Moonlight spilled across the marble floor, painting her figure in silver and soft shadow. She stood there, unmoving, gazing at the moon with tears glistening in her eyes — fragile, quiet, and heartbreakingly human.
Rowan stopped at the doorway, unsure whether to speak. The sight before him struck something deep inside.
Then, slowly, Velqira turned. Her crimson eyes met his — bright under the moon, trembling with something he couldn't name. For a heartbeat, everything stilled. His breath caught.
His heart skipped a beat.
Now I'm looking at her closely… Rowan thought, his chest tightening. She looks just like Iing Min… from my previous world. My first love… the one who was killed by the Demon Lord.
Rowan walked closer to Velqira.
The moment his footsteps reached her, she turned away sharply, hiding her face from him. Her small shoulders trembled, her scarlet hair falling like a curtain between them.
Rowan reached out gently, holding her by the arm.
"I want to see that face," he said softly.
Velqira's tails began shaking violently—nervous, frightened, overwhelmed. She pushed weakly at his hands.
"L-leave me alone!" she cried, her voice cracking.
She shoved him with all her strength.
Rowan stumbled back.
"Oh—snap…" he muttered under his breath.
Not because he was angry—
but because he saw it.
She was in pain.
Truly hurting.
And for a moment, something inside him twisted with excitement mixed with shock—because the raw emotion reminded him of someone he once knew.
Velqira hurriedly turned her back to him again. She wiped her tears, fixed her tails, and rushed away from the balcony—heading back into the grand hall filled with nobles, dancing couples, and violin music drifting through the air.
Rowan watched her disappear into the crowd.
What is this…?
She's around my age. She looks so much like Iing Min… but… I don't feel Iing Min in her. The resemblance is perfect—those eyes, especially when she was this young… but her spirit, her presence… it's not the same.
Could it be Iing Min reincarnated just like I did…? No… that shouldn't be possible.
Rowan walked forward, lost in thought—his mind drowning in memories and confusion.
Because of that, he didn't notice the small waiter elf carrying a tray of drinks until they collided.
Thump!
The elf—barely up to Rowan's chest—fell backward, tray spinning through the air.
Cups clattered.
Wine splashed.
A full serving of red wine rained down—
landing directly onto a noble lady's luxurious dress.
"My dress!!" she shrieked, shooting to her feet. "How dare you!?"
Lady Aria.
The renowned noble known for creating the kingdom's finest soaps and skincare—beloved by every noblewoman alive.
She slapped the small waiter across the face.
Smack!
The entire hall stilled.
"It wasn't my fault!" the trembling waiter cried. "It was this little boy—he bumped into me!"
Lady Aria's glare snapped toward Rowan.
"You insolent brat!" she shouted as she grabbed Rowan by the collar. "Do you know how much this dress costs!? I'll—"
She raised her hand, ready to slap him.
And then—
the entire atmosphere changed.
Rowan's aura flickered like lightning behind his calm eyes. His gaze sharpened—cold, divine, merciless. His eyes glowed faintly.
"I dare you," Rowan said quietly.
"The moment your hand touches me… you'll be dead."
The temperature dropped.
Lady Aria froze—her entire body trembling.
She stumbled backward and fell to the floor.
"W-wh-who is this child…?" she whispered.
At that moment, King Zorqen arrived, followed closely by Aldwin and Mira.
"What's going on here?" King Zorqen demanded.
Rowan didn't speak.
He simply stared at Lady Aria with icy silence.
"She was about to slap him!" Mira snapped. "How dare she!?"
Aldwin gently rested a hand on her shoulder.
"Darling, calm down."
Lady Aria, pale and shaking, pointed at Rowan.
"Wh-who is he? Who raised a child with this kind of presence…? W-who is his parent…?"
Duke Will stepped forward, his expression dark.
"You weren't listening when I introduced my grandson, were you?" Duke Will said, voice cold. "How dare you attempt to lay your hand on him?"
Lady Aria fell into a kneel, bowing deeply.
"I-I apologize! I didn't know he was your grandson… forgive me!"
King Zorqen clapped once and forced a smile.
"Now, now. It's fine. She didn't actually slap him in the end. Let's return to the celebration."
Slowly, the tension faded, the violins resumed, and the nobles began to dance again.