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Alba wishes desperately that he had never played that stupid game. If he hadn’t, then he could’ve stayed blissfully ignorant. He could’ve lived his life out peacefully without issue. 

Unfortunately, he had played that stupid game, and while he hadn’t remembered too much about it at first-

It all came back to him when the royal messenger informed him that he was to attend Flower Field Academy. 

That stupidly on-the-nose name, that name Alba had found so hilarious in the past, ended up being what revealed the true nature of the world to him. 

What revealed to him that he had reincarnated into the world of a visual novel.

A Flower in your Heart was a dating sim visual novel that took inspiration from classic shoujo manga, but inverted quite a few tropes. It was marketed as a dark, subversive gal game for the female demographic, but Alba didn’t find it dark at all, and he enjoyed it well enough even as a guy. 

Instead of an unobtrusively kind female protagonist, Flower Heart featured an unobtrusively kind male protagonist. Instead of an array of handsome male leads, the game offered an array of beautiful female leads. 

And instead of the noble girl villainess plotting to foil the protagonist’s love, they had a noble boy villain do the same. 

Alba, it seems, has become the hero of this sordid tale. He’s become the Saint, blessed with holy power and specially permitted to attend this academy for nobles and the children of high-ranked officials, even as your average commoner. 

Since the protagonist in the visual novel had no default name, Alba thinks he can be forgiven for not realizing it sooner. The Saint didn’t even have a sprite or a portrait- the only depiction of the protagonist was on the cover art. A brown-haired young man with a silver ornament decorating his hair, wearing long white robes with golden trim. 

Alba certainly didn’t associate himself with that!

If it had been any other game he had reincarnated into, Alba might’ve been relieved. After all, he’s read quite a few shoujo manga in his time. Isn’t the cliché to reincarnate as a villainess? He should be grateful he reincarnated as the protagonist instead. 

Except…

Alba buries his face in his hands and groans. 

Flower Heart had a rather contrived plot. The Saint’s duty was to purify the land and heal the people, but to unlock his true power, he needed the power of “true love”. 

(It’s so incredibly tropey Alba is tempted to cry.)

So, the country allows him to attend the academy not for his studies- but to find himself a wife. The title of Saint’s Consort was almost as respected as a Duke, and the consort’s family would receive land and a highly generous dowry from the crown. 

Unsurprisingly, with a plot as contrived as this, the number of noble girls interested in marrying themselves off to the Saint was considerable. But Flower Heart focused specifically on love interests named after a flower, hence the name. Rose Scarlet, the haughty duke’s daughter… Lily Alabaster, the shy bookworm… so on and so forth. 

Despite the shoujo-esque tropes in Flower Heart, the core of the setting was little different than any harem anime out there. A wish come true for any young man!

There’s just one problem. 

A loud groan escapes his lips once more. 

He’s gay.

In the end, Alba chooses to simply keep his head down. 

He was the protagonist of this world. If he didn’t pursue any of the love interests, then what could the world do about it? He would simply refuse to make any of the choices that the Saint of Flower Heart did, and graduate in two years without finding himself a wife. 

The crown might be displeased, but it wasn’t as though they could do anything about it. The Saint’s true powers were unlocked with the power of “true love”, after all. What could anyone do to force that? Love potions and love spells were mentioned in the game, but they apparently could only force infatuation, not love. 

And besides, the Saint still has some powers of purification and healing even without “true love”. He’s tried them out a bit himself- it isn’t as though he would be completely useless. 

Plus, the visual novel didn’t actually start until second year. So, theoretically, he shouldn’t run into any trouble for a long while. He would shove off dealing with the events of the visual novel to Future Alba. 

Plan in mind, Alba feels a little better about attending Flower Field Academy. 

And his plan works out for the first couple months. With him politely rebuffing any flirtations and even the outright love confessions, his school life proceeds remarkably smoothly. 

(Well, except for the fact that he has no friends. 

But he doesn’t think it’s his fault! A good half of the school is classist, and even among the ones who aren’t, a good quarter is jealous of how popular he is with girls. 

It isn’t like he wants to be this popular with them… and it sure isn’t as though they’re interested in him for his looks or personality.)

He should’ve known though that the world wouldn’t let him escape so easily. 

He really should’ve known.  

“So you’re the infamous Saint.” Cold, red eyes stare down at him from above. “You’re plainer than I thought you’d be.”

