The hall was vast, its high ceiling studded with banners from each old and new noble house. Candles flickered in iron and gold sconces along the walls, casting shadows that danced across the faces of those already seated—members of the court, advisors, and other powerful figures. At the center of it all, Michaelli sat at the head of a long table, his sharp gaze scanning the room filled with officials and nobles, gathered with a singular purpose: to press him into securing the future of the empire by producing an heir now that the war had ended.

It was a conversation that had resurfaced with growing intensity, a familiar demand Michaelli despised.

He didn’t miss the subtle, expectant glances cast his way, nor did he fail to notice the tension building in the room as the subject of women and heirs was once again laid before him. But today, there was a new element in the room—Tuk, the historian.

Tuk who just came stood awkwardly by the door, her eyes darting from one official to another, clearly confused as to why he was present at such an intimate, high-stakes meeting. Michaelli had deliberately chosen not to inform him of the nature of this gathering. He wanted to see how he would react, how he would navigate the uncharted waters of court politics. More importantly, he wanted to see if he could do what he had no desire to do—turn the conversation in another direction entirely.

A councilman cleared his throat, addressing the issue without hesitation. "Your Highness, it is imperative that we secure the line of succession. The empire must have an heir, and your reluctance to choose a suitable match is… troubling. The people are growing anxious. We urge you to consider Lady Aurelia of Solmont, a perfect candidate of noble blood—"

Before the official could continue, Michaelli’s golden eyes flashed toward Tuk, catching her glance. The room fell silent, sensing a shift in the atmosphere. Michaelli didn’t need to say anything—his look was enough to communicate his unspoken command.

Tuk blinked, clearly unsure of what was expected of her. She opened her mouth, hesitated, and then glanced back at the officials. Her confusion was palpable, but there was something else beneath it: a challenge. Tuk had no context, but Michaelli knew he was resourceful.

The councilman, not sensing the undercurrent, pressed on. "The lady is young, of a suitable age, and well-acquainted with royal customs. Surely, Your Highness, it would be—"

Tuk suddenly interrupted, her voice unsure but cutting through the tension. "Um… I’m sorry to interrupt, but the prince needed to love, as the Arcanographica says; isn’t making heir supposed to be mutual? If you’re talking about something as important as an heir, shouldn’t feelings matter too?"

The room shifted, some officials looking bewildered by Tuk’s intrusion. She gave an awkward smile, clearly out of her depth, but her words had done exactly what Michaelli intended—they disrupted the flow of the conversation.

A noblewoman seated nearby raised an eyebrow. "Feelings?" she repeated, incredulous. "This is the matter of the empire’s future, not some fleeting romance. What does love have to do with it?"

Michaelli leaned back in his chair, watching with interest. Tuk was floundering, but she had unwittingly thrown the room into disarray.

"Well," Tuk said, scratching the back of her head awkwardly, "as I said, it was written in the scroll of Arcanographica that His Highness is interested in acquiring for its power. Also, where I’m from, love kind of makes everything work better. You know, like, happier relationships, happier kids? It’s not just about making heirs, but making sure the family... thrives. Isn’t that, uh, important too?"

Her words hung in the air for a moment, and Michaelli suppressed a smirk. He could see the confusion and discomfort spreading among the officials. They had been expecting an obedient answer, not a philosophical debate about love and its relevance to succession.

The councilman, visibly flustered, turned toward Michaelli. "Your Highness, with all due respect, we cannot rely on such… whimsical notions in matters of state. The empire’s legacy is at stake."

Michaelli's expression remained impassive, but his mind was already calculating his next move. The historian, though he looked like he was about to pass out, had done exactly what he needed him to do. Now, it was his turn to steer things into deeper waters.

"You speak of legacy," Michaelli said, his voice cold and measured, "as if it can only be secured through blood. But what use is an heir born into a world of chaos? Or perhaps you wish me to create another monster like myself. I wonder if any of you could survive that." His gaze darkened. "The empire reeks of filth from within, and you expect me to throw a child into that?"

The room went silent. The councilman’s face drained of color, and the other officials shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Michaelli gestured toward the scroll, his hand hovering over a particular passage inscribed in a language only a few could decipher. The councilman, visibly unsure, stared at the ancient text in confusion.

"This," Michaelli continued, "is a chronicle of a time when love was not treated as a transaction but as a force—true power that could change the fate of an entire empire. The scroll speaks of love’s ability to conquer, to shape empires and destinies." His voice sharpened, a quiet intensity simmering beneath his words. "And yet, you sit here, demanding an heir without understanding the very force that could make or break this empire. If you still insist, then show me a power greater than what this scroll describes. Ah... but of course," Michaelli added with a mocking smirk, "not that anyone here could read it, except for my historian."

Tuk’s heart raced as she watched him. She was unsure, but Michaelli was using what she had just said in the scroll masterfully, not as a mere artifact but as a tool to manipulate the minds of those in the room. He was bending their understanding of love to fit his vision, using the ancient text to validate his stance.

"Love," Michaelli said, glancing briefly at Tuk, a softness flickering in his gaze that made her heart skip, "is not just about reproduction. It is about control, influence, and loyalty." His eyes narrowed as he spoke the next words, "Love can be wielded, just as this scroll’s power can be wielded. And those who fail to see that… will be left behind."

The councilmen shifted in their seats, clearly unsettled. They were not used to having their centuries-old customs questioned, especially not by a young prince. But the power of the scroll, combined with Michaelli’s unyielding confidence, left them with no room to argue.

Michaelli continued, his gaze hardening. "The future of this empire rests not on an heir, but on its strength and stability. My priority is neither marriage nor children—it is power. When the empire is secure, when threats from within are eliminated, then, and only then, will heirs be a matter for discussion."

Tuk’s eyes widened slightly as she caught on to Michaelli’s true agenda. He wasn’t just testing her—he was using her to deflect attention from his personal aversion to the matter of heirs. He was redirecting the conversation entirely.

"But Your Highness—" another official began, but Michaelli cut him off with a sharp wave of his hand.

"This meeting is over," Michaelli declared, his tone brooking no argument. It was not just the voice of a king but of a soon-to-be emperor who would entertain no further debate. He rose, his coat sweeping behind him like a cloak of power as he strode toward the door. The officials scrambled to their feet, bowing low as he passed, the weight of his authority palpable in the silence.

Tuk, still standing near the door, looked flustered but also somewhat relieved that the ordeal was ending. As Michaelli passed her, he gave her a glance that could almost be mistaken for approval, his gaze lingering a moment longer than necessary, leaving a warmth in its wake.

Without a word, he left the room, his mind already racing with thoughts of the empire, his plans, and the invisible chains that bound him to a curse he could never speak of.

The historian had bought him time, but Michaelli knew that the pressure would return and that the demand for an heir would persist. What they didn’t know—what they could never know—was that Michaelli had no intention of ever producing one. Not while the curse of touch, the pain of his past, and the weight of his condition continued to haunt him.

Tuk remained frozen as the prince’s gaze flicked toward her one last time. He had brought her here to make her see, to force her to understand exactly what he would expect of her as his "love advisor." He wanted her to grasp the gravity of his world, to bear witness to the ruthless schemes, the dark ambitions, and the dangerous path they were both about to walk. This was no simple role; it was a pact. She would have to withstand the full weight of his plans—or risk being swallowed by them.

As Michaelli swept past her, Tuk felt her throat tighten. No one in the room knew that she was a woman, and yet, standing in the prince’s shadow, she wondered how long her disguise would hold. The prince knew far more than he let on, and if anyone was capable of uncovering her secret, it was him.