It''s been almost three weeks since we returned from Homonhon Palace, where we historians were dragged into copying ancient writings. Why couldn''t we have done that after the war? If this was just another whim of the prince, I''d love to punch him for it!


    As soon as we got back, the others dove into translating the scrolls, their doubts about the order growing with every symbol they copied. They''re doing their best, cross-referencing every line, trying to make sense of the ancient text. The problem is, they don''t have what I do—a secret advantage I never expected. Who would''ve thought that my knowledge of Jejemon text from my world would actually help here?


    It turns out the scrolls are just as bizarre, almost like Egyptian hieroglyphics. Some read top-to-bottom, while others start on the left or the right, making everything ten times harder. But where they struggle, I thrive. These symbols feel oddly familiar to me, and that gives me a huge edge—one I plan to keep to myself. Jejemon might''ve been a joke back home, but here, it might just unlock unimaginable power.


    I glance around at my fellow historians, their faces tense with focus. The final scroll is now in our hands, and all eleven before it are arranged in the order they were found, waiting for full translation. They have no idea I''ve already figured out the true arrangement and their proper order—long before we even returned to the empire of Marceau. But here''s the problem: I have the knowledge, but not the means to act on it.


    And where on earth is the princess? I don''t even know how to reach her again. For now, all I can do is listen in on the prince''s warriors and gather whatever information I can. Maybe being "selfishly appointed" as an advisor isn''t such a bad thing after all, even if I had no choice in the matter. At least I''ll have a chance to watch and learn what the prince knows. But being near him? That''s another problem. I still remember his cold, indifferent face as he killed those knights during the war. A shiver runs down my spine just thinking about it.


    Prince Richard might have faked his death as we planned, but of course, he had to do it his way—not mine. Whatever. As long as it worked, I don''t care. I''m not getting involved in politics. My life is messy enough without adding that.


    At least my biggest fear didn''t come true—he didn''t sense any power in the Homonhon prince. That confirms my theory: he can only detect power tied to the scrolls and their rightful owner. How he does it, I still don''t know. If he''d sensed the key in the princess, he wouldn''t have let her escape in the first place.


    Now, with the prince of Marceau convinced that love is the missing piece, it''s going to be even harder for them to see the truth.


    "Pfft! These men are so clueless about love. It''s almost funny," I mutter to myself, recalling past conversations. "I should thank whatever bitter old king banned the word ''love'' in this world. He must''ve been hurt bad to make such a stupid law. Tsk, money and power really can do anything, huh."


    "Hey, everyone, what will happen to us once we''ve finished decoding these scrolls?" I ask absentmindedly, my chin propped on my hand as my quill scratches erratically across the paper. A cloud of uncertainty seems to hover over us. I press on, "Are we going to be... disposed of? I mean, once we''re no longer needed."


    The atmosphere shifts, tension creeping in as Leon and the others exchange uneasy glances. It''s Leon who finally speaks, his brow creased as he meets my gaze. "Do you really think the prince is like that?" he asks, disbelief coloring his voice.


    ''Yes, Well, he did say something like that to me not too long ago. And he scratched at the grape stem, remember?'' I think sarcastically but keep it to myself.


    Leon continues, his voice steady. "I don''t know what impression you have of the prince, but we all know what he''s really like when it comes to his people." I notice nods of agreement from the others. ''Masochists,'' I think, slightly exasperated.


    "He may seem cold and harsh as a leader, but in times of uncertainty, people do not seek kindness or softness—they seek stability, someone who can make the difficult decisions, who commands respect both within and beyond the empire, and we see that in His Highness."


    "But the prince considers betrayal utterly intolerable. Those who betrayed His Highness in the past all wished that they would die instead," Rowell interjects, sending a chill down my spine. "They may still be alive till now."


    "W...what do you mean? Where are they now?" I ask, trying to mask the fear gnawing at me.


    "Somewhere in the shadows? The prince doesn''t want them to die easily. He''d rather see the full extent of their failure, stripped of everything they hoped for, including dying. So I''m sure they are barely alive somewhere—but not from here."


    The blood drains from my face. If the prince found out about my recent actions at Homonhon Palace... I can''t let him know what I did. I absolutely can''t!


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    I was drifting in thought when Marco, ever the pragmatist, added, "I think it''s perfectly normal for anyone to be enraged upon discovering betrayal. The reason I trust His Highness, despite his dominance, is because he''s strong." He crossed his arms proudly.


    "Power and leadership, when combined with competence, breed trust. His people may not always like him, but they know the empire thrives under his rule. That''s why the warriors respect him. You must''ve noticed it yourself, spending time around them."


    His words stirred memories—warriors recounting tales of the prince''s bravery, their faces glowing with admiration. I also recalled my first day here, the general bantering with the prince while the emperor presented him with an award. It was a clear sign of the respect the prince had earned.


    "That''s right! I can''t speak for the others, but once our work is done, I want to become a court official," Leon said with quiet resolve. Despite the weight of his words, he appeared at ease, taking notes as he spoke. Curious, I leaned in. "Why?" I asked.


    He paused, his quill hovering in mid-air. "So I can continue supporting His Highness," he finally replied, his voice soft yet firm.


    ''Wow, he''s truly loyal! Even though he almost died from a grape stem not too long ago,'' I marveled silently.


    "How about you, Rowell?" I continued, eager to shift the focus.


    Rowell tilted his head thoughtfully. "Hmm… I''m not quite sure yet, but I want to teach people. I want them to learn the pain and excitement I experience."


