Chapter 1.1 – The Beginning of Love

The scent of flowers carried by the wind brushed past Marianne’s nose. The red flowers, which looked as soft as silk, had a fragrance as beautiful as their appearance.  

‘Pretty flowers must also smell nice.’  

Marianne thought absentmindedly. However, contrary to her relaxed mind, her face had turned pale as if she were someone standing in the middle of winter without a coat.  

“Your complexion doesn’t look good. By any chance…”  

A deep voice pierced her ears. Startled, Marianne quickly raised her head to meet the owner of the voice.  

“A-Ah, no. I’m fine. I mean, probably.”  

The man’s eyes were filled with concern. That gentle emotion was so disconcerting that Marianne stuttered without realizing it.  

“But, Marquis…”  

Adjusting her thick-rimmed glasses, Marianne slowly continued.  

“Why are you giving this to me…?”  

Her gaze shifted from the man’s face to the bouquet of flowers in his hand.  

“I learned that when asking someone out on a date, it’s proper to bring flowers.”  

The man once again extended the bouquet toward Marianne with a small smile. It was a shy smile, oddly unfitting for him.  

Two women watching the pair from a distance whispered to each other. “The Marquis…? What’s wrong with him?” “I don’t know. He must’ve gone mad.” But their words didn’t reach Marianne’s ears, as she was too flustered.  

She simply stared blankly at the man. His platinum blonde hair and mysterious gray-blue eyes sparkled under the sunlight. Everyone in the area, including Marianne, was standing under the same sun, but somehow, the man alone seemed to shine brilliantly.  

There were only three people in the entire Eagle Empire of Arvid who were as stunningly beautiful and handsome as that. One was the Emperor, another was the Emperor’s sibling, the Grand Duke, and the last was Marquis Velarc.  

And the man standing before Marianne, holding the bouquet, was none other than Marquis Velarc Sylvester. In other words, the famous mage and the Commander of the Second Knight Order, whom she had only seen from afar a few times or occasionally encountered near the back gate of the knight order.  

“…You’re asking me out on a date?”  

“Yes.”  

Sylvester replied to Marianne’s delayed question.  

“I-I see.”  

“…”  

“…”  

“But why would someone like you, Marquis, ask me out on a date…?”  

With a face that couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry, Marianne asked Sylvester. Her voice trailed off at the end; she couldn’t help it. She didn’t know what else to say.  

‘You don’t even know who I am!’  

What on earth was happening? 

Marianne’s vision began to spin.  

* * *

That glorious empire, the Eagle Empire of Arvid, was home to two individuals infamous for their terrible personalities. One was the young Emperor Obern, who had just turned twenty-six this year, and the other was his close friend, Marquis Velarc Sylvester Amadeus, Commander of the Imperial Second Knight Order.  

If one were to ask who among the two was worse, it wouldn’t be an easy question to answer. After all, there was a reason the two were friends.  

The answer to such a question would vary depending on the person’s position and status. However, at least among the mages of the Imperial Knight Order, all would agree that Marquis Velarc was the Empire’s worst personality.  

The Emperor, with his strikingly handsome appearance, was a fiery individual. He got annoyed easily and even angrier more quickly. If someone failed to keep up with his words or actions, he would throw a tantrum, causing a huge uproar and driving people crazy.  

However, as easily as he got angry, the Emperor also cooled down just as quickly. A trivial action or a simple word could instantly lift his mood, and he would hum a tune as if nothing had happened.  

What about the Marquis? He belonged to an entirely different category.  

As the Commander of the Imperial Second Knight Order, composed solely of mages, Marquis Velarc Sylvester was unlike the fiery Emperor. If anything, he was like a fragile sheet of ice on a frozen lake, ready to crack at any moment. His appearance, speech, and expression were colder than the winter winds of the Velia Forest.  

Born into the Amadeus family, which had produced Grand Mages for generations, Sylvester possessed extraordinary talent, a brilliant mind to match, and a strong body.  

There wasn’t much else to say. The story of a man born with everything (except personality) achieving success as a war hero and earning his own title was too predictable and boring. At any rate, this exceptional Marquis was both the superior and public enemy of the mages under his command.  

And it was all because of his mouth. The Marquis, to whom everything came easily, couldn’t understand the struggles of the mages beneath him. No, it wasn’t just that he couldn’t understand them. At times, the mages wondered if he outright despised them.  

“…Why can’t you do this?”  

This was the phrase the mages heard most often from Sylvester. With an indifferent expression and arms crossed, the Marquis—Sylvester—would stare at the mages, who were sweating nervously, and casually throw out such remarks. Before the mages could even respond, another comment would follow.  

“You’re not kids anymore.”  

“…”  

“Before it’s too late, how about going back to the academy and starting over?”  

Shaking his head as if genuinely pitying the mages, Sylvester would continue.  

“You could learn a lot from the fifteen-year-old mages currently attending the academy.”  

The way he delivered these lines, with a solemn air, made him look like an actor on stage. And a stunningly beautiful actor at that.  

It was… infuriating. 

After three years of enduring such treatment under him, the mages had developed a near-traumatic reaction to the words Sylvester, Amadeus, Velarc, and Marquis.  

The collective wish of the mages in the Imperial Knight Order was simple.  

They wanted to see the Marquis, their Commander, grovel before someone.  

Of course, such a thing was impossible. Who could possibly make the Marquis grovel? Not even the Emperor could intimidate him. Sylvester was the kind of man who could listen to the Emperor’s fiery tantrums with one ear and let it out the other, smirking all the while.  

For that reason, the mages believed their earnest wish would never come true.  

But then, an opportunity arose. A chance that might just make the Marquis squirm.  

“So, what if we use Peter’s magic? What do you think?”  

In a lively corner of a tavern, a woman’s soft voice slipped out. It was a secretive tone that reached the ears of the mages huddled around the same table.  

“On who?”  

“Who else? After all the complaining we’ve done about him…”  

Another mage sitting next to the woman answered. His drunken slur was typical of someone whose tongue had been loosened by alcohol, but to the mages at the table, his words rang loud and clear, like the Emperor’s commanding voice.  

“He scolded us earlier for using magic during the day…”  

Peter, the mage in question, glanced nervously at the others and spoke.  

“Well, it’s nighttime now. Maybe he’s changed his mind.”  

A middle-aged man sitting beside Peter muttered, his eyes half-closed from drunkenness.  

“Exactly! People can change their minds at any time. With some alcohol in me, that magic came to mind. I want to use it on him.”  

The first woman to speak, Erina, grinned mischievously as she spoke, causing Peter to shake his head in alarm.  

“Don’t joke about that.”  

“I’m not joking.”  

The magic they were talking about had been created just a few hours earlier… during a peaceful afternoon.