To some extent, dropping by Violette’s place had become Jetri’s habit, whether he had business or not.
But under the current circumstances, his frequent visits reeked of ulterior motives.
So after dinner, Jetri lingered in the living room for a while.
He smacked his lips thoughtfully.
After mulling it over, he realized he had nothing better to do.
The only option left was probably studying the new magical theories that had emerged over the past five years.
But Jetri had never been the studious type.
Besides, learning held little meaning for him now.
*Do you even know what the essence of a human mage looks like?* (leans back).jpg
Jetri decisively retreated to his room and shut the door.
Time to—
He pulled out a novel he’d left unfinished five years ago and brushed off the thin layer of dust.
Jetri was a miser. Though not short on coin, he’d never hired anyone to tidy his house during his absences.
He’d merely set up a second-tier dust-repelling magic array.
After five years, the array had long since drained its power.
Though he’d given the room a cursory clean, traces of dust still lingered.
Jetri’s room looked nothing like what one would expect of a Level 79 Sage’s sanctuary.
At the very least, it lacked the walls lined with arcane tomes most would imagine.
Instead, shelves overflowed with novels and travelogues from across nations.
Jetri suddenly realized he was now a Level 79 Sage—a grand mage in every sense of the word.
So…
A mischievous thought struck him.
If he died tomorrow, how would outsiders label his tomb? *"Tomb of the Grand Mage"*? Or *"Resting Place of the Sole Mage from the Hero Squad That Defeated the Demon King"*?
Hmm…
Jetri’s grin widened.
What if, before dying, he announced to the world: *"Want my knowledge and treasures? Seek them out! I’ve left everything there!"*
Then stuffed his tomb with piles of popular novels…
*Tsk tsk tsk.*
Jetri chuckled darkly to himself.
While Jetri slipped into vacation mode, next door, Vya entered date-prep mode.
She stood before the mirror, trying on outfits for tomorrow.
"This one’s too tight."
She swapped it, twirling before the glass.
"Too stiff."
Another change.
"Too flashy."
Again.
"Too formal."
For the first time in her twenty-five years, the Valiant Hero fretted over her wardrobe.
Most of her clothes leaned masculine.
Though fewer than the average woman’s collection, they were still plentiful.
Problem was, these were all five-year-old outfits. Now, they clung tight—especially across the chest.
Vya sighed and reached for another.
Unlike the eager Valiant Hero, the princess returned home to stare wordlessly at the sunset.
"Dinner is ready, Your Highness," murmured a lovely maid.
"Hmm." Victoria responded with a soft nasal hum.
The maid’s face remained impassive as she waited silently nearby.
Hanover Palace stood atop the highest ground in the capital. From Victoria’s window, half the city sprawled below.
But Jetri’s house lay hidden from view.
Delan Hero Academy’s buildings blocked it completely.
An unconscious sigh escaped her lips.
She’d known Vya’s true gender from the start. Aelons Kingdom had no "Vya Pendragon"—only "Veya Pendragon."
The ninth princess. The royal daughter rumored to have perished young.
They’d met before.
Why Veya now lived as "Vya Pendragon," Victoria didn’t know.
Nor was it her place to solve the kingdom’s succession crisis.
Her mind was too tangled.
She’d always assumed Jetri and Vya were together.
After all, they’d lived as roommates since sophomore year.
Victoria had taken their relationship for granted—what else could cohabitation mean?
She’d never considered that Jetri might not have noticed Vya’s true gender after three years together.
Never.
How could any normal person miss it entirely?
Yet today, Victoria realized with a jolt:
Jetri had genuinely believed Vya was male all along.
She strained to recall moments from their Demon King campaign.
Nothing proved Vya’s femininity.
Was Jetri just that oblivious? Or had Vya hidden it too well?
Victoria had always seen Vya’s feelings for Jetri.
It was those subtle, affectionate gestures that made her assume they were already a couple.
Her hands clenched slowly in her lap.
—So all these years of coldness toward Jetri had been pointless.
Jetri was a good man.
Or perhaps not entirely.
Victoria wasn’t sure.
She’d rarely spent so much time with any man besides her father, King Hanover II.
Jetri came second.
She still remembered his expression after her rejection.
It happened one afternoon.
Deep in demon territory, in an unnamed forest.
For once, no danger lurked nearby.
No demon pursuers. No suffocating presence of a Demon Lord.
The forest felt like the outskirts of the capital—lush, vibrant with life.
Rain had just cleared, leaving mushrooms sprouting everywhere.
Victoria gathered fungi while Jetri followed under a flimsy excuse.
"This one looks edible," she murmured, crouching to inspect them.
"Even if you pick wrong, a quick Purify spell fixes it," Jetri replied, watching her.
The air hung damp but bright—sunlight piercing the post-rain gloom.
Victoria heard him call her name.
"Victoria."
"Hmm?" She turned.
Jetri looked tense.
She blinked, confused.
"Will you go out with me?"
Her calm lake-blue eyes rippled.
"I…"
Her pupils suddenly narrowed. "What about Vya?"
"Vya?" Jetri frowned. "What’s he got to do with this?"
Victoria’s breath hitched. Unreasonable hurt flooded her chest. "How is Vya irrelevant?"
She forced calm. "I… need time to think."
"Ah… I see." Jetri swayed slightly, scratching his head with a bitter smile.
Victoria never knew what he thought he understood that day.
She only remembered how, beneath perfect afternoon sun, someone walked away drenched in sorrow.
Now she understood.
All those old confusions snapped into place.
Her elegant gown crumpled under white-knuckled fists.
If Jetri hadn’t known… so many things finally made sense.
