The castle at the Kant Estate didn’t actually serve any military defensive purpose. After all, it was nestled close to the Royal Capital—nothing but an empty shell in truth, more like a grand villa than a fortress.
The estate was shrouded in darkness, far less brilliant than the dazzling lights of the Royal Capital.
Yet, because of that, the stars in the night sky seemed especially bright, providing a tranquil serenity that made it impossible not to become lost in the moment.
“Lia, wait up! We’ve already left the castle far behind!” El called out, his voice carried by the night wind.
“That’s exactly what I wanted. We should run as far away as possible, somewhere no one can find us.”
Surprisingly, Aurelia’s evening dress hadn’t been stained with a single speck of dust.
Her breathtaking beauty was such that, even as she pulled El along, she remained graceful—always the dignified noble lady.
“Let’s sit down first.” Without a care for appearances, she sat right down on the soft grass.
El sat beside her and sighed.
“You’ve changed so much, Lia. Do you remember when we first met? Back then, you wouldn’t even touch cheap black tea. Now you can put aside your noble airs and sit on the ground like a village girl.”
“And who do you think made me change?”
Even though it was dark and he couldn’t see Aurelia’s expression, El was certain she’d just rolled her eyes at him. That was how close they were.
“El, how long have we known each other?” she suddenly asked.
El thought for a moment. “About four hundred days, I guess. Although I’d heard about you long before, we didn’t actually meet until I started at the academy.”
“Four hundred days… It sounds so short, but to me, it feels like an eternity… My life before that was so dull, so empty. It was only after meeting you that I truly began to live.”
El turned his head. “Why are you saying all this all of a sudden?”
She continued, her voice as gentle as a lullaby sung to a child:
“I remember every precious moment I shared with you. Just recently, I was flipping through my diary and found a record of our first argument. ‘White Rose’—do you remember?”
Of course El hadn’t forgotten, and he doubted Aurelia could either. After all, that argument had marked the beginning of their romance.
The origin of the white rose had once caused quite a quarrel between them.
Legend had it that, four hundred years ago in the Leon Empire, there was a righteous and mighty titled knight of the North, known as the “Thorn Knight.”
At a ball, he met Rachel, the adopted daughter of a count, and the two soon fell deeply in love. They swore everlasting vows, their passionate love unstoppable by any force.
But happiness didn’t last. The Royal Capital soon became a stage for a brutal political struggle. In the end, the only surviving young prince shockingly named Rachel to be brought to the Royal Capital.
The old count revealed the secret—Rachel was actually the previous emperor’s illegitimate daughter, entrusted to him to be raised as an ordinary noble lady.
The young prince, merely a puppet, was manipulated by the ducal families of the Royal Capital. Such an order could never have been his own will.
According to the laws of succession, Rachel’s claim to the throne was nearly equal to that of the young prince. The schemers wanted to eliminate any possibility she might have.
The Thorn Knight, determined to protect his beloved, set out on a perilous journey.
The tale was a long one, but in the end, Rachel ascended as queen. She wiped out the families of the traitors, ensuring their plot did not succeed.
But fate is ever capricious. Unwilling to accept defeat, the ducal powers united to launch a desperate assassination of the queen.
In that battle, the Thorn Knight fought with all his might to protect the queen—and fell in the process.
Later generations called that massacre the “Bloody Ten Days.” A vast bed of blue roses planted by the Duke’s House was stained red with the blood of nobles, and none who were involved were spared.
The queen wept bitterly for days at the Thorn Knight’s body, heartbroken beyond words. It was said she’d already set in place her will, naming her brother as heir.
And then, a miracle occurred. Perhaps moved by Rachel’s true devotion, the goddess let her tears fall upon the Thorn Knight—and he returned from the dead.
The story ended happily. The knight and queen remained together, living out their days in bliss.
They say that Rachel’s tears soaked the palace gardens, turning the blood-red roses into pure white.
The white rose, unblemished and pure as first snow, with petal and stem free of thorns, came to symbolize unconditional love.
It was said to have originated from a miracle in which a woman called her beloved back from death.
Afterward, people referred to Rachel’s former identity as the “Rose Princess”—whether that meant the bloody rose or the white rose was unclear.
“That’s the story of the white rose. It’s my favorite flower. What do you think?”
As she finished, Aurelia looked at El with a hint of nervousness in her eyes.
“But in recent years, scholars have found no concrete historical evidence that the white rose really originated with that queen. If you ask me, I think the story’s probably fake.”