Of course the villain would come into play.

In every route that you could choose in Flower Heart, Prince Sion Amaranthine is the main villain.

Because the crown prince and the Queen were trapped in a magical coma for most of his childhood, the rumours say he grew up a spoiled, arrogant child. His twisted personality supposedly only worsened when Prince Lake awoke, ousting Sion from the position of crown prince. 

In every route, the game displays this twisted personality of his front and center. His harassment does start small though- scathing words, mocking insults... tripping the Saint in the hallways, jabbing a sharp foot into an ankle. 

But as soon as the protagonist begins officially dating a love interest, his jealousy apparently overwhelms him, and the harassment escalates to the point of sheer villainy. In one route, he almost brings the love interest’s family to ruin. In another, he spreads nasty rumours about the love interest, her reputation falling into tatters. 

Once the Saint and his chosen consort manage to destroy Sion’s machinations, in most routes Sion gives up on subtlety and straight-up kidnaps the Saint. The game never mentions what his end goals are, but they’re no doubt nothing good. 

Of course, that causes his downfall. 

The love interest figures out where the Saint is with whatever unique skills she has, then bursts in to save him, metaphorical guns a-blazing. The Saint, touched that his love interest would put herself in danger just to save him, manages to escape by killing Sion in some way. Disintegrating him with purification magic, stabbing a sword through his chest, chasing him to a cliff and pushing him off…

(This part at least is a little dark, actually matching with the marketing of the game.

Alba always thought it was a little harsh to murder Sion in cold blood, but he had brushed it off as just a revenge fantasy trope. 

That being said, if he does ever end up in the same situation as the Saint in the finale, he certainly won’t be killing anyone.)

After the escape, the Saint is acquitted of the murder once the Saint and the love interest testify regarding all of Sion’s villainy. 

And so the Saint and his chosen consort live happily ever after. 

Alba had always thought it was pretty bad writing that Sion always fell so intensely in love with whatever girl the protagonist chose. It would’ve made far more sense if Sion only showed up in a particular route. 

But he was willing to look past it because he enjoyed the plots, and he thought Prince Sion was a fun, intriguing villain. 

...He’s not so sure about that now. 

“Aren’t you going to say anything, Saint?” Sion sneers down at him from his chair. 

Alba shifts on his knees. 

“Um…” he says weakly. 

“Um?”

“Your Highness,” Alba says, voice still weak, “Why did you call me to your room?”

Sion brings a hand to his chin. “Would you like to know?”

“Um, yes.”

“Well, if you so insist.” Sion leans down a little, his eyes boring a hole into Alba’s face. 

Alba can’t help but shift back a little. 

Sion continues, “Lady Scarlet came up to me the other day, you see.”

Lady Rose Scarlet was a duke’s daughter, and unsurprisingly, the favoured choice for Sion’s fiancée. In some routes, she even became his official fiancée, though Sion was naturally never happy with it. Out of narrative convenience, he was always only interested in the Saint’s chosen partner, after all. 

“Lady Scarlet?” echoes Alba, confused. He’s never talked with Rose- since she currently considers all commoners to be scum, she would never come to talk with Alba herself, and Alba certainly hasn’t taken the initiative either. 

“She told me that you’d accepted her romantic overtures,” Sion says, a smirk playing at his lips. 

“Excuse me?!” sputters Alba, choking on air. 

“Saint or no, it’s not a good look for you to be seducing the lead fiancée candidate for a prince.” The smirk widens into a bright grin. “Wouldn’t you say?”

Panic overwhelms him. He hadn’t seen this coming at all- had he gotten shoehorned into the Rose route somehow? Months and months early? But he hadn’t even talked to the girl!

...No. He needed to calm down. This was Prince Sion before he had even begun his petty little harassment of the Saint, let alone his later villainy. 

He could still be reasoned with. 

“I’ve never even talked with her!” pleads Alba. “Please, you have to believe me!”

“Are you saying that Lady Scarlet was lying?”

“Well-” Alba’s eyes swim. 

Obviously, Rose had lied. But could he say that? He may be the Saint, but a duke’s power was only surpassed by royalty. If he claimed that Rose was lying, but Rose insisted otherwise…

“If you go buy me some strawberry milk from the cafeteria,” Sion says sweetly, “I’ll consider believing you.”

