Everyone knows mages are glass cannons in close combat.

Even if Jetri had some skill with a staff, Victoria was still over ten levels stronger than him.

Not to mention the Delan Kingdom’s martial spirit ran deep—royal blood carried combat prowess like a birthright.

As for Princess Delan herself?

Give her a knight’s longsword and full plate armor, and she’d stand as a true knight.

Victoria’s slender, fair arms pinned Jetri effortlessly.

But she held back her strength this time.

Jetri finally snapped to his senses.

He shoved Victoria away.

Her grip hadn’t been forceful to begin with.

He tumbled off the bed like a fugitive, scrambling away on all fours.

"Why are you here?! Why are you in my bed?!"

He whipped his head around, firing questions like arrows.

Jetri felt reality slipping into unknown territory.

Fear coiled in his chest—the terror of losing control.

"This is *my* room. You pounded on my door last night."

Victoria waited for his barrage to end, then sighed softly.

"As for the bed... perhaps reflect on why you’d knock on a woman’s door at midnight."

She leaned against the headboard, hugging her long legs to her chest, chin resting on her knees as she watched him.

"Waking up together on the same bed was harmless."

Jetri’s hazy memories of dawn flickered back.

Then he caught it—"Wait. You cast a spell on me?"

"Mm." Victoria’s voice floated soft as clouds drifting across a blue sky.

"I think you shouldn’t have—" Jetri’s protest faded weakly.

"You gave me no choice after waking up like *that* from your drunken stupor."

A flicker of hurt crossed Victoria’s face.

"I... what did I do?" Jetri strained to recall the night.

"You knocked on my door at midnight, *Richard*."

Victoria’s tone turned gentle but firm. "We’re adults. Do you know what I thought when I opened that door?"

Jetri’s mouth opened, then closed.

Right. He had no defense.

"Originally..." Victoria rose from bed with quiet grace, slipping her delicate feet into slippers.

"I planned to pretend I hadn’t heard your drunken ramblings. I could’ve played dumb tomorrow. But seeing you retch so miserably..."

Her voice tightened. "I couldn’t ignore it."

"Then you sobered up and immediately said you wanted to leave."

She knelt before him, her lake-blue eyes holding his.

"Not even one extra word for me."

"I’m sorry—" Jetri’s words died. He edged backward, avoiding her burning gaze.

"And why I kissed you? Because I wanted to."

Victoria planted her palms on the floor, knees sinking down as she tilted her head beneath his lowered face.

Strands of her golden hair brushed the ground.

Her eyes—deep, still pools of blue—searched his.

"What happened between you and that Succubus?" she pressed.

Jetri knew this was unspoken territory.

*—How did this even happen?!*

His mind drew blank. No solution. No words. No moves left.

Why was *he* the speechless one when *she’d* cast spells and stolen kisses?

"T-today’s weather is... prickly..." Jetri’s overclocking brain spat out the first nonsense that came.

Victoria didn’t glance at the window.

"Yes," she murmured, voice still soft as dawn. "A fine day."

Her features remained gentle.

But the light in her lake-blue eyes had dimmed.

Jetri had never found Delan’s princess—his team’s healer, the embodiment of grace and beauty—so terrifying.

He swallowed hard.

*Someone save me...*

*I’m dead...*

"Yesterday’s weather was lovely too. Pity some people weren’t there. Where *were* you yesterday?—Ah~ Off drinking, I see."

Victoria’s serene face and words drifted closer in Jetri’s vision.

*What do I do? Should I...*

*Should I pull away?*

Jetri could only stare into those tranquil blue depths.

"Go drink if you must. But a *Sage* drinking himself senseless? Fine. Yet who did you stumble to afterward?"

Her slender, pale hands rose to cradle his face.

His mind went blank—overclocked into shutdown.

"You really don’t care about a girl’s feelings..."

Victoria’s lips were soft.

With a hint of sweetness.

His thoughts vanished. Only sensation remained.

"Mm... Waking kisses *do* feel different."

When their lips parted, Victoria whispered, then leaned in again.

Her unsettling blue eyes finally closed.

Jetri couldn’t name his feelings.

They were tangled.

He wasn’t the clinging type. What couldn’t be his, he’d let go.

He’d already mourned that loss years ago.

Victoria was beautiful. Kind. He’d once adored her.

But that was *once*.

"...Victoria’s eyes had opened again.

Her lips had pulled away.

"Too late, isn’t it?" she asked softly.

Jetri gave no absolutes. He repeated his earlier words:

"Let’s just survive this mission first. Okay?"

Victoria pressed her lips together and nodded.

Dawn at the Eastern Stronghold held no birdsong—only endless desert and the rhythmic chants of soldiers drilling.

Just beyond the border, Demon Clan territory stretched as dense forest.

Victoria rose slowly from the floor, a shadow in her eyes.

Their relationship had never been close.

Even falling back into old patterns felt stiff, formal.

"Breakfast," Jetri said. "Then we check on Lilith."

"Mm."

Victoria’s reply was meek.

At breakfast, Vya eyed them curiously.

"Since when do you two share mornings?"

Her face showed nothing, but a faint ripple of discomfort spread through her—

like ink bleeding into clear water.

Unseen, yet undeniable.

"Ran into each other," Jetri chuckled, brushing it off.

He’d made peace with Victoria’s rejection long ago.

What haunted him was her three years of icy silence afterward.

"Oh." Vya caught his unease and pressed no further.

Victoria ate quietly, untouched toast growing cold.

A thick silence settled over the three—

like a marriage where hearts sleep in separate beds.

...Or a three-way marriage?