"Hey, Oren, is this really okay?"

Yamwen slowly approached Oren as he chewed his food. She whispered softly in his ear.

"Trouble might start any moment now."

"Even if you ask me..."

Oren muttered quietly, looking utterly helpless at the two princesses flanking him. He paused, swallowed his bite, then coughed. Straightening up, he stepped between them.

"Ladies, please rest for now. We’ll discuss this later. Just wait a little longer—"

"Oren, step back."

Irina cut him off sharply. She snapped her fingers softly. Silvery-white magic sparks bloomed on her hand.

"Yes, Lord Oren. This doesn’t concern you."

Rohana stepped forward slowly. Oren saw her gripping her staff tightly, ready to charge any second.

"Well, I tried anyway," Oren muttered under his breath. Just as he turned to leave, a voice rang out behind Irina.

"Your Highness, please reconsider. Starting a conflict here—is it truly wise?"

Oren looked toward the voice. A knight in silvery-white armor stepped forward from behind Irina. He had short black hair, roughly Oren’s age—maybe younger, barely in his teens. Yet his stern expression made him seem older.

Recognition struck Oren. He’d fought this knight last night at the casino. Before he could recall the name, Irina turned to the knight.

"What are you saying, Elliot?"

Irina’s glare promised no mercy without a good reason. Unfazed, Elliot stepped closer. He gestured around the room. Following his hand, Oren noticed onlookers whispering about Irina and Rohana.

"Your Majesty, people here are starting to recognize you. Causing trouble now would harm both nations’ reputations."

"That’s your imagination, Elliot."

Irina snapped back. She glared at Rohana and muttered, "She started it."

*She’s so mature elsewhere, yet so willful here,* Oren thought, watching her sulk.

Lia stepped forward from behind Irina. She bowed respectfully. "Your Majesty, I also urge restraint."

"Lia! Why you too?"

"No, Your Majesty. We can settle this at the Magical Arts Tournament in the New Capital. Let’s leave it for then." She glanced at Oren. "Miss Rohana will compete there. And didn’t we come to find Oren for a reason?"

Irina’s pout faded. She coughed, then pointed at Oren. "Oren, come outside. We need to talk."

"Huh?"

Oren shot a pleading look at Dysaia. Dysaia just shrugged and gestured for him to go. Sighing heavily, Oren followed Irina out.

The four had barely left the restaurant when Irina spun to face Oren. "Straight to the point, Oren. Join my team for the Magical Arts Tournament."

"Uh..."

*Why wasn’t I this popular before?*

Before he could speak, Irina pressed on. "You’re Alliance-born, right? Then why side with the Duchy?" She raised a hand, voice firm. "I’ll make the Alliance team win this Duchy selection match! For Elvis’s honor! For my teacher Aston Higgins’s magic theories! For the entire Alliance! This will boost our front-line soldiers’ morale—we’ll show them the Duchy’s arrogant mages are nothing!"

She spread her hands before him. "I need reliable teammates. Last night, you proved yourself to me. I know you lacked Alliance training—but don’t you feel anything for your roots? For glory? For the Alliance, Oren Rodni?"

Oren smiled faintly. He stepped back respectfully, bowed slightly. "Sorry, Your Majesty. I can’t accept."

"What?"

Elliot moved to intervene, but Lia held him back. Irina sighed softly. "Then... may I ask why?"

"Master William and Princess Lohanna helped me first. As someone who keeps promises, I can’t abandon them."

"Hah! What kind of help? I might match it." Irina waved dismissively. "But fine. I expected this." Her expression hardened. "Just don’t expect us to hold back in the tournament."

"I understand completely, Your Majesty."

Irina nodded, satisfied. She signaled for Lia and Elliot to leave. Elliot hurried after her. Lia stayed, facing Oren.

"Lia, I’m—"

She waved him off with a smile. "It’s fine, brother. I understand. Your personality and worldview... they’ve drifted from ours long ago. I knew when I saw how you treated Yamwen, that Elvenfolk." Her smile turned bitter. "I won’t blame you. Seeing you alive is blessing enough for me."

"Lia, I—"

Oren struggled for words. Lia cut in, voice trembling. "Brother, promise me one thing. When introducing yourself... call yourself Oren Rodni. It’s truly, truly important to me."

She bowed slightly, then walked after Irina. Oren stood alone, chewing over her last words.