8. Heart of Fire (1)
Imperial Year 159. The nineteenth run.
"The train will soon arrive at its final destination, Capital Levinas. Please prepare in advance. Thank you for riding with us."
With the announcement complete, Theo let out a triumphant whoop.
"Yahoo—!"
How long had it been? Days without incident were rare enough to count on one hand. In this world crawling with lunatics of every stripe, a peaceful run like this was a miracle.
This is the engineer's life I dreamed of. Yeah.
And this stop meant a nice long break. New Year's was coming soon. Nationwide festivals would halt all train service. The time when the main god Keraunos was said to bless the world. The imperial family, his bloodline, marked it with grand rituals and celebrations.
Main god's bloodline, huh...
Did gods really exist in this world? Theo often wondered.
Will I actually meet one if I follow the 'story'? Nah, never happened.
The god's priests wielded divine power to prove his existence, yet even nonbelievers sometimes used it. If there was a god, Theo wanted to meet him someday. Ask why he'd been dumped here. Why he was still stuck after seeing the 'ending'.
"Captain, we're almost there!"
"Got it."
Theo exhaled a slow plume of pipe smoke, lost in thought.
Magic Engine Bureau, Train Division. As always, red-haired Melia sat at her desk.
Spotting Theo, she waved some papers in greeting.
"Nice work again, Theo."
"Nah, not really, Section Chief."
"Come on, the count himself sent a letter."
"Louise Count did?"
"Yeah, that rich bastard."
Her tone dripped with sarcasm. Coming from a poor marquis's family, Melia had every reason to resent fat cats like him.
"What'd it say?"
"See for yourself."
To the esteemed engineer of the Magic Engine Bureau,
Your exemplary service in safeguarding Roengreen and its passengers has earned the deepest gratitude of House Louise. Such valor merits commendation and reward—a bonus of 500 gold shall be forwarded forthwith.
May your journeys continue safe and prosperous.
— Louise Count
It was wordy as hell. Praising merits, expressing thanks, bonus pay...
"Bonus! Does this count?"
"No way, looks like a bribe."
Tch. Cheapskate. Still, thanks. He knew Theo wasn't the type to rot away there. Something like that.
"Anyway, he says that, but he loves the Train Division."
"True enough."
Trains meant constant travel, shifting routes. Especially Theo's No. 7, handpicked by the Bureau for varied destinations.
No better job for dodging them.
"Check the invitation too."
Invitation?
"This is...!"
You are hereby invited to the
Imperial New Year's Gala
hosted by the Imperial Family
at the Levinas Palace.
By order of Louise Count
A gold-sealed envelope: invitation to the imperial nobility's New Year's gala.
"Nobles pay a fortune for these, right?"
"Sure. But..."
This one was issued early—his name already engraved, personally from the count. Selling it? With the princess likely attending? Ugh.
"Skipping's not an option, huh?"
"When the western lord invites you?"
Melia grinned mischievously, clearly enjoying his predicament.
"You not going, Chief?"
"Me? Work."
"You're a marquis's lady. La. Dy."
"Hey...!"
Her face flushed at "lady." Twenty-eight—old for the title, but unmarried.
No one dared call the Red Witch Melia Gray "lady." Except Theo.
"Lady Melia? Sweet twenty-eight. Or twenty-seven? Nah, twenty-eight Lady Melia. What else?"
As he teased, her face turned as red as her hair. She snapped.
"Die—!"
...
"New clothes, all burned. Damn."
Fuming, Melia unleashed 1st Circle fire sparks. Controlled enough not to burn, but his boutique suit was rags.
His fault, sure.
"Tch..."
Just called her "lady."
Chief's so shy.
"New Year's gala, though..."
He'd face noble power plays and snobbery. He just wanted peace—they loved stomping quiet folk for fun.
No choice, though. Refuse the count or attend hell. Gala it was.
Positive. Positive! Old friend reunion.
Not the princess.
A princess's chamber too spartan: simple bedding, minimal decor.
Her maids adored Second Princess Aria la Morris. Unlike haughty First Princess, she embodied thrift, humility, grace—all a royal needed. Kind smiles even to lowly servants.
So warm.
Everyone thought so.
Until an assassin—black-clad—knelt at her window.
"Your Highness. He'll attend the New Year's gala."
"He?"
"Lord Theodor of the north..."
"What?"
Her gentle face turned icy—cold enough to bury a man or two.
"No, forgive me. Theodor attends the gala."
"Theodor..."
He couldn't see her face, but it twisted unbecomingly.
"Dodging me all this time, now shows up... for that, right?"
He knew the answer she craved—or his neck was gone. Assassin instincts screamed it.
"Yes. Wants to see you, Your Highness."
She snapped her head up, beaming angelically. The chill vanished.
"Right? You think so too?"
"Y-yes..."
Giggling like any girl her age. Even her assassin thought it—and dreaded the gala approaching.
Crazy bitch...
Imperial Year 160. New Year dawned.
Keraunos Moon. Fifteen days of festivals for commoners, prep for nobles. Bureaucrats alone slaved.
Magic Engine Bureau too.
"Hey! Proper gala prep—the royals are coming!"
"Sorry... Hey! No trains on New Year's—announce it!"
"Yes! Newbie, got it!"
Healthy scolding amid hustle. Center: sighing Melia Gray.
"Fuck..."
Marquis's lady by birth—should be at galas. But broke noble? Work for bonuses.
Kids hustle, but she hated it. Deep sighs.
Knock. Knock.
"Come in..."
Bracing for crisis, she opened the door. Surprise: Theo.
"Theo?"
Slicked-back hair, black-blue uniform—polished, unlike her usual scruffy captain.
"Lady Melia."
Even fond of him, she wasn't playful today.
"I said stop...!"
Flames flickered in her palm. He grinned, flashing the invitation.
"Shall we, lady?"
Romance-novel smirk. He needed a date—solo flatfoot like him? Noble fodder.
Two invites from the start. Count's thoughtfulness.
Marie? Bedridden from Roengreen overwork. Hated holy heals—dragged to temple late.
Time ticking. Hurry.
"We'll be late, Chief."
"Was 'lady' earlier..."
She ducked, blushing.
Cheeky bastard.
She took his hand softly.
"...Let's go. Theo."
A true lady.
Prep took ages: dress, makeup, hair.
"Almost?"
"Nearly! Last touch!"
Minimalist, still late. Blame late Theo, noble rituals.
"Go!"
"Yeah!"
Fast as possible, but carriage too slow—entry over.
Melia yanked him close.
"Shortcut!"
Her eyes gleamed, mana swirling. Gray house secret: Wings of Crimson Flame.
No combat prowess—fall reason—but 5th Circle mage? Different story.
Scarlet wings sprouted; they rocketed skyward. Flight max: tea-sip time. Enough.
Below, last nobles entered. Doors closing—
They crash-landed.
"Thud—!"
"Urk..."
Motion sickness hit hard, but Theo handed invite to impassive footman.
"Lord Theodor and party, entering."
Doors swung; golden light poured.
Melia—marquess—gawked girlishly. Theo too: first in ages.
Still gaudy.
Glancing up, eyes met terrace figure.
Second Princess. Radiant gold hair, tiara. Bluest eyes ever. Fragile frame, flawless skin.
Just as remembered.
Or grown a bit.
Subtle curves now. Chest budding.
Gazing absently, he caught it: her face twist, eyeing Melia then him.
Cold sweat down his back.
That look...
Theodor's top pick of the crazy bitch trio.
Fucked.
She'd fixated again.