“Hey, Mister Very-Important Scholar, let’s go for a walk.”

By an incredible effort of will, Lino forced his face to remain calm; not a single muscle twitched as he suggested an activity that was hardly typical of him.

But Han wasn’t considered the kingdom’s finest mage for nothing—he sensed Lino’s heartbeat and inner agitation long before the man reached the dwelling.

It should be said that Jisung was nervous too.

They walked together to a cave with a magical entrance that kept the frost from seeping inside. Curious drawings adorned the walls, and dreamcatchers hung from the ceiling.

“I used to love sneaking away here when I was a kid,” Lino said—unexpectedly, both for himself and for Han.

And then he talked about his parents, about learning his craft, about how he never wanted to become a mage at all, about his attempts to run away.

And Jisung listened carefully, sinking deeper into the man with every word.

A couple more times that week they came back to this cave, simply to listen to each other and drink herbal tea away from everyone else.

No, Han already loved these people—but it seemed he loved Lino just a little more, and so his company was far more pleasant. The lord of the northern lands, apparently, didn’t mind—his heart melted beside the kingdom’s chief mage.

“Hannie, what kind of mage are you?” Lino asked during another quiet evening in the cave.

Caught off guard, Jisung choked on his tea, waving it off when Lino darted toward him to help.

“And what do you think?” Han replied after clearing his throat, answering a question with a question as he deliberately looked into the inky eyes across from him.

Lino gently took his hands in his own, as if asking permission to go further. Jisung only nodded softly, but that was enough for the northern mage to understand.

Eyelids lowered slowly, lips parted, a vein pulsed at the neck.

Han truly hadn’t meant to focus on these details, but…

But what?

“Seriously?” Lino finally opened his eyes. He didn’t look frightened—rather, intrigued. That reaction amused Jisung. “Then why didn’t you say so right away?” the mage asked with a slight frown, leaning closer, trying to intimidate him. Instead, the movement only sent a herd of goosebumps through Han and sparked the urge to lean in as well.

“Only three people in the kingdom know—including you,” came the whisper, right by his lips.

But something clicked inside Lino then—he abruptly turned away and tugged Han by the sleeve, urging him to follow. Jisung felt a bit awkward about the situation, but he wasn’t the kingdom’s finest mage for nothing—he wore masks masterfully.

They went deeper into the cave than usual and finally reached an enormous “hall.” Eternal northern lights shimmered beneath the ceiling; at their feet spread a small lake with real sand along its shore; patterns of all kinds of plants crept along the walls. It was an island of the south amid the darkness of cold.

Jisung stared at the magical territory in awe. Maintaining something of this scale required immense reserves of power.

“No, Hannie, this place exists thanks to natural magic. I have nothing to do with it,” Lino said, once again as if reading his guest’s thoughts.

In the end, Jisung unleashed real fires here—yet instead of burning, the plants began to grow even more vigorously.

Han moved in a slow dance, gradually calming the flames, then surged again. In a leap, he nearly reached the northern lights.

The movements were precise yet chaotic at the same time. He was thrown to the side, pulled left, hurled right—he simply surrendered himself completely to his inner desire.

Fire traced zigzags as it burst from his hands; the water beneath his feet turned to boiling heat. Jisung had missed this—madly missed this destructive power.

“I think I’m starting to understand why the king sent you to us,” came the echoing voice of the observer.

“You haven’t even seen my full power yet,” Han lifted his chin proudly.

And then the entire space filled with light and heat.

Lino watched the spectacle and Han’s dance, spellbound.

That was when the realization hit—he was done for.

Jisung began coming to the cave more and more often, sometimes blatantly skipping Jaekwan’s lessons. He liked studying and being diligent, but even more, he was drawn to the northern volcano—into whose eyes he drowned every single day of his life: freedom.

Only in this place did he feel unity with the world; only here did he begin to understand what kind of power lay in his hands. He had endured a great deal to reach his current position. Supreme mage, best friend of Prince Christopher, future advisor, mage of four elements, honored guest of all corners of the world.

He had sacrificed his youth for influence.

But here, in the northern lands, it felt like rest. There was no need to walk on a tightrope, no one watching his work, no one trying to poison him, no one challenging him to foolish duels.

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