“You’re referring to Miss Yan?” Tyvan asked.

It was odd to hear Yan Xue mentioned, especially in a tone that implied dissatisfaction.

“I... had a talk with her earlier today,” Esha said, “I... do you think you can apologize to her for me?”

The conversation had taken a sharp turn toward something even more unexpected.

“Hmm. Considering our respective roles, I... don’t believe that would be appropriate.”

“I was jealous, okay?” Esha snapped, “So... I may have said some things I didn’t mean. I know that she spends a lot more time with you than I do.”

“That is only natural,” Tyvan replied. “She technically works for me.”

It was... fair for Esha to feel resentful of other humans appropriating his time. His presence had significant value in terms of charm, conviviality, and sophistication. And, though questionably of less import, he was undeniably and extraordinarily handsome.

“You’re mine, Tyvan,” Esha insisted-- and rather strongly.

Tyvan sighed. How vexingly obstinate.

Considering how much time had elapsed, he hoped that Briar Rose had saved him a portion of the meal. However, Empress should have also taken her seat at the table. If she were to desire more chicken wings, Briar Rose would be unable to contest.

“Esha, I am not an object to be owned.”

“And what do you mean by technically?”

And the topic segued back to Yan Xue...

Very well.

Tyvan’s heart felt heavy as he answered, “I was considering releasing her from my service.”

“You can’t!” Esha said, nearly shouting. “That girl works so hard, Tyvan. She deserves your support.”

“Is she not the recipient of your jealousy?” Tyvan frowned.

“It doesn’t matter. She’s the hardest working girl in this school-- and that includes the teachers. She’s smart, she’s-- she’s so smart. And she never complains, no matter how hard it is. Don’t you dare let her go.”

Tyvan took a deep breath.

Esha couldn’t understand the breadth of his decision. There were facts, of which, she was unaware-- truths that would unnecessarily burden her with danger.

She was an ordinary human living an ordinary life, oblivious to the existence of those not-so-human lurking in her society’s shadows.

And the same was true of Yan Xue.

Or was it?

When did the accursed fates determine she become complicit in Kingdom matters?

Was it the sun she wandered onto Elysian grounds? Or when he dragged her out of that coffee shop? Or was it before even that-- from the first time Merlin offered her services over the telephone?

The two from ❴Sleeping Forest❵. The miscreants from ❴Hidden Village❵. The supernatural death of her classmate. Yan Xue had an inexorable (and infuriating) propensity for blundering into persons and situations beyond her purview.

(Also, she proved suspiciously harmonious with the notoriously unsocial Heidi and Yeonha.)

The Yan Xue of the past...

Who was she to him? They were close, that much was certain. It was a logical conclusion from how she called out to him with such familiarity. And a certain kinship remained between them despite the circumstances of their shared past being so far removed.

The curiosity left a dull ache in his chest. But he had no regrets. He took her memories in order to protect her.

“She deserves her fairytale ending too,” Esha said, “just... a different one.”

Tyvan chuckled quietly...

“A fairytale ending,” he mused. It was not the first time she’d used those exact words.

“Happily ever after,” Esha replied. “You and me.”

“That sounds lovely.”

It wasn’t a lie. It truly was a wonderful dream. But just as in his previous world, Tyvan was well aware that persons of his profession often failed to achieve aspirations, so lofty and kind.

He made plans to meet with Esha and bid her a good evening.

Then, he took a deep breath to reinforce his bearing... and began his journey back.

----------------------------------------

After Tyvan shared some choice words with his apartment, he meandered back to the dining area.

To the side, Bishop and Raia sat on the living room couch, their eyes glued to the television screen. A set of cables ran from the TV to a grey computer box. Slimmer cables traveled further to two input devices, held by either sibling.

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They were playing a game. They appeared to be having fun.

According to Briar Rose’s scent, she was deeply frustrated. But judging by on-screen chaos... Tyvan wasn’t certain if she was winning or losing.

Empress--

Ah. Considering the relaxed setting, she was merely ‘Ivalice.’

Ivalice stood behind the couch, watching the siblings play. She turned as he approached, gesturing to the table.

Tyvan smiled wryly, “Tell me, Ivalice: What of the chicken wings?”

“Are you pouting?” she scolded, “Grow up, Tyvan. Just take a look.”

He sat down and opened the last box of pizza... and was pleasantly surprised to half a pie remaining-- as well as four chicken wings.

It was more than he was expecting.