“I- what?”

“Oh!” Sion brings a hand to his mouth in faux surprise. “Is that too easy? Then why don’t we say, hm… you have five minutes.”

“What?!” Alba sputters again. “The cafeteria is halfway across campus!”

“Chop chop, Saint.”

This- this- this complete and utter villain. 

Alba leaps to his feet and races out the door.

When he finally gets back with the strawberry milk, panting and out of breath, Sion takes it with a smile. 

Then immediately says- “I want sweets too. Go get me some, Saint.”

“You-” Alba starts, but he doesn’t have the energy to even yell at him. Giving up, Alba staggers out the door as fast as he can. 

When he finally gets back a second time, he collapses onto the wooden floor as soon as he hands Sion a bag of cookies. 

“Oh my,” Sion says, voice uncaring. Alba can hear him start to munch. “You’re not very athletic, are you?”

“Any, anyone,” Alba pants out, “Anyone would get tired from, from this.”

“Keep on telling yourself that, Saint,” Sion says breezily, and Alba grits his teeth. 

Maybe he wouldn’t be winning any competitions, but he’s plenty athletic! He grew up in an orphanage, which in this world means he grew up doing manual labour in the fields. He has plenty of stamina!

But right now he’s too tired to even say a word more in his defense. 

Against his will, his eyes flicker shut.

When he comes to, he’s enveloped in warmth, the mattress underneath him softer than anything he’s felt in this life. 

He jerks up immediately, glancing around frantically in confusion. 

“Oh, you’re finally awake.”

Sion is still sitting in that grand chair by his desk, but the sun seems to be setting now, shining orange beams into the room. 

“You…” Alba is even more confused now that he has a grasp of the situation. “You let me use your bed?”

“It won’t happen again,” Sion says curtly. “But I supposed that today was partially my fault, just a little.” He raises a thin eyebrow. “Get out of my bed already.”

“Ah, sorry,” Alba says automatically, and scrambles himself out of the blankets and off the bed. 

He’s unsure of what to do next, so he finds himself sitting on his knees in front of Sion once more. 

But Sion just pinches his nose. “Saint, you don’t need to sit like that.”

“But there’s no other chair nearby,” Alba points out reasonably. 

“Ugh, whatever,” grumbles Sion- then sits himself down on the ground as well. 

“Your Highness?” Alba says, confused again. 

“Listen,” Sion says flatly. “Do you understand that you’re the Saint?”

“Yes?”

“If you do,” continues Sion, “then don’t let some piece of filth who doesn’t even consider commoners human spread nonsense rumours about you.”

Alba blinks at him blankly. 

“Do I need to spell it out for you?” Sion asks, unamused. “Lady Scarlet wants me to choose her as my fiancée. To accomplish this, she attempted to make me jealous and infuriated by pretending she chose a ‘filthy commoner’-” he rolls his eyes, “-over me. Hence the lies about you and her.” 

“Oh. That makes sense,” mumbles Alba, “But… what can I do against a duke’s daughter?”

“Saint, you’re the Saint,” Sion stresses. “Don’t you understand what that means?”

“Explain it to me,” Alba asks cautiously. 

“This empire is entirely dependent on your power,” Sion says bluntly. “It isn’t an exaggeration to say that currently, without you it would fall.”

“What?” Alba’s confusion is reaching deathly levels. 

This wasn’t ever mentioned in the visual novel, at least not in the routes Alba played. Though admittedly,  he hadn’t played them all, and he only had a vague knowledge of the ones he didn’t play. 

(And as for the hidden route, he didn’t even have a clue what it was like.)

“Purification is what keeps most of the Empire’s fields producing food,” Sion explains, “In a few years when we’re twenty-five, the previous Saint’s purification will wear off, and our crops will begin to wither. To the crown, it’s vital that they’re repurified by then.”

“I had no idea,” says Alba, genuinely shocked. “If things are that dire, why is the crown wasting time sending me here?”

“It’s a gamble,” Sion says, “If you don’t awaken to your true powers, even if you spent every minute between now and your twenty-fifth birthday purifying fields, it wouldn’t be enough. But if you do, you could purify the entire country in one go.”

“What’s with that power scaling?!”

“It’s the power of true love!”

“Why is love that strong?!”

“My oh my, Saint.” Sion smirks. “You’re quite jaded, aren’t you? Don’t you believe in the power of true love?”

