[Leif’s POV—Raventon Forest Edge —Morning]

"...Eh? An assistant?" Cedric blinked like I had just asked him to marry me.

I nodded. Seriously. "Yes. You’re good with finance. Good with documents. Good with panicking. All useful skills. So—leave the knight job and be my assistant."

Cedric’s mouth opened.

Closed.

Opened again.

He stared at me like a merchant evaluating a rare artifact... then after three long, dramatic seconds—

"I will only agree," he said gravely, "if you raise my salary."

I stared.

"...Cedric. I already pay you enough for a normal knight."

"Then I will remain," he declared proudly, "a knight."

I gaped. "You’re blackmailing me."

He smirked— actually smirked —"You opened the negotiation, my lord."

I rubbed my temples. Of course. Of course my life would be held hostage by a man who does math for fun.

Cedric folded his arms. "Besides, I am a man with high standards. I refuse to be underpaid for my brilliance."

"You’re underpaid because you’re supposed to be a knight ," I snapped.

He shrugged. "And yet, here you are, asking me for clerical assistance."

"I AM NOT—"

He tapped his clipboard gently. "My lord. The budget is... in negative numbers."

I froze.

"Fine," I muttered. "I’ll raise your pay."

He clenched his fist—yes, actually pumped it like a victorious gremlin. "YES—! I mean... ahem —a wise decision, my lord."

Then he straightened, clearing his throat like a good professional.

"So," he said brightly, "shall we begin our silk-mine inspection, My Lord?"

I sighed.

Cedric beamed.

Roland watched us both like a disappointed parent.

And I wondered, for the first time in my life, if hiring Cedric was the best... or worst... idea I ever had.

***

[Raventon Blackwood Forest—Later]

We reached the edge of the Blackwood forest right as the light began to thin beneath the dense canopy. The moment my boots hit the ground, a soft crunch echoed underfoot.

I glanced around. The trees were tall. Ancient. Their trunks were dark as ink, with roots curling like they were holding secrets underground.

"Is this the Blackwood Forest?" I asked.

Roland nodded. "Yes, my lord."

"Alright," I exhaled. "Let’s go inside."

Roland went ahead, clearing branches and vines with steady movements. Cedric followed close behind, clutching his notebook like a holy relic.

"My lord, be careful," Roland warned. "Some of the plants here are poisonous."

I nodded, and we moved deeper. The forest wasn’t particularly large... But it was dense. The kind of density where the air feels thick, where sunlight sneaks in like it’s trespassing.

And the deeper we walked, the quieter it became.

No more horses. No more camp sounds. Just our footsteps, the occasional rustling leaves, and the soft hum of the wind trying to find its way in.

Zephyy perched on my shoulder, tail wrapped around my neck like a worried scarf.

"Master..." his voice whispered, tense. "Something is here. Something strong."

I didn’t answer.

I already felt it too.

Not dangerous. Not hostile. Just... old. The Spirits.

I pressed my hand against one of the Blackwood tree trunks.

Cold.Hard.And far too few of them.

Roland was right. This forest didn’t have enough of these trees. Even if we harvested every single one, the black diamonds we could produce would be negligible. Barely enough for a few ornaments, let alone funding a dam reconstruction.

"...We won’t get much from this," I muttered.

And then—Cedric’s breath hitched sharply. "My lord... look."

The tone of his voice made me turn immediately. And I froze. Roland stopped beside me. Even he—normally unshakeable—went still.

Because in front of us... Hanging from branches, thick roots, and even between the trunks...

Were thousands of white, glowing cocoons.

Suspended like ghostly lanterns.

Swaying softly in the dim light. The entire inner grove shimmered—pale, luminescent, and haunting.

Some cocoons were as small as my fist. Some were as big as Cedric’s entire head. Some were large enough to hide a child inside.

Cedric made a choking sound. "My lord... this is... this is a silk goldmine—!"

"No," I whispered, stepping forward slowly. "This is a SILK KINGDOM."

I touched a low-hanging cocoon.

Warm.

Smooth.

Fine as spider silk—but far denser. Far purer. Far more valuable. Roland ran a hand over another cocoon nearby.

"These..." he murmured, almost reverent. "These aren’t spirit-made."

Cedric nodded, trembling. "They’re natural, my lord. This forest... this ecosystem... the insects here must be a rare species. Perhaps centuries old. The conditions—they must’ve evolved to produce silk of this quality—this thickness—this durability—"

He grabbed my sleeve with both hands.

"My lord... Do you understand how much money this is?!"

I didn’t answer.

I was too busy staring.

Because as I looked up, the canopy shimmered with thousands of glowing threads—pure white silk woven across branches like the forest had dressed itself in snow.

Cedric whispered, awestruck: "This... this could rival Imperial Silk."

I exhaled slowly.

"...We just found the economic miracle we needed."

Cedric clutched his heart. "My lord... I think I’m going to faint."

Roland grabbed him before he collapsed headfirst into a bush. I stepped further inside the grove, the light from the cocoons bathing everything in faint silver.

