The academy garden lay under a heavy, awkward silence. Even the wind seemed to hush, afraid to intrude.

  Kael slowly lowered his hand from his face and looked at Roselle. From the look in her eyes, he knew exactly where this could go—and none of it would end well.

  Roselle shifted nervously from foot to foot. Her shoulders trembled; her gaze darted between Kael and Lissandra. Her cheeks burned, and she looked one breath away from blurting something sharp and running off—but Kael spoke first.

  “Stand still, Roselle,” he said calmly, yet with such steel in his voice that she froze at once. “Would you be so kind as to come here?”

  She swallowed awkwardly, shrank a little, and took a hesitant step forward, mumbling:

  “Please don’t be mad at me, Kael… I wasn’t trying to spy on you, really! I remember the promise… I just… thought someone might be picking on Lissandra again, and so I…”

  Her voice shook. She lowered her head, hiding her eyes. But the words stuck before they could escape. Something tightened in her chest, and her eyes began to sting.

  “And besides!” she suddenly shouted, the tears finally breaking through. “Why did you forbid me to talk to you, but you talk to other girls?!”

  Kael was so taken aback he couldn’t even get a word in.

  “You help others, but not me!” she continued, her voice cracking. “Maybe if I learned my Soul Form—I could become stronger!”

  She stepped closer, her fists trembling. Her voice carried not just jealousy—but hurt and confusion.

  “You know how important it is to me…” she said, quieter now, but on the verge of breaking. “And yet you never even thought of me! We’ve known each other far longer than you’ve known Lissandra!”

  Hearing that cry, Kael flinched slightly, momentarily losing his cold composure. Though in this new life he had set a strict distance between them, in the past they had spent much time together.

  “Roselle’s situation and Lissandra’s are too different,” he thought. “But that doesn’t mean things are easy for Roselle… I can understand why she’s hurt.”

  He glanced toward Lissandra and saw her shrinking in on herself, as if hoping the ground would swallow her. She stood off to the side, clutching the training notes with a frightened look.

  Kael’s expression softened into a warmer smile.

  “Head back to the academy,” he said evenly. “And don’t tell anyone what happened. Roselle and I will talk a bit longer.”

  Lissandra froze, then nodded quickly, pressing the sheet to her chest.

  “Yes… of course…” she whispered. She threw him a grateful glance and almost ran back toward the building, looking over her shoulder several times on the way.

  When her footsteps finally faded, Kael straightened and turned to Roselle.

  Her eyes glistened, tears still quivering in the corners.

  “Back when I was nothing,” he thought quietly, “she always treated me kindly. She never turned away. This is the right moment to repay that. And, truthfully… my young body wants to help her.”

  He slowly lifted his hand and, with a surprisingly gentle smile, said:

  “Come here, Roselle. There’s no need to cry.”

  His voice wasn’t a command—it was an invitation. Calm and warm.

  Roselle shivered at his voice but stepped toward him obediently, wiping her tears on her sleeve. Her breath was still unsteady, her gaze flickering, but little by little there was more trust in it.

  Kael watched her come closer, then drew another sheet of magical parchment from his spatial ring.

  “If you swear to keep everything a secret,” he said, meeting her eyes directly, “I’ll help you too.”

  Roselle jerked her head up and, through her sniffles, blurted:

  “Then why didn’t you do it sooner?!”

  Kael snorted softly, the corner of his mouth twitching.

  “You’re a demanding one,” he said dryly. “For your information, I only made these talismans today.”

  Roselle’s cheeks flushed. She glanced aside and exhaled quickly, trying to hide her embarrassment.

  “Well… still… you could’ve said something,” she muttered, unwilling to lose face.

  Kael only sighed and, gently taking her by the elbow, guided her a bit farther from the path where others might see them.

  “Stop crying,” he said calmly. “And keep your voice down.”

  But they hadn’t gone more than a few steps when a question stopped Kael in his tracks.

  “Are you… in love with Lissandra?” Roselle blurted out through a sob, trying to sound confident, though her voice still shook.

  Kael blinked, lifted a brow, and after a brief pause answered indignantly:

  “What? Of course not!”

