***

It had been nearly ten years since he last set foot here.

Since the day his father had so mercilessly cast Faelin aside, Aster Magicos had never once stepped onto the soil of the Magicos royal palace.

As the dazzling light of the chandeliers poured down from above, Aster slowly swept his gaze across the banquet hall, as though it all felt strangely unfamiliar.

“Nothing has changed at all.”

Though much time had passed—and even the ruler of the kingdom had changed—the hall remained like a preserved relic, holding onto fragments of the past exactly as they were.

The gold embroidery on the heavy velvet curtains by the windows…

The delicate marble carvings adorning each pillar…

Everything remained just as it had in Aster’s memory.

But among it all, what drew his gaze the most was the painting hanging at the very center of the vast wall.

It was a family portrait, clumsily drawn by Faelin in her childhood.

He had assumed his father would have erased every trace of her existence, and yet, the painting still remained, displayed in the most prominent place.

‘Did Father… regret abandoning Faelin, even just a little?’

Aster slowly approached the painting, his eyes lingering on the image of Faelin smiling brightly from within the canvas.

“I miss you, Faelin.”

You must be doing so well in the heavens… that you don’t even show your face in my dreams.

His quiet, sorrowful murmur slipped into the air.

Then, as the music drifted through the hall, he let himself be carried by it—sinking into the illusions of the past.

This was the place where their birthday celebrations had once been held every year, filled endlessly with laughter.

Back then, Aster had held Faelin’s hand tightly, and danced with her.

It was a past he longed for with all his heart.

‘If only I could return to that time…’

‘I would have stayed by your side, so you would never feel alone—so your fragile heart would never be hurt.’

Regret and longing surged over him like crashing waves.

And just as those emotions threatened to swallow him whole—

Aster’s sharp ears caught something jarring.

A low, unpleasant murmur, something that did not belong among such tender memories.

“Oh my, isn’t that Lady Freya of House Freya? I heard her family went completely bankrupt not long ago…”

“Bankrupt? It’s worse than that. The moment their estate went up for auction, her fiancé—the young Count Quatz—sent a letter breaking off the engagement.”

“And didn’t he send out wedding invitations not long after? He’s marrying Lady Bern—Freya’s own cousin.”

“Good heavens… her family fell, and now even her fiancé has been taken by her cousin… How pitiful…”

The hushed whispers, laced with mockery and thinly veiled delight, spread quietly through the hall.

Hearing every bit of the low, sneering whispers, Aster Magicos clicked his tongue, his brow twitching faintly.

“There really are far too many tragic women in this world.”

Ever since Faelin’s death, Aster had developed a chronic affliction of his own, he simply could not turn away from women burdened by misfortune.

Perhaps it was because of the guilt of failing to save Faeilin.

Whenever he saw a woman caught in the turmoil of love and betrayal, it felt as though he were looking at her again and he could not bring himself to walk away.

Letting out a quiet sigh, Aster turned his gaze toward the center of the commotion.

There stood a silver-haired woman, enduring the unabashed stares of everyone in the banquet hall.

Like a scene pulled straight from a cliché scandal, she stood alone before elegantly dressed men and women, clad in an outdated, worn dress.

It was Lady Freya.

‘Romantic scandals really never change, do they?’

At the all-too-familiar setup, Aster gave a slight shake of his head and then, at that very moment, his eyes met hers.

Vivid violet eyes, so clear and steady, utterly out of place in such a miserable situation.

They did not waver in the slightest, shining with a quiet strength like a perfectly cut amethyst.

“…She’s beautiful.”

The words slipped from Aster’s lips before he could stop them.

Startled by his own voice, he quickly came to his senses and fell into thought.

‘With eyes like that… she doesn’t seem like a tragic woman at all.’

‘Maybe she doesn’t need my help.’

Just as he hesitated, a noblewoman stepped forward, blocking the young lady’s path and hurling venomous words at her.

“Your family has fallen, your engagement has been broken—I thought you’d be too ashamed to show your face at a party. And yet here you are, wearing such a cheap dress. Have you no sense of shame?”

Her voice rang loudly across the entire hall deliberately cruel, meant to humiliate.

Aster frowned and began to move again.

