Though smaller than Orcamp's quarters, the apartments reserved for royalty were no less luxurious.
A lion statue reaching the ceiling stood at the hall's center, with four paths branching out.
Twenty meters down the eastern path, a gold-adorned door awaited. When the attendant opened it, Shirone saw an artificial garden with marble floors.
Before entering, Shirone scanned the interior.
The garden was beautiful—but too perfect, as if set up for a scheme. Despite it being winter, palm trees evoked a southern ambiance.
At the central table, a young pair of siblings sipped tea, while a sleek black cat and a fluffy white one played on the floor.
Attendant: "Lord Zion, I've brought Lord Shirone."
Zion, watching the cats, didn't turn—only tilting his head slightly.
Zion: "Let him in."
With a slimy smile, the attendant gestured for Shirone to enter.
Chin raised, Shirone strode in confidently.
If he showed weakness now, all his strategies would crumble.
The sound of the door closing behind him felt unnaturally ominous.
Ignoring etiquette, Shirone studied the siblings with an intense gaze.
So these were…
Teraze Zion and Teraze Wuorin.
The current First Prince and Princess of Kazura.
They were Orcamp's children—but bore their mother Teraze's surname. The reason was simple: Orcamp had lost the power struggle in their political marriage. The world called it his humiliation.
Finally, Zion turned to look at Shirone—and burst out laughing at his serious expression.
Zion: "Haha! Don't be so tense. I won't bite."
Shirone had never seen Empress Teraze of Kashan—but if he removed Orcamp's features from Zion's face, he could vaguely imagine her.
Silver hair, sharp double eyelids, and a delicate, catlike jawline—Zion was a beautiful boy. It wasn't hard to guess that Teraze's beauty surpassed imagination.
Wuorin greeted Shirone with a smile.
Wuorin: "Hello, I'm Wuorin! You're the mage brother, right? I saw you in a magazine."
The white cat leaped into her lap. Shirone couldn't look away from the fourteen-year-old girl cuddling it.
If Zion's appearance hinted at Teraze's likeness, Wuorin embodied it.
No—more accurately, it was as if Orcamp's blood had barely mixed into hers at all.
She was a beautiful girl, but beyond that beauty, there was an almost spiritual, mystical aura about her appearance.
Shirone had felt something similar before. He never imagined he'd experience the same emotions he felt when he first saw Ikael in Heaven—now evoked by a human.
Wuorin gently lowered her head, then glanced up at Shirone with uneasy eyes.
Wuorin: "Why—why are you looking at me like that? In a few days, we'll be family. That kind of gaze is a bit overwhelming, you know?"
Shirone's face flushed red instantly.
Shirone: "N-No, I didn't mean it like that…"
As if nothing had happened, Wuorin clutched her stomach and laughed.
Wuorin: "Hohoho! Just kidding, just kidding! I heard you're 18, but you're so innocent~ Come on, sit over here."
Shirone steadied himself and took the seat Wuorin offered. He had almost lost control of the situation, but this was just the beginning.
A servant brought tea, and the real conversation began.
Contrary to Shirone's expectations of a fierce psychological battle, Zion was oddly optimistic about the current situation.
It was only possible because he was looking down on Shirone from above.
Zion: "You're not stupid, so you must understand the royal family's circumstances. You know the weight the name 'Teraze' carries. I called you here to settle this cleanly. I don't know what Father was thinking, but you can never become king. So it'd be wise not to walk around with your head held too high."
For the First Prince candidate to openly demand Shirone's surrender was no different from declaring his intent to claim the throne.
Having devoured history books, Shirone knew exactly how bloody royal power struggles unfolded.
But this time, he was almost grateful for Zion's bluntness. He had never been interested in the throne to begin with.
Shirone: "Don't worry. I'm only here because I was invited. Once this is over, I'll leave. I have no intention of staying here—let alone becoming king."
Zion: "Hahaha! Smooth talker. That's what all the sneaky bastards say before they stab you in the back. Typical of a lowly mage. Oh, wait—you're not even a mage yet, are you? Just an apprentice."
Wuorin scolded Zion.
Wuorin: "Oppa, don't be like that. Shirone oppa had a difficult childhood. For a commoner to enter a magic academy is amazing! And now, he's considered a prodigy!"
Unlike Zion, Wuorin was openly friendly toward Shirone.
But from Shirone's perspective, her kindness felt even more dangerous than Zion's hostility.
Wuorin was also Teraze's daughter. There was no reason for her to treat him well.
Wuorin smiled sweetly.
Wuorin: "Shirone oppa, you still seem wary of us. It's all because of Zion oppa. Ah, can I call you 'oppa'?"
Shirone couldn't adjust to the atmosphere here.
The Teraze siblings were polar opposites, like heaven and hell. Trying to process both of them at once tangled his thoughts into a mess.
Shirone: "Well… nothing's been decided yet, but… I guess it's fine?"
