Chapter 25. For the Princess

With the Marquis of Ivelucia’s sponsorship secured, the Marchioness offered me a room in their estate so I could focus on my studies.

“We’ve always provided accommodations for protégés without a suitable residence. Please don’t feel burdened by it,” she explained.

Though living in the mansion until my admission to the Academy wasn’t part of my original plan, it was too good an offer to decline. Thankfully, I had not yet formally arranged for housing, so her generosity came at the perfect time.

Despite my ambiguous position as something akin to a boarder, the staff treated me with respect. Most of them were long-term employees who deeply admired the Marquis and Marchioness, a testament to the kind of people they were and the stability of the Ivelucia household.

It helped that the Marchioness had spoken well of me. Her thoughtfulness, even in small details, only deepened my gratitude.

“This will be your room,” said the elderly butler, gesturing to a beautifully appointed space.

“And here is the key to the library. The master has granted you unlimited access to it.”

The butler gave me a detailed tour of the mansion, explaining noteworthy details along the way.

“There will also be weekly Thursday dinners with the master. He wishes to review your progress,” he added.

The Thursday dinners had been mutually agreed upon with the Marquis. He had initially offered to hire the best private tutors in the Republic for me, but I had politely declined.

“I’d like to try studying on my own first. If I find it difficult, may I bring it up with you then?”

“Of course, of course. I’ve even secured old study guides for you. Haha!”

The once-intimidating Marquis now felt like a genuine grandfather to me. Having lost both sets of grandparents early in life, it felt strange yet heartwarming to suddenly gain a grandfather and grandmother at the age of twenty-five.

Everything felt almost too good to be true.

The room I was given was more spacious and comfortable than the house I had planned to rent. It even had two adjoining rooms: one was set up as a dressing room, and the other was a spare room. Though I had permission to furnish it however I liked, I kept it simple, adding only a sturdy desk and a storage cabinet.

The afternoon the cabinet arrived, the Marchioness personally oversaw its placement. After consulting with the housekeeper and the deliverymen, she had the desk moved near the window.

“When studying becomes overwhelming, looking at the sky can clear your mind,” she remarked with a smile.

She was right. The simple change of moving the desk transformed the space, making studying feel even more inviting.

Whenever I grew tired of studying, I took walks in the estate’s vast garden. The Marquis was passionate about landscaping and spared no expense on it, even though the mansion itself was relatively modest.

In spring, the air was heavy with the scent of blooming flowers. The soil, damp and soft, cushioned each step, and the clouds seemed as much a part of the garden as the neatly trimmed hedges.

The walks often cleared my mind, helping me solve problems that had stumped me before.

Afterward, I’d snack on macadamia cookies and coffee prepared by the chef, then return to my books. This became my daily routine, and I marveled at the luxury I was now afforded.

‘If I’d studied like this, I could’ve gotten into Seoul National University’s medical school.’

I mused, chuckling to myself as I sprawled on the bed.

Deep down, I was confident I could ace the Academy’s entrance exam if I remained consistent. After all, I had faith in Mine Molière’s abilities.

At thirteen, Mine had awakened as a mage in what could only be described as a miracle. Overwhelmed by the sudden power, she caused one accident after another, leading a nomadic life until she was reported to the authorities for practicing magic without registration. It was during the formal registration process that her incredible talent was revealed.

In ‘Bitten by a Mad Dog,’ Mine Molière was described as follows:

> “Though only thirteen years old, Mine Molière possessed the potential of a true genius. But the dark hands of fate closed in on her, tightening their grip. Among those who sought to control her was none other than her estranged father, the King of Ingberri.”

After thirteen years of absence, her father reappeared, claiming ownership over Mine Molière. She was brought to the palace, not for a tearful reunion but to be confined to a cell-like chamber.

She spent three years in that dark room, where no light entered, enduring relentless training. Through sheer perseverance, she emerged as the kingdom’s foremost mage.

 

As I closed the book detailing her story, I reflected on her resilience.

Her brilliance had not only helped her survive but had also paved the way for her greatness. With her memories and abilities now guiding me, I felt assured that I, too, could achieve the impossible.

How cruel that punishment must have been for a young girl brimming with excitement at the prospect of meeting her real father. She clung to the promise that, if she completed her training, she would finally see him. The fact that she accomplished in three years what would have taken another mage at least a decade spoke volumes of her genius. The king was pleased.