  He looked at her with an expression that made it clear he had no idea how that thought had even entered her mind. Roselle, who hadn’t expected to say it aloud, flushed even harder and dropped her gaze, feeling her cheeks burn.

  Strangely, though, his answer eased her anxiety a little. She exhaled, though the redness in her face only deepened. Her lips trembled, as if she wanted to say more but couldn’t bring herself to.

  For several seconds she simply stood there, looking up at Kael—eyes wet, breath uneven. Then she whispered, almost inaudibly:

  “Sorry for asking that… it’s just…”

  The sentence hung in the air. Kael was already opening his mouth to respond when Roselle suddenly stepped forward—as if breaking through an internal barrier—seized his hand, and pulled him to face her.

  “It’s just that I love you! That’s why I worry!” she burst out—almost shouting—and then froze as the words caught up with her.

  Her cheeks flared as if someone had splashed boiling water on them. She went scarlet, her lips trembling, yet she didn’t look away, fists clenched so tightly her knuckles whitened.

  The world seemed to hold its breath. Even the wind stopped moving the leaves.

  Kael felt himself turn to stone.

  His expression went blank—no surprise, no smile, only a deep, impenetrable stillness in his eyes. He hadn’t expected this, at least not now.

  For a heartbeat he simply stared at Roselle and felt his heart skip… then race, faster, stronger.

  It wasn’t a conscious emotion. Just the reaction of the young body he inhabited—the same body that had once, long ago, truly been in love with Roselle.

  But Kael’s mind remained cold and clear.

  “Damn…” flashed through his mind, followed by, “Roselle, you’re far too young for me. And even if the Vengeful Thunder Family won’t dare touch me now, having you near is still dangerous.”

  Kael lowered his gaze, trying to gather his thoughts. He needed to say something right—something that wouldn’t hurt her, wouldn’t give false hope, and yet wouldn’t shatter the fragile trust still between them.

  “Roselle’s a smart girl,” he thought. “To spare her pain, I need a solid refusal. No harsh words, no cruelty.”

  He drew a slow breath, lifted his eyes, and gently took her hands.

  “You’re incredibly beautiful, Roselle,” he said warmly yet calmly. “And I like you very much too.”

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  A radiant smile blossomed across Roselle’s face—bright and sincere, like sunlight after rain. Her eyes lit up, her breath hitched, as if the whole world suddenly became lighter.

  But Kael needed to be honest. His gaze grew more serious, his voice softened:

  “But I can’t accept your feelings. Not right now.”

  Roselle’s smile froze, as if the air had been knocked from her chest. The joy drained in an instant.

  “But… why?” she whispered, staring at him in confusion.

  Then, as if afraid of her own timid tone, she suddenly exhaled sharply and cried out:

  “If this is about my fiancé—don’t worry! That promise was made before I was even born—it doesn’t matter anymore! Once I grow stronger, my family won’t dare marry me off!”

  Her voice trembled but carried that fierce stubbornness—the same one Kael had once liked so much.

  Kael smiled faintly, lowering his head slightly

  “I know,” he said evenly.

  A soft gleam passed through his amber eyes, but beneath it lay unshakable resolve.

  “But I swore I would spend the coming years focused on cultivation,” he continued evenly. “I’m not interested in anything romantic right now. Love is wonderful, but I can’t afford it.”

  He squeezed her hands slightly, his voice deepening, turning firm:

  “I’ve already told you my reasons, Roselle. My need to grow stronger is no less than yours is. And I cannot allow myself to waste time.”

  Roselle froze, staring at him. For several seconds she stood in silence, as if trying to process his words. Then, slipping back into her usual fiery tone, she narrowed her eyes and asked with a stubborn glint:

  “You’re not lying, right? Does that mean you’ll refuse other girls too?”

  Kael exhaled quietly and gave a crooked smile, one corner of his mouth twitching upward.

  “Exactly,” he answered calmly.

  Roselle leaned forward a little and, without releasing his fingers, tightened her grip on his hand.

  “Do you promise?” she pressed. “You’ll reject even Lissandra?”

  Feeling the pressure, Kael allowed himself a faint, private smirk.

  “Her personality is really something… so headstrong…”

  Outwardly he didn’t show a thing—he only raised a brow slightly and gave her the most composed nod.

