It wasn’t what Iris was expecting. Iris had stood still with the fur on, and he’d slung the bag across his shoulder. She’d reached out her hands again as she wanted to take her things to the workshop at the magic tower.
“Huh? It’s too heavy for you to carry. Why did you bring this? You should’ve asked me to help you with this,” Sidrain had said. He was happy to carry her things for her.
Iris had laughed with her head down, “I never thought of that.”
She hadn’t thought of riding a horse because she was inside the palace. Sidrain had only laughed. Unlike before, the atmosphere was quite comfortable. Iris once again held out her arms, but Sidrain shook his head to refuse.
“There’s no way I’m letting you carry this.”
“No, no. I’m not going to be carrying it either,” she’d chuckled softly.
“Then?” Sidrain had said, confused.
Iris had made her way to the pond and pointed at something. She then began making a passage between the pond and her workshop by chanting spells in ancient words. She’d picked up a scroll that was sticking out and threw it into the pond because Sidrain still wouldn’t return her luggage. As the scroll fell into the pond, it slipped and disappeared.
Sidrain’s eyes widened, “You opened a portal.”
“Yes, and it’s connected to my workshop so give my things to me now.”
At Iris’ words, Sidrain put down her things at once. The two then sat side by side and threw scrolls into the pond. Since the portal could not be opened too wide, scrolls had to be thrown one by one. Iris had thrown one, and Sidrain another one. They kept throwing until morning came and birds began to chirp.
“If you throw it like this, won’t it be a problem later?” Sidrain had asked.
Scrolls were expensive. The portal was connected to her workshop, but Sidrain had been worried about whether they could throw it so recklessly. Iris shook her head.
“I have house fairies, so they’ll clean it up,” she’d reassured.
“House fairies? Oh, I did hear that wizards can make contracts with them. How many do you have?”
“8 fairies.”
“That many?”
“My teacher says it’s a waste of mana consumption, but I don’t think so.”
Sidrain fell into thought for a moment and nodded, “I heard that Elaine is not a strong magical wizard.”
Iris had decided to quit pretending she was not Iris anymore. She smiled at the name Elaine. She’d always been happy to hear that name, but it was a name that she missed. A name that warmed her heart whenever she heard it.
“He’s a genius. A wizard with such a sense will never be born again,” she’d said, her voice filled with great reverence.
Sidrain turned and looked at Iris for a moment. She looked cute tossing the scrolls into the pond. To be honest, the proposal of the previous duel was so shocking that he thought he would feel down for a week, but the reality was that he felt like he was revived in half a day.
He still wanted to hug her.
But the feeling at the moment had been good. He liked the tranquility, so he didn’t reach out to her and continued throwing scrolls when it was his turn.
“Your Highness,” Iris had begun, “I heard you were a Sword Master, and I heard you were assimilated with a sword.”
It was what all the wizards were curious about. Was the Sword Master assimilated with his sword? When he was the crown prince, his parents had once begged him to show off his sword skills when a great wizard visited. But he had refused.
Sidrain had told his parents, “This is not for entertainment, mom and dad.”
“Do you wish to see?”
However, he wanted to show Iris. As long as she enjoyed it, he could show it to her over and over again.
Iris’ eyes shone. “Will it be okay for you? If you don’t want to or anything-”
“Not at all. This is a part of me,” he’d smiled.
“I was a little curious about it…” Iris cautiously said with eyes of conflict. Maybe if it weren’t too rude, but she was a little curious.
Sidrain knew that wizards had strong caution. On the other hand, he wanted her to see it because he liked her so much.
He had slowly removed the sword from his chest. Iris had watched with wonder as the burning sword was pulled out of his heart. It wasn’t long before Sidrain handed Iris his sword. It was the first time he had let someone else touch his sword. But he just wanted to let her.
“My sword is a thousand-year-old sword and is named the Testalia,” he’d said proudly.
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Iris carefully examined the sword. It was engulfed in black flames, but it was not hot. It felt as if the sword was creating the flames for her.
“Isn’t it uncomfortable to keep this sword in your heart?”
“Not at all.”
“How did you become assimilated with this sword? Did you feel something the moment you saw it? Did you have a hunch that it was a sword that fit you?” she softly asked, her eyes still admiring the sword.
Sidrain had replied as if it were nothing, “No, I took the risk. Even if I could’ve died when I stabbed myself in the heart with this sword.”