Wuorin: "Oh, who cares? I'll just call you oppa. You're older than me, after all. By the way, oppa, can you use magic?"
Shirone: "Magic? Uh, yeah, the basics."
Wuorin clapped her hands excitedly.
Wuorin: "Wow! That's awesome! You have to show me later! Magic is always so fascinating. How can fire come out of your hands?"
Shirone was increasingly baffled.
There was no trace of strategy in Wuorin's demeanor. For a moment, he even wondered if she was just a genuinely kind and bright girl.
But she was no village maiden—she was the daughter of an empress. If anything, she was sharper than most.
Then, Shirone noticed something Zion and Wuorin had in common.
They feared nothing.
Zion's open hostility and Wuorin's unfitting friendliness were only possible because they had the immense power of Teraze behind them.
Wuorin glanced at the wall clock, then hastily set down the cat and stood up.
Wuorin: "Oh? It's time to eat. Oppa, let's go."
Zion placed his teacup down and leaned toward Shirone.
Zion: "I don't know what you're thinking by coming here, but don't get your hopes up. Unless you want to get hurt."
Shirone didn't even flinch.
Shirone: "I'll say it clearly—I'm not hoping for anything. The only reason I'm here is to meet my birth parents."
Zion: "Hah! Birth parents? Sure, that's important. But you know what? Parents who abandoned their child once won't hesitate to do it again."
Shirone frowned, not understanding.
Shirone: "What do you mean?"
Zion: "Pathetic. Blood means nothing in the face of power. You don't actually think Father sought you out for no reason, do you?"
Shirone had already guessed there was a hidden motive behind his sudden retrieval after 18 years. But hearing it from Zion was still a shock.
Wuorin tapped Zion's shoulder.
Wuorin: "Ugh, come on! We're gonna be late! If we're late, we'll get in trouble!"
Zion smirked at Shirone before being dragged out by his sister.
The Royal Dinner
The food served at the royal table was so extravagant that commoners wouldn't even dream of it.
Shirone thought it unnecessary to spend so much on daily meals, but for the royal family, extravagance was a virtue—even if no one ate it.
Royals had to surpass nobles in even the smallest things.
As long as nobles indulged in luxury, the royal family's excessive spending would never change.
Shirone's group sat at the far end of the table. Vincent and his wife, as well as Reina and Amy, were pale-faced.
They never imagined they'd actually be invited to the king's table.
Perhaps this was a first in Kazura Kingdom's 100-year history.
Their anxiety was overwhelming—so much so that they barely tasted the food.
The atmosphere was icy.
Orcamp's pride was wounded by this breach of protocol, and Shirone and Zion were still tense from their earlier exchange.
But Eliza was in high spirits. She loved the dress she'd picked—sleeves adorned with sable fur, accessorized with diamonds.
Eliza, who had been picking at her food as if dissecting it molecule by molecule, suddenly set down her utensils and smiled brightly.
Eliza: "We must decorate Shirone's room. Something splendid and magnificent. Since you're blond, a navy suit would suit you. Oh, and a carriage too! I'll be busy for a while."
Olina's expression darkened. These were all things she couldn't provide.
Shirone spoke up firmly.
Shirone: "That's not necessary. What my parents have given me so far is more than enough."
Eliza: "Oh-ho, our son is so modest! But as royalty, you can't live like before. Hmm… gold suits you. No—sapphires?"
Shirone: "Gold, jewels—none of that matters. The parents here gave me their all. That kind of love is irreplaceable."
Eliza frowned. What could be more important than gold and jewels? Luxurious wealth was their duty as royals.
She found it irritating that Shirone kept praising his foster parents instead of embracing his royal status.
Eliza: "Vincent, was it?"
Vincent hurriedly set down his fork.
Vincent: "Ah, yes! Arian Vincent!"
Eliza: "We shall reward you. For raising our son so well, you deserve compensation. Money would be too crude—how about land in the Cosent region, dear?"
Orcamp replied indifferently.
Orcamp: "That would suffice."
Shirone's anger flared. They had come to the palace as demanded, yet Vincent and Olina were terrified of losing their child. The only gift they deserved was pride in raising him well.
All he wanted was for these so-called royals to say one simple thing: "Thank you for raising our son."
Was that so hard?
Shirone: "Wait. Why do you keep talking like that? They raised me for 18 years. They taught me how to live when my real parents weren't there!"
Eliza's expression darkened. Abandoning Shirone was regrettable, but his constant siding with commoners was infuriating.
Eliza: "Is the reward too small? Then we'll add a small estate—"
Shirone: "That's not the point! Why can't you just say 'thank you'?"
Eliza looked stunned. Since when did royals have to thank commoners?
Zion scowled.
Zion: "What's with this disgraceful behavior? You think this is some commoner's dinner table?"
Shirone glared but held back. Zion wasn't entirely wrong—making a scene here would only backfire.
