MTM 125

That evening, Isadora’s surprise birthday party finally got underway after much ado. Yet Isadora herself was indifferent, even as the cake’s candles burned brightly. To her, a birthday seemed like just another day in the year, nothing more than a troublesome anniversary.

“Happy birthday, Isadora!”

Isadora responded to Reina’s bright voice with only a brief nod. Yet her stoic reaction didn’t cool the excitement within the banquet hall. Leon, Allen, Ser, and even Robert, the comrades who had endured the night’s battle together clinked glasses and happily chatted.

Reina, in particular, listened attentively to the battle stories, even though she’d likely heard them several times already. For her, who would soon have to leave this place, even these well-worn tales of heroism were precious memories she didn’t want to miss.

Amidst the boisterous festive atmosphere, Harto focused solely on the strawberry cake before him.

“Delicious…. Really… really delicious.”

He hadn’t eaten many in his life, but this cake was the best he’d ever tasted. Between layers of fluffy sponge cake, thick, fluffy whipped cream spread like clouds, and red strawberries gleamed like jewels.

The moment he dipped his fork deep into the cake along with a fresh strawberry and shoved it into his mouth, it melted away before he could even chew it a few times.

Clink, clink.

Harto devoured the cake, his mouth smeared with white whipped cream.

“Do you want some too?”

He occasionally offered small pieces of whipped cream and strawberries to the elementals hovering nearby.

But Zed, watching from the side, was caught in a complex, bittersweet mood. He stared at Harto’s lips, made even redder by the white cream smeared across them.

He felt an overwhelming urge to wipe that cream off, with his finger or any other means. But overwhelmed by Harto’s pure, cake-obsessed madness (?), he couldn’t bring himself to reach out.

There was another reason he couldn’t. Zed still vividly remembered Harto’s shocking declaration from earlier that morning.

‘I won’t sleep with you tonight!’

Zed’s face darkened as if he were carrying all the world’s sorrows.

“Harto.”

“Yes.”

“… You won’t sleep with me tonight…?”

“Yes.”

Harto answered while chewing on cake, as if he was responding to a passing greeting.

“……”

At Harto’s answer, Zed froze, his face contorted as if the world had fallen apart.

From the moment he reunited with Harto, he hadn’t let him out of his sight for even a second. Even when sleeping, he had to hold Harto close to quell his own anxiety. A single night apart from Harto felt like living as a walking corpse.

‘Only I am sincere. Only I….’

He had played a cruel prank on Harto earlier, but it was his own way of expressing his frustration. Not only had Isadora’s party preparations stolen time from him and Harto, but now he was meeting Prince Damien too? He knew intellectually it was childish jealousy, but Zed, already hopelessly smitten with Harto, couldn’t think rationally.

Thud.

Just as Zed was consumed by frustration, the banquet hall doors opened and the butler entered. Musicians carrying instruments were following behind him.

“This is the troupe specially sent by the count to celebrate Miss Isadora’s birthday.”

Count Grenhardt must have belatedly remembered his daughter’s birthday and hastily sent the musicians.

Moments later, the butler gestured, and the musicians began playing in unison. A lively yet romantic melody filled the ballroom. It was such joyful music that it would make anyone want to rise from their seat and dance.

“Isadora.”

Robert extended his hand, and Isadora stepped out with him toward the center of the hall. Seeing this, Allen glanced around cautiously. He wanted to approach Reina, but she was a step quicker and invited Leon to dance.

“…Huh?”

As Reina led the flustered Leon away to dance, Allen sat back down awkwardly. Then he met Ser’s eyes. The latter was sipping wine beside him. Startled, he grabbed the apple in front of him and took a big bite.

“Wow….”

Harto was fascinated by the two dancing couples. Though not as dazzling as in the movies, their passionate dance moves looked happy.

“Harto, should we dance too?”

Zed leaned close to Harto and whispered in a sweet voice.

“Huh… I’ve never danced before…”

“It’s fine. Just trust me and follow.”

“W-what if I step on your feet?”

“Well, that would hurt.”

Zed smiled and held out his hand to Harto. Harto hesitated for a moment before taking his hand.

Zed led him into the center of the ballroom. He gently pulled Harto toward himself and embraced him.

“Step onto the top of my feet.”

“On your feet…?”

Before Harto could react, Zed quickly lifted him up by the waist. Harto’s feet landed on Zed’s.

Immediately after, Zed held Harto’s waist firmly and began moving slowly. At first, Harto swayed unsteadily, clinging tightly to Zed’s arms and neck, but his face gradually lit up.

“Wow, Zed! It really feels like I’m dancing…!”

“You are dancing.”

Seeing Harto smile brightly, a smile spread across Zed’s own lips. Though he had been sulking because he disliked Harto focusing on other things, seeing Harto’s joyful expression made his anxieties melt away like snow.

***

The music gradually faded, and the lively excitement of the party reached its final moments. Only three people remained in the vast banquet hall: Isadora, Zed, and the sleeping Harto. Having eaten his fill of party food and downed several glasses of sweet fruit wine, Harto had finally fallen asleep.

His bold declaration that he would absolutely not sleep together tonight was now meaningless; he was completely relying on Zed.

Zed watched Harto’s defenseless, sleeping face as he exhaled, and he carefully covered him with his own cloak, afraid Harto might wake.

Isadora, who had been quietly watching this scene, set down her wine glass and asked softly.

“Ares, just one question. What was the real reason you left the empire?”

Startled by the sudden question, Zed looked around. Somehow, the other companions had disappeared. He wondered if Isadora had deliberately created a space for just the two of them to talk.

“I had a premonition.”

Zed answered calmly while gently fiddling with Harto’s slender fingers.

“A premonition?”

Isadora’s eyes widened.

Zed confided in her about the strange dreams and visions he had experienced. He told her everything, even the story about the small heart he hadn’t shared with Harto.

Isadora listened calmly to Zed’s confession. After a long silence, she finally spoke, her voice tinged with a bitter smile.

“Actually… I had a premonition too. It was a long time ago.”

Zed stared at Isadora with wide eyes.

“In a dream… I saw Robert falling from a tree. It was so vivid that I followed Robert everywhere after that… Eventually, that situation happened, and I saved him. Robert just sees me as his savior… But if I had ignored that dream and left him be, Robert would have lost his life. I still believe it was a small gift given to me by god.”

As she recalled the precious childhood friend she had saved through her premonition, Isadora continued.

“Ares. If you have absolutely no intention of becoming emperor, what do you plan to do now?”

“…….”

Instead of answering, Zed brushed Harto’s hair. He was snoring softly against his shoulder. Zed thought that anywhere was fine, as long as Harto could smile there without any worries.

There was just one thing weighing on his mind.

[To wield the Demon God’s Fragment so freely….]

[Now, Bernak. Take the fragment of the Demon God from that flesh.]

Ever since meeting Harto, he’d harbored doubts about his true identity, but this incident made him determined to uncover the truth. Especially Magnus’s demand to extract the ‘Fragment of the Demon God’, Harto’s heart, from his body was something he couldn’t simply ignore.

‘Harto must have been shocked too. He probably knew nothing about it…’

He didn’t suspect Harto was hiding anything from him. Though they hadn’t discussed the matter in detail since that day, seeing his unchanged, pure affection brought him comfort, and that alone was enough. He also deliberately avoided bringing it up, worried this harmless, gentle soul might be frightened.

Regardless, uncovering the identity of that strange being was a task he absolutely had to undertake, for Harto’s sake too.

“…Then how about going to Carseon?”

At that moment, Isadora’s sudden suggestion made the hand that had been playing with Harto’s hair pause.