[Leif’s Office—The Next Day—Leif’s POV]

"...Any updates from Raventon Village, Baron?" I asked, scanning the stack of reports on my desk.

Baron Sigurd, ever the picture of composure, bowed slightly. "Yes, my lord. The villagers are safe now. Since the rain ceased, Sir Roland and our knights have been assisting with medical care and supply distribution."

I nodded, relieved. "Good. And what about the Kingdom of Velgard? Any signs of movement from their border forces?"

The Baron hesitated, then shook his head. "None, my lord. Fortunately—or perhaps unfortunately—the Velgard king seems unconcerned whether that village lives or dies."

I blinked. "...He what?"

"He hasn’t issued a single decree regarding the disaster," Sigurd said grimly. "Not even a letter of condolence. It’s as if Raventon doesn’t exist on their map."

I let out a low sigh and leaned back in my chair, rubbing at my temples. "Well... at least we can add that village to our map without any issue. But still—" I waved vaguely at the air. "Imagine living under an emperor who can’t tell the difference between his subjects and his furniture. Poor souls."

Baron Sigurd stared flatly. "Then... shall we conquer that king and relieve the people of his rule?"

I froze. "...What?"

He blinked. "You said you felt bad for them, my lord. I assumed—"

"NO!" I shouted, nearly sending my ink bottle flying. "Baron, for the love of all things holy and caffeinated, I was just talking! JUST. TALKING."

. . .

. . .

Baron Sigurd blinked slowly. "I see..."

I. SEE?

... He said it so flatly you’d think he hadn’t just suggested conquering an entire kingdom like it was a grocery errand.

I sighed, dragging a hand down my face. "Alright, moving on to the next topic—territory expansion. Raventon Village will be useful once the dwarves start living with us."

He froze mid-breath. "...Eh?"

"Yeah," I said casually, scribbling something on the parchment. "They’ll help develop new houses, maybe some proper forges. Oh! And weapon manufacturing for our knights, too. That’s going to be huge for trade."

The Baron stared like I’d grown a second head.

"And—" I tapped my quill against my lip, thinking out loud. "Once they settle, maybe we give them an honorary title or something. Prime Minister of Smithing? Count of Metal? Earl of Explosions? No, wait, that one’s too risky—"

"My lord..."

"...Master of Mechanisms? Dwarf Duke? Miniature Majesty—"

"My lord!" Baron Sigurd finally snapped, gripping the edge of my desk like it was his last lifeline. His eye twitched. "For the gods’ sake, please tell me everything that happened while you were away! Because from where I’m standing, you left to help the elves, and now what? You came back with an army of dwarves? and my nervous breakdown waiting to happen!"

. . .

I blinked. "Oh. Right. I didn’t tell you about the whole tree of life situation, did I?"

His soul visibly left his body. "Tree. Of. Life?"

"Yeah," I said cheerfully. "Turns out it was dying, but I, uh... fixed it. Long story short—magic explosion, screaming tree, emotional dwarves, and now they’ve all sworn loyalty to me. Very heartwarming."

Baron Sigurd opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. "...Are we sure you didn’t hit your head somewhere, my lord?"

"Well... technically , I did," I said thoughtfully. "The Tree of Life almost squeezed me like a stress ball."

He stared. "The... what ?"

"Never mind that." I waved my hand airily. "Sit down, Baron. I shall narrate the tale."

He hesitated but obeyed, looking like a man about to receive bad news from every god at once.

I cleared my throat dramatically. "So, there I was—deep in the Elven woods. Beautiful, peaceful, full of magic... and mosquitoes," I began solemnly.

Baron straightened a little, as if bracing for a real report. Poor man.

"Anyway... blah, blah, divine tree, blah, almost died, blah... heart glowing, blah... dwarves crying, plague cured, vows exchanged, and—boom!—now we’re best friends forever."

I leaned back with an accomplished smile. "In short, diplomacy."

Baron just blinked at me like I’d spoken an entirely new language. He just stared, eyes wide and empty, like his brain had left the building.

Baron opened his mouth. "..."

Closed it.

Baron Sigurd opened his mouth again. "I guess... Congratulations, my lord?"

I smiled brightly. "Thank you, Baron. I’ll accept that as both praise and confusion."

He rubbed his temples. "So... once the knights arrive, we extend our territory?"

"Yes," I said, trying to sound very official while reaching for my coffee mug that was suspiciously empty. "Let’s make sure the borders are marked properly, Baron. I don’t want any tensions with someone else’s kingdom."

