Chapter 35

Episode 35

“Ah, you’re here. I was wondering when you’d show up.”

As soon as Ilian arrived at the royal library, Alec stood up quickly to make a swift exit from the couple staring intensely at each other as if they were the only ones left in the world.

“You two seem to have gotten close pretty fast.”

Especially with Ilian’s words that followed, a strange thorn seemed to be hidden within them.

“Oh, His Highness the Crown Prince shared some amusing childhood stories.”

“…Really?”

There was no hesitation in how he naturally reached out to help Lydia up.

Alec watched them as if witnessing a phenomenon he understood in theory but still found awkward in reality.

It was one thing to appear close at a wedding, but seeing Ilian Esteban behave so casually in such an ordinary moment was a reality Alec truly couldn’t get used to.

“I’ll be off now. It was a pleasure meeting you, Marchioness.”

“Likewise.”

Only then did Ilian finally look at Alec, his gaze previously stuck on Lydia.

Though he pretended indifference, Alec could clearly feel that Ilian no longer welcomed his presence.

“Nothing happened, I assume?”

“There was nothing you’d worry about. I’ll see you later.”

Alec patted his shoulder and walked past him with a farewell, and Ilian tilted his head slightly in acknowledgment.

Then, as if it were second nature, his gaze immediately returned to Lydia.

Ilian remained silent while Alec’s footsteps faded into the distance.

The conclusion he’d reached in the conversation with Katrina also affected Lydia, so he felt the need to speak properly to her.

But Lydia, having been watching Alec leave, sighed in relief and spoke first.

“I had a pleasant conversation with His Highness, but I didn’t get to properly look around.”

Then, she quickly turned and began brushing her fingertips over the books, a sense of urgency evident in her movements.

Ilian postponed talking about the matter of going to the Esteban territory and observed her.

“What did you and Alec talk about?”

“Nothing much. Um… if anything, it was about you.”

“About me?”

Ilian, leaning half his body against the bookshelf with arms crossed, asked again.

Lydia picked up a few books and held them in her arms.

“Well, there wasn’t much else to talk about. The only thing the Crown Prince and I have in common is that we know you.”

“For that, you two seemed to have become quite close.”

But Lydia didn’t seem able to give a proper answer, too focused on scanning the books.

She flipped through one, muttered that it wasn’t right, and closed it—repeating the process several times.

Though many things caught Lydia’s interest, the real issue was that it wasn’t easy to find something truly useful to her current situation.

“At this rate, we won’t get any answers.”

“I told you before, didn’t I? This might be a pointless visit.”

“I know you’ve said that multiple times, Marquis.”

Lydia slammed the books she found onto the desk a bit firmly, emphasizing each word.

The tone she used to refer to him was clearly intentional.

“We’re not here for my problem, Ilian. We’re here to solve yours. Can’t we be a bit hopeful?”

“Can’t we be a little objective instead?”

“Well, come over here and help me get that book.”

Without hesitation, Lydia grabbed Ilian’s hand and led him to a section with high shelves.

It wasn’t high enough to need a ladder, but it was still completely out of her reach.

“If it really comes down to it, you could just stay the Marchioness forever. With you around, the curse won’t progress. You could be the eternal seal, even if you can’t solve it.”

Standing behind her, the Marquis handed down a book from the top shelf in one go, but his shadowed face made it impossible to read his expression.

Lydia didn’t bother hiding her disbelief as she shook her head and replied.

“Don’t say ridiculous things. How could I be the Marchioness forever?”

“Some would gladly take that position.”

“I’d gladly give it up.”

With a short laugh falling from above her head, the Marquis stepped back.

His face wore that usual, unreadable smile.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Ilian, catching her violet eyes as she turned to meet his gaze, spoke suddenly.

“Don’t act this way with other nobles.”

The moment he said it, he wondered what on earth he was blurting out.

Was it because he pathetically didn’t want to see it? Or was it the pointless concern he felt for her? He couldn’t tell.

He’d rather it be the latter. The former was just pitiful.

“I know.”

But she seemed to interpret his words as a warning not to be too friendly with others. Whether that was fortunate or not, he couldn’t say.

Lydia’s tone suddenly became very polite.

“I know the Marquis is being unusually generous in tolerating my rudeness.”

“…Right.”

Lydia didn’t seem particularly hurt as she flipped through the books, but Ilian felt oddly uneasy.

The irritation was directed at himself for saying something so pointless.

“When I speak with the Marquis in the future, I’ll be careful—”

The repeated use of “Marquis” was starting to grate on Ilian’s nerves, so he was about to tell her to just forget what he said when Lydia suddenly turned and reached for a book behind her.

“Ouch…”

Because of that, the thick book she was reaching for dropped and thudded heavily against her shoulder.

Before it could hit her foot as well, Ilian quickly caught it and grabbed her arm to check her condition.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes. I’m fine.”

“This isn’t the first time. Are you going to get hurt every time?”

“I think I already have a bruise on my shoulder.”

A natural whimper of pain escaped her lips.

She hadn’t expected that just trying to grab a book from a slightly higher shelf would cause this mess.

“Please don’t say I should see a doctor. Getting bruises is kind of normal for me.”

Realizing her words might be misunderstood, Lydia quickly clarified.

“Whether it’s at the store or at home, when I move heavy things by myself, bruises are a daily thing. It’s not serious. Just hurts a bit.”

She couldn’t completely hide the pained expression from her delicate face, which scrunched up slightly.

Ilian Esteban let out a sigh.

How could someone be so recklessly prone to injury?

But Lydia, whether or not she noticed Ilian pressing his temples with a sudden migraine, was drawn to a book the Marquis had casually tossed open on the desk.

“Ilian.”

Almost like a twist of fate, the book had flipped to a page with a drawing.

The content itself was unremarkable. It was a dry explanation of the history of the Rodrigo family—specifically the Lescal Archipelago.

But within the vivid depiction of the sea, a long, dragon-like mythical creature caught Lydia’s eye.

“This…”

Lydia’s fingers traced the passage stating that the people of the Lescal Archipelago always prayed to the sea god for wishes and mercy. The sea god. A sea dragon.

Until recently, even while contemplating fairy magic, she hadn’t once considered dragons.

That’s because dragons were unknown beings she hadn’t thought of at all.

They were described in books as being more like “gods,” unlike fairies who were intertwined in daily human life.

But if the overwhelming sense she felt when facing the Marquis’s curse came from such an immense power behind it…

At first, she thought it wasn’t human magic. Then she considered that it might be fairy magic. Then shouldn’t she now consider dragon magic?

“Dragons?”

“At this point, it seems the most likely guess.”

The girl who had delivered that veiled warning to Lydia hadn’t appeared in her dreams since.

But in a situation with no clues, this hint seemed worth following.

Lydia looked down at the book recording witness accounts from Lescal islanders who claimed to have received help from dragons or seen their forms faintly.

“I was thinking too narrowly. If this is magic beyond common sense, I should’ve made assumptions beyond it too.”

A painful misstep, perhaps. As usual, she had only investigated based on the rational evidence she already possessed, and she now felt ashamed.

“Now I understand why that girl in my dream acted so haughty.”

If she recalled the few remaining magical records, dragons had a naturally high-handed disposition. They preferred humans to worship them first, so if Lydia didn’t even recognize her identity, she likely didn’t want to talk at all.

“I’ll try speaking to her again through the curse. If I’ve identified her correctly, she might respond.”

—You’re not completely stupid.

Just then, the now-familiar voice of the young girl echoed faintly in Lydia’s head, like an auditory hallucination.