It was a Political Marriage, But I’m Being Loved - Chapter 49

Marcus was muttering to himself in frustration. Things weren’t going as planned. Staying in the capital, enjoying the food and the comfort of a luxury hotel—that part was great. But…

“If I show up to Master without any results, he’s going to look at me like I’m some freeloading failure!”

Of course, Achilles had never said anything like that. The ones who made those kinds of remarks were Marcus’s rivals or fellow mages who studied under the same teacher.

Everyone in the Tower knew Marcus was second-in-command, and plenty were jealous. While he sometimes enjoyed being envied, when he had nothing to show for it, the pressure gnawed at him.

“The Crown Prince’s side doesn’t seem to be getting anywhere either…”

The nobles supporting the Crown Prince had summoned Countess Lisette for questioning. She had firmly denied any romantic involvement with the knight in question.

According to her, the knight had confessed his feelings to her once. She had been so shocked that she immediately told her husband. After that, she never saw the knight again. Her maids and household staff supported her story, and even Count Lisette said the same.

Truthfully, Countess Lisette was not someone who ventured out much. After giving birth to her first child, her health had weakened, requiring constant rest and care. Still, she insisted on staying in the capital, wanting to be close to her son and husband.

During questioning, she’d become so distraught while pleading her innocence that she fainted. Count Lisette, furious, lashed out in her defense.

“How could something like this happen?”

Meanwhile, another knight—one of the dead man’s comrades—claimed he had seen the deceased with a woman. However, he wasn’t sure if it was the countess.

“If it were her, I think I would’ve recognized her. She’s very fair… Platinum blonde hair isn’t exactly common.”

The man clearly knew who the woman was, but he wasn’t willing to say. Zeta, the Crown Prince’s aide and close friend, had to coax it out of him, promising the woman wouldn’t be harmed.

When he finally whispered the name, Zeta was stunned. The woman in question was far too high-ranking to have any reason to meet privately with a lowborn knight.

But things only got more confusing from there. As more knights began to speak up, the names they gave often conflicted. Sometimes the same name appeared again, but more often than not, the woman mentioned was someone else entirely.

Each noblewoman was summoned and questioned individually. The vast majority claimed they had no connection to the knight whatsoever.

“What’s going on here?”

“He was either lying… or had a reputation as a womanizer,” one investigator commented. “Either way, none of the women are guilty.”

There was only one thing these women had in common: they were all known for their beauty and popularity.

Even the knights and servants who mentioned them seemed to be in awe or admiration.

As the investigation hit a dead end, Marcus—who had been quietly eavesdropping near the Crown Prince’s office—suddenly clapped his hand to his forehead.

“There’s only one person who uses magic like that!”

A woman had once tried to use this type of magic on Achilles himself—and nearly died because of it. The only reason she survived was that several other mages, already under her spell, stepped in.

“Philozena… Where would someone like her even hide?”

Her magic hadn’t been sealed. She was probably alive and making a living somewhere, laying low. As Marcus changed his heading toward the Tower, a dark thought crossed his mind.

“If she crosses Master again… this time, she’s really going to die.”

She had been involved in the assassination attempt on the Crown Prince—that alone was enough reason to execute her. Marcus had never felt especially close to Philozena, but still, he said a silent prayer for her soul as he flew off toward the Tower.

That looks dangerous…

Eliza and the other mages observed from a distance as the suspicious group scrambled to hide. They had wandered too close to a monster’s nest.

The area above them was home to Rafinas—three-headed magical beasts with a horned central head and icy breath that could freeze anything in seconds. They usually lived near the peaks of the northern mountains, nesting in large flocks.

Though powerful, Rafinas were rarely encountered. They fed on a rare moss that only grew on frost-covered stone, so they stayed near their mountain nests and didn’t venture far.

The villagers down there probably know Rafinas live in this area.

Rafinas could be skinned for their leather, but beyond that, they weren’t particularly useful. Even monster hunters tended to avoid them.

It looked like the suspicious group was watching the Rafinas from a distance, then retreating back outside their territory. Eliza and the others quickly followed from the shadows.

Flames surged up right in front of Charlize, close enough to make her flinch—but she couldn’t control them.