“One was yours to begin with,” Ivalice explained as she sat across from him. “The other three, we decided to tithe: sustenance for our Royal Protector.”

Tyvan observed her for any traces of sarcasm. He’d always found reading Ivalice extremely difficult. Her mana remained steady. Neither she nor her attire emanated a scent with decipherable emotions.

He was loath to do so for its general unreliability, but he also used his ocular vision to scrutinise her appearance.

Long, pink-coloured hair. Rounded glasses. No clues there.

Her slanted eyes and the position of her eyebrows suggested no duplicity.

Perhaps it wasn’t sarcasm.

Tyvan inclined his head, “Thank you.”

He ate his share. Still warm. Only eating four chicken wings was regrettable, but... overall, it was enough that he was content.

Hm. Almost content. “Shall I bake something for dessert?”

--”Oh, that sounds awesome!”

--”It's just us, Boss. If you want, I could run to the store, real quick?”

The siblings seemed open to the notion.

Ivalice looked at him dubiously, staring over her glasses.

“Can you do it without screwing up?”

“Considering your harsh judgement,” Tyvan said, “that is... debatable.”

He had a can of premade biscuits in the refrigerator, but he surmised that Ivalice would not approve.

Aside from her identity as ❴The Kingdom❵’s ⟦Alchemist⟧, Ivalice was also a Witch, a peculiar ancestry in which the skill of baking was passed down through her bloodline memories. Witches had been creating delicious baked goods superior to pre-mixed box creations since humans first learned to pound grains into flour.

Ivalice let out a dull groan, but she stood up and walked to the open kitchen. With a wave of her hand, the refrigerator and cabinet doors magically eased open. And from those, she retrieved a bag of flour, eggs, and other baking ingredients.

Almost none of which were his.

Reasonably, they were from her own stores... but that implied that his and Ivalice’s apartment were connected in more ways than he’d realised-- a development that had proceeded with neither his input nor his permission.

Despite that, he decided to allow it. He could have considered it as another of his apartment’s pranks, but more likely, it was free of malice. ⌈Doma⌋ intrinsically valued efficacy and functionality. Then, Ivalice was a frequent visitor and meal-companion.

(Also, severing those established connections would be bothersome and time-consuming.)

Tyvan stood up. “Shall I help with anything?”

Ivalice rolled her eyes, “I think you’ve done enough. We both know how much you like playing games.”

The suggestion gave Tyvan pause.

Taken at face value, she was simply suggesting that he partake in computer games with the Latorre siblings? However, he knew to be extra careful when Ivalice said something potentially confusing.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Ivalice hovered her hand over a baking pan. The sleeve of her blouse washed over her arm and hand as a ⌈Frost⌋ spell chilled a series of batter scoops.

“Games are fun until someone gets hurt,” she said mysteriously.

Tyvan pursed his lips, “Callum is healthy and hale.”

“Will be healthy and hale, thanks to me,” Ivalice corrected. “I had to brew another batch of potions to replace the ones you gave him.”

She turned to look at him over her shoulder, “Did you think I wouldn’t ask?”

Tyvan averted his gaze, “The notion did cross my mind.”

Ivalice transferred the baking sheet to the preheated oven. Then, she stood up and crossed her arms.

“(I’ll have Yeonha deal with her tomorrow,)” she said, switching to Japanese.

“That-- that’s not necessary,” Tyvan said hurriedly.

“(I’m saying she’s dangerous),” Ivalice said. She leaned over the counter, poking her finger into his chest, “(She’s affecting your judgment.)”

“(Lots of things affect my judgement,)” Tyvan countered.

Ivalice rolled her eyes, “Isn’t that, like-- even more reason to get rid of her? Didn’t Merlin tell you she was trouble?”

Tyvan took a deep breath, relaxing his shoulders.

Behind him, he sensed Briar Rose standing up from the couch, growling in frustration. Conversely, her brother gleefully bounced in his seat.

Tyvan shook his head, “Let’s have Briar Rose take care of it.”

Ivalice lowered her chin and sharpened her gaze, “(The girl? Who is she?)”

Tyvan gulped. And he chose not to answer directly.

“Briar Rose is closer to her. It’s more appropriate.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie. Closer was a relative term. (Ah. The color of Yan Xue’s hair matched Briar Rose more than it did Yeonha.)

“(Is that so?)” Ivalice sighed. “Make sure it’s done. Or I’ll do it, myself.”