The Fairy in the Sunlight

The moment Agniele saw the person lying in the canopy-draped bed, his body froze. He instinctively sucked in a breath, then hurriedly held it, fearing the sound might wake him.

The golden hair sprawling across the wide bed looked like an angel’s banner. Features tucked neatly into a small face reminded him of a masterpiece sculpture, and the hand peeking out from beneath the blanket was more graceful than anything Agniele had ever seen.

Agniele, who usually distinguished people based on their latent mana rather than their physical appearance, unconsciously began to analyze the mana permeating the air.

Through this habitual process, he realized the mana felt familiar. He racked his stiffening brain and reached a conclusion about who was sleeping in the bed.

In other words, while a part of his mind knew the person wasn’t actually a supernatural being… it didn’t matter. His eyes, perceiving the figure’s appearance for the first time, forced him to view the person as a fairy from a legend.

Through this encounter, Agniele finally understood—with absolute clarity—the meaning of the sentiment “beautiful,” a concept he had never truly grasped before.

Beyond that, he felt he finally knew what people meant when they called something “blindingly pretty,” and what it felt like to be truly “enchanted.”

Thump, thump.

Clutching his chest at the heart that was asserting such a powerful presence, he bit his lip. A suffocating sensation arose, as if something unknown was clogging his throat.

It wasn’t a physical ailment. As a swordsman used to objectively assessing his body’s condition, he knew this was purely a phenomenon caused by emotion.

Agniele felt a desperate need for the flowery adjectives he used to ignore with indifference. He wanted to clearly express the feelings and impressions he was experiencing in words, but unfortunately, he lacked the talent.

Had there ever been a sight in his life that shook him this deeply?

Agniele reached out an arm, gripped by the fear that this sight might be a mirage born of the sweltering heat.

“Mmm…”

But at that moment, the fairy stirred slightly. Startled, Agniele withdrew his arm before he could even trespass into the space beyond the canopy.

Instead, fearing he might wake the other from sleep, he merely exhaled each breath even more slowly and carefully.

As he stood there dazed, a sudden thought struck him amidst the mysterious scent drifting through the Sun Grass heat: staying here any longer was a breach of etiquette and a rude act.

Once he recognized his mistake, he could no longer remain. He turned his steps toward the exit, though his gait was heavy with lingering attachment.

On the face of the man who kept looking back with regret, there was the freshness of a boy experiencing his first love. Had Lily seen this, she would have shouted for joy.

Even after exiting the greenhouse, Agniele let out a sigh, trying to brush off the heat of the Sun Grass that still clung to him.

The heat that refused to fade felt just like the afterimage of the fairy filling his mind. He returned to the dormitory in a daze, trapped in a scene that was as difficult to escape as a swamp.

Agniele sat in a hard chair—a choice he’d made under the belief that comfortable rest breeds laziness—and stared blankly out the window.

His unfocused pupils revealed that he wasn’t looking at the scenery outside but at a mirage, but there was no one in the dormitory to notice his state.

Blink, blink.

As his eyelids fluttered idly, he suddenly felt a longing to see the fairy’s eyes. He wanted to steal a glance at even a simple gesture, and he wanted to hear a voice—even a single word—trickle out from between those small lips.

By the time this small budding wish turned into uncontrollable greed, the crystal ball on the table began to glow, ringing with the clear sound of a bell.

The crystal ball, asserting its undeniable presence, pulled Agniele back to reality from his reverie.

He frowned at the object that had interrupted his contemplation, then slowly stood up and approached it.

[The reply is late today.]

At the voice full of curiosity, Agniele silently bowed his head.

“Mother.”

[Yes, it feels like it has been a while since we spoke. Have you been well?]

He merely nodded at the gentle question. The Matriarch smiled slightly at the sight of her habitually taciturn son.

[Iel, about the engagement I mentioned last time. If you are alright with it, I would like to proceed. I think autumn would be better than summer for the date, what do you think? Of course, after discussing the details with the Marquis of Florence—]

“Mother.”

[Yes?]

She blinked her eyes wide in surprise at the fact that Agniele had cut her off. The Matriarch, blinking rapidly as if to shake off her bewilderment, eventually shook her head and wore a gentle smile.

[Speak.]

Thanks to his lifetime of good behavior, his rudeness was met with a generous permission.

However, even with her permission, Agniele couldn’t speak easily, his lips merely quivering.

[I said, speak.]

For Agniele to hesitate—it was such a rare sight that the Matriarch couldn’t wait and ended up urging him.

“…I believe there is someone I have taken to heart.”

[Ah, I see. I thought it was something serious— Wait, what?]

“Therefore, I believe it will be difficult to get engaged to the person the family has chosen. I am sorry for failing to meet your expectations, Matriarch.”

