The Audience Chamber of the Royal Castle—

  A space built for dragons, reminiscent of ancient myths. The ceiling towered many times higher than a human, with sunlight streaming through massive windows. The gss was etched with the crest of fire and dragons, and the red-gold pilrs were entwined with Luminaria—the national flower—emitting a fme-like radiance.

  The marble floor seemed to swallow even the sound of footsteps. At its deepest end, atop a singurly high dais, sat the Crimson Throne. Surrounded by Luminaria, it was the very symbol of Ignis.

  And this was the pce where, only days ago, Her Majesty had bestowed those words upon me.

  “You... why don't you become my consort?”

  The shock of that moment felt as though it were still stained into the very air of this room. With every step I took, my heart began to throb instinctively.

  It was an illusion, as if time itself had stopped. In that moment, "me" as a knight and the other "me" had collided head-on. Everything I had suppressed until now had been shaken by a single sentence.

  It was a sensation I could never forget. The pounding of my heart from that time remained vivid, deep within my body.

  (...No, I have to concentrate!)

  I shook my head slightly, scanning the room to distract myself. I noticed the Empire's attendants fiddling with silver devices about the size of a palm.

  (So this is... Imperial technology, using Mana Stones.)

  But neither the mechanical whirring nor the heat of those devices could reach this space. What dominated this room was the symbol of Ignis—and the very presence of Her Majesty Veranora, seated at its center.

  Silent yet majestic, the Queen adjusted her posture. Her crimson eyes turned toward the diplomat.

  "You have returned, I see. I assumed you had already fled back to your country, far too embarrassed by my rejection."

  Her voice was soft. But deep within it dwelled a quiet fme, testing him. It held a tension like dry kindling, ready to throw off sparks at any moment.

  "Not at all, Your Majesty. I hold a deep respect for your nation’s culture and resources. Even if there was a slight misunderstanding, it is my wish that we engage in a mutually beneficial trade."

  "Trade, is it?"

  The Queen, who had been leaning casually on her elbow, suddenly stood up. The air tightened in sync with her movement.

  "I welcome any deal that benefits my kingdom. However—"

  She paused, her gaze piercing.

  "Engagement is not a 'condition.' Unless someone is a person who can light a fire in my heart, they are not worthy of being my consort."

  With that single statement, the atmosphere—changed.

  The attendant standing beside the diplomat grimaced, unable to hide his irritation. Yet, in the next second, he bowed his head as if to suppress it. It seemed he wasn't a complete fool.

  The diplomat, meanwhile, maintained his unchanging smile as he continued.

  "...Understood. Then today, let us speak only of 'trade.'"

  "Yes. That will suffice."

  With that, the audience came to a quiet close—yet it left behind a smoldering ember that refused to go out.