Accompanied by Dame Vivi, Mer returned to Frederick’s modest shop tucked between the bakery and the herb stand. The bell jingled softly as they stepped inside, and Frederick looked up from his worktable, eyes brightening.

“Ah! Duchess!” he called, wiping his hands on a cloth.

She noticed right away—his shop looked fuller than before. Boxes of depleted mana stones lined the back wall, alongside bowls of filtered water and beds of soft soil where mana stones rested like seeds.

“With the money you gave me,” Frederick explained, “I was able to acquire quite a few old and neglected stones. I’ve already started rehabilitation—but the space is… limited.”

Mer smiled. “You can use the palace’s west garden. And the greenhouse. They’re yours now.”

Frederick’s face lit up. “Truly? That’s… far more than I could’ve hoped for!”

Then Mer asked, “May I see the stones with the best quality?”

Frederick reached beneath the counter and returned with a small velvet box. He opened it slowly, as though revealing treasure. Inside, several stones glimmered—polished, humming softly with contained energy.

Mer hovered her hand above them, her senses tuning in.

Yes… clean. Pure. Steady flow.

One in particular caught her eye—a deep blue oval stone, smooth and shining like still water beneath the moon.

“I’d like to buy this one.”

But Frederick shook his head. “It’s a gift. For everything you’ve given me, please—take it.”

She hesitated, then smiled. “Thank you. Can you make it into a pendant?”

“Of course. Come back in an hour.”

---

While Frederick worked, Mer and Vivi found a cozy restaurant nearby. Vivi fidgeted with her gloves, eyes flicking about the room. Mer tilted her head.

“Something bothering you?”

Vivi cleared her throat. “Not exactly… I’m just not used to places like this.”

“Hm... Is that so.... Let's talk about something.... Tell me about your family.”

“I live with my mother and little sister. We’re not… noble. I got into the knights by merit. It's not always easy.”

Mer watched her closely. Being a knight is hard enough. Doing it without status or title—it takes more than skill. It takes strength.

Maybe that’s why Cecil picked Dame Vivi to watch over her.

---

When they returned, Frederick presented the pendant with both hands. It was simple: the blue mana stone cradled in silver, hung from a delicate chain.

Mer took off her current necklace, removed the gemstone, and slid the new pendant onto it.

Then she turned, placing the necklace on the wooden table in the corner of the room.

“Please step back,” she said.

Vivi and Frederick obeyed.

Mer raised her hand.

And began to chant.

A glowing circle bloomed in the air—small, but pulsing. The shield matrix flickered in and out, shimmering with delicate lines as she worked to stabilize it.

Sweat beaded at her temple.

She focused, weaving the protective sigils and gradually pressing the circle into the heart of the stone.

It absorbed the magic like it had been waiting for it.

Then—one more whisper.

She created a second layer—a name circle, one of the oldest kinds. Her voice dropped low, barely audible, as she whispered:

“Cecil.”

She bound the stone with the name, sealing the enchantment into place.

The pendant glowed once.

Then dimmed to a steady, quiet pulse.

A charm.

A ward.

For him.

When she turned around, both Vivi and Frederick stood wide-eyed and slack-jawed.

“You just…” Vivi whispered, “You just cast two different enchantments. In sequence. And personalized the weave. How?”

Mer smiled, brushing her hair behind her ear. “I had a good dream.”

---

Few hours later, in the Night Lily Castle.

They lay tangled in warmth and candlelight, Mer resting atop Cecil, her arms folded across his chest, her chin just above his heart.

Their eyes met.

Soft. Steady. Unspoken things passing between them in silence.

“I have a gift for you,” she said, her voice low and tender.

Cecil blinked. “A gift?”

She reached toward the vanity drawer beside the bed and pulled out a delicate silver chain. The soft clink of it echoed in the quiet room as she held it between her fingers.

She sat up slightly and leaned over him, fastening the clasp behind his neck. The cool mana stone settled against his bare skin.

He looked down.

“Is this a mana stone?”

She smiled. “Isn’t it beautiful? It reminds me of you.”

Cecil held the stone gently between his fingers, studying the smooth, polished surface.

“It’s enchanted,” he realized, his voice just above a whisper.

“Yes,” she said, leaning closer. “A protection charm. Just for you. I bound it with your name.”

He closed his hand over it slowly, as if holding something sacred.

Then, quietly—his voice rough:

“Thank you… so much.”

Mer kissed him—softly, lingering, her hands resting on his cheeks.

“I can protect you too,” she whispered against his lips.

That broke something in him.

Cecil pulled her into his arms and held her tight, burying his face in her shoulder.

“I love you,” he murmured again and again, voice cracking.

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

Mer held him back, gently stroking his hair, anchoring him.

For the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel like the one doing the protecting.

And it felt like peace.

---

The next day, a letter arrived late in the afternoon, delivered by a royal courier who bowed low and disappeared without waiting for a response.

It was sealed in crimson wax, stamped with the unmistakable crest of the Royal House—thorned vines wrapped around a sword through a crown.

Cecil broke the seal carefully.

The contents were terse, but heavy with implication.

'To His Grace, Duke Cecil Lance of Ravenrow,  

You are summoned for a discreet audience at the capital regarding urgent intelligence concerning beast activity along the eastern border. Your presence is expected by royal request. Proceed with utmost confidentiality.'

There was no signature. No explanation. Just a formal stamp. The vagueness of it reeked of urgency and hidden agendas.

Cecil’s eyes lingered on the words.

Behind him, Mer leaned over his shoulder, her hair brushing his neck. She read the contents quickly, her frown deepening with each word.

“You’re not going without me,” she said softly, but firmly.

Cecil glanced at her. “It’s likely a political matter. I don’t want you pulled into something unnecessary.”

She arched a brow. “You’re going to the capital. I’ll wait at my father’s mansion if I must, but I don’t want to be separated from you.”

There was no heat in her voice—just quiet resolve.

Cecil looked at her for a long moment. Then sighed, brushing a hand down her arm.

“Fine,” he murmured. “We go together.”

The envelope had also contained a personalized teleportation scroll—a rare item, reserved for high-speed diplomatic travel. Its runes shimmered faintly in green and gold. At the bottom was a notation: Coordinates set to Iris Palace’s eastern wing.

They activated it in the drawing room.

Cecil and Mer stood hand in hand as the scroll unfurled in the air, its magic igniting beneath their feet. Blue light flared. Then green. Then a final pulse—golden and soft, like sunlight through stained glass—rippled through the floor.

They stepped forward.

---

They did not arrive at the palace.

Instead, the teleportation spell sputtered mid-transit—twisting, distorting. The runes warped.

And they dropped.

Unconscious.

Their bodies landed with muted thuds on the cold stone floor of a long-abandoned villa, nestled in the overgrown outskirts of Sovia’s once-grand noble district.

The villa had once been beautiful.

But now, its windows were fractured, glass edges dulled with dust. Ivy crept through the cracks in the walls like veins, swallowing remnants of luxury. The air was dry and still, unnaturally silent. Not even birdsong broke the spell.

But the enchantments did.

Invisible and humming, subtle like breath. Suppression runes buried in the walls pulsed softly—feeding on magic. Twisting it. Containing it.

And someone was already waiting.