“I don’t believe I’m gonna find it at this academy,” grouches Alba. 

“That may be so.”

Alba blinks in surprise. 

“What? Did you expect me to be blindly optimistic about things?” Sion asks. His voice rises into a falsetto. “Oh, Saint, I’m sure you’ll find your one true love in this academy filled with power-hungry nobles.”

Despite his best efforts, Alba can’t help but laugh. 

(He didn’t expect Prince Sion to be so… likeable.)

Sion continues, “It may have worked for the previous  couple Saints, but they were all nobles. So Saint-” His gaze goes serious. “-if there’s any commoner back home you think fondly of, you don’t need to hide it. I promise I’ll support you.”

“It would be convenient if there was someone.” Alba smiles sheepishly. 

Sion looks disappointed, but unsurprised. “It can’t be helped.”

“I’ll- I’ll definitely find someone though!” Alba vows. 

He hadn’t realized it was so important. The game had never said, and he had never been told in this world either. 

If true love was needed to avoid a massive famine, then- he would need to find true love. This wasn’t just the world of a visual novel- this was a real world, with its own real people. He didn’t need to restrict himself to the all-female Flower Heart love interests. 

Maybe it would be harder to find a noble guy who liked him, but it could be possible, right?

“Don’t,” Sion says, deadly serious. “If you force it, you’ll never unlock your true powers.” 

“But-”

“You don’t need to worry too much,” Sion continues calmly. “I’ve always thought it was a bad idea to depend on the Saint’s powers this much anyways. I can’t promise anything just yet, but I have people investigating alternative ways to revive the fields, and I’ve negotiated with neighbouring countries enough to tide us through a few years of a famine at least.” He snorts. “The nobles will certainly whine and cry at rations, but the people won’t starve, and that’s what really matters.”

Alba can’t help but stare. 

This is the main villain? A man harshly critical of his country’s nobility, a man who cares for his people? 

He knows that love is supposed to change people, but this level of change is insane. Just how jealous of the Saint had Sion been, for him to go that far?

(Or had there been more to it even in the game? 

Alba had thought it odd that Sion was the villain in every route, and that so many routes ended in similar ways. 

He has no way to know now though.)

“Of course, it wouldn’t hurt if you found someone you liked,” continues Sion, “But if it doesn’t happen, it doesn’t happen.” His gaze goes dark. “Despite what some people seem to think, it’s not your fault if you don’t find something as nebulous as ‘true love’.”

And Alba has to cough and look away, because Prince Sion with a dark expression on his face is embarrassingly attractive. 

He needed to get himself together. Just because Sion was a slightly better person than Alba had expected didn’t change the fact that he was still a villain! He sent Alba running across campus two times after all-

-Wait. 

“Did you make me run across campus to teach me I shouldn’t listen to what nobles tell me to do so easily?”

“Huh? Of course not.” The grin that spreads across Sion’s face is rather nasty. “I just thought it would be funny.”

Never mind. 

Sion is still a villain.

The next day, right when Alba is tidying his books after their last class, Sion slides next to him. 

The classrooms in this academy resemble lecture halls more than a traditional high school classroom, with rows of benches and long tables making up most of the room. 

(Despite the design encouraging students to clump together, the spaces by Alba always tend to be left empty.) 

An arm is slung casually around his shoulder. 

“Saint,” Sion murmurs into his ear, “Let’s talk, shall we?”

Alba glances towards him nervously. Sion is smiling brightly, but his eyes certainly aren’t. More importantly, however-

He’s much too close. 

Flushing a little, Alba tries to shift away, but Sion keeps him tightly in place. 

He wants to cry in frustration. Why does the villain get such a handsome face? And for that matter, personality defects aside, how did any of the love interests manage to turn down that for… Alba? 

Alba is well aware his looks have always been decidedly average at best. 

Then again, perhaps he shouldn’t be looking down on the love interests so much. Personality was important, after all, and it’s certainly what’s ensuring that Alba would rather die than think of Sion in that way. 

(That being said, Alba doesn’t really think he himself has a very nice personality either...) 

He shoves all that aside for now though. 

Coughing pointedly, Alba says, “Why can’t you just talk here?”

“I suppose we could,” Sion says dubiously, “But there’s quite a few onlookers, you realize?”

