Victoria watched the setting sun finally dip below the horizon and let out a long sigh.

She slowly rose to her feet, as if trying to hold onto the fading light just a little longer—but it was a futile gesture.

“Let’s eat,” she murmured softly.

Victoria couldn’t help but think of Lilith.

What must Lilith be feeling right now?

Victoria herself had only avoided and ignored him, but Lilith had outright despised him.

Yet neither avoidance nor hatred should have fallen upon Jetri.

And just as Victoria suspected, Lilith was suffering far more deeply, tangled in silent turmoil.

“What’s wrong?” The Duke of Clover regarded his only daughter with mild concern. “No appetite?”

“…Nothing,” Lilith replied in a subdued tone.

“Trouble in love?” The Duke of Clover was an exceptionally handsome middle-aged man, radiating the quiet charm of maturity and the effortless grace of success.

One glance at his daughter’s face told him all he needed to know.

Ten years ago, he’d have grabbed a blade and gone after the boy. Five years ago, he’d have made life difficult for some unknown upstart.

But now, Lilith was already twenty-five.

Though Half Elves lived far longer than humans, he was merely mortal. Even with enchanted artifacts prolonging his years, he wouldn’t outlive his daughter or wife.

So like any ordinary father, he worried—seeing his grown daughter still unmarried.

At this point, if a decent young man came asking to court her? He might even lend a hand.

“How did you…” Lilith froze.

“Hmm?” The Duke let out a dismissive snort.

“When I was your age, I’d already won over an Elven Princess. And you?” He casually speared a piece of meat but only stared at it. “So? Who is it?”

“…Can… can you really help me?” Lilith asked hesitantly.

“Can’t know unless you tell me. I won’t gossip—and sure, you could wait to tell your mother someday. Though that might take a while.” Despite his mature appearance, the Duke carried a surprisingly youthful spirit, especially in moments like this.

Lilith fell silent.

She stared at her plate. Every meal at Clover Manor was impeccably prepared.

Truthfully, nothing she’d eaten during five years with the Hero Squad compared to this single dinner’s elegance.

Yet her appetite was gone. She listlessly nudged the food with her fork.

Then she spoke, voice barely above a whisper:

“If… if I kept hurting someone because of my own misunderstandings… is there still a chance to make amends?”

“That depends on who you hurt—Richard Jetri?”

Lilith paused, then gave a small nod. “Mm.”

“That guy…” The Duke chuckled lightly. “What are you trying to salvage? Friendship? Love? Though I’m guessing love.”

A trace of nonchalance lingered in his tone.

He wasn’t truly worried about her meeting a jerk or getting her heart broken.

He knew Lilith von RavenDale was exceptional—beautiful, capable, noble-born.

But he never believed those traits guaranteed smooth sailing in love.

To him, emotional stumbles were necessary. Especially for her.

She had centuries ahead. A few heartaches meant little.

What truly troubled him was that she’d never even dated—and had once vanished without a word to slay the Demon King.

Thankfully, she returned.

Now? He just wanted her to *try*. Fall, learn, feel something.

Not end up like certain Forest Elves—nearly five hundred, emotionally untouched.

Elves could wait. He couldn’t. He just wanted to see his daughter happy.

“Friendship… and love.”

“Tricky. Friendship might be fixable—or what about chasing that Sage?” The Duke stroked his chin thoughtfully. “From what I’ve seen? If you made the first move… your odds might be pretty good.”

“What are you saying!” Lilith snapped, her warm tan skin flushing crimson.

“You’ve likely gone your separate ways already,” the Duke added quietly.

Lilith fell silent again.

She had to admit—he was right.

Jetri had wanted out long ago. Not to mention how she and Victoria gave him the cold shoulder daily.

Why would he stay?

Truth was, none of the remaining three had reason to stay.

The Demon King was slain. Victoria, second heir, would rule Delan. Vya, first heir, would take Aarons.

And Lilith? She was destined to become the next Elven Queen of the Forest Kingdom.

Bloodline purity meant nothing beside the glory of victory.

In truth, Lilith and Jetri shared one thing: their moral baselines.

Jetri’s could plummet terrifyingly low when resolved. Lilith’s simply lived there.

Yet even *she*, with her low standards, had been shaken by Jetri’s ruthlessness mid-campaign—wiping out an entire village in Demon Clan territory over suspected intel leaks.

A blatant violation of wartime ethics.

Lilith sank into thought.

The Duke, ever her father, saw it instantly.

He added gently, “The time you have left to see him… is very, very little.”

“He’s not going anywhere…” Lilith muttered stubbornly.

“Richard Jetri doesn’t crave power or wealth,” the Duke countered calmly. “At Brave Academy, he improved roads and carriage wheels—could’ve made a fortune. Instead, he sold the patent outright to the Delan Royal Family.”

He shattered her denial without flinching.

“A man like that staying in the capital? He skipped the victory banquet. Left the award ceremony halfway. At the last blessing feast—which he couldn’t avoid—he just ate.”

The Duke twirled his fork in slow circles as he spoke.

“I can’t advise you on love. But on character? If you were wrong… go apologize.”

He said no more. Finished his meal calmly while watching his conflicted daughter, then rose and left.

In the vast, silent dining hall, only Lilith remained—alone, tangled in regret.