Chapter 24
“What can be done about a youthful mistake? I’m honestly surprised you had that kind of passion, young viscount. Back in your childhood with the princess, I thought you were little more than a stone statue.”
“In those days… she seemed far too high above me. I couldn’t dare express how I felt. Please understand—I deeply regret how foolish I was.”
His tone, his expression—everything was perfect, like a man baring his heart. Anyone watching would think he was a youth in love. But the Empress’s heart remained cold.
“Nonsense.”
When a man’s heart isn’t visible, you look at his actions. A man who is truly in love will spare nothing for the woman he adores.
Valter liked Charlize, yes. But not nearly enough. Unfortunately, her daughter lacked the finesse to take even that half-hearted affection and nurture it into something deeper.
“Now that she’s out of his reach, I’m sure his feelings are growing.”
Everything that had once been given freely to him as the princess’s prospective fiancé must have slipped through his fingers like mist. Even how other nobles treated him would have changed. And no matter how loudly he might claim, “I never wanted any of it!”, the world would only see him as the fool who lost the princess.
Annoying as he was, he was still useful for now. The ideal tool to provoke the Tower Master, and then discard once he was wounded.
“If Charlize ends up back in his hands, he’ll change his tune instantly.”
“If you’ve truly realized your feelings now, then that’s fortunate… But I worry for His Majesty. He places too much trust in the Tower Master. What if, after the marriage, he stops visiting the palace entirely?”
“There’s still time before the wedding, Your Majesty. I’ve been speaking with like-minded nobles. We’ll find a way.”
Hmm…
Typical pleasantries. The Empress looked at Valter silently, wondering if he was hiding something, but couldn’t find anything more.
“Very well. I’ll put my trust in you.”
She dismissed him with a pleased smile that barely masked her dissatisfaction. Now it was time to prepare for the upcoming conferment ceremony.
Charlize was reminded of something someone once said: “Marriage built on love alone does not guarantee happiness.” And she would have to live in the Tower after the wedding.
Perhaps because they had shared a quiet moment before the last event, Achilles had invited her out again ahead of schedule. Now, they were walking hand in hand through a corridor overlooking the gardens.
“Should I ask him if we could live in the capital instead…?”
She considered it, but deep down she knew—it wasn’t realistic. He was the Tower Master. She glanced sideways at his elegantly composed face.
“What even is the structure of the Tower? Would I be able to adjust to life there?”
Surely, mages had families. Surely some were married. She needed to understand how they lived—how they maintained their homes. Charlize wasn’t opposed to the idea of children. In fact, she hoped to have at least two someday.
“Achilles.”
“Yes.”
His golden eyes turned toward her. They were still unreadably calm, and yet, somehow warm. She must’ve been under some kind of spell already.
“Are there married mages in the Tower?”
“…”
He paused for a moment, as if he had never thought about it before.
“There are.”
Charlize’s face lit up a little.
“Where do their families live? Inside the Tower? Or do they have homes in nearby towns or cities?”
“Mages in the Tower are ranked. The Tower assigns living quarters based on their rank.”
Whether they brought their families into their quarters was up to them. The Tower was a deeply closed-off institution, and most of its members didn’t even have families. But in cases like Achilles—who married—those families usually lived within the Tower.
Family members were often considered vulnerabilities. If things went badly, they could be taken hostage by nobles or even the state. So mages were understandably cautious.
“Since daily life is kept mostly separate, you likely won’t encounter the families of my subordinates or disciples.”
The Tower was divided into five distinct spires. Each of these was connected to the central tower by a series of bridges, and most mages lived exclusively within their assigned spire.
Achilles could sense Charlize’s unease about life in the Tower. Though his personal quarters were no less grand than those in the imperial palace, life there would be fundamentally different.
After all, there were no balls. No gatherings of noble ladies. None of the familiar rhythms of courtly society.
“…Are you worried about what comes after the wedding?” he asked gently.
“I just don’t think it’ll be like a normal noble household. I never imagined I’d marry this early, so… I guess I’m nervous.”
Less than a month remained. Achilles silently took both of her hands in his.
“You will want for nothing. These hands of yours will never need to touch water—except when you wish to bathe. Whatever you desire, I will place at your feet.”
Charlize didn’t doubt him. As the Tower Master, such promises weren’t difficult for him to keep. She was simply… still not used to any of it.
“I’ll trust you.”
When she stepped closer, Achilles realized what she meant and wrapped her gently in his arms. His ceremonial uniform was adorned with stiff, ornate decorations, and he made sure none of it scratched her cheek.
“Are you really okay with becoming a noble of the Empire? His Majesty will likely call on you often.”
“His Majesty already does.”
He had treated Achilles like a man holding a security deposit, as though giving up his daughter entitled him to wield influence at will. Perhaps he would hold back for Charlize’s sake, but she didn’t believe the Emperor was so sentimental.
Charlize gestured for Achilles to lower his head slightly. She whispered in his ear:
“You don’t have to listen to everything he says. Just… play along.”
“Play along… Understood.”
A palace attendant arrived—it was time to depart for the ceremony. Charlize took Achilles’s hand, and the two of them moved together toward the carriage.
The nobles already gathered at the palace had taken their places, waiting for Achilles to arrive. Charlize separated from him at the main entrance and entered ahead of him.
Because he was a man, she would not escort him in. Achilles had already been briefed by the attending officials on the ceremony’s procedures.
“So many formalities.”
If not for the purpose of marrying Charlize, he would have found it all terribly tedious. A part of him wanted to take her and leave for the Tower right then—but he knew he couldn’t.
“Achilles.”
Just recalling her voice, her face calling his name, was enough to soften the sharp edge in his heart. He realized—again—how much he had changed, waiting for the ceremony to begin.
When the royal attendant summoned him from the carriage, Achilles stepped out with pride, walking confidently into the grand hall of the main palace.
Inside, many nobles had already gathered.
Being invited to such a ceremony was a sign of the Emperor’s favor, and few dared decline such an honor. Attendees came without fail.
Achilles passed them by with a cool gaze, his eyes searching for only one person.
There.
At the far end of the hall, beside the Emperor and Empress, sat Charlize. In a seat prepared especially for her, she watched as he entered.
He wanted nothing more than to be at her side.
As he stepped into the hall, a palace attendant raised his voice, signaling the arrival of the honoree. Achilles, who had never attended such a formal event before, ignored everything but one person.
Charlize.
The other nobles began to notice where the Tower Master’s eyes were fixed. A faint blush colored Charlize’s cheek, though she kept her expression composed.
Not far from the scene, Valter Bianchi, watching from the crowd, felt his eyes narrow with rage. But no one noticed.
Even after his invitation was checked, nothing happened. Because the invitation had belonged to a lower-ranked noble, the attendants likely didn’t recognize Ralph by face.
He was wearing formal attire that had been given to him for this very occasion. For someone of his means, it had been a considerable burden. Despite the fine clothes, they couldn’t hide the grief etched into his face, and a few royal attendants glanced at him with subtle curiosity.
His eyes—nervous and bloodshot—watched as Achilles crossed the ballroom, approaching the Emperor.
He remembered what they had told him:
“Wait for the right moment. When the Emperor moves to bestow the title—then.”
The right moment.
Since Liam’s death, Ralph hadn’t been able to swallow food or drink without pain. His throat felt like it had been ripped open. But for today, he had forced himself to eat—to stay standing.
At first, his body rejected the food, but eventually, it gave in.
“What is he waiting for?! He said this was the moment!”
A noble who knew the full plan glanced briefly in Ralph’s direction. Ralph stood at the very back, eyes bloodshot, glaring daggers at Achilles.
