Ocean was working in his office, the junior aides granted a rare day off. The estate felt quieter without their constant shuffling and whispered arguments. Only the steady rhythm of pen against parchment filled the room.

For nearly an hour, neither man spoke.

Sunlight slipped through the tall windows in pale, warming streaks, catching on dust motes that drifted lazily in the air. Outside, the trees lining the estate grounds were beginning to trade their skeletal branches for tender green. The days were getting warmer as the spring made its appearance.

At last, Ocean set his pen aside.

He leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms overhead until his shoulders gave a soft, satisfied pop. The movement loosened the tension in his spine, though his expression remained as unreadable as ever.

Across the room, Roan was still bent over his desk, brows drawn together in stubborn concentration.

Ocean rose, moving toward the window. His steps were quiet, unhurried.

From the glass, he watched the carriage passing through the gates. The horses were well-kept. The crest on the door unmistakable.

He did not need to see the passenger to know who had arrived.

Behind him, Roan exhaled heavily.

Ocean glanced back just in time to see him stretch his neck before releasing an enormous yawn, eyes squeezing shut, fingers rubbing at the corners as if trying to drag himself back into focus.

Ocean’s gaze sharpened faintly.

"Didn’t get enough sleep?"

Roan froze mid-motion, then reached for the ink bottle with deliberate care.

"Yes," he muttered.

He removed the cap and began pouring ink into his pen with almost excessive concentration.

Ocean tilted his head slightly, observing him the way one might study an interesting specimen.

"Did you and Remi get some action last night?"

The ink bottle jerked violently.

A dark droplet splattered dangerously close to the edge of the documents Roan had been working on for hours.

"Th-The hell are you talking about?!" Roan snapped, voice cracking halfway through, his face turning the exact shade of his fiery red hair.

Ocean smiled faintly.

"You ought to tell him sometime," he said evenly. "If he falls in love with someone else, you will have nothing but regret."

The words were delivered lightly, almost teasing, but there was no mockery in them which made Roan’s jaw tight.

He glared at Ocean, but said nothing because he knew.

The truth of it sat heavy in his chest.

He could imagine it too clearly, Remi smiling at someone else, standing too close to someone else, choosing someone else.

And Roan standing there like a fool who waited too long.

But they were both men.

And Remi had never... shown interest in anyone that way.

Roan didn’t even know where to begin.

Hey, your combat skills aren’t that better than me and by the way, I’m on love with you?

Ridiculous.

"What about you though?" Roan shot back, a little too quickly. "You and Prince Davian seem like you’re getting quite a lot of action."

Ocean’s gaze shifted toward him, calm, knowing.

"We’re fine," he replied smoothly. "And don’t try to change the subject." 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

Roan rolled his eyes, though there was no real heat behind it. He held his pen between his fingers again and resumed writing with exaggerated focus.

Ocean turned back to the window.

Outside, the carriage door had opened. Servants were already approaching.

"If you don’t know how to say it," Ocean continued, voice quieter now, "then don’t."

Roan’s pen paused mid-stroke.

"Make him fall for you."

Silence.

Ocean clasped his hands behind his back, gaze still outward.

"I can arrange for you to work alongside him more often. Field assignments. Joint reports. You’ll have opportunities."

Roan didn’t look up as he kept writing, but the ink pooled slightly where his pen lingered too long.

"...You make it sound simple," he muttered.

"It is not," Ocean replied. "But neither is regret."

That one landed.

Roan’s shoulders stiffened faintly.

For a moment, the only sound in the office was the quiet drag of pen against parchment and the distant rustle of spring wind outside.

Ocean exhaled softly.

He was about to return to his desk and begin reviewing the pending reports when he heard two knocks.

Ocean’s eyes shifted toward the door.

"Enter," Ocean called. His voice had lost all traces of teasing.

Enora entered with quiet precision and bowed.

"Master. The Grand Duchess is here to see you."

Ocean did not react outwardly.

"Bring her to the parlor," he instructed. "I will receive her there. And prepare some tea and refreshments for Roan."

"Yes, Master."

Enora withdrew.

Ocean paused beside Roan, resting a hand briefly on his shoulder.

"Compose yourself," he murmured.

Roan gave a small huff. "I’m fine."

"I know," Ocean replied, and then he left.

The corridor was quiet.

Sunlight spilled across polished floors as Ocean made his way toward the parlor. His steps were measured, unhurried.

He had seen Dahlia only yesterday at the Oasis.