Agniele used the formal title ‘Matriarch’ instead of ‘Mother’ as he bowed his head deeply.

[…Hiccup.]

Unlike the deathly serious Agniele, the Matriarch—whose constitution caused her to hiccup when overly shocked—belatedly covered her mouth.

‘Oh my, what is happening? Did I hear wrong?’

Her pupils shook instinctively from the shock. She gripped her hands tightly, trying to regain her composure.

[Are you serious?]

“Yes, I am serious.”

[Truly? Are you certain, and not just mistaken?]

“I am certain.”

Even with the repeated questions, Agniele did not waver.

Realizing that he wasn’t just making excuses to avoid the engagement, the Matriarch instinctively stood up abruptly.

[The Head, no, wait. Honey! Honey—!]

The Matriarch, who used ‘Head’ for official matters and ‘Honey’ for private ones, urgently called for her husband, the Duke and Agniele’s father.

It was rare for the Matriarch to raise her voice, so for a moment, the surroundings became chaotic. The servants carried the lady’s wish to find her husband like the wind until it reached the Duke.

[What is the matter!]

The Duke moved as soon as he heard his wife was searching for him desperately. He arrived in a single breath and checked if she was safe first, acting exactly like the famous devoted husband he was.

Agniele wasn’t surprised that another person had joined the front of the crystal ball in less than five minutes. He simply kept his head bowed, as if waiting for punishment after committing a transgression.

[My goodness, Agniele! No, ha…]

The Duke looked back and forth between the unusual Agniele and his wife, who couldn’t calm down. Eventually, he gestured toward Agniele through the crystal ball.

He judged that he wouldn’t get a proper explanation from his wife, who couldn’t even finish her sentences. Agniele, catching the Duke’s meaning easily, calmly repeated the words he had said to the Matriarch.

[Hoo…]

Even after hearing Agniele’s confession that there was someone he loved, the Duke remained calm, unlike his wife.

Of course, the fact that there was someone Agniele claimed to love was surprising, but he was more curious about something else.

[Who is the person? I will hear and then judge.]

Who on earth was the person who made that child fall in love?

Unbearable curiosity surged. The Duke suppressed his urge to act undignified and asked with solemnity.

“That is…”

Agniele trailed off, unlike himself. In an instant, frustration surged through both the Duke and his wife listening beside him.

The Matriarch’s lips twitched instinctively, but she endured with effort, biting her lip.

‘He is a child who will speak even without being urged.’ In the silence steeped in that trust, Agniele slowly opened his mouth.

“Ensius. It is Ensius Alemire.”

The moment he spoke the name he had only repeated in his mind, Agniele realized the identity of the scent he had smelled right before leaving the greenhouse.

Plum blossoms.

That scent was identical to the one that wafted from a plum blossom blooming after enduring a cold wave on a winter day.

[If it is Ensius Alemire…]

Because he faced him every time at the state council, the Duke immediately remembered the face of Count Alemire. However, apart from that, he couldn’t recall who Ensius was.

[The youngest of ‘that’ Alemire family? Come to think of it, I’ve heard he is an Omega.]

Unlike the Duke, the Matriarch—who recognized who the person was immediately—showed a flash of disapproval.

A look of joy crossed the Duke’s face upon hearing the person was an Omega.

Since Agniele was an Alpha, if Ensius was an Omega, there would be no difficulties with succession after marriage. Above all, he liked that the counterpart was a noble.

However, the Matriarch’s reaction bothered him. The Duke asked cautiously.

[Is there some other problem?]

[…No. It would be better to talk about this separately. More importantly, Iel, so you are saying you want to proceed with marriage talks with the Alemire family?]

Agniele was at an age where he had to start thinking seriously about engagement. Above all, rumors were circulating that the empire’s successor would soon be decided.

As soon as the true successor was determined, a marriage ban would be issued until a bride for the Crown Prince was found. If there was someone he wanted, he had to at least hold an engagement quickly.

Furthermore, Alemire was a family that wasn’t even among the candidates. Since a matching amount of time was necessary for the coordination process, it was urgent even if they decided and moved right now.

The Matriarch calculated various things in her head while keeping her face neutral.

“No.”

The Matriarch gaped blankly, flabbergasted by Agniele’s answer that came without hesitation.

She couldn’t understand why he said he hated the idea of marriage talks when he just said he had taken the person to heart. The Matriarch tried to speak out of bewilderment, but Agniele was faster.

“Matriarch, I do not want to go through the family… I want to ask for his permission personally.”

[You’ve gone mad.]

Perhaps because she had heard unexpected things in succession, the Matriarch unintentionally let her true feelings slip out.