The Solatis Empire was in an uproar over the scandal between the Emperor and Countess Havik.

Mistresses of powerful men were nothing unusual, but the fact that she had managed to deceive even the most discerning figures of society for over twenty years was what shocked the public. Until the truth came out, the Emperor had been revered as a devoted husband who loved none but the Empress.

The scandal was laid bare when Countess Havik set fire to the Empress’s greenhouse. The largest garden on the continent of Kuorn was reduced to ashes, and the ensuing large-scale investigation exposed the Emperor’s secret relationship with his mistress.

Most believed that, no matter how favored she had been, the Countess would face severe consequences for bringing such devastating harm to the imperial household.

“Fabienne, you are forbidden to set foot outside the Havik estate for a full year.”

The Emperor put on an air of sternness, yet his eyes betrayed him. The two gazed at each other with tearful eyes that brimmed with longing. Had there been no one else around, they might have thrown themselves into each other’s arms for comfort.

Even with the Empress seated openly at his side, they looked upon each other so tenderly—how deep must their love truly run!

Those who had been present when Fabienne Havik received her sentence relayed the scene vividly to society. As the story spread from mouth to mouth, it only grew more poignant and romantic.

“Perhaps they are late-found Sorus?”

“Maybe so. The way the greenhouse at the Rose Palace went up in flames in an instant—it could mean she wields the power of fire.”

“No, surely not. If His Majesty possessed divine power, it would have been revealed long ago.”

Some even speculated that the two were Sorus—fated lovers who could only ever love one another in their lifetime. But that theory was quickly dismissed. The Emperor would never have concealed something that could enhance his authority. And if Fabienne truly were his Sorus, he would never have allowed her to marry Count Havik in the first place—he would have cast aside the Empress and proclaimed the truth. Even if he had abandoned the wife of so many years, the reproach would not have lasted long. That was how revered the love between Sorus was in the Solatis Empire—like a living fairy tale.

Thus, though the rumor that the Emperor and Fabienne Havik were fated lovers soon withered away, the fact that he had personally intervened to lighten her punishment was taken as proof of his genuine devotion to his mistress.

At first, it seemed only the Empress’s position had been disgraced. But soon, attention shifted to the son of the Havik couple.

He had been caught in bed, in a state of nature, embracing the Crown Prince’s fiancée. On top of that, the timing of his birth left little doubt that he was, in fact, the Emperor’s illegitimate son.

Overnight, the Empress and the Crown Prince became the most pitied figures in the Empire. Needless to say, the Empress’s family was anything but pleased by the turn of events.

In truth, the one in the most difficult position was the Emperor himself.

If he wished to avoid outright conflict with the powerful families, he would have to make some show of goodwill toward the Empress, who now wandered the charred greenhouse with a lantern in hand each night. While his worries deepened by the day, a priest of close acquaintance came to him with tempting news.

“There appears to be a divine power wielder on Pinya Island, at the Sealed Sanctuary. The trees have grown lush, and plants that once bore neither flowers nor fruit are flourishing again.”

Only last year, the Sealed Sanctuary had been struggling financially, unable to harvest the fruits that provided the ingredients for their jams and cookies. Now they had such abundance that they were giving away fruit in donations.

If someone possessed the divine power to restore nature, they would be a beneficiary of the Earth’s power. Seeing a way out of his predicament, the Emperor summoned Marquis Cramzo.

Despite the sudden call, the man had come swiftly from afar, and the hollowness beneath his eyes betrayed his weariness. His massive frame made it less obvious at first glance, but up close his gauntness was clear.

“Wasn’t it last spring that we last saw each other? Yet it feels as though it has been ten years. Was the journey here so arduous?”

“No, Your Majesty.”

“I heard of your broken engagement with the daughter of Count Molde. Was the blow that great?”

At that, the corner of Marquis Cramzo’s mouth twitched faintly. He lowered his head without further reply.

“Or… is it because of your Sorus?”

His head snapped up. The Emperor grinned slyly as he gazed into the young man’s blue eyes, now trembling with agitation.

Even after winning victories in war and being granted a noble title, the man had never once betrayed such open emotion.

“Last spring, I heard a new priestess arrived at the Sealed Sanctuary on Pinya Island. Her name is Chloe—said to have come from Eb, where you stayed for quite some time. And, as it happens, she’s about the same age as you. Do you know her?”

