Third Person’s Pov

Sniff... Sniff...

A soft, trembling sound echoed through the quiet private room.

Lackey held Penelope gently in his arms, her face buried against his chest as she sniffled. His fingers moved through her hair in slow, soothing strokes.

For a long moment, silence lingered between them.

Then Penelope suddenly stirred, her body tensing as awareness returned. She flinched and quickly pulled herself away, her hands trembling as she tried to compose herself.

"I-I am sorry, Mr. Lackey... telling you my worthless story... I didn’t mean to waste your precious time..." Her voice wavered, soft and fragile, her face flushing deeply as fear and embarrassment curled tightly around her chest.

Lackey looked at her quietly. A faint smile touched his lips as he reached forward, gently wiping the remaining tears from her cheeks with his thumb.

"It’s fine..." His voice carried a quiet warmth, "You don’t need to apologise for speaking your heart." He paused briefly, then added in a softer tone,

"How about you go home and rest for the day?"

"Huh?" Penelope blinked, confusion flickering across her face as she quickly shook her head. "My shift has not finished yet—"

"I will speak to your Madam personally."

Penelope frowned faintly, still trying to gather herself. "But I am really fine..." she insisted, attempting to stand.

The moment she pushed herself up, her legs betrayed her as she stumbled, falling forward onto his lap without warning.

Lackey’s smile deepened just slightly. "Are you?"

It was not a simple weakness.

The past two days had worn her down completely, endless work without rest, barely eating, forcing herself forward until her body finally gave in, the moment her emotions spilled out.

Rest was not a suggestion anymore.

It was something she desperately needed.

Penelope gave a faint, embarrassed smile, her cheeks still flushed. "B-But Madam—"

"Sigh..."

He raised a finger and gently placed it against her lips, silencing her softly rather than sharply. With his other hand, he took out an orb, its surface faintly glowing as he activated it.

"Is it something important, Mr. Lackey?" Rosavere’s voice echoed from within the orb.

Penelope’s body stiffened instantly. She looked at Lackey with wide, pleading eyes, silently begging him not to involve her, her fingers clutching lightly at his sleeve.

"I am taking your secretary." He said flatly.

"... "

Silence followed.

Penelope’s face turned completely red, her breath catching as her heart pounded wildly.

"Two paid days of leave only." Rosavere’s voice returned before the connection cut off without hesitation.

Penelope stared at the orb in disbelief.

"She... she agreed just like that?"

Behind the mask, Lackey smirked faintly. ’Of course she would. After all, she had been listening the entire time.’ he thought.

His gaze shifted subtly toward the faint, almost imperceptible fluctuation of energy beneath the table. Even without his power, that sensitivity to energy remained.

"M-Maybe she was angry—"

"No more questions."

Before she could finish, he moved.

In one smooth motion, he swept her into his arms.

"Ah?!"

A small cry escaped her as the world tilted. Her arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, her body pressing close to him as she was lifted effortlessly.

Her face burned even brighter, heat rushing to her ears.

"M-Mr. Lackey, what are you doing? I-I can walk..." Her voice trembled, not from fear, but from overwhelming embarrassment, her body shuddering slightly.

Her thoughts spiraled.

Was she too heavy?

Would she burden him?

He only had one visible hand...

Wait... wasn’t he holding her securely with both?

Was it another illusion?

Confusion flickered through her mind, but it was quickly drowned by the mortifying reality of her situation.

As he carried her down to the first floor, every step felt like a spotlight.

Eyes turned toward them from every direction. Staff paused. Customers glanced over. Even her colleagues stared, some surprised, others annoyed.

The princess carry.

It was far too much.

For a woman in her thirties, being held like this in public...

Her face burned as she buried it completely into his chest, hiding from the world, unable to endure the weight of so many gazes.

Lackey said nothing, simply paid the bill without hesitation and stepped out of the restaurant, his pace calm and steady as he walked toward a direction only he intended.

After a moment, Penelope slowly peeked out from his chest, her lashes fluttering as she glanced ahead.

Confusion returned as she realised something was wrong.

"Mr. Lackey... the shelter is—"

"We are going to my place."

Her breath caught.

Her heart skipped, then began to race uncontrollably.

She curled slightly in his arms, like a small, uncertain kitten, unable to fully accept or refuse, her voice fading into a quiet murmur beneath her breath.

Lackey did not respond.

He simply continued walking.

The gentle sway of his black hair caught her attention, moving softly with each step, almost hypnotic. Her gaze lifted, drawn once again to the rabbit mask that concealed his face.

What was hidden beneath it?

Curiosity bloomed quietly within her.

What if he were ugly, and that was why he was hiding his face?

She found herself growing more curious than ever, not because she wanted to judge whether he was handsome or not... but because she simply wanted to see his face, to know the truth he kept hidden.

Honestly, at this point, she knew it wouldn’t matter. Even if he was not handsome... even if his face could not compare to Lord Aether, who was said to be the most handsome man... somewhere deep within her heart, she believed without hesitation that in her heart, Lackey would still be the most handsome man in the world.

[+4000 AP]

A faint warmth spread across her cheeks as her thoughts softened. She lowered her head again, resting against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

It felt... calming.

Like a lullaby she did not know she needed, her eyes turned heavy as she listened to the lullaby of his heart.

By the time Lackey reached his house, the one used for transport and contact with Rosavere, her body had already surrendered to sleep.

She rested peacefully in his arms, her expression finally free from tension.

Lackey paused at the entrance, blinking in slight surprise as he looked down at her.

