Julius had just arrived at Rodolphe's estate.
Today was his birthday, and many nobles—including Shamanaz—were expected to attend.
Julius wasn't fond of large gatherings, but this was his closest friend's birthday. He had no choice.
"You look even more handsome than usual today, Jules!"
Shamanaz ran up to him with a radiant smile, wearing a pink dress and a flower crown.
Julius responded with a polite smile.
"You too. Of course, you're always beautiful, Shaminy."
She gave him a tight hug before letting go.
"Come on, everyone's waiting!"
Without hesitation, she took his arm and led him briskly into the banquet hall.
As the two entered, all eyes turned to them. Julius subtly slipped his arm out of hers.
"Oh, come now, Julius! No need to be shy!"
Several tipsy royals burst into laughter at the sight.
Rodolphe approached them, grinning.
"Glad you made it."
"Happy birthday, my friend," Julius said, offering a wrapped gift.
"You really didn't have to," Rodolphe said, though clearly pleased.
The servants stacked the gift with the others, and the guests gathered around a giant birthday cake.
"To Rodolphe's thirtieth birthday—cheers!"
Cups clinked, and guests eagerly downed the precious white wine imported from Muria.
After the cake-cutting came the opening of the gifts. Rare items poured forth—things like divine beast feathers and fangs, whose authenticity was dubious at best, and ornate objects encrusted with gemstones.
Then, something caught everyone's eye.
A huge pink box with a red ribbon. Big enough for a person to fit inside.
Rodolphe looked intrigued.
"What's this? Who brought this?"
"I did, Rodolphe."
A faint amethyst glow shimmered from the gemstone on Shamanaz's forehead.
A sense of unease prickled at the back of Julius's mind.
"Well, open it already!"
"How did you even carry something this big?"
Rodolphe untied the ribbon and opened the lid.
As soon as he did, a massive scroll inside sprang to life like it was alive, unfurling itself midair in front of everyone. A magic item. Rodolphe leaned in to read it aloud.
"You are cordially invited to the honeymoon of your dreams!
Come visit Shambhala—an enchanting island paradise on the eastern coast of Muria!
Present this invitation to receive an exclusive, all-expenses-paid 3-day, 2-night stay for up to three guests.
Normally, Shambhala is strictly invitation-only.
But in honor of Shamanaz's honeymoon celebration,
we're offering this rare opportunity to her closest friends. Don't miss it!"
"Honeymoon celebration? Shaminy, what is this?"
Rodolphe looked puzzled. Shamanaz, however, beamed.
"What do you mean, 'what is this'? It's exactly what it says. I'm getting married soon—and our honeymoon destination is Shambhala."
The room buzzed with murmurs.
All eyes turned between her and Julius.
He was furious.
Had she lost her mind? How could she pull something like this?
"You're getting married, Lady Shamanaz?" someone asked.
She flicked her silver braids and replied brightly, "Yes, it seems so!"
"We hadn't heard a thing. May we ask—to whom?"
"Who else would it be?" she said, pointing straight at Julius. "This guy, of course!"
"Shamanaz! What the hell are you doing?!"
Julius snapped.
She wasn't a child. This was way out of line.
But Shamanaz just blinked her violet eyes innocently.
"What? Can't a friend pull a little prank? It's his birthday!"
"A prank?! You call a fake wedding and honeymoon announcement a joke?!"
"Why not? What's the harm?"
Julius bit his lip.
She was testing him.
She wanted to see if he'd publicly deny her—if he dared damage her pride in front of everyone.
It was a game of power. She believed she had the upper hand. That no matter what, she'd be queen in the end.
But Julius had had enough of her games. He was the one who would become king—and he had made his choice.
"Listen carefully, Shaminy. I am not marrying you."
A gasp rippled through the hall. The blood drained from Shamanaz's face.
Seizing the moment, Julius raised his voice.
"This wasn't how I planned to announce it, but since it's out now—I'll say it clearly.
When Mia returns from Muria, I will marry her.
She will be the Queen of Muria."
"What do you want from me?"