Now that he mentions it, Sion is correct. Though the classroom has emptied a little, there’s still some people lingering, and it’s clear many are curious about what the second prince wants with the Saint. 

“...Let’s go to the library?” Alba suggests reluctantly. 

“Very well.”

Once they’re settled at a secluded table of the library, Sion immediately demands- “Why haven’t you done anything about the rumours?”

Alba glares at him from across the table. “I hadn’t even heard of the rumours before you told me! Even if I don’t have to worry about offending a duke’s daughter, how am I supposed to do anything about them?”

Sion blinks. “Now that you mention it, that is true. I apologize, Saint. I forgot that you were a friendless loser.”

“You don’t have to be so harsh?!” 

Sion ignores him and continues, “In that case, I’d be happy to take care of the rumours for you.”

“...What do you want?”

“My my, Saint, so suspicious.” Sion spreads a hand over his chest, face as innocent as a lamb. “Is it too much to believe that I’m doing this out of the good of my heart?”

“Yes.”

“Such a jaded little saint.” Sion smirks. “I’ll do it for a chocolate parfait.”

“That’s all?” Alba asks, still suspicious. 

“I’m on your side, Saint,” Sion says with a shrug. “You finding your true love will give us eighty or so years of leeway to de-Saint our farmlands, as opposed to the five or so years we have if you don’t. Someone with no actual interest in you spreading nonsense rumours about your love life is detrimental to that goal.”

Alba supposes that makes sense. 

(But if that were the case, why did the Sion of the game so avidly oppose the Saint’s love? 

The more he talks to this Sion, the more confused he gets.)

“Alright,” Alba grumbles, pushing back his chair. “I’ll get you your parfait. You really like sweets, huh?”

Much to his surprise, Sion flushes red. 

“I just happened to be in the mood for sweets,” Sion insists, scowling. “I don’t like them any more than anything else.”

Sion was the main villain of this tale, and he’s clearly already beginning his petty harassment of Alba. He shouldn’t find him cute just because of an embarrassed blush or two. 

(...He still finds it cute. Was this what they called gap moe?)

“Right, of course,” Alba says with a cough, then departs.

When he comes back, Sion is flipping through Alba’s notebooks.  

“Hey!” Alba sputters. 

“Oh, you’re back,” Sion says without a hint of shame, not even looking up from the notebook. “Took you long enough. I ought to have given you a time limit again.”

“Who snoops through someone’s stuff while they’re getting you food?” Alba complains, slamming the parfait down next to Sion. It would survive- the parfaits of this world are rather unaesthetic, made in tall, sturdy metal cups. 

“Me, of course.” Sion finally snaps the notebook closed. “Saint, your magic comprehension is abysmal.”

“So sorry the notes you stole a look at aren’t up to your standards,” Alba grumbles. 

Sion brings a spoonful of the parfait up to his mouth. He hums happily, then says- “Really, your everything appears to be abysmal except for your arithmetic, of all things.”

Well, the math here was far simpler than anything he had learned in his past life. 

“So what?” 

“This won’t do,” Sion says flatly. “Saint, are you planning to wield your powers without understanding what you’re doing?”

“Isn’t it good enough for me to get how to use them?”

“Of course not.” Sion’s gaze is coldly judgmental. “It isn’t our grandparents’ generation anymore- using magic through random trial and error isn’t cute. You need a solid basis for this kind of thing.”

“I’m trying, okay? In case you forgot, I was a regular commoner until a few months ago,” snaps Alba, “Some commoners can’t even read, you know!”

“I’m aware you’re at a disadvantage compared to the average noble,” says Sion, “That’s why I’m offering to help you bridge the gap.” He smiles brightly. “Why don’t I tutor you?”

“No.”

“Such a rude refusal,” Sion says, though his smile is still bright, “You do realize I’m royalty?”

“I must respectfully decline, your Highness,” Alba says, a little snidely. 

“May I ask why?”

“Because I don’t trust you,” Alba says flatly. 

“That’s quite hurtful,” Sion says, sounding amused. “Just what makes you distrust me so?”

“You keep on insulting me!” Alba sputters, “You sent me off running to the cafeteria three times!” 

“I see the Saint isn’t as magnanimous as the rumours claim,” says Sion, “for him to be incapable of forgiving such slight offences.”