It was beautiful.

Unsettling.

Perfect.

A natural silk empire.

And it belonged to Raventon now. I let out a long breath. "...We hit the jackpot."

Cedric whispered hoarsely, "My lord... I think this is the first time nature loved us."

Roland corrected him. "No. This is the first time nature pitied your financial suffering."

I glared.

They weren’t wrong. But right now... for the first time in days—I felt hope.

Real, tangible hope.

Money.Stability.A lifeline.

Just hanging there.

Glowing.

Waiting.

"Cedric," I said quietly.

He snapped to attention so quickly Roland had to steady him.

"Yes, my lord?!"

"Call the villagers of Raventon," I continued. "We need to discuss this with them first. If this forest is going to survive—and benefit everyone—it has to be done properly. With their consent."

Cedric nodded with surprising seriousness. "Yes, my lord. I’ll gather them immediately."

***

[Alvar’s POV—Same Afternoon—Thorenvald Estate]

The estate was buzzing. Workers rushing across the courtyard, ribbons being strung, villagers laughing, musicians tuning instruments—the entire place looked like it was preparing for a festival.

"It looks like a festival," I muttered under my breath.

"It is a festival, Alvar."

Mother’s voice drifted from behind me—warm, steady, and far too knowing.

I turned.

She stood with her hands clasped, watching the decorations with a soft, tender smile. "You know what I realized after coming here?" she said, her eyes following the excited villagers. "These people... they don’t see Leif as just a ruler."

A breeze swept through as she continued. "They see him as family. As someone precious."

Her smile slowly faded as she turned fully toward me.

"That’s why the people are excited." Her gaze sharpened. "More excited than... you ."

Silence stretched between us. My fingers twitched.

"What’s going on between you and Leif, Alvar?" The question was gentle—but it hit like a blade sliding between armor.

I looked away.

Mother sighed softly. "I may not understand everything between you two..." Her voice dipped lower. "But I know this much—Leif is not someone who would give up on you. Not easily. Not ever."

Her next words cut deeper.

"So it must be you ."

I froze.

She didn’t stop. "It is you who is trying to separate yourself from him."

The truth stung. My throat tightened painfully. "I... think this marriage—"

"Do not utter another word, Alvar."

Her voice sharpened—strict and commanding—the same voice that used to drag me out of trouble as a child. My jaw clenched. The room grew quiet again, only the distant chatter of villagers breaking the silence.

Mother inhaled, then exhaled slowly. "Tell me the truth. Are you... cheating on him?"

"What?!" I snapped, eyes widening. "Mother, I would never . I—never something like that."

"Then what is it?" she pressed, eyebrows raised. "Explain."

My grip tightened. "I... I just think we cannot stay together forever. My love will only hurt him in the future. So—"

She cut me off sharply.

"So you decided to separate yourself from him?"

I didn’t nod. I didn’t speak. But my silence answered for me. Mother stared at me for a long, disappointed second.

Then—

TWIST.

"OW—OWW—Mother—what are you—?!"

She twisted my ear with terrifying strength. "This is what you deserve, you absolute idiot ."

"What—?!"

"Idiot!" she snapped again. "Just because you’re scared of the future, you’ve decided to hurt him now ?! On purpose?!"

"I—Mother—LET GO—!"

She twisted harder.

I winced. "Mother, you don’t understand—!"

"Oh, I understand perfectly." She yanked again, making my eyes water. "You think abandoning him is a kindness? You think pushing him away now will protect him later or hurt less?"

She finally released my ear.

I immediately rubbed it, glaring. "G-Gods, it hurts..."

"Good," she said coldly. "You deserve worse."

I opened my mouth—but she pointed a strict finger at me.

"You think you’re protecting him by running away from your own heart?" she demanded. "You think hurting him now will spare him later? Alvar—what nonsense."

Her voice softened only slightly.

"He loves you. And you love him. Running away will only wound you both."

I swallowed, throat tight.

"But... Mother..." My voice cracked. "I’m scared. If he—if he’s meant to—"

I couldn’t finish the sentence. She stepped closer and lowered her voice.

"Love always comes with fear. But if you let it control you—you’ll lose him before fate ever takes him."

Her words struck the deepest part of me. The part I’d been trying to bury under logic and excuses. I swallowed hard.

"...Even if we have less time to spend together?"

Her eyes widened—just a fraction—and something like worry flickered across her face.

"I don’t know what you mean by that, Alvar," she said honestly. "But if your time with him is short... then cherish it."

She touched my cheek gently.

"Don’t wound him on purpose. Accidental wounds heal. Purposeful wounds scar."

The words landed like a blade. Because she was right. And because I was already scarring him. She turned away, walking toward the door, her voice softer but firm.

"Leif returns tomorrow," she said. "Think carefully before you face him."

The door closed behind her.

And I was left standing there—alone in the quiet room, heart tight, mind spiraling— wondering when loving someone became the hardest battle I’d ever fought.