Part 1
Philip's mind scread ninja assassin—because who else would scale walls in broad daylight to peer into soone's window upside down? He lunged backward in a panic, slamming his hand on a big red button on his desk. Instantly, alarms blared throughout the entire estate, summoning Lydia and the elite security team to his study.
Not a minute later, the whole manor thundered with alarm bells. Guards rushed out onto the grounds, rifles ready. Maids shrieked and hid behind every piece of furniture they could find. Even the estate dogs went nuts, barking like doomsday had arrived.
Lydia burst into the room with two uniford estate guards in tow, each ard with a semiautomatic pistol and a mana-powered submachine gun slung across their shoulders. Usually, she was the picture of icy composure, but right now her mind was all alarm, scandal, panic. Her key worry? The sudden mobilization would reveal Natalia—the "secret" resident of the manor—and spark rumors of Philip keeping a mistress. Worse yet, any big enough incident might bring in the military, unearthing the forbidden ritual perford by Philip. Death, doom, destruction, and not necessarily in that order.
Outwardly, Lydia wore her usual calm half-smile, but inside, she'd already re-imagined Philip's extinction a few thousand tis. Quickly, she led the guards to usher Philip toward the estate's underground bunker—a dusty, cobwebbed relic that clearly hadn't been used since... who knows when.
Once they were below ground, she showed Philip into a cramped control room lined with twenty magical tablets. Each screen displayed live footage from artificial magical eyeballs floating around the property. If a ninja were lurking, they'd find it. Hopefully.
A sharp knock on the bunker door made everyone tense.
"Master, I'm here to protect you," ca Natalia's sweet-yet-steely voice.
"Careful..." Lydia muttered to the guards, who aid their weapons while opening the door. But it was indeed Natalia—gowned in a clingy dress that hugged her waist and flattered her generous curves. She looked ready to break bones at the slightest threat to Philip.
The guards gawked, jaws hanging. Lydia swallowed hard. Great, she thought. They've seen her. Here cos the rumor storm. She considered offering so weird cover story—maybe Natalia was a distant cousin or a new maid? Then again, maybe no explanation was best.
After a painful twenty minutes of frantic searching and rewinding cara footage, the property still seed clear of any intruder—until one cara finally caught sothing. A pair of long, shapely bare legs slipped into view, then vanished as if hoisted skyward. Everyone stared, speechless.
"Could it be an accidental trespasser?" one guard offered weakly.
But those legs were suspiciously alluring. The guards, in their infinite dedication, insisted on replaying the footage multiple tis to "study" it. But Lydia turned the idea down on the basis that unnecessary overti should be discouraged for the sake of work-life balance. Still, the question nagged at them all: if it was just a trespasser, how did she vanish without a trace?
Worried, Lydia considered reporting it to the Duke and requesting funds for more guards—or hiring a private investigator. Her top priority was Philip's safety. He might be a magnet for danger, but he was her master.
Just as they erged from the bunker, a breathless staff mber ran up to report: "Sothing's approaching from the sky! Fast!" Lydia froze, her mind conjuring a thousand worst-case scenarios. Is today the day when I join my ancestors in the afterlife? she wondered.
In the front garden, a guard yelled, "Look—is that an angel?"
A silhouette descended against the blazing midday sun, wings spread in a stunning, radiant display. The figure wore gleaming, impractically sexy armor—humongous bosom, long bare legs, ethereal face. The midday light cast her in a halo of brilliance that made everyone forget how to breathe.
Philip shielded his eyes, coughing. "Sh-she's... descending from above? Are assassins in this world always so... dramatic?" He actually considered running for cover but froze when he realized everyone else—guards, maids, visitors—had dropped to their knees.
Kneel or die? he wondered. Then Lydia frantically hissed, "Kneel, you fool! That's Empress Celestica!"
Empress. Right. Philip's blood ran cold. The sa Empress Celestica who endured my humiliating 15-minute hand-kiss at that imperial ball. Suddenly, he wished for a black hole to swallow him.
Celestica's regal gaze swept across the crowd, then locked on Natalia standing protectively in front of Philip. Her green eyes narrowed like a hawk spotting prey. The tension crackled. Celestica, luminous and curvy, versus Natalia, slender yet equally stunning. A gust of wind made Natalia's gown cling to her figure—accentuating her full silhouette—while Celestica's enormous wings made her look downright colossal.
Everyone held their breath. Philip braced himself for a holy lightning bolt. But Celestica spoke in a deceptively gentle tone that still dripped with imperial authority: "May I have a word with you two?" She pointed at Philip and Natalia.