“I’m not forgiving them because you’re totally gonna do them again!”

“Oh my, Saint.” Sion’s smile stretches wider. “It usually takes longer than this for people to see through me.”

Alba just growls. “Anyways, that’s why I’m definitely not taking you up on your offer!”

“Don’t you think fetching me food occasionally is well worth receiving my personal tutelage?” Sion says mildly. “I am ranked top in our class for all subjects, you do know.”

“I-”

Sion does raise a good point. As payments went, running an errand or two for a tutoring session wasn’t bad. 

But Alba narrows his eyes, undeterred. “You’re a prince. Don’t you have servants to do that for you?”

“I do.” Sion shrugs. “But it’s not fun to just ask a servant.”

“You-” Alba sputters. 

Villain. Villain to the core.

In the end though, Alba does take Sion up on his offer. He has, admittedly, been having trouble keeping up with a lot of his classes. 

And he figures he shouldn’t have much to fear from Sion as long as Alba doesn’t pursue one of the Flower Heart love interests. Which he has no intentions of doing, for obvious reasons. 

And so, while his grades only grow to be rather average - there’s only so much even a tutor can do - they’re at least no longer “abysmal”, as Sion would call it. 

However, as his grades steadily improve, Alba is faced with another conundrum. 

Was he… friends with Prince Sion?

Sion sits himself down next to him in every class now, though Sion’s clique still keeps their distance. While Sion still eats with other nobles at breakfast and lunch, he takes his dinner with Alba without fail. And of course, after class is filled with tutoring, usually until they both head to sleep. 

Except the tutoring doesn’t always seem to be just tutoring. Sometimes they read books of pure fiction together, while other times Sion brings out a board game. Was this really related to their classes?

On top of that, Sion even invites him out on the weekends lately. Alba thought it was just going to be more tutoring at first, but there’s absolutely no studying involved. It’s trips to the nearest town to shop, walks to a nearby lake to enjoy the view. 

If that was all, Alba would be frightfully certain that he had somehow became friends with the man who was meant to terrorize his life. 

The only issue is...

Sion still harasses him. He insults him, in his uniquely polite yet caustic manner of speech. He makes him run off to the cafeteria to get him food, then makes him run all over again because he changed his mind. He trips him sometimes, jabs a foot into his ankle and a hand into his hips. 

It’s all nothing but petty harassment, and at this point, Alba finds it far more amusing than annoying. But it’s still harassment, just like the great villain Prince Sion of Flower Heart did. 

(At this rate, his confusion may very well make him go mad.)

The academy gives all students a month off at the end of the school year, right in the middle of summer. 

Most students return home during this time, but Alba has no home to return to. Even if he hadn’t become the Saint, as he reached the age of adulthood this year, he would’ve been unceremoniously kicked out of the orphanage he grew up in. 

So, Alba’s plans are to stay, and he has no reason to expect that would change. 

Until the day before their last day, Sion says casually- “You’ll be coming with me to the castle, correct?”

“I’ll be what?” 

They’re taking dinner together in Sion’s room like they often do, sitting in plush chairs in the living area of the space. 

“You don’t talk with anyone but me,” Sion says with a sneer, “Don’t tell me you have other plans.”

“I don’t,” Alba admits reluctantly, “But- I can’t just go to the castle!”

“You’re the Saint, and even besides that, you’ve received a direct invitation from a prince,” says Sion, “Why shouldn’t you just go?”

Alba fails to find a valid rebuttal. 

“But,” mumbles Alba, “Why me? Don't you have plenty of other friends to invite?”

“I wouldn't call the people I maintain cordial relations with 'friends',” says Sion. “And even besides that-” He smiles brightly. “Who else would give me as much as amusement as you, Saint?”

Who do you think you are, Cecil Alphasta?!

But the retort doesn't leave Alba's lips, because for one, it's a pop culture reference Sion certainly wouldn't understand, and for two-

(If Sion is the black-hearted prince slowly opening his heart to him, that would make Alba his dense object of interest, and that's an absurd comparison that Alba certainly does not want to make.)

The royal castle was only ever mentioned in text in the game, and only near the end of the routes in the epilogue. So, Alba has no real clue what the castle might look like. 

In the end, his conclusion is that it’s very… castley. Perhaps your average commoner would find the sheer size of the castle impressive, but to a reincarnator like Alba, it’s nothing special. Still, the interior is very nicely decorated, and even the guest room furniture is far more luxurious than anything he’s known in this life. 