She would not come twice without purpose.

Several possibilities formed in his mind, political inquiry, gossip... or confirmation.

He eliminated two. The third aligned too neatly with the timing. So that was it.

By the time he reached the tall parlor doors, his expression had settled into something politely neutral, a mask worn so often it required no effort.

The guards opened the doors at once.

Inside, the room was bathed in soft daylight. The curtains had been drawn just enough to temper the glare.

Dahlia sat poised in an armchair, back straight, gloved hands resting lightly atop her lap. Her beige gown was understated but finely tailored, the hat casting a delicate shadow across her sharp features.

"Good noon, Your Grace," Ocean said, bowing smoothly.

Dahlia hummed in acknowledgment, not quite warm, not quite cold.

Ocean took the sofa opposite her, crossing one leg over the other with relaxed elegance.

Moments later, Katie entered carrying a tray. Porcelain clinked softly as she arranged the tea set between them.

The scent of steeping leaves filled the air.

She brewed the tea with careful hands, pouring first for the Duchess, then for Ocean.

Neither spoke.

Ocean waited until the last cup was set down.

Then, without raising his voice, he made a small gesture.

Katie bowed and exited. The guards followed.

The doors shut with a quiet finality.

Ocean leaned back slightly, one arm resting along the sofa’s edge, gaze steady on Dahlia.

"So," he began smoothly, "to what do I owe the honor of this visit, Your Grace?"

Dahlia lifted her cup without answering. The porcelain touched her lips, but her eyes stayed on him over the rim. She took her time with the sip, as if measuring him in those few seconds.

Ocean did not look away.

When she set the cup back onto its saucer, the sound was soft but precise.

"Are you and my son in a romantic relationship?"

The question landed cleanly.

Ocean’s expression did not shatter. It did not even flicker beyond a slight stillness that passed through his shoulders. The possibility had already been considered on his walk here.

"He is pursuing me," Ocean replied.

Dahlia’s brows drew together, "Does he know?"

Ocean shook his head once, "I have not told him."

"Then what was that yesterday?" She demanded.

Ocean inhaled through his nose, selecting his words the way he selected pieces on a board.

"I would suggest you ask His Highness who he is in love with."

Dahlia’s frown deepened.

"What do you mean who? He is in love with you- Reina..."

The name left her lips firmly, almost accusingly. Then she stopped, her gaze sharpened before her eyes widened as understanding dawned.

"...Or wait. Is he in love with you? With Ocean?"

Ocean did not answer.

The polite smile remained, but something in his gaze gave him away.

Dahlia’s posture faltered for the first time since he entered the room. Her back, once rigid, eased against the armchair. Her lips parted, then pressed together again.

The silence between them was not loud. It was heavy.

Ocean waited.

She reached for her tea again, though it had already cooled. She drank the remainder in one steady motion and set the cup down with more force than before.

When she looked at him this time, the anger was no longer sharp. It was layered with something else. Concern. Fear.

"Do you love my son?"

Ocean held her gaze.

There were many answers he could give. Diplomatic ones. Evasive ones. Strategic ones.

He chose none of them.

Dahlia leaned forward slightly, her patience thinning.

"It is either yes or no. Do you, or do you not?"

Ocean met her eyes without flinching. "Yes."

Dahlia stared at him, he stared right back with certainty. The tension in her jaw eased first and then her shoulders eased a little.

Her anger did not disappear. It shifted direction.

"He’s in love with you as a man," Dahlia said, not asking but confirming.

Ocean inclined his head.

"And he is also in love with Reina."

The words unsettled her more than his earlier admission had. Her brows lifted before drawing together again.

"What?"

Ocean exhaled slowly, "It appears His Highness has fallen in love with both of my personas."

Dahlia removed her hat, setting it carefully on the table beside her. The gesture felt less about comfort and more about trying to get rid of the piling tension.

"What are you saying?" She asked. "There are not two people. Both are you. So he is in love with you."

Ocean pressed his lips together, then gave a small nod, "Yes."

Dahlia leaned back into the armchair, studying him with an expression no longer edged with accusation. Her gaze moved across his face as if trying to reconcile the versions she had known.

"I never imagined I would live to see the day I learned my son was in love with a man."

There was no venom in her voice. Only the weight of expectation colliding with reality.

Ocean remained composed, his fingers lacing together over his knee.

"And if I were a man in truth?" he asked.

Dahlia looked at him for several seconds, then she sighed, the sound less strained than before.

