58 - Pass
The warmth of the reunion did not last as long as anyone in the Vernon estate would have liked. Because beneath the relief… was tension. And beneath that tension… was fear.
---
“Enough for today.” Grand Duchess Darelene’s voice was gentle, but firm. It carried the kind of authority that did not invite argument.
Mariana blinked, looking up from where she sat by the window. “… I’m fine, Mother.”
“You look thinner.” Darelene stepped closer, her sharp eyes scanning every detail. “… and restless.”
Mariana opened her mouth to protest—then closed it. Because she couldn’t deny it. Her body felt… different. Not weak. Not tired. But wrong in a way she couldn’t quite explain.
“… I just need time to adjust.”
Darelene’s expression softened slightly, but her tone did not. “You need rest.”
“I don’t feel tired.”
“That is precisely the problem.”
Silence. Mariana looked away.
“… go to your room,” Darelene continued. “No lessons. No duties. No visitors.” A pause. “… just rest.”
Mariana hesitated, then nodded. “… okay.”
---
Her room felt the same. Unchanged. Soft curtains. Familiar furniture. The faint scent of flowers drifting in from the garden outside. Safe. Too safe.
Mariana stepped inside slowly, closing the door behind her. Click. Silence settled around her. She stood there for a moment… unmoving. Then, “… this feels weird.”
She walked toward her bed and dropped onto it, staring up at the ceiling. Rest. That’s what she was supposed to do.
But her fingers twitched. Her senses stretched outward. And there it was again. Mana. Everywhere. In the air. In the walls. In the ground beneath the estate. Flowing. Breathing. Alive.
Mariana exhaled slowly, pressing a hand over her eyes. “… I can’t not feel it.”
It was constant. Like background noise that refused to fade. No, worse. It wasn’t background anymore. It was everything.
She turned onto her side, staring at the edge of her bed.
“… this wasn’t supposed to happen.” Her voice was quiet. Almost distant. Her mind drifted back to something she hadn’t thought about in a while.
“… the story…”
The original story. The one she had read. The one where she, Mariana, was the villainess. Her brows furrowed slightly.
“… that Mariana…”
Cold. Cruel. Proud to the point of arrogance. A girl who lashed out at anyone who dared take what she believed was hers. Especially—
“… the Saintess…”
The neglected Archduchess. The true heroine.
Mariana let out a quiet breath. “… she was always so kind…” Even when she was mistreated. Even when she was pushed aside. Even when— “… I hurt her.”
Her chest tightened slightly. Because in that story, Mariana had done terrible things. Petty things. Cruel things. She sabotaged. She humiliated. She harmed. All for one reason.
“… the Crown Prince…” Mariana stared blankly at the ceiling. “… why?” She didn’t understand it. Not then. Not now. “… why would she even want him?”
The thought slipped out before she could stop it.
Because truly, of all people, why him?
Her fingers clenched slightly against the sheets.
“… he’s dangerous.”
Not just powerful. Not just influential. Dangerous. In every sense of the word. Crown Prince Zafiel. Even thinking about him made something in her chest tighten. Not fear. Not exactly.
But, “… something’s definitely wrong with him.”
She couldn’t explain it properly. But she knew.
From the glimpses she had seen. From the rumors. From the way people spoke about him in hushed tones. From the way even powerful nobles avoided crossing him.
“… strength like that…” Her gaze darkened slightly. “… it’s not safe.”
Not for anyone. Especially not for someone close to him. His status. His power. His position at the center of everything. None of it was protection. It was a target.
“… if you’re near him…” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “… you’ll be dragged into everything.” Schemes. Wars. Power struggles. Death. Mariana shook her head, burying her face into her pillow. “… no thanks.”
She wanted none of that. Absolutely none.
But then, her thoughts shifted. Back. Further back to something else entirely. “… high school…” Her lips twitched slightly. “… manhwas…”
Romance. Drama. Fantasy. She used to love them. Especially the more… intense ones.
Her face flushed faintly as she remembered. “… the yandere male leads…”
Obsessive. Possessive. Dangerous. The kind who would burn the world for the heroine. The kind who would eliminate anyone who stood in their way. The kind who—
“… I used to squeal over that…” She groaned, burying her face deeper into the pillow. “… what was wrong with me…”
Back then, it had been exciting. Thrilling. Romantic, even. The idea of someone loving you so much that they would do anything. Destroy anything. For you. But now—
Mariana slowly lifted her head. Her expression blank. “… that’s terrifying.”
The realization settled heavily in her chest. Because fiction was one thing. Safe. Controlled. Distant. But reality... had consequences.
“… if someone like that actually existed…” Her fingers tightened again. “… they’d be dangerous.”
Not romantic. Not sweet. Dangerous. To everyone. Including—
“… the person they love.” A chill ran down her spine. “… yeah, no.” She flopped back onto the bed again, staring at the ceiling. “… hard pass.”
Silence filled the room once more. But the mana didn’t stop. It never stopped. Flowing. Pulsing. Calling. Mariana closed her eyes.
“… I just want a normal life…”
But even as she said it, she knew that wasn’t possible anymore. Not after the Magic Tower. Not after being called a Demigod candidate. Not after becoming—
“… an Archmage…” She let out a quiet, tired laugh. “… that still sounds fake.”
And yet, her hand lifted slightly. Mana gathered instantly. Effortlessly. A small, glowing orb formed above her palm. Perfect. Stable. Alive. She stared at it.
“… this is real.”
No denying it anymore. No escaping it.
She clenched her hand. The mana dispersed instantly. “… everything’s changing.”
Outside her window, the estate stood under heavy guard. Knights patrolled. Shadows watched. Because even here, she wasn’t safe.
---
And far away—
A certain Crown Prince stood beneath a darkening sky. His gaze distant. Unmoving.
“… so you’ve returned.” A faint smile touched his lips. Not warm. Not gentle. But something sharper. “… and you’ve grown.” The air around him seemed to shift. Subtly. Dangerously. “… good.”
Because now, things would finally begin. And this time, there would be no turning back.