The staff followed that regal finger to Natalia—who they suddenly realized didn't belong here. But before the gossip mill could explode, Lydia practically leapt into action. "Of course, Your Majesty! Please... co inside for tea." She dismissed the guards, praying the Empress wouldn't take offense. Then she herded Philip and Natalia in behind Celestica, ntally chanting, Please don't incinerate my master...
Inside a hastily prepped drawing room, Lydia quietly closed the door. Celestica shut her eyes to scan for hidden traps, miasma, or paparazzi—standard procedure, apparently. Satisfied, she turned to face Philip, Natalia, and Lydia.
"I—uh, w-welco, Your Majesty," Philip stamred, unsure if he should bow or hide under the couch.
Celestica opened her mouth, and everyone braced for doom.
"Where's the tea?" she asked politely.
Lydia nearly dropped her pen. "T-tea, of course, Your Majesty!" She sped off, returning monts later with tea and biscuits, bowing like a wind-up doll before excusing herself to stand discreetly near the door after closing it.
Celestica set her teacup down with a clink, her gaze flashing from Philip to Natalia. "Impressive," she said, voice cool. "You perford a forbidden ritual to summon a Familiar and keep her alive with your personal mana." She frowned. "You do realize that's basically suicidal?"
Philip's stomach knotted. Wait, suicidal? Why didn't the System ntion that part? "U-uh, no, I... didn't know," he mumbled, glancing at Natalia, who also looked rattled.
Celestica's eyes burned like erald embers. "Why break the law and risk your life for a Familiar? What do you hope to achieve?" Her voice was so intense it felt like a wave of heat blasting through the room.
Philip rembered the old Philip's obsession—his heartbreak, his desperation—and blurted, "I did it for... love."
The Empress blinked. "Love," she echoed, as if the word stirred up so forgotten nostalgia. For a mont, her expression softened. Then she arched a brow. "You an for Rosetta, the woman you apparently confused with at the ball? So this Familiar is a substitute for Rosetta, perhaps?" A flicker of irritation crossed her face—clearly, she wasn't used to unfiltered emotional chats. "Well... I find your motive sowhat acceptable, though it's far from wise, considering the mana drain is killing you. But," she added, voice turning sharp, "if you plan to use your Familiar to destroy Winston's legacy—like trying to topple Avalondia—I will... what's the word... obliterate? Yes, obliterate you both, without hesitation."
Philip's heart hamred. "Y-yes, Your Majesty. It was an accident at first, but... Natalia is precious to now. I'd never endanger her for so selfish sche." His voice cracked on that last bit, and Natalia's cheeks burned red.
For a second, Celestica studied the shy grin spreading over Natalia's face. Then her own severity eased just a fraction. "Fine. I'll keep your secret from Avalondian authorities. But break your promise, and I'll personally send you to... let's say, hell. Literally." She brushed a speck of lint off her glowing wing. "Understood?"
Swallowing hard, Philip nodded, imagining fiery death raining on his orchard. "Th-thank you, Your Majesty. I understand."
Celestica tilted her head. Did I do it right? That was how Winston used to threaten people if I rembered correctly, she wondered silently. As Celestica shrugged and turned to leave, her wings casting brilliant reflections on the walls. "Next ti, don't rally the entire estate staff to greet . I left the palace to avoid pomp, not drag it along."
Philip's face flad. "I'll... keep that in mind."
Halfway out the door, Celestica paused, her gaze snared by a large frad photograph. She stepped closer. "Is that... Colonel Margaret?"
Philip looked up, swallowing. It was a photo of a stunning female officer in formal uniform, a relic passed down through the family. He recognized it from old Philip's mory: his grandmother.
"You knew my grandmother?" he asked.
Celestica's lips curled into a playful smile. "Oh, yes. She was my first lady-in-waiting back when Winston was newly crowned. The military went overboard trying to manage my emotions—fearing any negative mood might trigger a cataclysmic mana eruption." She laughed lodically. "So Colonel Margaret was assigned to keep ... entertained so I wouldn't feel lonely when Winston traveled abroad."
Philip imagined his poor grandma stuck with captivating a living nuke, forcing a smile as her teeth chattered with terror. Yikes.
Celestica's eyes grew dreamy. "Margaret was diligent—followed everywhere, humored my whims. We visited amusent parks, ballrooms, movie houses... and we bathed together. She was always trembling, though. I figured she just had poor circulation."
Yeah... or crippling fear, Philip thought with a silent snort.
Celestica sighed. "Then your grandfather ca along, got her pregnant, and then I saw her less after that. Then Winston passed... politics got ssy... and we lost touch."
Philip coughed, unsure how to respond to stories about his grandmother's romantic past.
Celestica turned to him. "So you're Margaret's grandson. Then your father must be baby Gabriel!" She chuckled. "I was secretly his godmother. I watched Margaret breastfeed him, and I changed his diapers a few tis. He even sprayed once during a diaper change." She grinned at Philip's mortified expression. "Ah, the mories."