"I do not care," she said at last. "If my son is happy, that is enough."

Ocean watched her closely as she reached for the teapot again. She poured herself another cup, hands steady this time.

The air in the room shifted, the way her aura had flared earlier now eased.

Ocean allowed his shoulders to ease back against the sofa.

Dahlia lifted her cup and held it without drinking.

"You love him," she said, quieter now.

"Yes."

"And you intend to continue deceiving him?"

Ocean’s gaze did not waver, "I intend to tell him."

"When?"

Ocean did not answer immediately.

Dahlia’s eyes sharpened again, not as a Grand Duchess now, but as a mother who knew her son’s heart too well.

"You understand," she said, "that if he discovers this from someone else, he will not forgive you. I almost blurted it out to him when I thought of asking about you two."

Ocean’s fingers tightened slightly against one another before relaxing again.

"I am aware."

Dahlia studied him one last time assessing his sincerity.

"You are not afraid of scandal," she observed.

"No."

"You are afraid of hurting him."

Ocean did not respond.

Dahlia gave a slow nod, as if something had settled within her.

"Then do not delay too long," she said. "My son is reckless when he loves."

Ocean allowed the faintest hint of a smile, "I have noticed."

And for the first time since she entered the room, Dahlia almost smiled back.

"I am going to tell him about my feelings and the truth after the Trials end," Ocean said.

Dahlia lifted her cup again, studying him over the rim. The steam brushed her face, but her attention never left him.

"You do realize how he will react."

Ocean’s gaze shifted briefly toward the window as he said, "I believe I do."

Dahlia took a slow sip.

"And are you prepared for that?"

Ocean gave a small shrug. It was not careless. It was acceptance.

Dahlia watched him for a few seconds longer, measuring whether that gesture was bravery or recklessness.

"What will you do," she asked, "if he tells you he does not love you because of your lie?"

Ocean did not move at first.

His fingers rested against the porcelain cup before him, but he did not reach for it.

He lifted his head.

"Then I will have to pursue him."

Dahlia stared at him.

For a heartbeat she looked stunned. Then the corner of her mouth twitched. A sound escaped her before she could contain it, not quite a laugh, but close.

"You would chase my son?"

Ocean’s expression remained composed, "Yes."

There was no hesitation in it.

Dahlia leaned back, exhaling through her nose. She had known, of course. She had pieced together why the second identity existed. She had witnessed the moment Reina’s secret had unraveled, when a life had been on the line and hesitation had not been an option.

That day had told her everything. Reina did not hide for vanity and Ocean did not exist for deception alone.

Both identities existed because protection required sacrifice.

And if this person loved her son, then that same ferocity would extend to him.

Dahlia’s gaze softened.

"You are aware that my son is stubborn."

"So am I," Ocean replied.

A flicker of amusement passed between them.

Dahlia placed her cup down.

"I will support you."

He let out a quiet chuckle before finally lifting his own teacup.

"I appreciate that, Your Grace."

Dahlia tilted her head slightly.

"Do not make me regret it."

"I do not intend to."

Ocean lifted the teacup.

Before porcelain touched his lips, something pressed against his senses.

It was not sound or sight. But the sheer weight of the presence that seemed to have descended.

He froze.

Across from him, Dahlia went rigid at the exact same moment. Her cup rattled faintly against its saucer before she set it down and rose to her feet.

"What is that?" she demanded.

Ocean did not answer immediately. His eyes had already closed. His Mana Sense spread outward from him like a silent tide, sweeping past the estate walls, across the gardens, through the woods beyond. It extended further, deeper, searching for the source of the intrusion.

And then, it met something. Not one presence but two and both equally menacing if he didn’t act quickly.

His eyes opened as he frowned deeply, sensing their direction.

"They’re heading toward Eldarf," he said, the words coming low and sharp.

Dahlia’s expression hardened.

"Who?" She asked.

Ocean’s jaw tightened, he didn’t answer.

The air near the windows trembled faintly as if reacting to his agitation and he rushed over to them opening them.

"I’ll need to go."

Dahlia stepped toward him.

"I’m coming."

"No," Ocean said immediately. "Wait here."

She did not move back.

"I am not remaining behind while something that powerful approaches the kids."

Ocean held her gaze for a second. He could argue. He could command.

Instead, he exhaled.

"Stay close to me."

Dahlia extended her hand without hesitation, Ocean clasped it before scooping her up in his arms as his wings unfurled and he leapt out of the window.