    "I didn''t know you had a secret passion for teaching," Marco said, amusement twinkling in his eyes. Rowell just smirked. "Teach you lot anything? Please. Everyone here is too smart for me to teach you anything new," he replied with an exaggerated sigh.


    But as I thought back on their banter, the knot in my chest tightened. Leon, Marco, Rowell… They''re good men, in their own way. Am I really okay with lying to people who, for better or worse, have started to feel like something more than just allies? Every joke we shared, every moment of camaraderie—it all felt heavier now, tangled with my own deception. I glanced at Leon, his brow furrowed in concentration. If he knew the truth, what would he think of me? Would he see me as nothing more than a traitor?


    I shook off the thought. No. I can''t afford these distractions.


    "What about you, Marco?" I asked, eager to shift my thought.


    "Well, I''m a noble, so obviously, I''m destined to settle affairs and become the lord of my house," he said, leaning back with a grin. "And you?"


    I paused, thinking about my dreams for a moment. ''Hopefully, I''ll find the key and get back to my world soon. When that happens, I want to travel more, while juggling my work as a user interface designer. Maybe even start my own freelance company... but that''s going to take time.''


    "I think I need to stick by His Highness''s side as his advisor until he learns the heart," I finally said, pretending it was a lighthearted goal. But deep down, it felt more like a burden than I cared to admit.


    "Hmm… now that you mention it, those really are complicated," Marco mused. "No wonder it''s tough to find the power we''re after, but you seem pretty knowledgeable, Tuk."


    "Well, it''s not that easy to tap into the power of love," I said, struggling to keep a straight face. "But thanks to some folks I knew, I''ve picked up a thing or two before they, uh, breathed their last." The truth behind that statement hit harder than I expected, and I forced a smile to hide my discomfort.


    UGH! The secondhand embarrassment is REAL—I feel like I just read my old Facebook posts from 2012. And don’t even get me started on my title! Out of ALL the badass names out there, this dude really slapped ‘Love Advisor’ on me like I’m running a medieval version of a relationship podcast. Like bro, do I look like I give good love advice?! I can’t even decide what to eat for dinner!


    No matter how much I loved romance dramas and novels, love always seemed to avoid me. I used to wonder why it never stirred the same feelings in me as it did in others. Some online friends suggested I might experience the world differently, that maybe I wasn''t interested in romantic love at all. The truth is, I don''t feel it. I love people, but never in the way they seem to expect.


    I glanced at the others, who seemed to accept my vague explanation for now, and mentally, I breathed a sigh of relief. I''d play along with this role as long as I had to. I was enjoying watching this whole concept of love unfold around me. But at the end of the day, it wasn''t something I truly understood. The irony wasn''t lost on me—I was the love advisor with no personal experience of romantic love.


    "Now that I think about it, Sire Leon, why did the prince believe the power came from the heart of the scroll''s owner?" I asked, my chin resting in my hand as my quill scraped absently across the paper.


    Leon paused mid-scribble, frowning slightly in thought. "Hmm… now that you mention it, I don''t think you were around when we discussed those theories." He leaned back, his gaze drifting toward the ceiling.


    "The more we decode the scroll, the more we encounter the word ''heart.'' There are old legends from Elthor that say the hearts of certain individuals were bound to the dragon''s essence. These people were believed to carry the dragon''s power within them, a gift that made them extraordinary. So far, every person who''s possessed this scroll has shown some kind of unique ability."


    He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Some scholars even proposed examining the hearts of the scroll''s owners—thinking one of them might carry a remnant of the dragon''s heart. But as you can imagine, no proof... yet."


    "But wouldn''t a dragon''s heart be too big for a person to carry? I mean, how massive is this dragon supposed to be?"


    Leon blinked at me, startled by the question, as if I''d said something strange. "Wait… you don''t know? The dragon isn''t just some gigantic beast. It''s more like a force of creation, an essence that breathes life into the world. When people speak of a dragon''s heart, they don''t mean a literal organ. They''re referring to the dragon''s mana, its life force, which is believed to bind itself to certain individuals."


    I hesitated for a second; I didn''t think what I just asked was a stupid question to them. "Well, I don''t really talk about it, but I grew up as an orphan. In my hometown, I barely learned to read and write, thanks to a merchant I worked for. There wasn''t much time for stories."


    "I''m sorry to hear that. I know people like you back in my village," Rowell said, looking at me with sympathetic eyes. I shyly scratched my nape at the sudden lie.


    But Leon just studies me, his expression unreadable. "I see. You must''ve worked for a well-knowledgeable merchant." He pauses, then adds, "Anyway, the dragon we''re talking about isn''t just any dragon—it''s the creator of the world. Everything we have today is said to be born from its mana, passed down through our ancestors."


    I blinked, processing this new information. So, the dragon wasn''t a fire-breathing beast—it was more like a god? That was a lot to take in, but in this world, I shouldn''t have been surprised.


    "Are there more dragons out there?" I asked, trying to keep my tone casual. "I mean, if it''s the heart His Highness is after, wouldn''t there be more than one?"


    Leon chuckled, shaking his head. "There''s only one. It''s said its essence was scattered throughout the world after the Great Fall. People believe that whoever possesses a fragment of that essence has the power to reshape the world."


    Before I could react, the door creaked open, and in stepped Lord Nixon, the prince''s private secretary. His sharp eyes swept the room, searching. The moment our gazes locked, my breath hitched. Déjà vu?


    "Historian Tuk," he said, his voice as cold and formal as ever. "His Highness the Prince is looking for you."


    Me? Why?