“…I know her face and name.”

When the Marquis lowered his eyes, his long lashes fluttered ever so slightly. A tiny reaction, yet striking for someone of such usually steady composure.

“This is the first time I’ve seen you so unconvincing. Am I to believe it is mere coincidence that your return to Eb coincided with this priestess’s arrival at the Sanctuary?”

“It was coincidence, Your Majesty.”

“And is it coincidence, too, that you failed to recognize a woman who may well be a beneficiary of the Earth’s power?”

“It has not yet been confirmed that she wields divine power.”

The Emperor could not help but laugh aloud. Did he truly think such flimsy lies would suffice? Who was it, after all, who had worn that look of longing the moment Sorus was mentioned?

It had been worth the time spent waiting for Marquis Cramzo.

“Go to Pinya Island and bring back Priestess Chloe.”

“Is it because she may wield divine power that Your Majesty entrusts this to me?”

“Yes. Because you yourself are a beneficiary of the Earth’s power. And because that priestess may very well be your other half.”

Children of the Solatis Empire grew up hearing fairy-tale stories of fated love before they could even speak. Even the highest-born among them, no matter how lofty, could not escape the deep-seated longing such tales left behind.

“Do I have the right to refuse?”

“Would you refuse?”

The young man’s breathing quickened, his broad shoulders rising and falling in short intervals. He was barely twenty—what hidden circumstances weighed on him so heavily?

Though the Emperor’s words seemed to offer him a choice, the Marquis could not give an immediate answer. He fell into deep thought, so long that even the attendants began to shift uneasily. Only after a considerable silence did he finally open his mouth.

“No. I will go.”

“I hope your resolve will bring me satisfaction. And while you’re at it, restore the empress’s garden as well.”

Receiving both a means to access the barrier-encircled Pinya Island and a token proving the emperor’s command, Marquis Cramzo left the audience chamber. As he strode down the endless corridor, he released a heavy sigh.

“Chlo…e.”

The name he had turned over endlessly in his mind for more than a year slipped out unconsciously. His long strides halted.

“Do you truly love Lady Molde?”

His vision dimmed, and his heart sank with unbearable weight. The memory of that stormy day returned in vivid fragments.

“You asked me who said it.”

“…It was me. I ruined myself because I wanted at least your pity.”

Rain streaming down, soaking light-brown hair until it clung heavy and limp. Lips twisting into a feeble, crooked smile. Faded violet eyes, clouded, reflecting his own shocked face. Bruised, swollen hands.

“It hurt so much when you weren’t there. But now that you are… it hurts even more.”

Was it guilt? Or something else…

“So ignore me and go. Just do what you always do. This time it really is the end.”

What slid down from the corners of those distorted eyes—was it rain, or tears?

The ruined face in his mind suddenly curved into a faint smile, and Cramzo’s rigid expression contorted. Shaking his head to rid himself of the phantom sobs, he forced his steps forward.

A love so vast and deep it defied measure—nothing more than a trap woven by the gods. He had known it, had turned away, had even received letters wishing him happiness from someone doomed to be unhappier than anyone else. And still, every day without her was unbearable.

Marquis Cramzo quickened his pace, almost fleeing from the memory of the woman carved so indelibly into him.

“Well, if it isn’t Marquis Cramzo.”

A sly voice cut through his thoughts, halting his steps.

“Lord Caelus.”

“You’ve grown thin. I almost mistook you for a walking skeleton and thought to capture you as a test subject.”

A silver-haired man, leaning against a pillar, pushed his glasses up. Cramzo, thinking only that he had run into an insufferable nuisance, gave a curt nod and turned his gaze aside.

“Are you going in search of your Sorus?”

“…That is none of your concern, Lord Caelus.”

“Oh, don’t be so stiff.”

Caelus approached, his wide sleeves fluttering like nightclothes.

“You seem uncomfortable. Let me accompany you. I daresay I can befriend any woman.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Why not? You’re making no effort to hide your dislike—my company could prove useful in many ways.”

“I’ll be brief. My answer will not change.”

A court alchemist whose skill was undeniable, yet every encounter with him carried the same prying curiosity, as though he were probing for weaknesses. Determined to give no opening, Marquis Cramzo quickened his pace.

“Hm. Love and hate, is it? That should be entertaining.”

The words, disguised as a murmur, reached his ears, but without a backward glance, he mounted his horse.