Yulia returned to the harem.
But she couldn't stop thinking about her child. The longing to see him gnawed at her, and she found excuses—any excuse—to slip out and visit him in secret.
At first, Behemoth let her. He understood her heart.
But one night, a violent sandstorm swept through the city. Late at night, when everyone was holed up safely indoors, she came alone to see her son—and Behemoth snapped.
"Yulia, you mustn't come here anymore. It's too dangerous."
"Why? Do you think someone suspects that I'm his mother?"
"If you keep doing this, it's only a matter of time. The more you sneak around, the more likely you are to be caught."
She visited less often after that—but she didn't stop.
Around that time, a scandal erupted. A concubine was caught in an affair with a palace servant. Both were beheaded.
Behemoth's nerves were pushed to the brink.
He gave up trying to raise Leca himself. Instead, he hired a nurse and entrusted the boy to his younger sister, Aisha, who lived some distance away. Behemoth still visited whenever he could after work.
Yulia was allowed to visit once a month.
Time passed, and Leca grew strong.
Yulia would visit often, posing as Aisha's friend. The child came to know her as "Aunt Will," and for a time, she seemed content with that.
Then one day—
When Leca turned five, the King of Naizman summoned Yulia again.
It had been years since he last remembered her. But something about her stirred his interest once more. His visits grew more frequent.
And Yulia became pregnant again.
Behemoth begged a kindly fairy to disguise her condition.
Thanks to the fairy's illusion, no one discovered that this wasn't her first pregnancy. But things between Behemoth and Yulia would never be the same.
Yulia gave birth to a daughter.
Because she had borne a princess, she was granted the formal title of royal consort. No longer could she come and go from the palace freely. Still, she bribed the guards and supervisors to sneak out and see her son.
By age six, Leca was already exceptional—far beyond other boys his age.
He had inherited his mother's beauty—the very beauty that had earned her a place in the royal harem.
Glossy black eyes like obsidian, a well-shaped nose, soft lips, brows like brushstrokes—he drew admiration from everyone who met him. And from his father, he had inherited a sharp mind and magical talent.
But Behemoth worried.
Leca was far too sensitive. Far too gentle.
Spirits weren't like humans. Human nature ranged from saints to monsters. But spirits were… simpler.
Not overly good, not truly wicked.
They lived somewhere in the middle—joyful, playful, uncomplicated.
But Leca wasn't like that.
He was beautiful. Brilliant. And heartbreakingly kind. Everyone who met him… fell in love.
Including Yulia.
One day, she made a shocking declaration.
"I want to live with Leca from now on. Please make that happen."
Behemoth was stunned.
"What… what are you saying?"
"My daughter is a princess. She'll be fine without me. And I'm tired—tired of being locked away in the harem. Pretend I've died. Help me disappear. Let me live far away with Leca."
"That's absurd. You're the mother of a royal infant! One of the king's favored consorts!"
"I don't care! If you won't help me… I'll end my life!"
Behemoth barely managed to calm her down.
After giving birth to a daughter, the king's favor only grew. Before long, Yulia was pregnant again.
This time, she bore a son. A healthy, strikingly handsome boy.
A royal son, born after a long drought of male heirs—The palace exploded in celebration.
Yulia's status rose to Setna, the highest rank in the harem below the queen and the king's mother.
Setnas were bound by strict codes. With two royal children, Yulia gave up her dreams of fleeing with Leca.
But she never gave up visiting Aisha's house.
That was when Behemoth made up his mind.
He would send Leca far away—to Sibareth's royal palace, where Yulia could never reach him.
The palace of Sibareth constantly recruited spirits for work.
As a kingdom of gemstones and magic, they paid better than Naizman. Many spirits lived and served there.
Behemoth told his sobbing son:
"Other spirits leave their parents early and live on their own. It's time for you to do the same."
"..."
"From now on, think of King Minophon of Sibareth as your father."
