It's been almost three weeks since we returned from Homonhon Palace, where we historians were dragged into copying ancient writings.

  Why couldn’t we have done that after the war? If this was just another whim of the prince, I’d love to punch him for it!

  As soon as we got back, the others started painstakingly translating the scrolls, their suspicion about the order growing with every symbol they transcribed. But they’re doing their best, cross-referencing each line, trying to make sense of the ancient writing.

  The problem is, they don’t have the advantage I do. No one could’ve predicted that my knowledge of Jejemon text from my world would help here, even me. In fact I learned that the scrolls share that same bizarre complexity, almost like Egyptian hieroglyphics and that's the problem, the scrolls refuse to follow a damn pattern. Left to right? Top to bottom? It changes constantly, like some ancient troll laughing at us.

  Where they struggle, I decode with ease. My background makes these symbols familiar, and that gives me a massive advantage—one I intend to keep hidden. Jejemon might have been mocked back home, but here, it could unlock power beyond imagination.

  I glance around at my fellow historians, all intensely focused. We finally have the last scroll. Eleven in total, arranged in the order they found them—but I’m sure that order is not right. Not that anyone else has noticed but all of this, is something I am about to finish. Including the true arrangement of the scrolls and their proper order—before we even returned to the empire of Marceau. But the frustrating thing is, I don't have the power to do anything about it. I have the knowledge, but I don’t have the means to act.

  Where on earth will I find the princess again? All I can do is wait to eavesdrop on the prince's warriors' information. So I guess being selfishly appointed as an advisor is a good thing? Well, as if I have a choice.

  I can watch and learn what the prince already knows and use it for my own advantage. It’s a good opportunity, but being near that man is nerve-wracking! I want to avoid him as much as possible. I can still picture his face while killing a few of the knights back during the war. That cold indifference…

  A shiver runs down my spine.

  Prince Richard successfully faked his own death as we planned, but he pulled his own method different from what I had in mind. Well, as long as it worked, it’s fine. I don't want to involve myself in any politics, my life is already complicated as it is.

  My greatest fear didn’t come to pass—he didn’t sense any power from the Homonhon prince, confirming my theory: he can only detect the power tied to the scroll and its rightful owner. How he does it, I still don’t know. If he had sensed “the key” from the princess, he wouldn’t have let her escape from the beginning. Now, with the prince of Marceau convinced that love is the missing piece, it’ll be even harder for them to escape this misguided notion.

  “Pfft! To think these men are so clueless about love. It makes things easier for me,” I grin to myself, recalling past conversations. "I should thank the past ruler who banned the word ‘love’ in this world. That king must have been hurt enough to ban it and create a stupid law about it. Tsk, money and power can really do anything, huh."

  "Hey, everyone, what will happen to us once we’ve finished decoding these scrolls?” I ask absentmindedly, my chin propped on my hand as my quill scratches erratically across the paper. A cloud of uncertainty seems to hover over us. I press on, “Are we going to be... disposed of? I mean, once we’re no longer needed.”

  The atmosphere shifts, tension creeping in as Leon and the others exchange uneasy glances. It’s Leon who finally speaks, his brow creased as he meets my gaze. “Do you really think the prince is like that?” he asks, disbelief coloring his voice.

  'Yes, Well, he did say something like that to me not too long ago. And he scratched at the grape stem, remember?' I think sarcastically but keep it to myself.

  Leon continues, his voice steady. “I don’t know what impression you have of the prince, but we all know what he’s really like when it comes to his people.” I notice nods of agreement from the others. I can't believe they actually admire him. Are they serious?

  “He may seem cold and harsh as a leader, but in times of uncertainty, people do not seek kindness or softness—they seek stability, someone who can make the difficult decisions, who commands respect both within and beyond the empire, and we see that in His Highness.”

  "But the prince considers betrayal utterly intolerable. Those who betrayed His Highness in the past all wished that they would die instead," Rowell interjects, sending a chill down my spine. "They may still be alive till now."

  "W...what do you mean? Where are they now?" I ask, trying to mask the fear gnawing at me.

  "Somewhere in the shadows? The prince doesn't want them to die easily. He'd rather see the full extent of their failure, stripped of everything they hoped for, including dying. So I’m sure they are barely alive somewhere—but not from here."

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  The blood drains from my face. If the prince found out about my recent actions at Homonhon Palace... I can't let him know what I did.

  I absolutely can’t!

  I was drifting in thought when Marco, ever the pragmatist, added, “I think it’s perfectly normal for anyone to be enraged upon discovering betrayal. The reason I trust His Highness, despite his dominance, is because he's strong." He crossed his arms proudly.

  "Power and leadership, when combined with competence, breed trust. His people may not always like him, but they know the empire thrives under his rule. That’s why the warriors respect him. You must’ve noticed it yourself, spending time around them.”

  His words stirred memories—warriors recounting tales of the prince’s bravery, their faces glowing with admiration. I also recalled my first day here, the general bantering with the prince while the emperor presented him with an award. It was a clear sign of the respect the prince had earned.

  "That's right! I can’t speak for the others, but once our work is done, I want to become a court official," Leon said with quiet resolve. Despite the weight of his words, he appeared at ease, taking notes as he spoke. Curious, I leaned in. "Why?" I asked.

  He paused, his quill hovering in mid-air. “So I can continue supporting His Highness,” he finally replied, his voice soft yet firm.

  'Wow, he's truly loyal! Even though he almost died from a grape stem not too long ago,' I marveled silently.

  “How about you, Rowell?” I continued, eager to shift the focus.

