I had never even considered such a thing. It was astonishing enough that someone besides me had come here.

But if that someone, as Sikar said, were to side with Gillian?! Then all our plans might fall apart.

“Judging by the fact that Gillian’s side hasn’t shown any unusual movement so far, it seems that hasn’t happened yet—don’t panic prematurely. I’ll investigate thoroughly.”

Kian, who had stepped out earlier, returned with an awkward expression, as if wondering what was going on.

“Mother. Master said something urgent came up and left early—what happened?”

“It wasn’t anything bad. He just had some business to attend to.”

“That’s a relief. I was worried something serious had happened since Master left without even finishing dinner.”

It might have been my imagination, but as Kian said that, he seemed to subtly glare in Sikar’s direction.

And Sikar merely shrugged, as if it had nothing to do with him.

It was as if Sikar and Kian had returned to square one—a subtle tension now visible between them.

I probably should ask Kian after dinner whether he still senses coldness from Sikar.

During dinner, Kian and Sikar seemed to be getting along well—so much so that I wondered if I’d imagined the tension between them.

Still, just in case, I should ask Kian.

After the meal, I gently asked him.

“Kian. Do you still feel coldness from the Duke?”

Seeing Kian sigh before answering, I grew slightly nervous—he clearly still felt something unpleasant.

“Please be honest with me.”

“I still don’t feel any warmth from the Duke.”

I see. As I thought. So he’s still showing hostility.

“But…”

“But?”

“I don’t feel coldness either.”

“So you feel nothing at all?”

Kian scratched his cheek, looking a bit embarrassed.

“Just a little. Really, just a tiny bit of lukewarm warmth.”

Lukewarm warmth?! That’s huge! Sikar has opened his heart to Kian this much? I finally felt my worries melt away.

Though inwardly surprised, I smiled brightly at Kian, as if I’d expected this all along.

“I’m so relieved to see your relationship with the Duke improving so genuinely.”

Kian happily burrowed into my arms, as if overflowing with joy.

“I’m so happy too, Mother, knowing your heart is finally at ease.”

“Then shall we sleep together tonight? You’re all grown up—is it still okay to sleep with Mom?”

Seeing my awkward expression, Kian widened his eyes emphatically.

“Oh, no! Not at all! I’m not fully grown yet, Mother! I also want to fall asleep beside you again after so long.”

For the past three years, I put Kian to bed every night, but since he turned ten this year, I stopped doing it nightly.

Here, being ten years old was equivalent to being a middle schooler in modern times.

I assumed he’d be too grown-up to want it anymore, so I was secretly touched and happy that he still enjoyed being in my arms.

Back when I first tried to improve the relationship between Sikar and Kian, I wasn’t sure whether Sikar—who’d never opened his heart to anyone in his life—could truly open up to Kian. I’d only resolved to try my best.

But now, hearing that he no longer feels coldness—I finally feel a bit of real relief.

If only Sikar’s curse can be lifted, then my goal here will be fully achieved.

Until then, I hope both Kian and Sikar continue to get along even better.

And next time, I hope their bond grows so strong that instead of lukewarm warmth, they radiate blazing heat.

Sikar sat on the sofa in his study, massaging his throbbing temples.

Durion, still wearing the rabbit headband, scratched his cheek and waited cautiously for Sikar to speak.

Vika, yawning with a tired expression, noticed Durion’s rabbit ears and said,

“Why are you still wearing that thing?”

Durion chuckled sheepishly and fiddled with the rabbit ears on his headband.

“The young master says I look cute wearing it. And the twin junior marquises say my appearance looks friendlier.”

Vika gaped at him as if he were hopeless.

“So you feel good hearing that?”

“Of course. People are naturally weak to praise.”

Seeing Durion grin broadly, Vika clicked his tongue.

“You’re happy being called cute by kids. Seriously.”

Durion smiled shyly and cupped his cheeks with both hands.

“Yep. I like it.”

Vika turned his head away, lips pursed in disgust.

“Really can’t stand watching you.”

At that moment, Sikar broke the silence and lifted his head.

“Vika.”

His low, resonant baritone seemed to ripple through the very air.

“Speak.”

“Vika, find out if there’s anyone else with black eyes like Yura’s. And Durion, keep searching for Veronia.”

“Understood, Duke.”

Unlike Durion, who obeyed without question, Vika scrutinized Sikar’s face with barely contained curiosity.

“When you assign tasks, explain what’s going on first before ordering us around. What’s this about?”

“In truth, Yura is someone from another dimension.”