  “I promise,” he said, letting a light, slightly sly smile appear. “I swear that in the coming years no one in the Academy will interest me.”

  Roselle, not sensing even a hint of trickery in his words, immediately calmed down. Relief flashed in her eyes, and her mood shifted at once—as if all the tears she’d shed moments ago had been a misunderstanding.

  “Hmph!” she huffed, almost reproachfully. “I cried so much because of you… now my whole face is swollen!”

  Kael shook his head wearily and sighed through a faint smile.

  “Thankfully, I have a perfect way to apologize,” he said evenly.

  “What kind of—” Roselle started, but didn’t finish.

  Kael had already stepped closer and pressed the magical parchment to her forehead.

  The ink on the parchment flared instantly, as if lit from within. Golden lines raced across the surface, converging at the center, where the color deepened and darkened until it turned into a rich crimson.

  Roselle flinched and held her breath for a moment. All her recent turmoil evaporated, as if it had never existed. She stood perfectly still, feeling a gentle warmth spreading under her skin.

  Even if she didn’t fully understand what a Soul Form was, she was desperately curious. This was something tied personally to her, after all.

  After a few seconds, the glow faded. Kael carefully removed the parchment from her forehead and looked at it—but he didn’t have time to examine it, because Roselle, unable to wait even a heartbeat longer, darted closer.

  “Whoa!” she exclaimed, grabbing his hand and craning her neck to peek at the page. “What does it mean?!”

  Kael rolled his eyes and, without much ceremony, nudged her head aside with his palm.

  “Maybe let me look first?” he muttered, barely restraining a tone of irritated amusement.

  But the moment his gaze landed on the image, he froze. Genuine surprise flickered across his face.

  “Oh… this is interesting,” he murmured, narrowing his eyes.

  “Well?!” Roselle practically bounced on the spot. “What is it?! Tell me already!”

  On the parchment, a silhouette had formed—vague, as if woven from tongues of crimson flame. The contours rippled, as though living fire was alternately shaping and dissolving a humanoid figure.

  Kael narrowed his eyes further, studying the detail, and said quietly:

  “Your Soul Form… the Flame Shade.”

  Roselle’s eyes flew wide, glowing with awe and thrill.

  “Am… Flame Shade?” she repeated, then burst out excitedly, “What does that mean?!”

  Kael smirked. He couldn’t help recalling the old days when they spent hours together in the Academy library. Every phrase he said would prompt a flood of questions from her. She had always treated him like a walking encyclopedia—and now, when the topic was her, the curiosity in her voice was even stronger.

  He paused for a couple of seconds, analyzing the structure of the image, then said:

  “It’s a combat-oriented magic type. Ideal for blending illusions with destructive force. And also…” he allowed himself a small smile, “very useful for blacksmithing.”

  Roselle seemed to skip over that last part entirely. Her eyes sparkled like stars.

  “So that means I can become really strong, right?!” she shouted, clenching her fists and beaming with joy.

  Kael tilted his head slightly and answered calmly, his tone almost mentor-like:

  “Strength is a broad concept. Almost anyone can become strong if they find their own path and stay diligent on it.”

  He paused, then added more gently:

  “But if we’re talking about raw battle power… then yes. You will be strong.”

  Roselle grinned with satisfaction, her fist shooting up as if she were already celebrating victory.

  “And will I be able to become the head of the family?!” she asked, full of challenge, a fire of ambition burning in her eyes.

  Kael answered without thinking, almost automatically:

  “If you end up with the right Canon of Magic…”

  But his voice cut off mid-sentence. He froze, as if someone had hit a switch inside him. His gaze sharpened, and a thoughtful spark flickered deep in his eyes.

  “Wait… why didn’t I think of this sooner?”

  He glanced at Roselle, then recalled Lissandra, and continued internally:

  “Ever since time rewound, I’ve been too focused on my own immediate problems. But now… I can start thinking on a larger scale.”

  His fingers rubbed at his chin unconsciously, as if helping the thought take shape. His inner voice was cold and calculating:

  “If each of the Three Families eventually has a Jade Mage… and each of them owes that to me…”

  A slow grin spread across Kael’s lips—not malicious, but predatory, full of hidden intent.