The Baron sighed. "Then I shall start preparing and send a letter to Sir Roland, asking when he will return."

"Perfect. Please do that," I replied with a satisfied nod.

Baron’s expression didn’t even twitch. "Alright, my lord."

"Good." I leaned back in my chair, stretching. "Now, if only my day could continue without any unexpected chaos—"

A sharp knock rattled the door.

I froze. "...And there it is."

The door creaked open. A shadow slipped in, followed by a voice far too smooth for this hour.

"Hello... Leif."

I looked up—There he was. Second Prince Caelum. A cloak draped elegantly over his shoulders, golden embroidery catching the light like he’d just walked out of a painting... or straight into trouble. The faint smile on his lips could probably start three wars and a scandal.

"Your Highness," Baron Sigurd said stiffly, already sweating like he’d been thrown into a diplomatic fire pit.

"Ah, Baron Sigurd," Caelum greeted smoothly, inclining his head. "Still loyal as ever, I see." Then his gaze shifted to me, eyes softening far too much for my liking. "I hope I’m not intruding."

"You’re standing in my office," I said flatly, "so yes, a little."

He chuckled, unbothered. "I was merely here to thank you—for saving my life."

I exhaled sharply and glanced at the Baron. "You can leave, Baron."

He hesitated for half a second, then nodded. "As you wish, my lord."

And just like that—door closed, silence dropped, and I was left alone with trouble wearing royal boots .

I gestured toward the chair opposite my desk. "Please, take a seat, Second Prince."

He smiled as he stepped forward, graceful as always. "Just call me Caelum , Leif. As your vesse—"He stopped mid-word, blinking, then quickly corrected himself. "—as your friend . Yes. Just Caelum, please."

Friend?

I raised a brow. "That’s a suspicious pause, Caelum."

He ignored the jab entirely, still smiling like he hadn’t just almost said something he shouldn’t.

"So," I said, leaning back in my chair, "mind telling me how you ended up wandering barefoot in the middle of Frojnholm, looking like you escaped a fashion disaster and were almost dead?"

He chuckled softly. "I was trying to save my life."

"Your life ?"

"Yes." His tone turned serious. "I was almost assassinated in my chamber. I had no choice but to flee."

I blinked. "Wait— you were assassinated? You? The Second Prince?"

"Yes."

"That’s... ridiculous. You’re supposed to be the one doing the assass— ahem —I mean, who would try to assassinate you?"

His smile faltered slightly. "I wish I could tell you, but I cannot."

. . .

"Ah. I see," I said quickly, waving it off. "Continue your tragic royal tale."

He sighed. "I came here because I heard Frojnholm is separate from the Empire. The Crimson Pack guards your borders fiercely, and no imperial hound would dare cross them. It seemed... the safest place."

"Ah," I said, nodding slowly. "So you’re here to live with us."

"Very gladly." His smile returned—gentle, warm, and far too dazzling for someone supposedly on the run.

Great. Another royal refugee with good hair. Just what my peaceful estate needed.

I guess I had no choice but to let him stay—at least until I figured out whether he was trouble or just drama with legs. And before I could say anything more... he suddenly stood, stepped closer... and knelt in front of me.

"Leif," he said, voice low and earnest, "please—take me under you."

I stared. Blankly.

"...Why?"

He looked up at me, those amber-green eyes shining like he was proposing something holy.

"Because I have nowhere else to go. And because..." His lips curved into a faint, almost teasing smile. "...you’re the only one I trust."

I blinked again.

Then blinked harder.

Why... why the hell is everyone kneeling in front of me these days? Is this a leadership arc or a kneeling competition?

At this rate, the first law decree I’ll issue will be: "Law No. 1 — No. More. Kneeling."

But for now?

I sighed, rubbing my temple. "Alright, fine. You can stay as long as you want. Just—please— stop kneeling. My floor’s had enough trauma for one lifetime."

Caelum’s entire face lit up like I’d just handed him a crown. "Thank you, Leif... thank you for making me your person."

"Your what now—?" I barely got the words out before he hugged me.

A prince. Hugging me.

My soul left my body for a brief moment. And before I could shove him away—" STEP AWAY FROM MY FIANCÉ! "

The voice hit like thunder, echoing through the office. I froze. Caelum froze. Even the air seemed to freeze.

There, framed in the doorway, was Alvar—radiating enough murderous aura to curdle milk and wilt flowers in a ten-foot radius.

"...You’re doomed," I muttered under my breath.

"Yes," Caelum whispered, smiling tightly. "I can see that."