The one who stopped the blaze was Achilles.

The fire danced just a hand’s width from her face, but she felt no heat. Even as the air around it shimmered from the intensity, not a single ember reached her.

“If it gets too much, I’ll step in,” Achilles said calmly. “So, take your time, Your Highness.”

He gently encouraged her, trying to ease her anxiety. To lift her confidence, he reminded her how quickly she had progressed compared to other mages.

“Your mana is incredibly strong and vast. Of course, it’s hard to control—it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

And yet, even though she could form magic, she still struggled to tame it.

She had only wanted to produce a small flame, yet it had burst out, nearly filling half the massive training hall. It wasn’t the first time it had happened, and every time it did, she was left stunned.

“Maybe I should stop using attack magic…”

At this rate, she’d take out her allies before even touching the enemy—or worse, end up hurting herself.

It had been three days since Valter had stormed in uninvited and left. Charlize and Achilles had since returned to their version of peace. During the day, she trained with him in the magic hall. At night, she collapsed breathless in his arms, wrapped in quiet intimacy.

Now, she no longer needed that intimacy just to access her power. She could draw out her mana on her own.

At first, it had been overwhelming—confusing. But now, she could feel her energy respond to her will. The ancient mana inside her was like a slumbering elephant—slow to stir, but unstoppable once it moved.

“Is this what life at the Tower would feel like?”

Balls, banquets, and tea parties weren’t terrible—but Charlize had never fully enjoyed them. Navigating noble politics while maintaining her royal dignity was exhausting. With Achilles, she felt something else entirely—freedom.

A mage. I’m really becoming a mage!

Even though control was still difficult, every time she summoned flame or light, her heart raced. It wasn’t the flutter of romance—it was something deeper. A thrill of power, of discovery.

Achilles didn’t say much, but he seemed quietly proud of her. She could feel it in the way he watched her—encouraged her.

“We’ll start from the beginning,” he said gently.

At his words, Charlize drew back her power and focused again. She could now feel just how vast her magic truly was—how much she carried within her.

One day, she would master it. One day, she’d wield it freely. That belief shone in her eyes.

They had traveled so far on their return from the northern fortress that Valter’s party had moved well beyond the usual four-day distance. Still, Valter gave a sharp order to his aide.

“Summon the mage. I have a message.”

The coded message he dictated was short and clear:

[…The time has come.]

That alone would be enough for Marquess Lewein to understand. The mage inscribed the message onto special paper laced with a drop of the Marquess’s blood. When released, the paper folded into the shape of a bird and took off toward the north.

Valter watched it disappear into the sky before turning his gaze.

This was only the beginning—not the end. Even if he succeeded in taking Charlize, much more work, more preparation, lay ahead.

“I gave you a chance, Charlize. I showed you, my feelings. You were the one who rejected them.”

Even knowing the path, he was choosing meant he and Charlize could never be together, Valter didn’t hesitate. He knew he’d have to kill her family. He knew that once Oscar died, he’d seize the throne meant for her.

But he still thought it was justified.

Because in his mind, he was the one truly suited for the throne. It was the Arsted royal family—born above him—who had stolen what was rightfully his.

All monarchies had a beginning. His own bloodline was distantly tied to the royals, so it wasn’t entirely unjustified. At least, that’s what he told himself.

He had always envied Charlize, always despised Oscar. He remembered clearly the way Oscar had looked at him—disapproving, distrustful—as if he didn’t belong near his sister.

Back then, he hadn’t understood it. He had brushed it off. But at some point, that bitterness had turned to treasonous thoughts.

Though he had grown his power slowly, he had hesitated to act. His network wasn’t strong enough. And part of him still questioned whether he truly wanted the throne at the cost of Charlize’s family.

But after what happened last time… he knew now.

He couldn’t stand having anyone above him. He couldn’t bear the idea that something that should’ve been his could be taken away—just because the Emperor said so.

“The Crown Prince’s assassination may have failed, but once I take Charlize… there will be no turning back.”

He had already crossed a line—but he wasn’t afraid.

What he looked forward to most was the moment she would finally stand before him, no longer able to run.

What kind of face will you make… when you’re locked in my room, Charlize?

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