"Why?! A-are you getting rid of me?!" Yvain asked, fear and betrayal evident in his eyes.

“Ain…” Morgan called his name softly.

“I don’t want to go to school!” Yvain exclaimed. “Is this because of your agreement with His Majesty? But you just returned! I don’t want to leave!”

“Yvain, sit down,” Burn commanded sternly, and the boy flinched in fear.

The boy reluctantly sat, his head down.

“Who taught you to raise your voice to your master?”

Yvain knew what Burn looked like without raising his face. He knew the man was looking down at him, his eyes glowing coldly.

“Do you know everything your master has done for you?” Burn started. “Every agreement she made with me is for your sake, you brat.”

“Caliburn, it’s okay,” Morgan grasped the man’s arm.

“But I already have a Master, why would I need to go to school?” Yvain asked in a low voice.

“You are the king of a nation. Why else would you need to go to a school other than to find your own allies and get close to your enemies?” Burn pointed out. “Do you want to rely on your master forever?”

Yvain protested, “B-but you didn’t go to school either, Your Majesty!”

“That’s because I’m a bastard,” Burn said, silencing everyone around, wide-eyed toward him.

Yvain remembered what Burn had said once when they had just known each other for several days. He said he hadn’t gone to the academy because no one was worthy enough to teach him, a genius.

Well, that was just part of the reason.

The other part was clear now. It was because the queen, or his brother’s mother, hadn’t allowed him, the king’s bastard son, to enroll in any institution.

“Your days as a lone ruler are gone. Your kingdom is within my sovereignty. You are basically a freeloader now. At least be a useful one,” Burn concluded.

Yvain held back tears. Yes, the thought of being useless and powerless haunted him, but being away from his master once more was scarier.

“You will be enrolling at Saint Lucia Academy. The entrance test is going to be held next week, so we will travel there as soon as the preparations are set,” Burn instructed.

He turned to Galahad, saying, “After you secure Lord Wilderwood’s family, prepare three fake identities. I will tell you the details later.”

“And you will help smuggle us to Inkia. Host us in your mansion at the capital so it’s easier for us to communicate,” Burn said to Finn.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Galahad said.

“You want to enter Inkia? What are your plans now, Your Majesty?” Finn asked.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Yvain flinched. For the first time since Burn reprimanded him, he raised his face. He thought the man was looking down at him in anger, but he was just smiling.

“What plans? I just want to make sure this little brat passes the entrance test,” Burn grinned, grasped his head, and put a bit more pressure than usual.

Yvain’s eyes wavered. Somehow, he felt that this man had changed. No. Even he himself had changed. “Does it mean…”

“B-but aren’t you trying to invade Inkia?!” Finn asked in confusion.

“Sure. But there are things I had to fix first,” Burn raised his head to the sky. “Some bastards are trying to blow this planet up regardless of what they were ordered to.”

“Dirk,” Burn called the man who was busily eating since the start.

The man swallowed the food in his mouth. “Yep?”

“They have a second White Dwarf,” Burn said.

Dirk immediately turned serious. Wiping grease from his mouth, he said, “That’s surprising. Usually one division wouldn’t even have any White Dwarf. Not to mention a portable White Dwarf that can be used on the ground.”

It was strange to think that this so-called “Lower Realm” even got the attention of a marquis' son from one of the Seven Heavens. No, it was the opposite.

Why did they send a marquis' son to this “Lower Realm” in the first place?

Dirk slowly told him about this fact, but Burn shrugged. “So, what they wanted from this realm is more important than what it seemed.”

“But how did you even know about that?” Dirk asked.

“I have my own ways,” Burn answered. “That’s why you need to hurry. I need to get them before they actually decide to destroy this world.”

Dirk groaned. “There’s nothing I can do except wait, you know? But what are you going to do if they come and demand the White Dwarf?”

“I will take care of that,” Burn nonchalantly said. “In the meantime, do what I told you. You’re done eating, right?”

Galahad bowed, while Dirk and Finn reluctantly nodded. Burn shooed them away to start working, while he was left with Morgan and Yvain.

Enjoying the weather once in a while, Burn muttered to himself. “Now what’s left is the Elves…”

“I sent some words to them already. When do you want to meet them?” Morgan asked.

“They can wait, so let’s do it after we’re done setting up the fake identity,” Burn said, and suddenly noticed Yvain seeming too quiet after all those protests. “What? Still sulking?”

Yvain slightly turned his face away. “Why Saint Lucia? And why are you coming, and what’s with the fake identity?”

“There are people I want you to meet there. Didn’t I tell you to get your own allies and get close to your enemies? That’s why you need the fake identity,” Burn explained.

“Then why are you and Master coming too?” Yvain mutteringly asked.

Burn smiled, glancing at Morgan for a split second before saying, “Well, don’t you need parents to see you off at the entrance ceremony?”

Yvain turned to him in shock. Seeing both his Master and Burn smiling at him, his jaw hit the ground.

“HUH?!”

The man laughed. He squeezed Morgan's hand in his, savoring the sensation of touch and temperature from her existence. She was just as pleasant, or even more now that his sense of touch had evolved.

How could she survive in this world with a hand so small and delicate? The sun was lucky to even be able to shine on her being, he thought, for her skin absorbed and reflected the light seemingly better than anything else in the world.

“For the fake identity, what do you want to be called, Madam?” Burn asked.

“Hmm,” Morgan looked at him, her bluest of blue eyes seemingly warmed. “...Bunny. I like the sound.”

“Fuck,” Burn frowned, feigning displeasure. “No. Not that.”

“Why?” Morgan teased.

“Alright, then I will be Momo. You like that?” Burn suggested.

Morgan laughed, and instantly the atmosphere around them lightened. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Caliburn.”

“How about me?” Yvain asked, tired of their flirting, “Do I get a cute nickname too?”

Burn and Momo turned to him, simultaneously saying, “You’re Evan.”

“That’s just my name with a different spelling though!”