Durion and Vika exchanged bewildered glances before turning back to Sikar.

“Another dimension?”

“Yes. Skip the details—simply put, people from there can see the future.”

Sikar didn’t want to tell them this place was inside a novel.

He hated showing weakness to others more than anything, so he hadn’t revealed it even to Yura. The shock he’d felt upon first realizing this world was a novel had been immense.

When he lost both parents, Sikar had thought: Among all the people who make up this world, if some must be happy and others unhappy—why was he the one fated to bear that unhappiness? He resented everything.

Just as the deposed king had trampled his parents to find happiness, if happiness required trampling someone else, then he would trample anything for his own happiness.

He never wanted to be the target of misfortune again.

But the life he saw in Yura’s memories was one lived entirely in complete misery.

Among countless people—if someone must live and die in utter unhappiness, that person was entirely him.

Accepting and embracing that truth with grace was not easy. So Sikar wanted to keep it strictly secret.

Sikar spoke again in his low voice.

“In the future Yura saw, we all died.”

Durion blinked as if unable to comprehend.

“We died? Why…?”

“We all failed to escape death because of Gillian.”

“So the King betrayed us?”

Technically, it wasn’t betrayal but exploitation—but since he couldn’t say Kian would kill him, Sikar nodded as if agreeing.

Only then did Vika and Durion understand Sikar’s meaning. But Vika was slightly displeased he was hearing this only now.

“Why are you telling us this only now?”

“Because I thought even saying it then wouldn’t be too late—and ‘then’ is now.”

“If Lady came from another dimension, does that mean Young Master Kian is also from another dimension?”

As Kian’s name came up too, Sikar realized how much he still had to explain today—and felt crushing fatigue.

He sighed and said,

“Kian… is of the Recador bloodline.”

Durion, who had been listening silently, felt as if he’d been smacked upside the head. Vika, however, nodded calmly, as if he’d somewhat expected it.

“I did find it strange that the young master, who’s never studied holy magic, occasionally uses it.”

Durion scratched his head.

“Yeah, I’ve seen the young master use holy magic a few times too… Why didn’t I think it was strange?”

“Because you’re an idiot.”

“If I’m an idiot, then you’re a magpie.”

“But you’re dumber than a magpie.”

“Maybe I’m slow on the uptake, but I’m quick with the sword. Want to spar?”

“Since your brain’s lacking, you resort to strength again.”

Sikar stretched his arm toward the two, who were sharpening their tempers.

“You two may fight all you like—just do it outside after this conversation ends.”

Though they grumbled, they didn’t continue fighting. So Sikar resumed speaking.

“Therefore, we must find Princess Veronia before that. If Gillian realizes Kian is Veronia’s son, he’ll take her hostage and pressure us.”

Durion scratched his nose, still utterly confused.

“But Duke, then why did you adopt the young master despite such risks?”

“Yes, I wondered that too. Why adopt Kian? Without him, we’d have a better chance against Gillian directly. Instead, because of him, we must protect Princess Veronia, making everything harder?”

“Because Kian is the only one who can break my curse.”

That single sentence instantly convinced both Vika and Durion. They opened their mouths, clearly understanding completely.

“That makes sense.”

“So we must protect both Kian and Princess Veronia.”

“Yes. Since she’s the young master’s birth mother, we must protect her.”

Durion clenched his fists firmly and spoke with determination.

“Until now, I searched blindly for Princess Veronia solely because of your orders, Duke. But from now on, for the young master—no, for His Majesty King Kian, who will one day rule this nation—I will find the princess without fail.”

“If you think that way, it makes me even more reassured, Durion.”

“Thanks to the montage portrait you provided earlier, finding her has become much easier. Please leave it to me with confidence.”

Sikar looked at Vika as if asking what he would do. Vika, though not thrilled, blinked slowly once as if to say he understood.

“Once you break your curse, you’ll dissolve our pact too—so sure, I’ll look for any other human with black eyes like Lady’s.”

“I trust you understand how critical this matter is. I’m counting on all of you.”

“Counting on us? Did you just say ‘counting on us’? Duke?”

Since Sikar only ever gave orders, this was the first time he’d ever said “counting on you”—so Vika and Durion stared at him in shock.

“Did you just say ‘counting on us,’ Duke?”

Sikar had no idea why they were so surprised.

“Yes. I said ‘counting on you.’ Is there a problem?”

“Oh, no. I just asked because it sounded nice. Then we’ll take our leave now.”

Durion quickly bowed and dragged Vika out, afraid Vika might ask why the Duke was suddenly using words he never used before.