  Rowell tilted his head thoughtfully. “Hmm… I’m not quite sure yet, but I want to teach people. I want them to learn the pain and excitement I experience.”

  “I didn’t know you had a secret passion for teaching,” Marco said, amusement twinkling in his eyes. Rowell just smirked. “Teach you lot anything? Please. Everyone here is too smart for me to teach you anything new,” he replied with an exaggerated sigh.

  But as I thought back on their banter, the knot in my chest tightened. Leon, Marco, Rowell… They’re good men, in their own way. Am I really okay with lying to people who, for better or worse, have started to feel like something more than just allies? Every joke we shared, every moment of camaraderie—it all felt heavier now, tangled with my own deception. I glanced at Leon, his brow furrowed in concentration. If he knew the truth, what would he think of me? Would he see me as nothing more than a traitor?

  I shook off the thought. No. I can’t afford these distractions.

  “What about you, Marco?” I asked, eager to shift my thought.

  “Well, I’m a noble, so obviously, I’m destined to settle affairs and become the lord of my house,” he said, leaning back with a grin. “And you?”

  I paused, thinking about my dreams for a moment. 'Hopefully, I’ll find the key and get back to my world soon. When that happens, I want to travel more, while juggling my work as a designer. Maybe even start my own freelance company... but that’s going to take time.'

  "I think I need to stick by His Highness’s side as his advisor until he learns the heart," I finally said, pretending it was a lighthearted goal. But deep down, it felt more like a burden than I cared to admit.

  “Hmm… now that you mention it, those really are complicated,” Marco mused. “No wonder it’s tough to find the power we’re after, but you seem pretty knowledgeable, Tuk.”

  “Well, it’s not that easy to tap into the power of love,” I said, struggling to keep a straight face. “But thanks to some folks I knew, I’ve picked up a thing or two before they, uh, breathed their last.” The truth behind that statement hit harder than I expected, and I forced a smile to hide my discomfort.

  I cringed internally. Of all the titles in existence, he had to go with ‘Love Advisor’? It sounded like I was running a medieval relationship podcast. Did I really look like someone who gave good love advice?

  No matter how much I loved romance dramas and novels, love always seemed to avoid me. I used to wonder why it never stirred the same feelings in me as it did in others. Some online friends suggested I might experience the world differently, that maybe I wasn’t interested in romantic love at all. The truth is, I don't feel it. I love people, but never in the way they seem to expect.

  I glanced at the others, who seemed to accept my vague explanation for now. Mentally, I sighed in relief. As long as I had to play this role, I would. It was oddly fascinating, watching love unfold around me like a staged play. But in the end, it wasn’t something I truly understood. The irony wasn’t lost on me—being the so-called love advisor with no experience of romantic love.

  “Now that I think about it,” I mused, tapping my quill against the paper, “why does the prince believe the power comes from the heart of the scroll’s owner?”

  Leon, in the middle of scribbling notes, paused. His brows knit together in thought before he leaned back. “That’s right. You weren’t there when we discussed the theories.” His gaze drifted toward the ceiling, as if sorting through fragmented knowledge. “The more we decode the scroll, the more we see the word heart—over and over again. Old Elthor legends say that certain individuals were bound to the dragon’s essence. Some believe that power still lingers in their bloodlines today.”

  He hesitated, then added, “Every past owner of this scroll has exhibited a… gift. Abilities that defy explanation.”

  I frowned. “So the scholars think the dragon’s heart literally exists inside someone?”

  Marco made a face. “There were theories about checking—” he grimaced, “—examining the hearts of past owners to find proof.”

  My stomach twisted. “You mean—”

  “They never went through with it,” Leon interrupted quickly, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “No actual proof… yet.”

  I exhaled, tension easing slightly, but something still felt off. “Wouldn’t a dragon’s heart be too big for a person to carry? I mean, how massive is this thing supposed to be?”

  Leon blinked at me, momentarily thrown. “Wait… you don’t know?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Should I?”

  He exchanged a glance with Rowell before shaking his head, more to himself than at me. “The dragon isn’t just a beast, Tuk. It’s a force of creation. A divine essence. The heart people speak of—it’s not an organ. It’s mana. Life force. That energy binds itself to certain individuals.”

  I stared at him. That was… different. I had expected something closer to fire-breathing carnage, not an ethereal god-like entity.

  Their eyes lingered on me, and unease crept in. Did that question make me look suspicious? My pulse ticked up. How do I steer this away?

  “Well,” I admitted, scratching my nape, forcing a sheepish chuckle, “I wasn’t exactly raised on bedtime stories. I grew up in a merchant’s household. I learned to read and write late, and even then, my lessons were mostly about trade.”

  Rowell shot me a look of quiet sympathy, but Leon’s gaze lingered too long. I resisted the urge to fidget.

  “You must’ve worked for a well-educated merchant,” he mused. There was something unreadable in his tone, but before I could question it, he continued, “Anyway. The dragon we speak of—its essence was scattered across the world after the Great Fall. Some believe that whoever holds a fragment of that power can reshape the world.”

  I hesitated. “So… if its essence is scattered, does that mean there could be others with a similar power?”

  Leon chuckled, shaking his head. “There’s only one. The fragments aren’t equal, and most fade over time. But people believe that whoever possesses its essence has the power to reshape the world.”

  I pressed my lips together. That sounded eerily like what the prince was after.

  Before I could dwell on it, the door swung open with a sharp creak.

  Lord Nixon stepped inside, his cold gaze scanning the room.

  Our eyes met.

  I flinched. Déjà vu?

  “Historian Tuk,” he announced. “His Highness the Prince is looking for you.”

  Me? Why?