— A Choice Without Choice
The flying boat cut through the sky in silence.
Cold wind brushed past as the vast lands of Immersia stretched below. Nahil's unconscious body lay quietly to the side, unmoving, as if everything around him had nothing to do with him.
Imaria stood at the front, her expression calm.
Imaria occasionally glanced at Nahil, still feeling that strange warmth coming from him.
No one spoke during the journey.
—
After some time, the flying boat slowly descended.
They arrived at the royal capital.
Within moments, it landed inside the private grounds of the Princess Manor.
Guards bowed as they saw the princess return, but no one dared to ask questions.
Clory carefully carried Nahil inside.
—
Inside the manor, Nahil was placed on a soft bed.
His breathing was steady.
His body, though previously injured, now appeared almost completely healed.
Imaria stood beside the bed.
"Call the physician," she said calmly.
"Yes, Princess."
—
After some time, an old physician arrived.
He carefully examined Nahil.
His expression slowly changed.
Confusion.
Uncertainty.
"Princess… I am not sure what happened," he said.
"His body… is healing itself."
He pointed toward Nahil's chest.
"There was a wound here… but it has already healed."
He paused briefly.
"There is no danger. He is only unconscious."
"He should wake up soon."
Imaria nodded slightly.
"You may leave."
"Yes, Princess."
—
The room fell silent again.
Imaria stood there, looking at Nahil.
Her gaze calm—
Yet thoughtful.
She did not understand.
Why?
Why did she feel this way?
Being near him—
She felt comfortable.
Warm.
Her unstable cold energy…
Quieted.
"…Strange," she murmured softly.
—
Footsteps approached.
A maid entered and bowed.
"Princess, His Majesty is calling for you."
Imaria remained silent for a moment.
Then—
She looked at Nahil one more time.
A faint sigh escaped her lips.
"…I will find out."
She turned—
And left the room.
—
The imperial palace stood at the center of the capital.
Vast.
Grand.
Imposing.
Imaria walked calmly through the halls until she reached the Emperor's chamber.
She entered.
—
Inside, a man sat calmly.
Emperor Smaguel Klowen.
His presence was deep, like an endless ocean.
When he saw her—
His expression softened.
"Oh, my lovely daughter, you are back."
"Yes, Father," Imaria replied calmly. "Why did you call me?"
The Emperor smiled faintly.
"Can I not call my own daughter just to speak?"
Imaria remained silent.
He sighed.
"It hurts my heart."
—
His expression soon turned serious.
"You know I do not want to force you into marriage."
Imaria's gaze lowered slightly.
"Then why?"
The Emperor leaned back.
"The court is forcing me."
"I have already refused them."
"But the empire is at stake."
His voice grew heavier.
"If we do nothing… war may break out."
"They are pressuring me to send you into marriage."
Imaria stood silently.
Then asked softly,
"…Is there no other way?"
The Emperor paused.
Then spoke slowly.
"There is."
"You know of the sects from the outer world."
"One of them… the Mystic Ice Domain."
"They recruit disciples every thousand years."
"Your ice spiritual root is perfectly suited for them."
He looked at her.
"If you join them… the situation may be avoided."
He paused again.
"But they will not arrive for another ten years."
Silence filled the room.
Then—
"The second option…"
His voice lowered.
"Is to marry someone within our empire."
"After that, no one can force anything."
"Even the Northern Prince would not dare."
Imaria's expression remained unchanged.
"I do not want to marry."
She paused.
"…My illness is still not cured."
Her voice was calm—
But faintly heavy.
"…Like Mother… I may also become an ice statue."
The Emperor's expression shifted slightly.
"No."
"I will find a cure for you."
Imaria looked at him.
"…Where is Mother now?"
The Emperor fell silent.
Then said slowly,
"You do not need to know."
"I will tell you when you reach a higher stage."
—
She was taken by that same sect… the Mystic Ice Domain…
Who knows how she is now…
He kept those thoughts to himself.
Then waved his hand slightly.
"Forget this for now."
"We must focus on your current situation."
He looked at her carefully.
Then spoke,
"There is another way."
Imaria raised her eyes slightly.
"A fake marriage."
"…Fake marriage?" she repeated.
The Emperor smiled faintly.
"Yes."
He leaned forward slightly.
"I heard you brought a boy back with you."
Imaria replied calmly,
"He is still unconscious."
The Emperor chuckled softly.
"I am not asking about his condition."
His gaze sharpened slightly.
"How about marrying him?"