It had been nearly half a year since the wedding.

Kestia convened a "review meeting" in her study.

Only four people occupied the lavish room. She sat behind her desk while Viscount Clarein—her supposed "father"—stood respectfully to one side. Sisters Lekui and Liya stood opposite him.

Kestia spoke calmly, "After a month of maneuvering, our results fall far short of the plan."

"My apologies, Your Highness," Semos said contritely. "This old servant failed to secure better partners."

Kestia shook her head. "I don’t blame you. But we must extend our timeline." Her brow furrowed, dissatisfaction clear.

Liya spoke seriously, "The core issue is Sloke and Semos Trading Companies blocking us. I’ve learned they’ve ordered all their merchants to refuse cooperation. That’s why we can’t secure quality goods."

"For our key targets—wine, furs, grain—the best suppliers in town all feed those two companies. Every time we inquire, they claim shortages. Yet Lekui observed wagons constantly coming and going from their warehouses. Supplies are plentiful—but reserved exclusively for them." Liya glanced at Lekui, who nodded confirmation.

Kestia gave a silent nod but offered no solution. Humans were weak yet cunning in commerce. She’d grown weary of this losing battle.

"This is normal, Your Highness," Semos murmured, his earlier shame replaced by resolve. As a subordinate, some truths must be spoken.

"We oversimplified trade. Though Your Highness possesses vast knowledge and financial acumen—even managing the Dragon King’s treasury in the Dragon Realm—business isn’t just numbers." He paused, meeting her gaze earnestly. "We compete against people. They have geniuses too. Competition means wins and losses. May the best strategist prevail."

"Then what should we do?" Kestia pressed, hoping for concrete strategies—like the advisors who once surrounded her mother. She craved that same support: voices offering plans, hands executing them.

Semos lowered his head. "I have no ready answers, Your Highness. Only this: slow down. We rushed. As outsiders, securing a foothold this quickly was remarkable. Now we must build trust... gain loyalty..."

"How long will that take?" Kestia’s gaze held his—not to pressure, but to seek truth. Time’s weight had become unbearable.

These months were insignificant against her near-immortal lifespan. Yet the uncertainty gnawed at her: When would she reclaim her wish? When would she return to the Dragon Realm? To her mother? Time offered no promises—only endless, directionless waiting.

"I cannot say, my lady. Only that we must slow our pace," Semos replied softly.

Kestia fell silent. "Perhaps we never should have stayed here," she murmured. "Nor made me marry a fool."

"No—on that point alone, trust me, Your Highness!" Semos insisted. "Humans differ from Dragonfolk. Their weakness birthed strength in numbers. For two thousand years, they’ve built the world’s largest dominion. Even when our ancestors ruled, the Supreme God sent angels to shatter us. Now humans thrive while we rebuild. That’s why the Dragon King adopted their ways—to forge a new Dragon Realm." His plea was earnest.

Kestia knew this history. Yet she whispered, "Dragonfolk remain Dragonfolk. Humans remain human." She shook her head. "Enough philosophy. We need human allies now—to solve the Dragon Realm’s crisis." But could commerce truly fix this?

"This *is* what we must learn from them," Semos pressed. "Their fragility forced them through more disasters than we’ve faced—even *we* were once their catastrophe. During the First Human-Demon War, they nearly perished."

"Yet they survived. They flourished. Why?" He answered his own question, locking eyes with the young princess. "They borrow strength. In crises, they call on the Elvenfolk. Other races. Even the Supreme God. They endure."

"We Dragonfolk rely only on ourselves. Our pride became our downfall. When the Supreme God’s judgment fell, we collapsed. Shattered." His voice tightened. "Now that we’ve rebuilt, the Dragon King sent you away not just for safety—but to learn *borrowing strength*. To secure our future against coming storms."

His fervent words silenced the room. Even Lekui and Liya watched Kestia intently.

She knew he was right. Abandoning this would betray the Dragon Realm. This struggle was necessary. After a long pause, she murmured, "Life isn’t a fixed track. Derailment doesn’t mean disaster. Stay cautious with what you control. Stay optimistic about what you cannot."

The philosophy settled her restlessness like cool water.

"Your Highness—where did you hear this?" Semos breathed, stunned. "Such wisdom... I wish I’d grasped it decades ago." He nodded slowly. "Optimism. Yes. We must hold to that."

Kestia’s expression remained neutral. "Lanche said it. A fool, yes—but a clever fool. His words hold weight."

"Ah. Him." Semos’s surprise flickered into respect. "He does possess merit. Remarkable composure for a fifteen-year-old. I should speak with him more often."

"Enough," Kestia stated, her tone level. She’d concede Lanche’s intelligence—but nothing more. "Now, our next steps."