The following evening, at the Aranias estate.
Leon was finishing the last of his paperwork before joining Eve and Anthony for dinner — a gathering that had been too long postponed.
Knock knock.
His butler Miles appeared at the door, extending a silver tray with several letters resting upon it.
“These arrived just now, my lord. The outer envelope of one bears the word urgent, so I brought them to you immediately.”
“Thank you.”
Leon reached for the letters. Miles lingered, his expression warm and quietly pleased.
“If I may say so, my lord — your color has improved considerably these past few days.”
“…Has it?”
Leon averted his gaze from the butler’s loyal eyes and made a show of examining the envelope.
“Indeed, sir. Just a few days ago your complexion had deteriorated so sharply that I was debating whether to send for a physician.”
“I see. I’m quite well now — there’s no need to worry.”
As he said it, his face truly did look noticeably more at ease. Whatever relief had found its way into him — perhaps the release of some of what had been building — two full days had passed since the kiss with Kasha at the Crown Prince’s wedding reception, and he had been stable ever since.
The problem was that with the lust settled, Kasha’s face had taken up residence in his mind with no apparent intention of leaving.
Even now, the memory of the kiss was replaying itself uninvited, and Leon was briefly, absurdly flustered.
At this rate, tomorrow I won’t know how to look her in the eye.
Kasha was coming to the estate tomorrow.
The realization surfaced, and something in him lifted. He noticed the corner of his mouth pulling upward — felt it happening, rubbed at it self-consciously — and cleared his throat, reaching for the second envelope.
“…?”
His expression changed as he read.
Miles asked, with quiet bewilderment: “My lord? What is it? Is it bad news?”
“Miles — please tell my siblings that I may be late and they should begin dinner without me.”
He said it with a measured calm, and gestured for the butler to leave. Miles asked no further questions and drew the door quietly shut behind him.
Alone now, Leon’s gaze settled cold and still on the letter in his hands.
He spread it open again. It began like this:
I know that you have fallen under the curse of lust. And Kasha Rüschino is the villainess who broke the seal on the spirit stone that cast this curse upon you.
***
Leon moved to the window, holding the letter up to the last of the failing daylight, searching for any clue the paper itself might yield.
Who would —
The envelope bore nothing but his name and the word urgent. Nothing else.
He read the letter again, his face drained of warmth.
I know that you have fallen under the curse of lust. And Kasha Rüschino is the villainess who broke the seal on the spirit stone that cast this curse upon you. She approached you deliberately. Keep your distance from her. This is a warning — for your sake.
He read it again. And again. The sun finished its descent and the room fell into full darkness, servants coming and going to light the spirit stone lamps and set down his untouched dinner tray, while Leon stood motionless at the window, still as carved stone.
Kasha… broke the seal on the spirit stone. The one that placed this curse on me.
He was not, outside of the curse’s seizures, a man of volatile feeling. Yet right now the conflict churning through him was so acute it blurred the edges of his thinking.
Two voices had taken up residence in him, and they were at war.
The first — the one he might have called optimistic — dismissed the letter as nothing more than a scheme, a fabrication, a trap. The second — his colder self, the one that had learned to distrust almost everything — pointed out that the claims were coherent. Plausible. Worth taking seriously.
What unsettled him most was this: the optimistic voice was winning. And it was doing so without offering a single rational argument.
She wouldn’t do something like that.
It kept repeating itself, insisting, offering nothing as evidence — only a series of entirely irrelevant images. Kasha’s soft brow. The directness of her gaze. The way she looked in her spectacles — sharp and a little odd. The faint redness that crept up around her eyes when they had kissed.
And yet, absurdly, those images pressed upon Leon’s judgment with a weight he could not dismiss.
He pressed the heel of his hand against his face in a gesture of quiet frustration.
I suspected her myself, didn’t I — from the very beginning, I thought she might have been the one who cast it.
And regardless of whether she had or hadn’t — it was undeniable that she had approached him deliberately. She had come to him with intention.
