A Blend of Romance and Fantasy - Chapter 83

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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83.
“…!”
Leonard Blake’s eyes widened sharply. I felt his breath tremble faintly beneath the collar I gripped.
After a moment, he blinked slowly. Yet his gaze slipped away, refusing to meet mine. I released my grip on his collar and stepped back.
“I….”
He parted his lips but could not find the words. His voice was quite hoarse.
I brought my hand to his cheek and lifted his face toward me. He yielded obediently to my touch, and our eyes met.
In those trembling irises, I glimpsed the light of profound anguish.
“You love me, don’t you?”
“….”
Leonard Blake rubbed his lips with his large hand, then spoke with a sigh.
“How could I not love you? I was spouting foolish nonsense just moments ago.”
Yes, I knew it would be so.
A bright smile bloomed unbidden, and Leonard Blake followed with one of his own.
Yet that smile carried within it a multitude of emotions.
As I gazed at him in silence, Leonard Blake lifted my left hand and pressed his lips to my fourth finger.
“…I love you enough to forget the circumstances I now face.”
Leonard Blake’s lips were truly warm.
“But I know you wish to return to Sincester. I have no intention of breaking your wings and forcing you to remain at my side.”
“….”
“Of course, I too cannot abandon everything and follow you.”
His eyes were resolute, a stark contrast to the warmth of his lips. The eyes of a man for whom love cannot be the highest priority.
“…Because I have a purpose to fulfill here.”
He must be speaking of becoming Emperor, continuing James’s legacy.
Flames were already kindling slowly in his eyes, and I could only smile as I beheld them.
‘Yes, it is those two flames that have ensnared me.’
When we first met in Sincester, his eyes saw nothing. I came to ignite that spark within them, and in doing so, I fell in love.
Had he been a man who gazed upon me with blind devotion, I would have felt nothing for him.
For eyes that burn with fervent desire are beautiful beyond all comparison.
I wish for this man to achieve his life’s purpose. Even if I am not by his side.
And surely, that is no different from what Leonard Blake wishes for me.
“Charlotte, I wish for your happiness. And I suspect that is something I cannot provide.”
“….”
A gentle smile graced my lips this time.
We confessed our love to each other, yet it is a love impossible to fulfill. Have I been reincarnated into a tragic romance novel this time?
“Really, one male lead route is absolutely ruined.”
I sighed dramatically and placed my hands on my hips.
“You know readers won’t touch tragic romance novels these days.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Web novel readers don’t know tragic romance? Honestly, what do you even know.”
And I placed my hand on the cheek of my male lead—the one destined for a bad ending, the one I would someday part from—and laughed wickedly.
“Well then, shall we change the genre now?”
To a Fantasy Novel progression.
* * *
In the depths of night, the Imperial Palace lay silent as though even the air itself had fallen asleep.
Leonard Blake, left alone in his office, was organizing the conversation he had just shared with Charlotte into documents.
The matter with Prince Chris.
The scandal regarding Cedric that she had discussed with the Empress.
The gift received from Demian—armor made from Ragnarok’s scales.
The plan leading up to heading toward Blackwood.
Even the preparations for Benjamin and the three Princesses’ exile.
With so many critical matters at hand, he had summoned several Aides including William, Magician Sarah, and Ignis to deliberate.
Leonard Blake was a purpose-driven man.
When working, especially in gatherings with many others, he permitted no wandering thoughts.
But now, alone, it was different. Charlotte’s face kept surfacing in his mind. Every expression of hers, every inflection of her voice, tightened his chest with an unbearable ache.
The letters no longer formed meaning, and his gaze drifted across the documents.
“….”
At last, he set down his pen and sank deeply into his chair.
—I’m entrusting my dream to you, Leonard Blake.
‘James.’
Calling the name silently, Leonard Blake laughed bitterly.
What on earth had James seen in him to make such a request?
He could never become James.
An ideal hero who loved without reservation, who gladly gave of himself, who treated all fairly.
To become such an Emperor? Absurd.
Even now, he was suppressing a possessiveness that threatened to burst forth. Her voice, her laughter, her smile—they were nailed into his heart like spikes, indelible.
His predicament of having to release a love he had barely grasped felt devastatingly cruel.
‘I cannot become you…. You were wrong, James.’
Yet Leonard Blake could not escape that ‘command.’
James had called it a request, but to him it was an order. He had sworn it upon his heart as he placed James’s corpse directly into the flames.
No matter what trials lay ahead, no matter who had to be sacrificed, he would become Emperor.
In that process, Lord Prance and all of James’s subordinates had died. Many of his own subordinates had fallen as well.
He alone had always survived.
‘And that is precisely why I cannot become you, James….’
How could he become an ideal Emperor when the lives he had abandoned for his purpose were as countless as stars in the night sky?
He had never deserved to dream of tomorrow or the future.
He only hoped that if God were truly merciful, He might grant him one wish.
That his beloved find happiness.
Even if not by my side.
I only wish for her to smile always.
I wish for you to live happily.
If that were true, then with just that single fact, I felt I could greet the death that drew near with joy.
Leonard Blake rose to his feet once more. He picked up his pen and lowered his gaze to the documents before him.
James still needed him. And he would not flee from that expectation.
* * *
The room was bitterly cold.
Ice and frost clung to every surface, making it clear just how low the temperature had plummeted.
Yet the man’s clothing was thin. The cloak draped over his shoulders appeared thick, but the uniform beneath was meant for spring and autumn.
There was only one way to discern his identity.
The Blue Heart Family crest embroidered upon his cloak and uniform marked it as the sole, incomparable garment that only Prince Demian could wear.
As an ice mage, he was accustomed to such frigid temperatures. Without so much as a blink, he crossed the room and approached its center.
There lay an enormous elliptical block of ice.
Prince Demian’s impassive eyes turned toward the ice—toward the figure within it.
“…Aria.”
The woman with deep pink hair and pallid skin lay with her eyes closed and her hands clasped over her heart.
The garment she wore was a burial shroud. From its coarse, thin fabric—a simple one-piece—it was clear she had been a commoner.
Yet remarkably, the words that left Prince Demian’s lips were spoken with formal respect.
“Aria, I apologize. It has been far too long since I visited.”
For such an aloof, imperious prince to address a commoner with such deference—any citizen of the Empire who heard it would faint.
But there was no one here save Prince Demian.
He placed his hand upon the ice and continued speaking.
“…I hear that the Succession to the Throne will soon begin.”
His voice echoed several times before fading into silence. No answer came in return.
Yet Prince Demian paid it no mind and continued.
“As I have told you before, if I become Emperor, I can make a wish at Lumenlegis. Soon we will be able to meet.”
Still, there was no reply.
The second silence seemed harder to bear, for Prince Demian took another step closer.
“Aria.”
A serene and beautiful face. No different from when she had been alive.
His magic lay upon the ice, and time could not touch her.
“Aria….”
Prince Demian’s voice grew deep and hollow.
“I wish to see your emerald eyes again, even if only for a day. To do so, I am capable of anything.”
Whether the woman was dead or alive could not be known, yet one thing was certain.
The reason he desired Lumenlegis was because of this woman.
“This time, I will not let anyone take you from me.”
Prince Demian moved his hand, gently caressing the ice as though touching the woman herself.
Even as the biting cold pierced through to his very bones, he smiled. A madness of unknown origin bloomed across his face.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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