Ian bit his lip and lowered his head.
“You thought you gave all the love you could, but if the child still felt something was missing, it’s natural to feel hurt. But that’s not your fault. Like that guy said, humans are inherently imbalanced beings, always seeking to fill their voids. That’s why it’s not strange for Hamil, as an adult of the same gender, to step in and fill that role.”
“Yes.”
“But it’s not that Rose kept her discomfort about the milk from you because she felt more at ease with Hamil. It was because of her underlying anxiety.”
Ian nodded in understanding.
“After all, she lost her mother in the most extreme way—through death—and then she met you. From her perspective, there was always the fear that she might lose you too, just like her mother. That’s why she couldn’t openly express her likes and dislikes when it came to what you did, especially something you praised. Think back carefully. There must have been a time when you praised Rose for drinking milk. Because of that memory, even if she didn’t want to drink it, she couldn’t refuse.”
Ian nodded again.
A small hand, just as small as Rose’s, gently stroked Ian’s shoulder.
“If you feel hurt, let it be only in this moment—and then let it go. Rose is much more sensitive to emotions than other children. If you dwell on your feelings, she will immediately start worrying about what she did wrong.”
“I understand.”
Ian lightly slapped his own cheeks.
He was there for Rose’s happiness. He couldn’t let a minor issue make her feel like she had to walk on eggshells.
After gathering his thoughts, Ian asked Bernaba,
“Did your conversation with Lord last long?”
“No, not really.”
Bernaba sighed.
“We discussed the flow you observed and its strange aspects, but even Lord had no clue about it. I even asked the other dragons, but all they knew was that the flow is just one possible future—nothing more.”
Edelmar spoke up.
“Hmm. If what the Duke saw is just one possible future, wouldn’t acting against it mean defying the will of the gods?”
“Yes. Everyone agrees that the flow is indeed a part of the future, but strangely, there’s something off about it. Since no one fully understands the situation, Lord made a decision.”
“What decision?”
“To simply ask the gods directly.”
Edelmar froze, his teacup halted midair, while Ian stared at Bernaba in shock.
“…Is that even possible?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“No, I didn’t mean it’s impossible, but… do the gods actually respond?”
Bernaba nodded as if the answer were obvious.
“Yes. As long as it’s a question they can answer, they always respond.”
Ian and Edelmar stared at Bernaba as if he were some strange creature.
“Don’t look at me like that. It’s unsettling.”
“My apologies.”
“Sorry.”
Clearing his throat at their apologies, Bernaba continued,
“To explain in detail, we are creations bound by the gods to maintain balance, which means we can always communicate with them. But strangely, the gods refused to answer anything about this matter.”
“The gods refused to answer?”
“Yes. They only said one thing.”
Edelmar set down his teacup, as if preparing to focus. Ian, too, stared intently at Bernaba.
Bernaba turned to Ian and said,
“Do not interfere with Ian Loenbaum’s true role.”
Edelmar frowned in confusion.
“What exactly do they mean by not interfering with the Duke’s role?”
“…I don’t know. That’s all they said. They refused to say anything more.”
Ian asked, “And they didn’t say anything about the black mana either?”
“No. They definitely heard the question, but they gave no response.”
Bernaba looked displeased.
‘What are the gods even thinking? What do they mean by not interfering with my role?’
As Ian fell deep into thought, Edelmar turned to Bernaba and asked,
“What does ‘true role’ even mean?”
Bernaba shook his head.
“I don’t know. Lord asked the gods, but they didn’t give a clear answer.”
Edelmar glanced at Ian.
“Does this mean the gods support the founding of an independent duchy?”
Ian shook his head.
“No. If I knew the gods supported establishing a duchy, I wouldn’t have gone through all the trouble of securing financial power. Also, if this were truly the gods’ will, wouldn’t the High Priest have conveyed their message first?”
Ian’s words made sense.
The High Priest served as the voice of the gods.
If the gods truly wanted the duchy to gain independence, the High Priest would have declared it first.
And no matter how much the Empire disliked it, they wouldn’t dare defy the gods’ will—they would have allowed the duchy’s independence.
“Then what exactly is my true role?”
“Rose’s happiness.”
Edelmar furrowed his brows.
“After learning about the flow, my only goal has been Rose’s happiness. The reason I seek independence for the duchy is to ensure she can live freely, without being bound by anything.”
“…Is it because of the Crown Prince?”
“No.”
When Ian thought about how Rose had suffered at the hands of the Crown Prince, the nobles, and the imperial citizens in the flow, it was true that he found them detestable.
But what he despised even more was—
“I want Rose to become the queen of the duchy.”
“What?”
Edelmar and Bernaba stared at Ian in shock.