He spends far more time out of the castle than in it though. Sion seems to enjoy the area around the castle the most- he takes him out to the forests to explore, to the nearby farmlands to investigate and to attempt to purify the soil. 

And of course, he takes him down to the royal capital. 

They visit Sion’s favourite café, and unsurprisingly, Alba is forced to cover the considerable bill. But at this point, he finds he doesn’t really mind too much. Considering the entirely of his allowance comes from the crown, he supposes he’s just returning it in a way. 

(And even besides that, he finds that he enjoys watching Sion eat sweets, and he enjoys it even more when he knows he’s treating him. 

Alba refuses to think too deeply on why that could be.)

They spend another whole day just window shopping, which for them means visiting gear shops and blacksmiths. Despite Alba’s non-existent skill with a sword, he still finds them very cool. 

(Sion might snicker at him for liking swords he couldn’t use, but he could appreciate something for its aesthetic value, okay!)

And on their way back to the castle that day, Alba finds himself pause over a jewelry stall they pass by. 

“Did you like jewelry, Saint?” Sion asks, sounding a little confused. 

“Ah, no, it’s just…” 

Alba looks towards the hair accessories. While they’re very pretty, golden and jeweled with lovely gems, they’re definitely not the kind of thing he would want to wear. And most of them are meant for long hair anyways. 

He brushes back the hair from his forehead. “I want a simple hair clip so I don’t have to keep brushing back my hair, but I can’t really find anything I’d like.”

The Saint on the cover art of Flower Heart wore a tasteful silver hair clip that would work perfectly, but much to his confusion, he hasn’t seen anything that even resembles it in this world. 

Sion raises an eyebrow. “I’m unfamiliar with commoner fashion in your home province, but men in the capital don’t wear hair clips. I’m afraid the best you can find are accessories like these.”

“I was afraid of that…” Alba says with a sigh. “Well, it can’t be helped. Let’s go, your Highness.”

Much to his relief, he only needs to meet the Queen and King Consort once during his stay at the castle, midway into their summer vacation.

It's a relief, because even that one time is far too stressful for Alba to bear. 

The judgmental look of the Queen, the ominous atmosphere of the throne room… he would love to never have to see Sion’s parents ever again. He’s not sure if he’ll survive a second meeting. 

But thankfully, he survives the first at least. 

“I hope you continue to be good friends with Sion,” Queen Cecily had said finally, after a long interrogation of himself and his character, and-

Sion hadn’t denied it. 

Alba steals a glance at Sion, walking through the hallways next to him. 

Is he really friends with the villain?

Good friends with the villain, even?

Alba… isn’t sure how to feel about this. Is it really okay to take those words at face value? Perhaps the Queen was just unaware of Sion’s true feelings, and Sion didn’t want to contradict her?

The last thing he expects is for the crown prince to resolve his inner conundrum. 

“Hey, Sion! Long time no see!”

A black-haired, red-eyed man walks towards them. From his resemblance to Sion, from the fact that he had called out Sion’s name without fear-

This must be the crown prince, Lake. 

“Yes, hello,” Sion says dismissively, waving him away. “Goodbye now.”

“You’re so cold,” Lake whines, “I just wanted to see how the talk went with Mom and Dad-”

“-It went fine,” Sion cuts in. 

“-and to meet the Saint!” 

Sion looks positively murderous now, much to Alba’s confusion. 

But Lake just laughs. “You really like him, huh?”

“Shut up.” 

“I never really got the whole possessive thing you and Mom have going on, but you know you can’t keep him all to yourself, right?” Lake points out, “He’s the Saint, he’s gonna need to find a wif- ow!”

Sion slams a foot into Lake’s ankle. 

(He slams a foot, just like he would to Alba.)

“Okay, okay, that was my bad.” Lake flashes them a disarming smile, then holds out a hand to Alba. “Anyways, it is very nice to meet you, Saint Alba.”

“The pleasure is mine, your Highness,” Alba says, cautiously shaking the offered hand. 

For some reason, Sion looks even more displeased now. But what was Alba supposed to do? Brush off the crown prince?

“Thank you for being friends with Sion,” Lake says, “He’s not a very agreeable sort, is he? Always jumping to violenc- hey!”

