The moment those words left his mouth, the entire hall fell into stunned silence, each person reacting differently.

Silphiel’s face darkened instantly. Her gaze flickered toward the Emperor’s back, murder flashing in her eyes.

Rodrika’s jaw dropped in shock, her expression screaming admiration for the Hero’s audacity.

As for Gao Ying—the man the Emperor had just named as his future son-in-law—he choked on his porridge, slamming his chest until he finally gasped out, “Your Majesty, this isn’t a joke!”

Emperor Bartley straightened. “A ruler’s word is law. How can you call it a joke?”

As Gao Ying searched for polite refusal, Silphiel’s voice cut in first.

“Your Majesty,” she said, smile tight and cold, “the Hero shoulders the fate of the entire continent. He must focus on growing stronger—not waste time on trivial matters like marriage.”

Bartley stroked his chin, eyes narrowing slightly. “Holy Maiden, you’re being unreasonable. The Hero is still a man. Push him too hard, and he’ll break. Balance work and rest—that’s the fastest path to strength.”

“The world’s safety won’t vanish overnight. Must the Hero remain single until the Demon Race is driven back?”

Silphiel’s smile stayed fixed, but her displeasure was plain to see.

Only then did the warrior-emperor seem to snap back to his senses, realizing his blunder.

*He’s reminding me,* Silphiel thought coldly, *that the Hero was summoned by the Holy See at great cost. How dare he try to poach him?*

Bartley, a soldier at heart, excelled in battle but lacked political finesse. Silphiel knew his rise to the throne had been pure chance. Born to a village girl and the previous emperor, he’d been exiled to the frontier as a child—far from the princes’ bloody power struggles. In the end, every royal heir slaughtered each other, leaving the throne to Bartley, the outsider who’d devoted himself to military service. Backed by the army, his reign had been smooth. He judged men by merit, not bloodline. His blunt, honorable nature left little room for scheming.

Gao Ying knew this well. In his past life, he’d admired this emperor—a true elder brother figure. A good man who never saw the war’s end. Nor did his daughter, the crimson-haired princess who’d defended the Imperial City.

Gao Ying remembered her vividly: standing atop the city walls, fire-red hair whipping in the wind as she commanded the defense. For two months, they’d held the line against the Demon Race’s elite forces. When supplies ran out, the princess and her Knighthood spent their last strength to smuggle him out.

*“Your life matters more than mine, Hero. As long as you live, there’s hope for this world!”*

The last thing he saw was her silhouette fading under a blood-orange dusk. Tattered banners fluttered behind her.

Only after the Imperial City fell did Silphiel and the Holy See’s forces arrive—claiming landslides delayed them. Blinded by infatuation then, Gao Ying hadn’t questioned it. Now, the excuse reeked of lies.

*Perhaps the Holy See waited for the city to fall,* he realized grimly. *With humanity broken, who could defy them?*

And his own safety? He’d been strong enough to escape alone.

Marrying the princess wouldn’t be so bad… but the thought died instantly. Accepting the Emperor’s offer meant leaving the Holy Capital. How could he avenge himself on Silphiel from afar?

Gao Ying set down his bowl and met the Emperor’s gaze. “As Silphiel said—I bear a sacred duty. Every minute wasted costs soldiers’ lives. Shatters families.” His voice hardened. “How can I think of marriage now? Besides—”

He flicked a glance at Silphiel. Just as he’d planned, she misread it. Her scowl melted into a blush.

*Heh heh. My efforts are working. That longing look? He’s already mine. Soon, I’ll put a leash on him.*

*But that Imperial princess… a real threat. I must never let him go to the Empire alone. Not while that shameless woman breathes.*

*The Hero is mine. No one takes him from me.*

Bartley’s voice broke her thoughts. “I see. Truly admirable, Hero. But—” He turned to Silphiel, frowning. “I came here to scold you. The Hero’s life is priceless! How many demon spies hunt him? Yet I saw barely any guards on my way here!”

“I’d planned to demand you hand him over to the Empire for proper protection. But…” His eyes shifted to Rodrika, standing respectfully behind Gao Ying. Approval lit his face. “Seeing this knight changed my mind. With her guarding him, no others are needed.”

Rodrika stiffened in surprise. “Th-thank you, Your Majesty.”

“Just stating facts,” Bartley said firmly. “Does the Holy See have so many talents that a warrior like you remains a mere initiate?”

Silphiel hurried to explain. “She’s the daughter of Bishop Radel—the heretic. That’s why—”

“Nonsense!” Bartley snapped. “In the Empire, we judge by deeds, not blood! If the Holy See won’t recognize your worth,” he told Rodrika, “I will. Prove yourself on our stage!”

Rodrika hesitated. Once, she’d have leaped at this offer. Now?

*What changes if I flee this cage? My father’s name stays stained. I’d only earn the title “heretic” myself.*

She bowed deeply. “I’m honored, Your Majesty. But a knight needs only one lord to serve in a lifetime.”

Her fleeting glance at Gao Ying brought a blush to her cheeks. Silphiel caught it. Her eyes narrowed.

*He offered imperial favor—a once-in-a-lifetime chance. Why refuse? She’s known the Hero one night. What loyalty could she feel?*

*Unless… something happened last night?*

*Leaving her with him might be a mistake.*