Philip silently chided the System for not warning him that his family was this cozy with the reigning Empress.
Celestica stepped closer, a teasing glimr in her eye. "You do resemble your father. A bit taller and chunkier, perhaps?" She patted his stomach like she was checking a lon for ripeness. "But the sa boyish face."
Philip nearly choked as he tried to keep a straight face. Yes, thank you for comparing to my infant father...
The Empress waved off her own comnt. "Anyway, if Margaret ever reappears, do pass on my greetings."
She reached back and plucked a glowing feather from one of her wings. "Here," she said, handing it to Philip. "If you need urgently—maybe your Familiar draws so other dangerous summons—just kiss this feather. It'll create a temporary replica of to guard you for an hour, long enough for to arrive in person."
Philip accepted the feather, half-bowing. "T-thank you, Your Majesty. That's... extrely generous."
"Farewell for now, my almost-grandson," she teased, flashing a final, radiant smile. Then she swept out.
As soon as Celestica disappeared, Philip felt his adrenaline crash. His knees wobbled, and he nearly face-planted on the marble floor. Natalia caught him, landing them both in an unintentional—yet strangely romantic—pose.
"Might attract other summoned entities?" The words echoed in Philip's mind. Great. So next ti, they might get sothing less pleasant than an alluring, half-armored Empress. Perfect.
"I need to get stronger," he muttered, still leaning awkwardly against Natalia. "And fast."
As if on cue, the System's voice purred in his head: "Did I ntion that money can buy mana in this world?"
Part 2
The silvery moon hung low over Prince Einhard Woterbatch's castle turret, bathing everything in a ghostly glow. He and his old friend—and yes, old in every sense of the word—reclined on plush outdoor sofa chairs, a small table of assorted wines and liquors glinting between them. A gentle night breeze teased Einhard's midnight-blue cloak, rippling the dark fabric against the stone battlents.
"It feels like yesterday when we sat here," the friend mused, voice as soft as velvet, silver-white hair cascading over a perfectly tailored suit. Pale fingers tapped against the chair's armrest, each bearing a gem-studded ring that sparkled in the moonlight. "You were so handso back then."
Einhard snorted, swirling wine in his goblet. "Handso? I'm sure you missed by a re two decades this ti—though our actual rendezvous was supposed to be 25 years after our previous eting. In other words, the last ti we t was 55 years ago."
His companion sighed dramatically, moonlight catching on that flawless, porcelain face. "Late again, and all because I got carried away with being a man for the first ti. I missed my chance to admire your wife's beauty, too." Red eyes glinted with mischief. "On the bright side, my offer still stands..."
"Hard pass," Einhard coughed, setting his goblet down. "I may appreciate your friendship, but I'm not spending eternity wandering the world by your side like an undead sidekick."
A lilting laugh rang out. "Oh, don't tell it's this new form of mine? I took it on last ti because you told your wife was insecure." And with that, the figure's shape began to shift. Within monts, a tall, voluptuous woman with the sa silver hair and entrancing red eyes lounged there, now wearing a scandalously short violet ball gown. Long legs crossed; she angled toward Einhard with a seductive smile. "How about this? Any change of heart?"
Einhard chuckled, unruffled. "Seduction didn't work then; it won't work now. I admire your knowledge—and sure, your beauty—but there's soone waiting for in the afterlife." His tone was light but resolute.
She pursed her lips, pouting in mock offense. "Ah, the dreaded friend zone. So n are just dying to see their deceased wife." With an exaggerated sigh, she leaned back. "And to think I agreed to beco the Realm Guardian of Osgorreich mostly for your eternal companionship. Care to guess how useless that contract is if you refuse to join for all eternity?"
Einhard just raised his goblet in a lazy toast. "Hey, it's not always about . There is also the access to Osgorreich Imperium's entire mana pool. Just imagine the power you would gain."
A wry smile tugged at her lips. "No, I have no interest in power, really. If I did, then I would have prevented humanity from summoning any Realm Guardian at all. But honestly, you are so faithful. They really don't make n like you anymore." She flicked a lock of silver hair behind her ear, eyes dancing with reluctant admiration. "Fine. Keep your mortality... for now."
Einhard chuckled and then took a sip of his wine. "If you're done trying to recruit to the dark side, do a favor—pour another drink, would you?"
"Oh, I'd do more than pour you a drink tonight. Now that death has parted you two." She flashed a mischievous smile and, with one fluid motion, settled onto Einhard's lap, pressing a kiss to his forehead before he could react.
Then, under the moonlight, Einhard's body rapidly regained its youth, leaving him gaping in shock at his companion.
"Tonight, let help you rember what it was like being young."
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