Then, slowly, a gentle smile formed beneath the mask.

Carefully, with deliberate tenderness, he carried her inside and laid her down on the bed. His movements were quiet, almost reverent, as he adjusted her position and pulled the quilt over her.

For a brief moment, he lingered, his hand hovering slightly before resting gently against her head, smoothing her hair once more.

Penelope groaned softly when she slipped away from the steady lullaby of his heartbeat and the warmth that had wrapped around her like a quiet refuge... yet the dark shadows beneath her eyes weighed heavily, pulling her deeper into the rest she had long been denied, a rest her body now claimed without resistance.

Lackey stood beside the bed, his gaze lingering on her fragile form. With a soft, almost careful pat on her cheek, he spoke in a low voice, "Sleep well..." before he turned away and stepped out of the house.

The moment he closed the door, something shifted.

Ssshh~

A faint trail of black smoke began to seep from his body, curling into the air like something alive, as if a sealed force was straining to break free.

His eyes flickered violently between a cold, piercing ice blue and... a deep, consuming black that carried an unsettling weight.

His entire figure distorted, flickering like a broken image on a static-filled screen. For a brief second, a misty black armour wrapped around him, clinging to his form like a shadow given shape, before vanishing as quickly as it appeared.

[Aether! Calm down, she is just another person with the same name—]

"Shut. Up."

His voice dropped, cold and sharp, cutting through the Log without hesitation.

Slowly, he removed the mask, revealing the face hidden beneath his calm demeanour.

Veins bulged across his skin, tense and strained, as though holding back something catastrophic that threatened to erupt at any moment.

[...]

His voice fell to a deadly whisper, so cold it seemed to freeze even the air around him.

"Nobody will hurt you ever again, Penelope."

With that, he stepped forward and vanished, moving instantly toward the Academy.

When he arrived, the grounds were filled with activity. Professors and academic workers moved about, assisting people and offering shelter to those in need.

Aether did not stop.

He slipped through unnoticed as he made his way directly to Dora’s office, avoiding any unnecessary attention.

He knew well that drawing eyes to himself now would only lead to consequences.

The moment he entered the office—

"Aether? How is it goin—"

Dora’s voice halted mid-sentence. She had intended to ask about the situation in the other Empires, but the words died instantly.

Something was wrong.

He looked calm... Too calm.

But beneath that surface, she could feel it.

Rage.

Not ordinary anger, but something far deeper.

Even without the presence of arcane energy, the pressure around him pressed heavily against the room, a rare and terrifying killing intent leaking out unconsciously.

She did not question it directly.

Instead, she spoke, leaning to her knuckles, "Do you need my help?"

Aether turned to her, a faint smile forming on his lips, though it never reached his eyes.

"I need the records of students who were dismissed for bullying fifteen years ago."

Dora frowned for a brief moment before she gave a small nod. "I will bring them."

She stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, before leaving the room without another word.

Time passed slowly.

Nearly half an hour later, Dora returned, carrying several documents. She placed them down in front of him.

"In that year alone, at least 105 students were dismissed for bullying."

Aether’s brows furrowed slightly as he looked at the stack. "That’s a lot..."

Dora let out a quiet sigh, her expression turning distant. "Even with strict punishments and constant warnings, it still happens, Aether. No matter how many rules we create or campaigns we run, there will always be someone suffering in silence."

"The brighter the light, the darker the shadow. Sigh, it doesn’t stop... unless the victim chooses to step forward."

Shaking her head faintly, she pushed the documents toward him. "Anyway, here."

Aether took the files, his eyes scanning through them quickly. After a moment, he nodded.

"Thank you."

He leaned forward and kissed her cheek lightly before turning and leaving immediately, wasting no time.

Dora blinked, momentarily caught off guard. Then, a slow, knowing smirk curved across her lips.

"Looks like tonight is going to be a bloodbath~" she murmured softly, her tongue brushing against her lips with a dangerous glint in her eyes, ’Should I join him-’

Her gaze shifted to the mountain of work waiting on her desk, and her expression twisted in annoyance. "I am starting to hate this job... when do I get to enjoy time with my dear disciple?" she muttered under her breath before reluctantly returning to her duties.

Meanwhile—

Aether arrived at the palace.

Without delay, he handed the list to Kaelen, "Bring everyone on this list by midnight."

Kaelen blinked in surprise before lowering his gaze to the document. As he read through it, his expression shifted, his brows tightening.

"Father... there are quite a few Elders’ Scions here. Is something wrong?"

There was hesitation in his voice. Some of those names belonged to powerful Elders, people who had supported them.

For a brief moment, he hoped for an explanation.

Aether slowly turned his gaze toward him.

"Did I stutter, son?"

His voice turned endlessly, like a void swallowing all sound.

"Bring. Them. By. Tonight."

Kaelen’s body reacted before his thoughts could catch up. He immediately dropped to one knee, his head lowering deeply. "Understood... Your Majesty."

For the first time in his life, the figure before him no longer resembled the man he knew... not the gentle father who had guided him, not the presence that carried warmth and patience.

No.

This was something else.

Not a king.

Not even an emperor.

Something above it.

A presence that felt absolute, like a being whose will could not be questioned, whose command carried the weight of inevitability.

Sweat formed along Kaelen’s forehead as his breath grew shallow.

’W-What... is this feeling...’

He could not lift his gaze, could not bring himself to look up, as though even the act of meeting those eyes would be a transgression... as though he no longer held the right to even gaze upon the one standing before him.