Mia asked, her voice slightly trembling. But the king only gave her an unreadable smile, not answering right away.
A few seconds of awkward silence passed.
At last, the king spoke again.
"Before I tell you what I want…"
"…?"
"I need a promise first."
"What kind of promise?"
"That you'll keep our deal a secret."
"A secret… from who—?"
"Tsk, tsk. Why complicate things? It's better for both of us to keep this short."
The king frowned slightly, and Mia swallowed hard.
She thought of what King Minophon had told her before she left:
"Muria may present you with certain offers—direct or indirect. If that happens, you must report everything to us once you return."
I knew it.
So this is how it starts. I'm going to end up playing both sides.
Mia blinked, saying nothing. The fairy king hummed and snapped his fingers.
And then—
In the blink of an eye, the cozy room transformed into a dark cave.
The tea, the sweets, the fireplace—everything was gone.
Only the damp rock walls and the sound of water dripping echoed around them. A few bats hung from the ceiling.
It was cold. The air was damp and chilling.
Mia found herself sitting on a smooth stone. Her eyes widened as she took in the eerie surroundings.
The king asked, calmly,
"Now do you trust that we're alone?"
"Where… are we?"
"This is a fae sanctuary—undetectable by anyone. Mithys resides in one as well."
When Mia shivered, the king conjured a blanket from thin air and tossed it to her.
"My apologies for bringing a lady to such a place. But you don't seem to trust me."
"I didn't say I don't trust you."
"Oh? So does that mean you accept my deal?"
His ocean-blue eyes glittered.
"I can't agree without knowing what the deal is."
"Hmm."
The king began pacing slowly in front of her, arms crossed.
Mia, wrapped in the blanket, sat quietly, the cave's damp scent surrounding her.
It wasn't as terrifying as the Cave of Pitch—more… quaint, in its own strange way.
"To be honest, I've never seen a human the water where a fairy underwent molting."
"…Ah."
"It's the kind of event that might happen once every few hundred years.
So you, to us, are an incredibly rare specimen."
"Specimen…"
"What you want is to return to your world in your original body—before the fae transformation, yes?"
"Yes."
"At first, I was going to ask you to stop Julius from invading Muria, should he ever try. Or at least, tip us off in advance."
That much, Mia had expected. Leca had said something similar.
"But watching how things have unfolded…"
"…?"
"It seems you have no intention of living in Sibareth. Or becoming queen."
"How do you know that?"
A breeze stirred the king's pale blue hair. He brushed a strand away from his lips and smiled faintly.
"Most fae are weaker than Sibareth's nobility—but not me. I'm a king, after all."
"So what are you asking for now?"
"I want a child. A child between you and me."
Mia froze.
She was so stunned, she couldn't move a single muscle. The king continued, careful and calm—as if he expected this.
"It's something Sibareth's royals don't know:
A human who bathes in the water where a fairy underwent molting gains unimaginable power—mana beyond belief.
It's a truth passed down only in the ancient records of the fae."
Mia vaguely recalled Rodolphe mentioning something similar during her first magic training:
"One who enters the waters in which a fairy has molted shall not only inherit their power—but gain new abilities, fused with their own"
But he'd never said anything about unimaginable power.
"That's why I want a child born of your blood. Of course, I could make you my queen, but… Sibareth would never stand for that."
He spoke of it as if asking to borrow a book—not proposing something life-changing.
"That's… That's absurd. How can you—"
"Even if you don't become Sibareth's queen and return to your world…
Could you really live a normal life with a fae-transformed body, one that sheds its form over and over again?"
Those were the same fears Behemoth had warned her about. And her own fears too.
She'd hoped the fae might hold the answer to reversing it.
But this… This was how?
"For the record," the king added with a calm smile,
"no one in Sibareth—not even their high nobles, not the archmages, not even the highest-ranking spirits—can reverse a fae transformation."
"Only I can do that. Not just any fae—me, King Thorpel the Third."
He stood before her again. And once more, his long, cold fingers reached for her chin.
"Now then. What is your answer… human girl?"