"Everyone seems so happy," Olga murmured softly. She stood apart from the crowd, tray in hand holding a slice of chocolate cake, watching guests nearby toast their victory with joyful laughter. "Only someone truly immersed in joy could create something this delicious."

Unlike Rean, Olga sensed others' emotions effortlessly—and felt them too. A joyful smile warmed her heart; another's sorrow stirred her worry. Rean would likely call this both her strength and her weakness.

"Because Rean saved everyone," Cang Lin said, cradling her wine glass. A faint blush tinged her pale cheeks, her gentle smile carrying a hint of allure. "If he hadn't stepped in earlier today... I might have..."

"Ugh, enough! You all keep praising Rean—I could've helped too!" Olga pouted, a dab of cream at the corner of her mouth making her look comically flustered. "And *he* just said I'd had too much and wouldn't let me go..."

"Overprotective?"

Cang Lin offered a tissue.

She had a vague feeling Rean's reason ran deeper than concern for trouble or safety—something unspoken. Something she shouldn't pry into.

"There's one thing he'd never be," Olga sighed, setting the tray down. She wiped the cream away. The gentle warmth in her eyes moments ago twisted sharply into frustration.

"Isn't there *something* I can do right now...?"

"Well..." Cang Lin faltered.

She'd witnessed Olga's strength—Rean even said it matched his own. But if their power was equal... why not send her?

"I've got it! There *is* something I can do."

A mischievous wink from Olga—and emerald lights rose from the ground. They wove midair into a glowing band circling the courtyard, drawing gasps from below.

"In the name of Iaso, spirit of healing—bestow your blessing."

The band shattered into a soft rain of green light. Officers and adventurers bearing battlefield wounds watched in awe as injuries healed slowly, old scars vanishing without a trace.

*[Iaso's Sanctuary]*—spirit magic channeled through the healing spirit Iaso, surpassing even high-tier healing spells. Unlike Rean's fusion magic (a personal art unrecognized by mainstream mages), spirit magic required a pact with spirits and held formal standing among mage circles.

Born of the Celestial Realm's pure spiritual veins, Olga shared innate affinity with all spirits. In the Demon Realm, impure mana made communication impossible—arrays, yes; spirits, no.

"So it *does* work here," Olga remarked casually, watching the delighted crowd.

Cang Lin's eyes widened. She lowered her voice: "Olga... are you a spirit mage?!"

No one detected the mana surge. What should've raged like a storm was contained within twenty centimeters of Olga's body. Only Cang Lin's experience kept her from gaping speechless.

"The answer's not quite right," Olga smiled slightly, "but yes, I can wield spirit power. Just... don't tell Rean I did this."

"Mm." Cang Lin nodded, awe and curiosity swirling. Two beings of such rare power could command immense status in the Royal Capital—yet chose a border town like Yethania. Why?

But none of that mattered.

As Olga beamed at the guests' joy, Cang Lin turned away, hiding the shadow in her own eyes.

*If anyone could fulfill that wish... the one no one else ever could... it might be them.*

...

*Adams...*

Rean's mind clicked. *Right—Tyler's surname is Adams.*

So this "Gloria" was Tyler's daughter? Granddaughter?

*Never knew my old acquaintance had a daughter. Good thing I didn't ask for favors earlier...*

"I'm *not* a pervert! I just saw you practicing and offered shooting tips!"

"Who 'tips' by groping someone's waist?! You're clearly here for the banquet—come quietly to the guards! Since you *did* help me hit the target, I'll ask them to go easy on you for turning yourself in!"

Rean protested helplessly, trying to pull free, but Gloria clung tight to his arm.

*Great. Stumbled into trouble just wandering around. Time to cut it short.*

"I have urgent business with the Lord Mayor. My interference was inappropriate, my lady—please don't persist... Ah!" (in a flat, robotic tone)

He'd kept his voice calm, polite. Gloria just laughed—then twisted his arm behind his back. Rean feigned a pained cry to save her pride.

"You're joking. Why would Father deal with a groper like you? I've never even seen you—what status warrants his audience?"

*If you had... I'd have had to silence you. Permanently.*

"He truly *does* have reason for my personal audience."

A resonant voice cut through the garden. Tyler stood at the path between range and garden, expression unreadable. Gloria's hand jerked.

"Father?! Shouldn't you be with the guests?" She released Rean and stepped back. He shook his sore arm, nodding thanks.

*Yep. Definitely her dad.*

"And why aren't *you* upholding the Adams family dignity before guests?" Tyler's sharp gaze locked onto her hidden pistol. Gloria tucked it behind her back.

*Hmph. Hiding to practice because she hates the spotlight... No wonder she was stomping earlier—kept missing the target.*

"They're annoying! Staring like hungry wolves! And *he* used 'lessons' to grope me!" Gloria whirled on Rean, voice trembling.

"My lady, a misunderstanding," Rean said evenly. "Your stance needed correction—like adjusting a sword form. More importantly, Lord Mayor, we have urgent matters."

Tyler studied him, then nodded. *He knew: if Rean meant harm, it would've been too late already.*

"Rean acted in good faith, Gloria. No more delays—join me upstairs."

Tyler led the way. As Rean turned, he shot Gloria—a deliberately provocative glance.

*Swear on Lucifer: zero inappropriate intent earlier. Just... overly focused. And yeah, that provocation? Pure self-destructive instinct.*

They passed through the garden, up the rear stairs, stopping before an open study. Desk piled with documents. Antique shelves held military histories Rean recognized. A long sofa faced the door.

"State your matter, Master Rean," Tyler said, closing the door.

"Just one request," Rean said calmly, glancing around. "Place all Yethania soldiers on high alert starting tomorrow. Mammon's personal campaign is imminent."