"Oh… is my lord referring to Midori?" Tsukasa asked softly, tilting her head, voice calm but curious.
"Yes…" Haruto murmured, his tone soft yet tinged with subtle restraint, mindful of Elyssia and her team nearby.
Haruto's eyes narrowed slightly, a shadow of calculation crossing his otherwise composed expression.
(Why is she here… but I did anticipate this.) He exhaled lightly, observing from above.
Tsukasa noticed the shift in Haruto's demeanor, the seriousness settling into the lines of his face like a palpable weight.
"Is something wrong, my lord?" she asked, voice steady but attentive, following the subtle tension in his movements.
Her gaze followed his, and her eyes widened as she spotted not Elyssia herself, but Tsubaki among the team, standing with quiet authority.
(Brother…) Tsukasa whispered internally, disbelief tightening her chest as her vision locked on her sibling.