Wuorin quickly intervened.
Wuorin: "Ah, really! Shirone oppa is just too kind. I think he values emotions over material things. To him, gratitude without feeling is just an exchange of objects."
For the first time, Shirone saw Wuorin as a lovable younger sister. She had voiced exactly what he wanted to say.
Wuorin winked at him, then turned to Vincent and Olina.
Wuorin: "I'm sorry for pushing you. And… thank you for raising our eldest brother so wonderfully."
Vincent: "O-Oh, no, I couldn't possibly…"
He trembled, overwhelmed. Never in his life had he imagined receiving thanks from royalty.
Shirone's expression softened slightly. He almost felt guilty for misjudging Wuorin.
Meanwhile, Reina was stunned.
Wuorin was Teraze's princess—and the Kashan Empire's throne had always been inherited by Teraze women. While Zion could only rule Kazura, Wuorin could become empress and dominate the continent.
For someone of her status to express gratitude to commoners was unheard of—or perhaps, a sign of a future tyrant.
As Reina predicted, Wuorin's words carried immense influence. Even Orcamp, who had remained silent, had no choice but to comply.
Orcamp: "Perhaps I was too focused on royal decorum. We are indeed grateful to you."
Vincent: "N-No, we only did what was natural."
Olina's eyes flickered with quiet anger. She could tell—Wuorin's words were sincere, but Orcamp's weren't.
She hadn't given birth to Shirone, but after 18 years of raising him, her love ran deeper than blood.
If Shirone was happy, she would let him go—even if it meant losing him to his birth parents. But the royals' arrogance made her furious.
Olina: "We don't need money. We only want Shirone to be happy."
Shirone looked at her in surprise. Unlike before, when she had been cowed by royal authority, her voice now carried quiet defiance.
Eliza's face twisted. She could tolerate Shirone's defiance, but a commoner's insolence was unacceptable.
Yet she couldn't retaliate—not with Wuorin's influence still in play.
Eliza: "Take the reward anyway. We wouldn't want you changing your mind later."
Olina neither agreed nor refused, simply lowering her head—but her gaze remained fixed on Eliza.
Seeing the situation escalating, Shirone decided to cut to the chase.
Shirone: "Actually, there's something I want to say."
Eliza, eager to shift the mood, quickly forced a smile.
Eliza: "Of course, say anything. Mother will listen."
Olina's mood worsened. Eliza's words carried a mocking undertone—No matter how much you play mother, Shirone is royalty.
Shirone: "I don't want to be Kazura's heir. I've already settled this with Zion. So… please let me stay for a while, then return to Tormia."
Every utensil at the table froze. Orcamp's face darkened, and Eliza gaped in disbelief.
Eliza: "What nonsense is this, Shirone? This is your home now. There's no need to return to that wretched place."
Shirone: "I want to go back. At least let me graduate from my current school."
He played his magic academy card. Ideally, he wanted to leave the palace immediately, but doing so might endanger his family.
Eliza: "No! Absolutely not! You are a prince of royal blood! If it's a magic school you want, Kazura has plenty! We'll assign you the finest tutors!"
Shirone: "I have graduation exams next year. This is the most crucial time for me. Just give me one year."
(Of course, he had no intention of returning after a year. Once free, he planned to graduate and flee with his parents.)
Wuorin supported him again.
Wuorin: "I understand how Shirone oppa feels. He has friends at school, and connections matter too."
Eliza: "Connections with nobles? You should be mingling with royalty!"
She was vehemently opposed. How could her long-lost son leave again? Worse, his loyalty to commoners wounded her pride.
After a long silence, Orcamp spoke.
Orcamp: "We shall consider it."
Eliza: "Darling!"
She glared, but a cold glint in Orcamp's eyes silenced her.
Orcamp also found it absurd to let his son return to commoners. But with Teraze's children present, forcing Shirone to stay might provoke suspicion.
Reina finally understood Shirone's strategy.
Teraze's faction was the most dangerous—but also the most powerful. Instead of resisting, Shirone was using their influence to his advantage.
'As expected of him.'
She had worried he was acting rashly, but Shirone wasn't one to fight a losing battle.
Bringing his parents to the royal table, declaring his intent to leave—these were moves only possible with Teraze's children present.
In the end, Orcamp had no choice but to relent.
Orcamp: "Shirone, all evidence suggests you are my son. And I believe it as well. But definitive proof is still pending."
(An unusual demand, but Shirone had anticipated it—this was also to reassure Teraze's faction.)
Orcamp: "So here's my proposal: verifying the First Prince requires due process. We will conduct a paternity test. Starting tomorrow, results will take four days. Until then, let's think of a solution."
Shirone disliked the delay, but forcing an immediate resolution was impossible.
Shirone: "Understood. I'll think carefully too."
Though the royal table was laden with delicacies, no one remembered the menu that night.