“I really can’t ignore this, can I…”

Just as he stepped toward the heart of the scene—Lady Freya, Selena Freya, parted her lips.

Her voice, unexpectedly, was calm and unwavering.

“Shame? Why should I feel ashamed?”

“Teon and Leila, who clung to each other like beasts without a shred of conscience, walk around with their heads held high—so why should I, the victim, be the one to feel ashamed… Aunt?”

“What did you just say?!”

The noblewoman—called Aunt—flushed red with fury in an instant.

Beside her, her cousin Leila put on the most wounded expression in the world beginning her pitiful little performance.

“Sister…”

But Selena Freya didn’t even blink.

Watching her, Teon Quatz curled his lips into a mocking smile.

“You really haven’t changed at all. Do you know why I broke off our engagement? It wasn’t because your family fell, it’s because of that stubborn, steel-like pride of yours that refuses to yield even a single word—”

“I don’t care. I didn’t come here to listen to your nonsense.”

Aster found himself slightly surprised at how sharply she fired back, but Teon was no less despicable.

“Hah, looks like you came here just to spit insults. Fine. I won’t say I’ve done nothing wrong, so I’ll hear you out once. But keep your insults directed at me. Leila hasn’t done anything wrong.”

Looking down on Selena arrogantly, Teon pushed the tension of the scandal to its peak.

Aster Magicos quickened his steps, closing the distance between them.

“Say whatever you want. But I didn’t come here to insult you.”

Selena’s lips curved slightly.

“I came to give you a gift.”

“What?”

With a soft click, Selena opened the small bag in her hand.

“A gift…? What do you—”

As Leila muttered uneasily, her body trembling with a bad premonition, Selena’s smile deepened into something cold and sharp.

“A gift that suits trash like you perfectly—take some orc crap, you bastards!”

She hurled the lump of orc crap straight at Teon and Leila without hesitation.

And at that exact moment, as if appearing out of nowhere to stand protectively beside Teon, Aster stepped in.

Thud—! Thud—!

It happened before he could even reach out to her with any semblance of grace.

Something sticky, warm, and utterly foul hit squarely against Aster’s noble chest.

Then—

Splatter—brown fragments scattered, spattering across his sculpted face.

A suffocating stench pierced his nose.

‘What is this…?’

‘What just splashed onto my face…?’

An eighth-circle archmage.

The youngest Tower Master in history.

Aster Magicos—had just been covered in orc crap.

Frozen like stone at the sheer absurdity of it, he stood motionless, when suddenly, piercing screams erupted beside him.

“Ah! What the h*ll is this?!”

“Eek! It’s poop! It’s on me—ahh!”

Having taken the full brunt of it, Teon and Leila writhed and shrieked in panic.

“Leila! Ugh—!”

The aunt rushed toward her, only to recoil instinctively, gagging at the overwhelming stench.

Around them, the nobles began whispering in shock, their eyes fixed on the filthy pair.

“Oh my… what is that…?”

“They’ve been covered in orc crap… How disgraceful…”

“Clean.”

Calmly casting a spell, Selena wiped her hands clean.

Then, looking at the wretched state of Teon and Leila, she let out a cold, cutting laugh.

“The way you reek, it suits you perfectly. You look just like the trash you are. Make sure you keep living like that, smelling just as rotten.”

Teon’s face turned crimson as he trembled with rage.

“You—! I won’t just—”

“Is he about to strike a lady?”

“And he’s the one who betrayed her in the first place…”

“After being drenched in filth, he should at least have the decency to feel ashamed…”

As the crowd’s murmurs began to paint him as a brute, Teon froze, unable to bring his raised hand down.

At that moment, Leila tugged desperately at his arm, her voice trembling.

“Teon… let’s just go. Please…”

“…Tch. Selena, I won’t forget this humiliation.”

With their pride shattered, Teon and Leila retreated in disgrace, fleeing the banquet hall.

For a brief moment, Selena savored the satisfaction—but soon, guilt flickered across her face.

She turned and approached a man who had been pushed out of the crowd, standing apart from everyone else.

Whoever he was, his luck had been utterly terrible.

Of all places, he had passed right beside Teon at the exact moment of chaos and taken a direct hit of orc crap.

The man stood there, completely still, as if the sudden shock had frozen him into a statue, filth still clinging to him.