[Alvar’s POV—The Grand Duke’s Study—Morning]

Peace.

Silence.

Tranquility.

All of which shattered the moment my butler barged in, looking like he’d just walked out of a ghost story.

"My lord," he wheezed, clutching his chest. "T—The Count Viktor Thorenvald is here to see you."

...

My pen froze mid-signature. "Leif’s father?"

He nodded rapidly, sweat forming at his temple. "Y-Yes, my lord. He said it’s... a personal visit."

Ah. A personal visit. Seems like Leif finally told his parents about us.

I set my pen down and straightened my coat with practiced calm. "Prepare fresh coffee and the finest cakes," I said evenly. "And make sure the Count is treated with utmost respect."

Then I smiled faintly. "He’s my father-in-law, after all."

The butler blinked as if I’d announced a duel instead of a meeting. "Y—Yes, my lord."

I stepped out of my study, every footstep echoing like a countdown to judgment.

And as I descended the grand staircase, I could feel it—an aura thick enough to slice with a sword. It said, I have questions, and you better have the right answers.

He was already there. Count Viktor Thorenvald—Leif’s father—sat like a thundercloud wrapped in a gentleman’s suit, arms crossed, expression unreadable, sipping tea as though it were the blood of his enemies.

I stepped forward, my calm smile firmly in place. "Greetings, Father-in—"

"Don’t."

The word sliced through the air like a blade.

"I haven’t accepted you as my son’s husband yet," he said coldly. "So do not ’Father-in-law’ me, Grand Duke."

The temperature in the room dropped. Today, there were no titles, no etiquette. Only a father—and the man who dared to love his son.

I inclined my head slightly. "Understood."

I sat across from him, posture perfect, but before I could even adjust my sleeve—

He struck.

"I heard," he began, tone deceptively mild, "that you’re impotent."

. . .

. . .

There it was. The rumor. The most persistent ghost in the empire.

I smiled politely, even as I felt my pride cough blood. "Ah, that rumor. How delightful that it reached the Thorenvald estate as well."

"It did," he said flatly. "And I’d like to know whether it’s true."

I kept my smile sharp. "I don’t think that question has anything to do with my love for Leif, Count."

He didn’t even blink. "It affects everything."

My brow arched slightly. "Meaning?"

"What if," he said, leaning forward, eyes narrowing, "you’re pretending to love my son to hide your flaw? Because you know—" he paused, voice dropping, "—that a man cannot get pregnant."

. . .

. . .

Ah. So this was the battlefield I chose.

I exhaled slowly, letting amusement flicker in my tone. "Count Viktor, I assure you that rumor exists because I declined to dance with certain noble ladies who mistook politeness for invitation. The rejected tend to speak loudly."

His lips twitched, but it wasn’t a smile. "And you expect me to believe that’s all?"

"I expect you to see that I am a man who has no need to prove anything to anyone," I said calmly. "Least of all to women who seek gossip as validation."

He studied me for a long moment, gaze sharp as a blade testing for cracks. Then, finally—just barely—his expression softened.

"Hmm," he murmured. "A clean answer."

"Because it’s the truth," I said evenly. "And because your son deserves nothing less than honesty."

For the first time, his tone wavered with something like curiosity. "You really love him, don’t you?"

I met his eyes squarely. "I do. In ways that terrify even me."

A silence settled—heavy, thoughtful.

And then... a low chuckle escaped him. "Careful, Grand Duke. Flattery might not work, but boldness... I can respect."

He leaned back, eyes narrowing slightly. "Tell me then, Grand Duke—how do you plan to fight for him? Especially against the Imperial court? You know as well as I do that power in this empire may shift; we may be the strongest noble family, but it still bends to the Emperor’s will. You might hold armies and fear, but you’ll still need permission to move forward."

I smiled faintly and reclined in my chair. "Do not worry, Father—"

He raised a brow.

I corrected myself smoothly, "—Count. I’ve already secured His Majesty’s approval."

His cup paused halfway to his lips. "You... already threatened the Emperor?"

I allowed myself a small smirk. "It was a piece of cake."

Count Viktor blinked once, twice—and then let out a dry laugh. "Impressive. Terrifying, but impressive."

He studied me for a long, evaluating moment before saying, "I suppose I don’t have to worry about my precious son falling into weak hands, then."

My smirk softened. So... he accepts me. Strange. For all my victories, none had felt as heavy as earning this man’s approval.

He set his cup down gently, then looked me dead in the eyes. "I expect, then, at your upcoming birthday celebration... you will announce my son as your fiancé."

