Reincarnated as the Prince's Rival!

- 3

"What the hell are you doing, Rossi."

A voice rife with boredom rather than curiosity spoke rather quietly, as if not to disturb the somewhat serene atmosphere of the garden.

He turned to follow the voice, an almost tiresome gaze matched his own. A man, not too much older than himself, leaned against the garden archway that led to the rest of the garden. He seemed completely unperturbed by the leaves that brushed against his face, rather, he kept his eyes focused on Emil and him alone.

"I— uhm—" Words seemed to escape him, trapping themselves in his throat and refusing to come out. Who was this person? Could it be Mikhail? No no, he was far too young to be him. But, then who...?

The man let a sigh fall from his lips before walking over to him. Carefully, slender fingers brushed against the distressed covers of the books. Looking at the one in front of him, he picked the book and examined it, his eyes focused on the tile. "Illustrious World of Spellcasting..."

"Eden," a bitter chuckle. The man sat the book down carefully, as if it was something delicate and precious instead of an old, dusty book, before his eyes slowly met Emil's own. "Please don't tell me that you're reading a beginners magic book."

"Doesn't hurt to brush up on the basics, does it?" Feigning all the confidence he could, he answered quickly with a slight smile painted on his face. Eden was a very confident man, according to the novel. One who never wavered in the face of opposition. And if this was someone who knew Eden, then he needed to act like him as much as possible, he had to be confident.

"Brushing up on the basics, hm? And why, pray tell, would Archmage Eden need to return to the basics?"

Eden was an Archmage? His breath caught in his throat. Kingdom of Thorns only mentioned that he was a decently strong spellcaster... but an Archmage? Eden was that powerful? This predicament he was in seemed to be worse than he anticipated.

Be calm. He smiled—one that did not reach his eyes nor did it even seem genuine for even a moment, but one that he believed could somewhat convince the man. "It helps strengthen one's magical abilities. An Archmage would know about that kind of thing, wouldn't he?"

"You're full of shit."

Silence stretched between them momentarily. Emil was at a loss for words, truly. He coiled his finger around a strand of hair and began playing with it. "I'm... not."

Letting out another sigh, the man moved from Emil and maneuvered himself around the large table. He plopped himself down in a seat across from Emil, who was now looking at him directly.

He wasn't paying much attention before to the man's appearance, since he was too busy lying, but getting a good look at him now... he wasn't too bad looking.

The man's jaded expression never once wavered during their entire conversation, Emil noticed. He had blinked a net total of five times, each one long and drawn out. Even then, his green eyes looked completely dull and uninterested. Thick red hair sat boredly on his shoulders, only moving slightly when a light breeze danced through the garden. His jaw was sharp, dangerous even. It seemed as if it could cut clean through diamonds. His high cheekbones very prominent. Nevertheless, Emil thought he was sorta good looking. Sorta.

The sun peaked over the horizon, bathing the garden in its light. Birds sang absent-mindedly as the cicada's sharp whines penetrated the air.

"I can't believe you—"

"So, why are you here?" The words spilled out effortlessly from Emil. "I mean, like, you came here for a reason, right?"

"Oh, so, I need a reason to come see you now?" His words did not sound as hurt as he probably meant it to. In fact, based on his sharp tone and his now furrowing brow, he seemed rather annoyed.