Even so. Even knowing all of that. Even with a letter that fit every piece into a coherent, damning whole — his instinct refused to accept it.
His instinct was pointing elsewhere entirely.
Who sent this letter?
If someone had cast the curse, then someone other than Kasha knew of it — that much he had always assumed. But this was the first time that person had stepped forward directly.
And the word they had chosen was warning. Dressed in the gracious language of concern — for your sake — but underneath it, the message was unmistakable.
I know you are a fallen holy knight, consumed by the curse of lust. I know this. And knowing it, I have the power to destroy you.
It was the precise opposite of what Kasha had said the very first moment they met — when she had looked at him out of nowhere and told him she hoped he would be happy.
Knock.
A knock at the door. When Leon didn’t answer, it opened — and Anthony looked in.
“Leon.”
“Anthony.”
Leon gathered himself and turned to face his brother. Anthony crossed the room with his usual unhurried, easy grace.
“You said you wanted to have dinner together for once — and then something came up again? Eve was quite disappointed. You’ll have to do something to make it up to her.”
The words pulled Leon fully back to himself.
“You’re right. I’m sorry — tell her I said so.”
“I will.”
Anthony’s gaze, drifting idly, landed on the letter still in Leon’s hand.
“…What are you reading?”
“Nothing. It’s nothing.”
Leon moved quickly to set the letter down on the desk. But in his haste the envelope beneath it slid off the edge and fell to the floor. Before Leon could reach for it, Anthony’s hand was already there. As he picked it up and passed it back, his eyes caught the word urgent on the outer envelope, and then moved away.
He said nothing about it. Instead, he changed the subject first.
“Kasha is visiting tomorrow, I hear.”
“That’s right.”
“You two are still spending time together, then.”
“…”
“You know, there’s quite a lot being said about her.”
“Is there?”
“Enough that it’s reaching even me, shut away as I am. The whole of the capital seems to have opinions about her.”
Leon said nothing. Anthony continued.
“She developed a lethal magical device — is that correct?”
“…Yes.”
“Remarkable. That’s something the mages who have spent years rotting away in the tower haven’t managed. Of course, it’s been centuries since anyone born with real magical ability has appeared — not since the Age of Great Magic ended.”
“Yes. A remarkable thing.”
“But how exactly is it possible?”
“Pardon?”
The question was odd in its vagueness. Leon looked at his brother, and Anthony met the look with gentle eyes, his voice perfectly even.
“In an age when the majority of mages can’t even properly process magical theories that were already established hundreds of years ago — how did she manage something like that, alone? It’s surprising, don’t you think?”
“I suppose.”
“Especially given that, since her adoption, Kasha has been confined to the estate for years. No academy. Not even a private tutor, by all accounts.”
The relaxed attention Leon had been giving his brother snapped into something sharper.
“You seem to know quite a bit about her.”
“Well. She’s become your public companion, Leon. It seems only reasonable to learn something about the woman.”
Anthony said it lightly — the tone of mild teasing — but Leon felt the edge beneath it. Not imagined. Anthony had been consistently, quietly, and precisely uncomfortable whenever Kasha came up.
“Anthony.”
“Yes, Leon?”
“I’ve watched her work with my own eyes. There’s no question she has ability. Real ability.”
“If you say so, then I believe you.”
Leon held his brother’s gaze.
“Our relationship has moved quickly — I understand why that might concern you. But there’s no need for you to guard yourself like this against her. She and I are — we are nothing more than two people who have chosen to be useful to each other, for reasons of necessity.”
It was a truthful statement. And yet his throat felt dry as he said it.
Anthony smiled.
“I see. Still — she matters to you, clearly, whatever the reason. I can’t go on being cold to her forever. I was actually thinking I might join you both for lunch tomorrow, if you don’t mind, Leon?”
Tomorrow was one of Leon’s two days off each month. Kasha was coming in the afternoon — she would examine his bedroom and private chambers in search of the curse’s physical medium. She had said they needed to find it quickly, before the curse worsened further.