  Roselle noticed that expression and blinked uneasily.

  “Kael…” she said quietly, a hint of worry in her voice. “Are you okay? You’re smiling… oddly.”

  Kael blinked, quickly returning to his usual expression, and waved it off with a soft chuckle:

  “It’s fine. I was just thinking.”

  He shook his head, as if brushing off dangerous thoughts, then asked with renewed interest:

  “So, which Canon of Magic are you using right now?”

  Roselle, suspecting nothing, answered immediately:

  “The Flaming Rose Canon. One of the best in the Sacred Flame Family.”

  Kael nodded, looking at her with a friendly smile—a smile that hid a newly forming plan.

  “Good choice,” he said evenly. “But if you truly want to become head of the Sacred Flame Family, you’ll need something better.”

  A sly spark lit Kael’s eyes.

  “If you swear to keep everything secret, I’ll teach you a Canon far better suited to your Soul Form. It’s called… the Shadowfire Canon.”

  Roselle froze. Though the words could have sounded absurd, she trusted Kael completely. Her fists clenched, and her voice rang firm with metallic resolve:

  “I don’t want to marry Aiden! If your methods can make me stronger, I won’t reveal them even under threat of death!”

  Her crimson eyes flared—not just with zeal, but with something deeper: pride, determination, and a faint trace of hatred. Even the name of her fiancé seemed to fill her with revulsion.

  Hearing her resolute answer, Kael nodded in approval.

  “Excellent,” he said calmly, though a satisfied glint flashed in his eyes.

  He stepped closer and leaned in toward her ear, speaking softly, almost in a whisper. Roselle froze—color blossomed on her cheeks, and her breath caught.

  But Kael ignored her flustered reaction and began murmuring the mantra clearly and steadily. His voice was low and even, filled with a quiet power that brooked no refusal.

  While he spoke, Kael’s thoughts drifted in a completely different direction:

  “I need someone from the Vengeful Thunder Family… someone I can help as well.”

  He narrowed his eyes slightly, the corner of his mouth curling into a predatory grin.

  “If I cultivate the future rulers of Lasthold… no one will ever dare touch my family again. Not in life, not after death.”

  Roselle stood motionless, her eyes trembling, her heart pounding. She no longer cared about Kael’s closeness or his breath on her skin. The words he whispered sank deep into her mind, as if brushing against the very core of her soul.

  ? ? ?

  At that very moment, on the academy’s second floor, Draxion was strolling lazily with his usual lackeys. They were loudly discussing the recent sparring matches, laughing and throwing snide remarks at the losers.

  But Draxion didn’t share their good mood. Even though he had defeated Kael, a creeping sense of fear gnawed at him from within.

  “My favorite part was when Geron slipped backward and landed right on his ass,” one of them snorted. “Clear sign he’s a failure.”

  But another suddenly stopped, pointing toward a window.

  “Hey, what’s that?” he squinted. “Looks like… Kael’s getting cozy with some girl… or am I seeing things?”

  Kael’s name went off like a spark in a powder keg. Draxion instantly tensed—the muscles in his face twitched, and his gaze went cold and vicious.

  “What?” he said quietly, but the dangerous steel in his voice was unmistakable.

  He turned toward the window and peered outside—and indeed, he spotted a familiar figure. Kael himself was barely visible, but beside him stood someone Draxion recognized immediately. Roselle’s red hair was impossible to mistake.

  A wicked grin stretched across Draxion’s face.

  “That bastard has crossed every line,” he hissed, clenching his fist until the knuckles turned white. “Looks like he decided to steal my older brother’s fiancée…”

  He spun around sharply and strode toward the exit, ignoring the bewildered looks from his companions.

  “Hey!” one of them shouted. “Where are you going?! Class is about to start!”

  Draxion didn’t even turn back. His footsteps echoed heavily down the corridor.

  “I don’t care,” he snapped. “Kael will pay for insulting the Vengeful Thunder Family.”

  A malicious laugh followed, fading quickly as Draxion rounded the corner. He had seen a chance for revenge—and he had no intention of letting it slip away.