"I understand," Roland said, lifting her up by the waist and gently placing her on the bed. The simple act left him breathless. He lifted the thin blanket, climbed onto the bed, and Anna leaned over, resting her head on his arm.
Next should be... Prologue?
He realized he was getting nervous too. This couldn't go on. As someone who had been through it all, he couldn't afford to show his awkwardness in front of a young girl. Maybe he should lighten the mood with some casual banter before taking action—like... start with a dirty joke?
As he was lost in thought, Anna's soft voice whispered in his ear: "When you shoved me off the hot air balloon, did you not consider the possibility of losing your life?" Roland was taken aback by the question. "I just did it instinctively," he replied. "You're the future ruler of Graycastle and the witches 'hope," she whispered. "I don't deserve your actions." "It's not about whether it's worth it," Roland laughed. "I couldn't stand by and watch you get attacked. In fact, after waking up and thinking it through, if things hadn't happened so suddenly, I would've made the same decision." "I couldn't stop you, right?" "Well, I couldn't," Roland said, pinching her nose with his other hand.
Anna's eyelashes drooped. After a moment of silence, she spoke. "Could you tell me about your past... I'd like to know more." "Oh, the past?" Roland let out a sigh. He had been searching the Fourth Prince's memories, preparing to recount two amusing palace anecdotes, but the words slipped away. His past belonged not here, but in a completely different world. "I once lived in a very, very large city." "The Graycastle capital was many times bigger than Border Town." "When I was born, I was no different from ordinary people—had some cleverness, but not much. I studied hard and was often praised by my teacher, though he didn't know those stubborn graffiti on the classroom walls were my work." "He wouldn't dare blame you," Anna murmured softly.
"Ha ha, that's not true. He didn't need to do anything to me—just tell my parents," Roland said with a laugh, shaking his head. "Back then, they'd never hold back when scolding me." "As I grew older, my teachers kept changing—from a junior teacher to a mentor—until I completed all my studies with mediocre grades. Of course, compared to other kids, I was always a step behind..." He half-closed his eyes, embellishing his story before speaking slowly. It had been a long time since he'd felt this kind of unfiltered, unrestrained exchange. Ever since arriving here, he'd been playing Prince, and now he felt like he'd returned to the past, lying in a hotel with a classical vibe, chatting casually with a girl he liked, and gradually easing his nervousness.
Maybe it's time to move on?
Roland turned his head slightly, only to find Anna already closed her eyes, her chest gently rising and falling against his side, like a cat lost in dream.
He was slightly stunned, then couldn't help laughing.
So it was... She was tired too.
It makes sense. To conceal their tracks, the witches had hidden in a remote mountain crevice the night before last, constantly on guard against wild beasts and the Devil's attacks. They barely slept all night, and as dawn broke, they set off for Border Town aboard the' Rising Gaze 'ship. Back at the castle, Anna spent another sleepless night in her bedroom. Two days and nights without a moment's rest—alternating between tension and relaxation—had unleashed the pent-up fatigue she'd been suppressing. It would be no wonder she was utterly exhausted now.
Likely, the other party's decision was also made amid anxious anticipation.
Though it was a bit of a letdown, Roland didn't dwell on it—there were plenty of days ahead.
He leaned in, kissed Anna's long lashes, and whispered, "Good night."
As morning light filtered through the curtain gap, Silvi rose from the large bed and couldn't help yawning a few times.
These days have been like a dream—so surreal. From discovering Devil to the aerial battle, and finally escaping back to Border Town, she never felt this tense or exhausted, even when surrounded by the Church and the Inquisition Army.
Good morning. Wendy had already changed into her clothes and was holding a basin of water to wash up.
"Good morning," she nodded. "You're up really early." "With age," Wendy smiled, "you sleep less and less." "Ah... Is it already daylight?" Nightingale rubbed her eyes. "Looks like I'll need to catch a nap today." "Didn't sleep well last night?" "Hmm, had quite a few dreams." Sylvie pouted dismissively. She had clearly seen the other person vanish to the third floor of the castle and linger near Lord's chamber door last night. Though Nightingale's special abilities made it unclear what she intended to do, she had returned late. "Didn't you last night..." Before she could finish, Nightingale suddenly turned to face Sylvie, her narrowed eyes speaking volumes—Sylvie immediately shut her mouth. The top combat witch of the Guild of Assistants' prowess was undeniable. The scene of her ghostly strikes against the Devil in the air remained vivid in her memory. On Sleepy Island, even Ash the Elder might not stand a chance against her. Sylvie decided it was best not to press her curiosity too hard about her silent warning.
"How was last night?" Wendy asked in surprise.
"Ah, ah," she murmured, "I heard her snoring last night—probably from all the energy she's been draining these past few days." "I agree," Nightingale said, shrugging off her nightgown to reveal her well-proportioned frame as she began putting on the lingerie Your Highness had gifted her.
Now that said, even Wendy has fully embraced this outfit, and there's even a growing trend of people recommending it to her.
I have to say, RolandYour Highness is truly a terrifying figure.
Yet when he thought of him now, a warm feeling welled up in Sylvie's heart.
It turns out there's actually a Noble who'd willingly take a fall for a Witch.
When she saw Roland's fearless push of Anna, something in her heart stirred. The Witches of the Guild weren't mere tools under his control—they were his trusted allies, even comrades. Her reaction spoke volumes: he was genuinely on the Witches' side, just like Tilly Wimbledon.
If Roland and Tilly could unite and pool their strengths from both worlds, they might just create a new realm where witches and ordinary people blend seamlessly.
She decided to write a letter to Lord Tilly.
"RolandYour Highness is your brother, which is wonderful."