"Then… I won't see Aunt Aisha or Aunt Will anymore?"
"That's right. You must forget everything that happened in Naizman."
Leca's tears streamed down his face like perfect beads. But Behemoth pretended not to see.
Leca stared at the golden-haired boy before him. He looked a bit older—delicate, almost feminine in his beauty.
Even more fascinating was the gemstone embedded in his forehead, perfectly matching the color of his eyes.
"…What does that mean? Why would you say I've been thinking about you?"
"I don't really know. I just… saw it."
Sometimes when Leca woke from sleep, vivid images would flash before him like paintings—moments that felt real.
The blond boy standing before him… he was one of those.
Leca had seen him before, in one of those strange visions. He had whispered the boy's name again and again while hunting in his dreams.
That's why Leca thought they must have been close friends. But the golden-haired boy smirked arrogantly and brushed past him.
"That's a disgusting thing to say. Why would I ever be friends with a spirit? Let's go, Shaminy."
The violet-eyed girl followed the boy, though she kept glancing back. She even waved.
Still, for Leca, meeting children his own age in this vast, unfamiliar palace made him quietly happy.
Mia had been summoned by King Minophon. Her heart pounded—was she going to be interrogated?
She braced herself and decided to act calm.
They don't seem to be reading my mind, so don't panic. Just act normal.
"You summoned me, Your Majesty?"
It wasn't just the king.A number of the Twelve Elders were present as well.
Mia, following Leca's example, bent one knee in formal greeting.
"How is your health?"
"Much better, thank you. I'm well and continuing my magical training."
"Good. The reason I called you here is simple. I'd like to hear what you aspire to."
"My… aspirations?"
"Yes. If you pass the rite of passage, what kind of queen do you intend to be? What would you most like to accomplish?"
The question caught Mia off guard. But she scrambled to compose a reply.
"First, I'd like to manage the royal finances effectively. Once we plug the leaks and secure sufficient resources, I want to focus on improving the lives of the people."
The king smiled faintly, but said nothing. The elders, cold-eyed, remained silent. Some stared at her as if sizing her up.
Mia decided to push forward.
"If I may, I have a question as well."
"Go ahead."
"Do you, Your Majesty… want me to become queen?"
There was a flicker of surprise in the king's red eyes. The ruby embedded in his forehead pulsed faintly.
Some of the elders shifted, but said nothing.
"Yes. I do."
"…May I ask why?"
"Because I believe in your potential. And because finding another candidate now would take time and energy—and the coronation is imminent.
"Does that answer your question?"
"…I see. And… do the rest of you feel the same?"
The elders murmured quietly among themselves. Finally, one of them spoke. An old man with a pearl in his forehead.
"Others may have different opinions, but for now, we defer to His Majesty."
"…Understood."
Just then—
A sharp pain tore through Mia's back. She collapsed, gasping.
"Ah—!"
A brilliant blue flame erupted from her spine. With a dreadful tearing sound, her wings split apart.
The delicate green-and-pink wings she once had were incinerated by the flame.
In their place—
Wings twice the size unfurled from her back. Pale blue, powerful, radiant.
Mia, wracked with pain, couldn't process what was happening to her body.
"Ghh… Ahh!"
The king and the elders stared, stunned. Not one of them could speak. The entire chamber flickered with blue fire.
When the pain finally subsided, Mia rose shakily to her feet. Her vision spun. She thought she might throw up.
When the dizziness faded, what she saw was—Dozens of eyes staring at her in sheer disbelief.
Why were they looking at her like that?
Then—
Like a lightning strike through her thoughts, realization hit her.
…The wings I got from the Fairy King…!
Mia turned slowly.
Behind her, a pair of massive, pale-blue wings shimmered like the wings of a newly born butterfly.
Why now—of all times—?!
Her face drained of color.
And the king of Sibareth, along with all his gathered elders, took in every detail.
Their cold gazes pierced through her. Mia wanted to shut her eyes. To shut it all out.