The one who sees me as a child soon claimed he was hungry, so we quickly gathered again in the dining room.

Durion, whom I hadn’t seen in a long time, hadn’t changed at all. He draped a napkin around his neck, gripped knife and fork, and panted like a large dog.

“How long has it been since I had a proper meal? I endured those years solely waiting for this day.”

No one responded to Durion’s overflowing enthusiasm for the meal, so I spoke first about tonight’s menu.

“I prepared goose—it’d be nice if you like it.”

“After eating only dried meat in the land of darkness, I can’t even express how grateful I am just to eat proper meat now. And you even prepared precious goose—thank you, Madam.”

Durion sent me such an adoring gaze, as if he might shoot heart symbols, that I felt terribly awkward.

I gave a brief smile, then immediately turned my head away from the table. Fortunately, as soon as the dishes arrived, Durion fell in love with the meat, allowing me to look forward again.

Sikar must have also survived on dried meat, yet he remained calm.

He ate with quiet enjoyment, as if simply continuing what he’d had at lunch—completely composed, unlike Durion.

Meanwhile, Durion ate like a man possessed.

“Durion. Observe some table manners. Who’d guess you weren’t a mercenary? Don’t eat so greedily! Can’t you eat calmly? The sound of you eating is making my ears ring!”

But Durion seemed utterly oblivious to Vika’s words, completely absorbed in his meal.

Vika, looking exhausted, was about to rise from the table when Sikar’s question made him sit back down.

“Vika. Do you still have the poison flower?”

He must have meant the one the queen had given me.

“I still have it.”

“Bring it to my study.”

“Got it. Anything else?”

“Doesn’t seem so.”

Vika glared murderously at Durion with a bored expression, then stood up.

“I don’t think I can share a table with that monster any longer—I’ll finish my meal first.”

Vika leaned toward Durion as if ensuring he heard, but Durion remained entirely focused on eating, clearly not registering a word.

Sikar and Kian, father and son, had seemed to grow slightly closer, but now appeared distant again, making me worry about the future. Fortunately, Sikar spoke to Kian first.

“You seem to have learned quite a bit of spirit magic during this time.”

Kian glanced sideways at Sikar and replied indifferently,

“Enough to melt your frozen arm, at least.”

I had wondered what kind of conversation this was, until I realized Kian was quietly thawing Sikar’s frozen arm.

Though Kian seemed quiet, he must have noticed Sikar’s arm was frozen and was healing it.

I thought Sikar had initiated the conversation, but actually, Kian had detected Sikar’s condition and was already treating him.

Sikar nodded, seemingly satisfied.

“You’ve truly improved a lot.”

Kian dipped a bean with his fork indifferently and stared blankly at Sikar.

“Our promise is still valid, right?”

Promise?! What promise had these two made?

Sikar smirked slightly and looked at Kian.

“Of course.”

I didn’t know what the promise meant, but one thing was clear—the curse afflicting Sikar was intensifying, just as in the original story.

Right now, it’s his arm, but later, it will spread across his entire body. In the original, it was because of this curse’s manifestation that he inevitably lost to Kian.

That’s why he had searched everywhere for someone to lift the curse.

Gillian, seeking to control Sikar, would later learn Kian was alive and that Kian could remove Sikar’s curse.

But since a curse-free Sikar would be uncontrollable, Gillian never told Sikar about Kian’s existence.

From now on, the curse’s manifestations will occur even more frequently. Though Kian is nearby, since Veronia hasn’t been found yet and the pain is far from trivial, Sikar must feel inwardly anxious as well.

Sikar, now seemingly fully thawed, moved his arm several times, then twisted it as if relieving stiffness.

“Seems fine now.”

“Good.”

“Your skill has improved greatly.”

“I’ve grown up a lot.”

The two stared at each other as if engaged in a silent battle.

Hadn’t their relationship improved? They had clearly agreed in the Grand Temple to get along from now on—was it because the gap of time between them had been too vast?

They seemed to regard each other with the same unspoken wariness as when they first met.

Kian followed Sikar into his study after the meal. Just a few years ago, that door had seemed veiled by a great curtain—so intimidating he hadn’t even dared attempt to open it.

But now, at age ten, Kian no longer felt that curtain was an insurmountable wall.

Sikar turned around with a bland expression, as if asking what this was about.

“I don’t recall calling you.”

Kian crossed his arms in an even haughtier posture than in the dining room and sat on the sofa without Sikar’s permission.

“I came because I have something to say.”

Sikar, finding it amusing that Kian—who was barely ten—was acting like an adult, sat across from him.

“You’re the one who asked if our promise was still valid—why are you sulking like this? Didn’t we clearly agree to behave affectionately in front of Yura?”

