Jeremiah’s office was a modest room, part of the alabaster tower.
The interior described a gentle semicircle.
Tall, narrow windows lined the curved wall, sunlight streaming through colored glass set into iron frames.
There was an oak desk and a velvet-cushioned settee.
Following the invitation, Annamaria and Rosaria sat down together on the settee.
Though Jeremiah said he wished to speak with only the two ladies, Galileo, recognized as a part of the magician’s self, accompanied them, perching on Annamaria’s shoulder.
“First, I would like to confirm something.”
Standing before the desk, Jeremiah looked directly at the two young ladies and asked, “The pastries from earlier—Kronne—were handmade by Annamaria, and it’s true that a Potion of Love was mixed in. Did you make that Potion of Love yourself?”
“Yes.”
With a solemn nod, Jeremiah’s gaze then shifted to Rosaria.
“Rosaria, you realized what was happening and came to stop me from eating it—is that correct?”
“Yes.”
After hearing Rosaria’s answer, Jeremiah once more turned his eyes to Annamaria.
“Why did you try to use a Potion of Love on me?”
“Because I desire your heart.”
“Then, Rosaria, why did you try to stop her?”
“I did not want your heart to be stolen by Annamaria.”
Their confessions—if one could call them that—were utterly devoid of tears or allure, without a trace of sentiment.
Hearing them, Jeremiah nodded deeply and asked, “So both of you want my heart, is that it?”
“Yes.”
“That’s right.”
Annamaria and Rosaria replied in unison, and suddenly, Jeremiah broke into a smile.
“Splendid. Truly, I am grateful.”
While the two girls wondered if he was being sarcastic, Jeremiah’s face quickly brightened with joy.
“Truly, both of you are marvelous young ladies. There are only two people in the Royal Capital who can craft a Potion of Love, and those who can cast magic without incantations, even on the spur of the moment, are rare even among the generals of the Magic Army. To so easily lift a burly young knight and hurl him with such force—no one in the Kingdom Army could manage that. And to raise subordinates who would risk themselves to taste unknown confections on your behalf—such rare talent. Not to mention your magnificent struggle at the last ball! Wonderful. Both of you are truly remarkable women!”
Annamaria and Rosaria stared at Jeremiah, their mouths agape as he beamed with shining eyes.
Galileo looked at Jeremiah with a gaze that clearly wondered, “Is this man alright?”
“To have two such wonderful young ladies both say they desire my heart—what a blessing. I shall marry one of you!”
At this sudden declaration, Annamaria and Rosaria were left utterly dumbfounded.
Spreading his arms, Jeremiah’s smile broadened across his face, and at last it was Galileo who timidly spoke up.
“Um, forgive me, Duke of Karana. If I may ask—my name is Galileo, I am Annamaria’s magic beast—”
“What is it, Galileo?”
“About nearly being dosed with a Potion of Love—doesn’t that anger you?”
“Why should I be angry? The knowledge and skill to create a Potion of Love is marvelous.”
In the court, Potions of Love were sometimes employed, but he had heard that courtiers, especially the Royal Family, cared little for such things.
Whether one fell in love naturally or through potions, courtfolk did not choose their partners based solely on affection.
Family rank, connections, one’s position at court—these factors decided whom one would marry.
Who fell in love with whom mattered little to the greater whole.
Only a love so earnest, so soul-consuming one would risk the destruction of their house, was considered problematic.
But the feelings awakened by a Potion of Love would not dig so deep into the soul as to drive one to ruin.
“Um, Jeremiah. Just now, did I hear you say ‘I shall marry one of you’? I don’t suppose I misheard, did I?”
Finally shaking off her shock, Annamaria asked, and Jeremiah smiled.
“You did not mishear.”
“In that case, please—marry me.”
Rosaria, who had been in a daze, snapped to her senses at Annamaria’s voice and blurted out, “No, marry me! Please, marry me!”
As the two glared fiercely at each other, Jeremiah raised both hands as if to calm them.
“Which of you I shall marry—I wish to consult with you about that.”
Pulling a chair close and sitting across from them, Jeremiah’s expression suddenly grew somber.
“Which of you to marry. To discuss that… I intend to confide my secret to you both.”
Leaning forward, hands clasped before his knees, Jeremiah cast his eyes to the floor.
“The reason I resigned as a general of the Magic Army. Officially, I left because I was too busy and unable to find a fiancée, so I quit to search for a bride. But the truth is, there was a reason I was forced to resign.”
“You were forced to resign?”
Galileo sought confirmation, and Jeremiah let out a small sigh.
“Yes. I had no choice but to step down. For you see, I have lost the ability to use magic.”
It must have been noon.
From outside the window, the sound of church bells from far-off Parsa Town drifted in.
As the bells fell silent, so too did the entire room, an aching quiet settling in.
‘Can’t use magic anymore?’