El reflexively objected, “Biologically speaking, white roses developed through natural evolution, then were stabilized through artificial cultivation…”
“You’re wrong. You just don’t get it, El, you’re such a fool!” Aurelia cut him off.
“Wrong? How am I wrong? If you want to refute me, you should provide actual evidence, not just vent your emotions…”
They had a huge argument over this—not just about roses, but also things like “why did you order me bitter coffee yesterday?” or “why were you five minutes late that day?” and so on.
It wasn’t just Lia; El realized he had changed, too… Remembering all the foolish things he’d done in the past, he smiled helplessly.
In the end, the next day, both of them showed up with gifts to apologize. Unexpectedly, both had chosen white roses.
“This is your favorite flower, isn’t it? I wasn’t thinking when I spoke yesterday. Sorry, Aurelia…” El wasn’t one for putting on airs; he was always straightforward.
“I was wrong, too. I should’ve realized sooner that you’re just a fool. Don’t you understand what it means when a lady gives you a flower?” She cradled the white rose in her hands, declaring her feelings to El.
From then on, it became a tradition between them—an unspoken rule.
Whenever they argued again, if one of them came to the other with a white rose, the other had to stop being angry, and that was the end of the fight.
Almost every reconciliation between El and Aurelia ended with a white rose.
“Of course I haven’t forgotten. What’s this about?” El asked.
“My alchemy improved by leaps and bounds from that day onward. Once I crossed the threshold into Master-level, I began looking for a way to solve your magic power problem.”
Aurelia looked at him tenderly, as if to say, “You’ve had a hard time all these years.”
“It was tough, but in the end, I found a solution.” She skimmed over her own efforts as if they were nothing.
“Wait, you mean you’ve solved my…”
El was a beat behind.
“It’s a Concept Armament—one of the Alchemical Miracles.”
Aurelia reached out, and the space around her rippled. A golden screen of light appeared, and she drew from it a white dagger.
The blade wasn’t made of metal, but some softer, flawless material. It was pure white, but not dazzlingly so. The hilt was engraved with intricate runes, stunningly beautiful and sacred.
She placed the dagger in El’s hand. “It’s called ‘White Rose.’ I’ve inscribed the core concept of ‘Mirror Image’ into it.”
“Try channeling your mental energy into it. It’ll use your soul as a template to construct a virtual mental body. Then, by ‘reflecting’ it into reality, the virtual body will be filled with magic, and you’ll be able to cast spells through it.”
“This is too valuable, Lia. I can’t…”
A Concept Armament was called an Alchemical Miracle; alchemists capable of crafting them were one in a million. The “Mirror Image” concept was exceedingly rare—who knew how much effort Aurelia had poured into this.
“Why are you arguing with me about this? It already belongs to you. If you won’t take it, I’d rather destroy it. Come on, try it.”
White Rose…?
He knew now wasn’t the time to reject a lady’s feelings—but accepting this would make him owe her even more.
Magic… El couldn’t deny the temptation the dagger held for him.
How could he ever repay her for this…?
With Aurelia urging him on, El finally infused his mental energy into “White Rose.”
A snow-white silhouette appeared behind him. Its features were indistinct—a mere outline—but…
“Why is it a woman?” El asked.
Even as just a silhouette, it was clear this virtual mental body was beautifully proportioned, with long hair.
“Oh? I just remembered, for the sake of my experiments, I set the default gender of the virtual mental body to female. In other words, if you ever become a lady, El, you might look like this.”
“All right… Thank you for your gift, Lia.”
This meant everything to El. From this moment on, his greatest weakness was mended.
Up next would be the true magic genius: the personal disciple of the Sage, twenty-one-year-old Golden High Mage, the fully realized El Regis.
Strangely enough, El had once said he would be Aurelia’s support. In the end, it was she who first solved his magic problem.
She was becoming more and more dazzling… El felt deeply gratified. He’d always thought Aurelia deserved it all.
She would become the Empire’s greatest alchemist, inherit the Western Duke’s title, and perhaps even the future emperor would have to heed her will.
“You’d better say thank you. I spent so many days and nights working for you. You know, a lady’s time is very precious…”
She complained, pouting a little.
“So, El, let’s make up. Just like before. I’ve already given you the ‘White Rose.’”
At that moment, the clouds moved away from the moon. Aurelia’s big eyes gazed at El, full of innocent pleading, just like a child who’d made a mistake.
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