“I understand that she might fail to ascend the throne. But I refuse to let her be robbed of the opportunity entirely.”
“So, you’re choosing independence because Rose cannot inherit the ducal title?”
Ian gazed calmly at the steaming tea in his cup.
“Even if I forced her ascension with my authority, the nobles would never remain silent. They would endlessly question Rose’s qualifications.”
“Hmm. Even if they do, choosing an heir is a noble’s right. That’s not something others can interfere with.”
Ian looked at Edelmar and continued,
“Grand Duke, if the nobles keep raising this issue with the Emperor, whose side do you think he will take?”
Edelmar remained silent, unable to answer. Ian smirked.
“That is why I seek independence. Who would dare question the heir of a sovereign duchy? No one.”
As Ian uttered the words no one, the corners of his lips lifted, his tone chilling.
Faced with this side of Ian, both Edelmar and Bernaba found themselves at a loss for words.
“At least one thing is now clear. The gods want Rose to be happy.”
Both men nodded in agreement.
If the Duke’s true role was to ensure Rose’s happiness, then when the gods said not to interfere, it meant they, too, wished for her happiness.
“But then why haven’t they revealed anything about the black mana?”
“My guess is that the time hasn’t come yet.”
“The time?”
Ian nodded at Edelmar’s question.
‘Wait for the right time.’—It was something the constellations often told him.
Since becoming a constellation’s chosen, Ian had frequently asked them questions and received answers.
But on rare occasions, they would avoid answering.
Because the time wasn’t right.
The gods would always reveal things later—when the moment was right.
And every time they did, it was always something that helped him.
If he had learned those things too early, they would have been burdens rather than aid.
So, the fact that the gods had chosen to remain silent now likely followed the same reasoning.
Bernaba nodded in agreement.
“That makes sense. The gods see and understand everything, after all.”
“Yes.”
“So, what will you do now?”
At Edelmar’s question, Ian replied,
“What else is there to do? We continue as we are. If they try to pull tricks, we simply respond accordingly.”
“Continue as we are?”
Ian lifted his teacup.
“Thinking about it, the fact that Yekhaterina is still alive means their goal is to ensure everything follows the expected flow. That means they don’t actually want Rose—they want me dead.”
Despite speaking of his own death, Ian remained utterly composed.
“I have no intention of dying as they wish. So there’s no need to make any unnecessary moves and give them an opportunity. Besides, I already have the perfect place to retreat to, don’t I?”
He glanced between Edelmar and Bernaba.
Edelmar let out a scoffing laugh.
“You want us to fend off your enemies for you?”
“If you don’t want to, you’re free to leave. But—”
Ian took a sip of his tea and smiled.
“Do you think you’ll find another human as entertaining as me?”
His words were so confident they were almost annoying.
But they were also true.
Edelmar had never met another person as interesting as Ian.
And besides, wasn’t this entire situation so thrilling that it could make one forget the emptiness of existence?
Having successfully convinced Edelmar, Ian then turned to Bernaba.
However, before he could say anything, Bernaba spoke first.
“I’ll help—but only within the limits of what won’t disturb the balance.”
“Thank you.”
Ian set down his teacup.
Having a Swordmaster and a Dragon as allies gave him a strong sense of reassurance.
Then, as a thought suddenly crossed his mind, he beamed at the two of them.
“Since things have turned out this way, I have a request for both of you.”
It had only been a few minutes since they had agreed to help, and he was already asking for favors.
Bernaba looked at Ian with an expression of disbelief.
“It’s nothing significant. You’re both staying at my duchy, aren’t you?”
At Ian’s words, Edelmar crossed his arms, his expression displeased.
“I’m already paying for my meals, aren’t I?”
“Do you think I haven’t noticed that you’ve been delegating tasks to your subordinates since you returned?”
“They are my subordinates. Their work is essentially my work.”
“No. Your subordinates also eat at the duchy, so they, too, should contribute. Do you have any idea how much they’ve eaten for free so far?”
Ian remained calm, his smile unwavering.
“I’ll cover those costs myself.”
Edelmar was taken aback.
He had helped Ian so much—so much that Ian should be on his knees thanking him. And now, he was being asked to pay for meals?
Sensing Edelmar’s rising frustration, Ian set down his teacup and spoke again.
“I’m not trying to argue about money. If that were my intention, I wouldn’t have called it ‘help.’”
Edelmar looked at him as if to say, Let’s see where you’re going with this.
“I’m not asking for anything big—just a small favor.”
“And what would that be?”
At Edelmar’s question, Bernaba also turned his gaze toward Ian.
Ian smiled brightly—so much so that his eyes nearly disappeared.
“Please become a teacher at the academy.”