Of course, they had. But while the Duke had been away on campaign and sent only a few letters, Kian had watched his mother, Yura, wait daily for his letters. Though he had once felt grateful toward the Duke, his resentment had only grown again.

‘Do you have any idea how much my mother waited for your letters?!’

The words rose to Kian’s throat, but he couldn’t say them—out of consideration for his mother’s dignity.

Instead, Kian looked at Sikar with cold eyes and said,

“You sent exactly two letters in three years. One when you departed for campaign, one before returning.”

“That’s right. I had my reasons at the time.”

Kian didn’t know what those reasons were, but he wanted to say, ‘That’s no excuse. Protecting a family isn’t just about being strong.’ Yet he bit his lip and said nothing.

“But you should have taken better care of Mother.”

“How was I supposed to care for her from so far away?”

“Writing letters is no different from caring for family.”

“Letters have no power. They’re just letters. And the battlefield isn’t some idle place for exchanging pen pals.”

“Fine. That’s all in the past—I’ll let it go. But now that you’re back, please take good care of Mother from now on.”

Sikar thought, ‘This brat was reckless before, but now that he’s grown a bit, he’s even more reckless.’

“So you only treated my arm and left my foot frozen?”

Kian smiled, relieved that Sikar understood.

“Yes. I told you—if you wrong Mother, I won’t heal even frostbite on you from now on. I only treated your arm because I worried Mother would be concerned about you.”

It was essentially a threat—he wouldn’t heal anything not visible.

Regardless of the threat, Sikar couldn’t understand why Kian was saying this.

“What exactly did I fail to do?”

‘Obviously, the letters.’

“What matters is the future. So, to ensure you treat her well, I won’t heal you even if you get frostbite—except for visible areas, which I’ll handle.”

“Threatening me again? A threat the moment you return to the ducal estate… I didn’t expect a golden carpet, but I certainly didn’t expect threats the moment I arrived.”

‘Then why didn’t you just send letters properly?’

But Sikar didn’t even consider it might be about letters. He clearly thought he’d adequately resolved things with Kian before leaving for campaign.

Yet, returning to find everything reset to square one, he could only laugh.

Sikar’s desire to get along with Kian wasn’t solely because of the curse.

Of course, the curse’s manifestations were inconvenient and often painful, but he’d already braced himself for that.

The main reason Sikar wanted to get along with Kian was because of Yura. Seeing Yura cry whenever she looked at Kian, he’d resolved to treat Kian well.

But now, he wondered if he’d truly raised a lion cub.

“You know Family Day is coming soon, right?”

“It’s spring now, so Family Day will be soon. But why bring that up?”

Kian rolled his eyes as if he had no personal interest but was resigned to speaking.

“I’ll give you a carnation on Family Day. I grew it myself.”

“Carnation…”

Then Sikar remembered—Kian had grown carnations himself to give to Yura.

“You grew those carnations well, then.”

Kian, who had maintained an indifferent expression throughout, smiled faintly when speaking of Yura.

“Yes. Mother loved them very much.”

After smiling briefly, Kian hardened his expression again and said,

“Anyway, Mother told me to give one to you as well.”

“Oh?”

Yura would certainly do that. Sikar nodded.

“I see. I’ll gladly accept it.”

“Not just ‘gladly accept’—that’s not enough.”

“Then what should I do?”

“I came to this study specifically to tell you this: Mother is eagerly awaiting the day I give you the carnation.”

“Why?”

“Because Mother believes you’ll be happy when you receive the carnation.”

Sikar scratched his eyebrow, looking awkward at such innocent thinking.

“Happy just from seeing a carnation… Yura must have been very happy receiving hers.”

Remembering that moment, Kian’s previously indifferent face bloomed into a bright smile.

“Yes. Mother is that kind of person.”

“She probably shed tears of joy too.”

Kian grinned broadly, as if surprised Sikar knew.

“Exactly! Mother smiled so widely her ears nearly disappeared and shed a few tears too!”

Kian’s face glowed with happiness recalling that moment, then he remembered this wasn’t the time for such cheer and resumed his indifferent expression.

“At any rate, since Mother was so happy, she hopes you’ll be just as happy.”

“You’re asking for quite a lot.”

“Therefore, my request is this: When I give you the carnation, you must smile happily. You must make Mother feel good. If not, next time, I won’t thaw even a single one of your frozen fingers.”

Sikar found it absurd to be threatened by such a brat and laughed. Rubbing his temples as his head throbbed, he said,

“Fine. I promise.”

“Then let’s pinky swear.”

‘Pinky swear? I thought he’d grown up, but he’s still a child.’

Sikar linked pinkies with Kian, bewildered. Kian pressed his thumb firmly down and said,

“And on the day you receive the carnation, there’s one more thing you must do.”