I straightened slightly, lips curving. "Of course, Count—"

"Call me Father ," he interrupted, firm but not unkind.

I felt a strange warmth bloom beneath the usual layer of composed steel. I nodded. "Yes, Father. I shall announce Leif as my fiancé on my upcoming birthday celebration."

A small, satisfied smile ghosted across his lips. He leaned back and took a calm sip of tea. For one glorious second, the atmosphere lightened—

Until it didn’t.

He set the cup down with a quiet click , his eyes turning sharp as daggers.

"And, Grand Duke," he said slowly, voice low and heavy, "if I ever— ever —see my son shed a single tear because of you..." He leaned forward, and I could almost feel the weight of his killing intent. "... I will make sure you see hell twice. "

I felt my own smile falter just a touch.

"...Yes, Father," I replied carefully, maintaining the perfect balance between respect and self-preservation.

He nodded, seemingly satisfied, and leaned back again as if he hadn’t just promised to end my existence in two lifetimes.

I cleared my throat softly. "Father, may I ask you something?"

He glanced up. "Go on."

"Do you know... if Leif possesses divine power?"

He frowned, confusion replacing that intimidating calm. "What are you talking about, Grand Duke? Why would Leif possess divine power?"

So... he doesn’t know.

His brows furrowed deeper. "Did something happen?"

I schooled my features into a polite smile. "No, nothing alarming. I merely wondered. The way Leif perceives things—how he solves problems, how he sees through people—it’s... different. Almost divine."

The Count’s stern expression melted into pride. He huffed, chest rising proudly. "That’s because my son is a genius. Entirely like me."

I chuckled quietly, bowing my head in agreement. "Of course, Father. Now that you mention it... the resemblance is uncanny."

He gave me a side-eye that said flattery noted, continue.

I smiled to myself.The storm had passed.For now.

But deep inside, a thought whispered like a shadow:

If even his father doesn’t know... then who else could have given Elowen divine power? Did Leif himself give?

***

[Leif’s POV — The Storm Outside the Palace]

As expected, with Mother’s help, I chose some fine dresses for our models—silk, lace, and gold threads that shimmered even under dull morning light.

I even taught models how to walk on the ramp without tripping. And while I was buried in fabric and fashion, the entire empire... descended into chaos.

All because of one decree.

The Emperor—may the gods bless his audacity—announced the legalization of same-sex marriage .

At first, I thought I misheard the court messenger. But no. By noon, every bell tower in the capital rang with the news. And by evening, every street, tavern, and palace hallway was alive with outrage, curiosity, or... secret excitement.

The nobles were the first to explode.

"Unnatural!" one cried in the Grand Hall."Disgraceful!" another spat over his cup of wine."Next, they’ll ask us to marry our horses!" one old baron dramatically shrieked, clutching his pearls as if divine lightning might strike him any second.

Newspapers followed like vultures.

’Empire Loses Its Morality!’ one headline screamed. ’Men to Marry Men? What Next—Suns Rising from the West?’ another mocked.Some artists even drew absurd caricatures of two dukes in wedding veils.

The commoners, however, were divided. In marketplaces, people argued louder than the vendors.Some called it a sin.

Some said it was freedom.

Some whispered that love should not bow to gender.

And others—mostly nosy aunties and curious youths—gossiped about the mechanics of such a marriage.

I overheard the maid whisper to another, "But... how do they even... you know ...?"

Her friend replied with absolute seriousness, "Maybe one of them learns magic."

I almost tripped laughing.

Of course, there were those who supported it passionately. Artists, scholars, and a few progressive nobles wrote open letters to the Emperor—praising his vision, calling it "a dawn of new love."

Temples split.

Some priests burned the Emperor’s decree in fury, declaring it against divine law. Others said the gods never forbade love—only cruelty. And amidst all that noise—chaos, laughter, disgust, and rebellion—Alvar remained calm.

Of course he did. After all, he’s the one who created this mess.

"My dear," Mother’s gentle voice broke my thoughts, "would you like to try this jasmine tea?"

She smiled, pouring the fragrant tea into a porcelain cup.

Alvar accepted it with that effortless charm of his. "Thank you, Mother," he said smoothly, his tone polite but warm.

My family has accepted him completely, so he often comes for dinner.

And Alvar... He looked at me across the table, smiling gently and warmly. The empire might be in chaos, the nobles might be howling, and the world might be spinning upside down—But here, in this quiet dining room, it almost felt like... peace.