“Mine Molière, from now on, you are my daughter.”

How those words must have shaken her. She wept black tears—darker than the night—unaware of the regret that would one day consume her. *If only I hadn’t awakened as a mage. If only I hadn’t been reported then.* I can scarcely imagine the depth of her anguish.

“No one in this world ever truly understood Mine. No one.”

The loneliness of that realization struck me profoundly. It pushed me to strive harder, to avoid slacking off.

For the princess who had lived an accursed life, who had ultimately leapt from the edge of despair to end it all—I wanted to show her something.

That she could have lived differently.

That she was someone capable of being properly acknowledged, of growing strong on the care and affection of good people, and of achieving her true desires.

It was my silent promise to the fragment of her soul that might still linger within me.

❖　❖　❖

When you close your eyes and open them again, a season has passed. And then another, in the blink of an eye.

Yona, who had been staring intently at a withered branch in a pot, suddenly flopped onto a plush sofa, stretching his long legs over the armrest.

“When’s the exam again?” he asked.

“Next month,” I replied.

“Admission isn’t until spring. Why so early?”

“It’s not just a written test. There are two rounds of interviews, plus scoring and reviews, so they need time. Even with that, the schedule is tight.”

“Such a fuss for a mere Academy.”

Yona scoffed, shaking his ankle to the rhythm of a tune only he could hear.

His stiletto-like shoes tapped lightly against the sofa’s edge. By now, I had grown accustomed to our meetings, which occurred once every fortnight, much like the Marquis’s weekly Thursday dinners. Yona always seemed to find rare and mysterious artifacts and was relentless in using me as his personal royal-blood donor whenever he found something worth experimenting on.

This time, he’d brought something called a “Divination Tree” and had been pestering me to offer blood for it. The whole ordeal made me feel like I was on some bizarre blood donation schedule.

“…I think I’m running low on blood,” I muttered.

“Stop talking like a vampire,” I snapped.

“That damned tree. After all the nutrients I gave it, it’s still like this?”

“And maybe stop treating royal blood like plant fertilizer.”

“Look at this, ‘Mr. Divination Tree.’”

Yona said, springing up and crouching in front of the small plant. He began hurling insults at the unmoving sapling.

“Listen, no matter how stubbornly you keep that mouth shut, you can’t withstand my—woah, what the—?!”

The brittle tree began to emit a dazzling glow. Its trunk thickened and grew taller, expanding so rapidly that the terracotta pot shattered with a loud *crack*. Yona and I screamed, clinging to each other as the tree shot upward like something out of *Jack and the Beanstalk*.

The “Divination Tree” grew and grew until it pierced the ceiling of Yona’s room.

“Dammit all!” Yona cursed, glaring at the towering tree. As if it understood, the tree abruptly stopped growing. Unfortunately, this was only after it had already broken through the roof of the Arabek Appraisal House.

“…So the blood actually worked,” I murmured, staring up at the now-giant tree, which resembled an ancient sacred tree in a village square.

Snapping out of his shock first, Yona placed his palm against the tree’s massive trunk and shouted, “Tell me if Myrda will pass her Academy entrance exam!”

The room fell silent.

Rumble.

The tree responded with a deep vibration, shaking the ceiling and floor. From its sturdy branches, fresh green leaves unfurled rapidly, followed by blossoms that opened in fast-forward, like a time-lapse nature documentary. Soon, the tree was covered in vivid crimson flowers, similar to apple blossoms.

“…What’s it saying?” I asked.

“Flowers signify fruit, don’t they?” Yona replied nonchalantly.

But isn’t it fruit, not flowers, that signify fruition? I kept that thought to myself. Yona reached up, and one of the flowering branches snapped off, dropping into his hand. To my amazement, the tree began to shrink, returning to its original size as if nothing had happened.

“Did it… die?” I asked cautiously.

“No, just asleep.”

Yona replied. “It’ll only wake up in a hundred years.”

“…What?”

I gawked at him, horrified. We’d wasted a century’s worth of potential divinations on ‘that’ question? Before I could say anything, Yona tucked the flowered branch behind my ear with a sly grin.

“Perfect. Now you really look like a witch.”

“…”

“Effort’s reward,” Yona declared, smirking.

“Drop it, and you’re dead.”

Spoken like someone who hadn’t lifted a finger to help me study.