In the te afternoon, Cal trudged through a desote area of Ztogorye. Sophia, still unconscious, was carried securely in his back, while Seraphix rested inside a cat backpack positioned at his chest.

  His entire body bore the aftermath of a brutal csh, but none of it showed. Every wound and trace of damage was concealed beneath an illusion spell, giving him the appearance of being unscathed.

  After Shira expined everything, she simply let him leave. She even offered them a ride, but Cal was quick to decline.

  "I’ll never step foot in that witch’s house again," he muttered.

  Under normal circumstances, no ordinary person—not even an imperial guard—could remain conscious in his condition, much less carry others.

  Even now, his body screamed in agony, teetering on the brink of colpse. But Cal had ignored it—or rather, had 'deceived' it.

  Thanks to his bloodline ability, 'Heart of Deceit', he could deceive himself into thinking that his injuries didn’t exist.

  However, deception could never overwrite reality.

  The longer he pushed himself, the damage and pain mounted, lying in wait to overwhelm him the moment his ability wore off. And when that moment came, the agony would be nothing short of excruciating.

  But right now, the pain wasn’t his focus.

  "Sophia... could die..."

  Shira’s words had shaken him to his core. Though he trusted Seraphix might be able to prevent it, the possibility lingered, gnawing at his thoughts.

  He understood all too well—if Sophia ever left this world, he would finally lose his mind.

  ***

  Sophia found herself seated in an unfamiliar environment. The chair beneath her had a distinct design, and the table before her was smaller yet decorated. Even the food on the table exuded an unusual vibe.

  It felt as though she had stepped into an entirely different world.

  What struck her as even more peculiar was the company at the table—a man and woman she had never met before.

  As they enjoyed the meal, Sophia found herself speaking to them in a nguage she had never learned. Yet, somehow, she understood every word.

  She was talking about her annoying cssmates and schoolwork.

  The woman responded with occasional giggles, while the man, though mostly quiet, would sometimes erupt into ughter at her remarks.

  Strangely enough, Sophia felt at ease. She relished this moment, a sense of familiarity settling over her. She realized, inexplicably, that she had missed this pce, missed these people.

  It felt like she had once belonged here.

  ***

  Sophia slowly opened her eyes, blinking a few times as she tried to gather her thoughts.

  'Was I dreaming about something?'

  An inexplicable sadness weighed on her heart, lingering as if it had followed her from her dream.

  After a moment, she began to process her surroundings.

  She was being carried on someone’s back—Cal's, she realized.

  'I fall asleep!'

  The realization made her acutely self-conscious.

  'I’m not heavy... right?'

  As if on cue, Cal spoke. “If you’re awake, can you walk on your own? I’m... getting tired.”

  'I am heavy!' she thought in panic, cheeks flushing.

  But Sophia didn’t want to let go.

  The sadness still lingered within her. It felt as though she had forgotten something—or someone—important.

  She instinctively tightened her hold around Cal’s shoulders, seeking soce in his presence.

  “Cal, can I stay like this for a while?”

  Cal was silent for a moment before he replied. “Okay.”

  “Thank you,” she murmured.

  After some time passed, Sophia broke the silence. “By the way, you kind of smell like dirt and iron.”

  “I know,” Cal replied, unbothered.

  ***

  Cal was now in his room, his body visibly bearing a fresh wound. He was meticulously concocting some form of drug using the tools at his disposal.

  After escorting Sophia to Valeslina and exchanging his final greetings, he returned to his room.

  Despite what had happened earlier, Cal refrained from reporting Shira's actions.

  Filing charges against her—despite her deliberate assault on the prince—was not something he could pursue lightly.

  Shira held a grand title.

  While grand title holders could, on paper, be seen as serving a country, the reality was often the opposite.

  This was because those with grand titles had significant autonomy from the w.

  Any direct confrontation with them was almost always a losing battle, not only due to their power but also because of the damage they could cause.

  Shaking off the thought, Cal refocused on his task.

  As a medical mage student, Cal had studied drugs and medicine, though his focus had never been particurly deep.

  Now, he was preparing a highly concentrated neurotoxin—one potent enough to numb the excruciating pain he was about to face. Though it had the side effect of lowering his self-restraint.

  For most, such a concoction would be lethally dangerous, risking instant overdose. But for Cal, this was normal.

  Thanks to his Zmey bloodline, his body possessed incredible resilience. Additionally, his enhanced healing abilities allowed him to recover from any wound without scarring, provided he had sufficient time.

  Yet, even with these abilities, he was not spared from pain.

  When he finished preparing the drug, he pced it carefully on his study table and sat down. His gaze lingered on the vial, his expression one of quiet contemption.

  As if struck by a sudden realization, Cal ran a hand over his face, a deep sense of regret washing over him.

  "I should’ve learned a hypnotic spell instead," he muttered bitterly.

  He understood now. Despite his constitution, he was not immune to addiction.

  ***

  Shira sat quietly in her garden, surrounded by the aftermath of a battle between Cal and her tamed beast, lost in thought.

  Her injured tamed beast, a brown bear, y resting and recovering, while her other beast busied itself with repairing the damage.

  In her hands, she held a small bird, the one that had been captive under Cal’s hand.

  Suddenly, something rose from the ground, taking the shape of a woman draped in a white robe that concealed her entire form.

  Her eyes glowed green in the dim light.

  "Mathilda, where have you been? I've been calling you through telepathy, but you wouldn’t respond," Shira asked.

  Instead of answering, Mathilda warned, "Never interfere with that primordial again. 'Mother' is really angry at you."

  Shira was taken aback. 'Mother? The primordial beast from the Gaia lineage?'

  Upon closer inspection, she realized that Mathilda was trembling, clearly frightened.

  She gnced around; her other beasts were fine, continuing their work without issue.

  'Is Mathilda the only one?' Shira wondered.

  Seeing Mathilda in this state was new to her. She knew Mathilda’s strength in battle—fear was not a characteristic she would have ever attributed to her.

  After some time staring at Mathilda, Shira responded.

  "I understand. Sorry."

  Shira’s actions, though impulsive even by her own standards, were not without reason.

  After inviting Sophia to join her, Shira made several attempts to communicate with the Nine-Stroke Beast. Unfortunately, not only did he refuse to respond, but he also fell asleep, completely ignoring her efforts. As time passed, her 'curiosity' became uncontrolble, and she resolved to take matters into her own hands.

  If the Nine-Stroke Beast wouldn’t cooperate, she would seek answers directly from its master.

  Shira’s intentions with Sophia were straightforward: she wanted to observe and understand the abilities of the Star Beast, the name she had formally assigned to Seraphix’s lineage.

  To achieve this, she forcefully 'opened' the contract pattern on Sophia's right arm, carefully analyzing its structure and mana flow. In the process, she also helped Sophia accommodate the Nine-Stroke Beast’s abilities as a gesture of gratitude.

  As for Cal, Shira found expining everything to him an unnecessary hassle and decided to let her beast 'manage' him instead.

  Through this process, Shira gradually uncovered a faint understanding of the Star Beast’s abilities—they were rooted in 'Prying.'