The official reason for the visit — the pretext — was that she was returning the favor of Eve’s earlier sickbed visit, sharing an afternoon meal.
Eve would naturally be there. Leon had not thought to invite Anthony, assuming he would prefer to keep his distance. Their father had said he would be out all day — which was precisely why tomorrow had been chosen.
“You?”
The note of surprise in Leon’s voice was unmistakable. Anthony answered simply, with warmth.
“Yes. I’ll behave myself, I promise. Don’t worry, Leon.”
Leon hesitated. Of all the moments to be caught in — the suspicious letter still pressing at the edges of his thoughts, his own confusion about how to face Kasha the next day — the addition of both Eve and Anthony to that encounter made the shape of it impossible to predict.
But he could find no real objection. And Anthony was waiting, patient and still, for his answer.
“…I don’t suppose there’s any reason why not.”
“Good.”
“Remember your promise — to treat Kasha with courtesy.”
In the glow of the spirit stone lamps, Anthony’s eyes shifted — a deep, rippling teal.
“Of course. I’m looking forward to it, Leon.”
Leon looked back at the smile of the brother he loved, and found that he could not quite make himself feel easy about it.
The following day, at noon.
Ding-dong.
The moment the Rüschino carriage driver rang the front bell, Eve came flying to the door.
“Kasha — Kasha!”
“Eve.”
Kasha stepped forward with a full bouquet of flowers cradled in one arm and gathered Eve against her as she came barreling in.
“This is for you.” She pressed a small wrapped box into Eve’s hands.
Eve bounced on her heels. “What is it?”
“A secret. Open it later.”
“I’m so excited!”
“Eve. You mustn’t throw yourself at guests that way.”
Leon had followed close behind, and the mild reproof made no impression on Eve whatsoever. She clung happily to Kasha, wearing the triumphant expression of a child who knows exactly which side her bread is buttered on — Kasha is on my side, so there — and Leon gave up on the scolding and settled for a wry, helpless almost-laugh.
“Thank you for the invitation.”
A moment later, once Eve had loosened her grip, Kasha turned and offered the bouquet to Leon.
“Thank you.”
He accepted it with a brief nod.
And then Kasha noticed: he was being careful. Polite as always, but not meeting her eyes.
Why? Awkwardness?
This was their first meeting since the Crown Prince’s wedding reception. Which meant — it was their first meeting since the kiss.
That would make sense.
She herself had spent days agonizing over how to greet him, what expression to wear, what to say first.
Not that the kiss meant anything. It was something that happened because of the curse — it couldn’t be helped. It wasn’t a choice.
She had repeated that to herself, in slightly different forms, more times than she could count. Without that particular refrain, it was difficult to shake off the persistent, vivid echo of the memory.
“I’ll run up and put my present away — I’ll be right back!”
Eve fluttered up the staircase and disappeared, and Kasha fell into step beside Leon as he guided her toward the dining room. For the length of that walk, she kept having to remind herself not to let her gaze drift sideways to his profile.
His steady, substantial presence. His height. The clean lines of his face in three-quarter view. All of it was familiar to her by now — and yet today, each glimpse seemed to catch her afresh.
She reached for something to say.
“The flowers — they’re lisianthus. And tulips, and lavender.”
“…Yes. The bouquet.”
“Yes. I added extra lavender on purpose. It has a — a calming effect on the nerves.”
“I see.”
Short, contained answers, without so much as a glance in her direction.
Was there a cold edge to his eyes? Or was she imagining it?
She had come today with nothing but practicality in mind — finding the curse’s medium — no expectations beyond that. And still, a chill moved through her, somewhere near her sternum, like the quiet drag of a blade.
Fool. Were you actually hoping for something? You and Leon are nothing but useful to each other. That’s all this is.
Kasha gave herself the rebuke quietly, and kept her eyes forward. Between them, as they walked side by side, a bleak silence stretched without yielding.
They had nearly reached the dining room when a voice shot out of the sitting room — unpleasant, unmistakably directed at her presence.
“What? Who is this you’re telling me about?”
