Her words didn't shatter the warmth lingering between them.
Sol's expression remained steady, and he offered no words of comfort—it simply wasn't his way.
Pity? Empty reassurances? Those were meaningless without weight behind them, nothing but hypocrisy. And besides, Edea didn't need sympathy. She was no fragile woman in need of a boy pretending to understand her pain. The truth was simple: he never could truly understand it, so he never pretended otherwise.
"I always wonder… Most people grow awkward, uncomfortable, or try to comfort me when I explain what being a witch truly means. You never have."
"If you don't share someone's pain, you can't understand them. But even if you do understand, that doesn't mean you'll agree with them or truly grasp their feelings. That's the bitter truth."
"…Oh?"
"You've lived far longer than I can imagine, seen and endured more than I ever will. Your pain is yours alone. To act like I understand it would be arrogant—and utterly foolish."
At his words, Edea's lips curved into a faint, lonely smile. His reasoning was logical, and she prepared to close the subject.
But Sol wasn't finished.
A bright smile lit his face, radiant as the sun breaking shadows, and his next words reached her like a balm:
"Your pain doesn't matter. That I can't understand it doesn't matter. No matter what happens, I'll always share everything with you. Master, you know, I really, really lo—"
"[STOP]."
The world froze. Sound, color, even the wind—all vanished into monochrome stillness. Time itself halted within Edea's domain, her most powerful skill. Here, she was absolute.
Yet the feared Witch of Time, one of the first five witches, was flushed red and breathing hard. She slumped into her chair, covering her face with both hands.
"I'm far too easy," she muttered with a self-deprecating chuckle.
She knew exactly what he'd almost confessed. It wasn't the first time she had to stop time to cut his words short, and likely not the last. But she couldn't let herself drag him into her cursed fate. Even acknowledging mutual feelings could bring him misfortune.
'He's nothing like Mars,' she thought. Mars, too, had once harbored feelings for her, but his shyness kept him from ever confessing. Sol, however, was far too direct, and she knew her own weakness for such men. Perhaps after his awakening, she would need to distance herself.
With a weary sigh, she whispered, "[REWIND]."
Time spun back, erasing the near-confession. Once again, the lesson resumed.
"The third curse is the curse of infertility. A witch can never bear children."
Edea smiled faintly, masking the ache inside. Passing time with Sol was always a delight, though she knew they could never be lovers. These fleeting moments helped her endure her lonely existence.
---
Later, Sol stepped through the hidden door, watching it fade back into an ordinary wall. The strange time flow in her domain always unsettled him—sometimes faster, sometimes slower.
"How long this time?" he asked.
"About an hour, my prince," replied a shadowed figure, clad in concealing garments, her feminine frame unmistakable.
"I see… an hour. Do I have other appointments today?"
"Yes. History lessons, then training with Lord Gerald for horse and wyvern riding. Afterward, your afternoon is free, but tonight you have a dinner engagement with the Supreme Daughter of Castitas."
Sol pinched his brow. Being a prince was prestigious, but exhausting. He couldn't imagine the weight of being king and admired his aunt for bearing it with grace.
'No point complaining. Best to endure.'
---
History lessons were dull but vital. Knowledge was power, after all. Today, he studied the lineage of kings.
"All crown heirs must take names tied to stars or planets," his tutor explained. "The first king was Jupiter. Then Pluto, Venus, Mercury, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, and most recently, Mars, the eighth king."
Sol's mind stirred. The solar system mirrored his old world. Could this truly be Earth? The myths here aligned with what he once knew. Asmodeus, for instance, was once a prince of hell in his world, now a beast embodying lust.
'Not that it really matters,' he thought, pushing aside speculation.
After history came dancing, then etiquette, and finally political studies. His day, packed from start to finish, left him drained yet ever moving forward.