Richard felt that Grace now had a more relaxed personality despite her cold exterior—unlike when she was a child, when she had been truly cold-blooded.

He entered the castle, its living room simple with few furnishings.

"Why did you choose to live alone here, Grace?" Richard asked.

"Just seeking comfort. Plus, I prefer border regions where real battles happen more often. In the middle of the kingdom, no one dares oppose me once they know my background." Grace sat on a sofa and gestured for Richard to sit as well.

After taking a seat, she looked toward the short-haired green-haired Elf.

"Nella, bring snacks, fruits, and a few bottles of wine from the kitchen," she said.

The Elf nodded to Grace and left.

Richard couldn't help watching her, still wondering how Grace managed to have an Elf serving as her maid.

But this was personal—and likely a secret—so it wasn't appropriate to ask.

"Grace, I want to thank you for helping protect my city," Richard said again.

He actually wanted to give her a gift, but he had just come out of training. He had nothing he felt was worthy of giving Grace.

"No need to thank me. I live on the border because I need real combat. And since my childhood friend—and adopted brother—has a city on the border, I chose this one." Grace's words shocked Richard.

She had mentioned an adopted brother.

"You know about that?" Richard asked.

"Mother told me," Grace replied.

"Oh…" Richard hadn't expected that and wondered why Rebecca had revealed it.

He didn't believe that woman ever did anything without a purpose.

At that moment, Grace stared straight into Richard's eyes without blinking.

"Richard, I know everything. Mother abandoned you because she thought you had no talent. I can't blame you if you're angry, but this happens all the time." Grace said.

"Are you trying to say something, Grace?" Richard responded, expression strange but still smiling.

"No, of course not. Actually, you're lucky she abandoned you. Your fate would've been far worse if she had raised you."

"I'm surprised you're not defending that woman and are actually blaming her." Richard's expression grew even stranger.

Of course he knew Grace had been raised terribly by Rebecca.

The woman only wanted Grace to become a powerful servant in the future—someone ready to die for her.

But Grace shouldn't have been speaking ill of her adoptive mother.

Before Grace could answer, Nella returned carrying a tray of snacks—fried potatoes seasoned with salt and sky herb, snow-grapes grown in the courtyard, and two bottles of wine that looked potent.

"Please, City Lord," Nella said, opening one bottle and filling both cups on the table.

Grace immediately drank her wine—half a cup in one gulp.

Richard thought that even with his increased strength, he would still get drunk from that, but Grace showed no reaction.

Her cheeks remained the same shade—not even slightly red—like she was used to very strong liquor.

Richard was more curious about the snow-grapes.

He picked one up and tossed it into his mouth, chewing gently.

It was surprisingly sweet, with a cold sensation spreading through his body.

While he wouldn't call it the most delicious grape, its texture and sensation were unique.

But it had many seeds, which Richard was forced to swallow.

Grace continued drinking, so Nella poured her another cup before Grace ordered her to leave.

"There's a funny story," Grace said, smiling widely enough to show her dimples.

Richard found it strange to see her smile like that.

"What?" he asked.

"Your mother and father lived together for half a year not long after you disappeared. This had never happened before. Usually, your father could only stay one night in your mother's castle. But your mother didn't get what she wanted. She eventually kicked your father out. Then a year later, they lived together again for another half year."

Grace stopped there but smiled even wider, while Richard rolled his eyes.

"You know, right after she kicked your father out again, a woman named Sophia came carrying a baby boy, demanding your father take responsibility and give her child the Skylight Clan inheritance. After that, every time your father returned, your mother immediately tried to kill him."

Richard froze when he heard that.

Not because the story was absurd and embarrassing, but because—

He had a younger brother.

Different mother, same father—meaning the same bloodline.

By now, his brother was likely eight years old, since the event happened two years after he began his training.

Richard wondered what kind of child his little brother was. Talented? Or born without talent?

What surprised him more was that he had just met Sophia last night. They even talked casually—yet she hadn't mentioned any of this, even when she talked about Gray and Grace.

Did she deliberately hide it from him?

"What is my little brother like?" Richard couldn't help asking.

"I wouldn't know. He's in the capital, and I've never been there. All I know is his name—Cil Skylight," Grace answered.

"Cil…"

Richard repeated the short name.

He felt that he should meet him, so the child would know his older brother. Bonds needed to be built early—or siblings could grow up distant, even hostile, as happened in many families.

But Richard still remembered his own earlier thoughts about Grace bad-mouthing Rebecca.

Yet the topic had already shifted. He felt it inappropriate to bring it up again.

Grace likely changed the topic because she didn't want to talk about Rebecca anymore.

Richard glanced at his wine cup, still full.

Grace kept drinking, but he hadn't. He felt oddly inferior to a woman because of it.

So he lifted his cup and drank.

Despite its fragrant aroma and appealing appearance, the wine's taste was bitter, sour, hot, and piercing.

Richard felt as if his throat were being torn apart—though that was impossible, since not even a sword could easily cut his throat now.

Because of the taste, he could only drink a small amount.

Even so, the effect instantly spread through his body.

His skin reddened, and his body and mind felt incredibly light—as if every burden in his life had evaporated.

His thoughts even made him feel like he was the most respected king in the world.

With effects like that, he felt an urge to rampage.

Fortunately, his consciousness was strong. The wine couldn't overpower him, though he still felt its pleasant effects.

He was shocked to see Grace completely stable after drinking so much.

"Aren't you getting drunk, Grace?" Richard asked.

"It's starting to hit," Grace replied.

Richard rolled his eyes.

"Do you often drink like this?"

"Almost every time I'm not busy or training."

Richard had no response.

He felt Grace might have lived a difficult life, venting through alcohol.

Behind her calmness, her heart probably hurt often.

"Richard, let's fight," Grace suddenly said, surprising him.

Before he could reply, she continued, "Your strength is incredible. Your methods are terrifying—you can kill Grimoire Realm Magi like they're cabbages. If I spar with you, I'm sure I can learn a lot. I want to know if you're willing to help me train."

"If you want to learn, of course I'm willing. Just don't take it too seriously—I don't want to injure you accidentally," Richard answered.

Training through combat had benefits, but sparring—even once—carried risks. No Magus attack was harmless.

"Even if it's you, I won't get hurt that easily," Grace said, rising to her feet.

She wanted to start the fight immediately.

"Where will we fight?" Richard also stood, though he frowned slightly.

Not because anything was wrong—but because the wine's effects made him unsure whether he could restrain his power properly.

"Follow me," Grace said, walking toward the back door of the castle.

Since he had agreed, Richard naturally couldn't refuse now.

He was actually curious about Grace's new strength and abilities as well.

To grow so fast, she must possess something extraordinary.

The back courtyard of Grace's castle was not as large as the front.

It had a natural hot spring pool that seemed to come from a special stone releasing warm energy.

Grace then took flight by stepping directly into the air.

At the same time, a black armor with red lines appeared, covering her entire body—including her head and face—shaped perfectly to fit her slim figure, with a red sword hanging on her back.

Richard thought it was a high-grade Sky Armor.

In addition to being a Magus, Grace also seemed to have mastered Sky Armor to a level equal to her magical strength.

Grace did not head to a far location. She simply flew higher, choosing the sky as their battleground.

And the sky above this region was truly freezing. If on the ground Richard no longer felt cold, in the sky the chill surpassed what he had experienced as a child upon first arriving in Snowy Sky City.

Grace, with her armor, was naturally unaffected.

Richard closed his eyes for a moment and then released a small flame to coat his skin.

Only then did the cold disappear. Even with such a small amount of fire, it warmed the air around him.

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