Sion slams a foot into Lake’s other ankle. 

“But,” Lake continues in a stage whisper, “He only does it to people he likes, so-”

“-Go away, brother,” Sion says, flushing red. 

“Alright, fine,” Lake says with a laugh. “But let’s catch up sometime, yeah?”

And Lake heads off, leaving Alba to stew in his thoughts.

He’s… friends with Sion. 

Sion likes him. 

Not in that way, of course. But still. The villain Sion likes him. Him, the Saint. 

Alba still isn’t sure how this could’ve happened. 

But now that he thinks on it, isn’t this a good thing? Why would Sion ever act like a villain to him if they’re friends?

Doesn’t that mean he’s now prevented any potential issues in his school life?

(Doesn’t that mean he’s ensured Sion will live?)

In the end, after an evening spent mulling through his thoughts, Alba concludes that his friendship with Sion is a good thing. 

And if he were truly being honest with himself-

Alba squeezes his eyes tight. 

He’s overjoyed.

He’s truly happy from the very bottom of his heart. 

Perhaps it’s time for him to face the truth- Alba can’t see Sion as a villain anymore. No matter how he may have acted in the game, Sion was no more that malicious villain Prince Sion than Alba was that cruel Saint who would kill him in cold blood. 

And Alba, he…

He likes Sion a lot. 

Even the light pollution flickering into his room can’t stop Alba from falling into a gentle, happy sleep.

Alba had been too distracted yesterday with his own thoughts, but now that he’s sorted through all that… 

There’s something he wants to ask Sion, about him and Lake. 

But he can read the room- given the rumours that swirl around them both, it’s likely to be a sensitive topic. So, he decides to wait until they have at least some relative privacy. 

The walls have ears, as they say. 

Luckily, they go out for a picnic in the nearby forest for lunch, which probably gives them as much privacy as they could ever get. And so, once they’ve polished off their sandwiches, Alba coughs once and says-

“Your Highness.”

Sion - sitting next to him - glances towards him. “What is it, Saint?”

“Is it okay if I ask something a little, um, personal?”

For some reason, Sion smiles softly at that. “If you must, I suppose.”

“Do you still want to be crown prince?”

“That’s your question?” grumbles Sion, his expression darkening instantly. 

“Uh, yeah,” Alba says, a little apologetically, “After seeing you with Prince Lake yesterday, it made me wonder…”

The game never narrated directly about Sion’s life, but it gave the player bits and pieces through comments by other characters. If certain rumours were to be believed, Sion was a black-hearted villain, always looking to dethrone the crown prince to take back what he thought was his own. 

But Sion and Lake seemed far too friendly together for that to be the case, even if Alba took Sion’s icy attitude yesterday at face value. 

Sion just rolls his eyes. “I’ve never wanted to be crown prince.”

“Never?” Alba echoes, surprised. 

“Of course not,” says Sion with a snort. “Spending the rest of my days appeasing nobles sounds like hell on earth.”

“That’s true.” Alba has to laugh. “I guess you really can’t trust rumours. Why would you resent Prince Lake for something you don’t want?”

Sion is strangely silent for a moment. 

“...Who says I don’t still resent him?”

“Huh?” says Alba, “But if you don’t wanna be the crown prince…”

“Is that the only reason I could have to resent him?” Sion asks, gaze fixed onto the ground. 

His expression is oddly still. 

Alba hadn’t expected Sion to react like this to a line of questioning he only asked out of curiosity. But since he had brought up this topic, he has a responsibility to see it through. 

(And besides, Sion is his friend now, isn’t he?)

“If you wanna talk, I’ll listen,” Alba says gently, placing a hand on Sion’s shoulder. 

“...My brother is a good person,” says Sion, almost as though he’s trying to convince himself. 

“You can still resent good people,” Alba says with a shrug. 

“I see you’re as terrible of a saint as ever.”

“You really never let up, do you?!”

A small smile quirks up Sion’s lips. “Of course not.”

“Of course not…” Alba sighs. 

They both fall silent again for a little while. But Alba keeps his hand gently rested on Sion’s shoulder, and finally, Sion speaks again. 

“If you really want to know, Saint, I suppose I can tell you,” Sion says, “But it’s not a very interesting tale.”

Sion, it seems, did not have the spoiled childhood that the rumours whispered of. 

The Queen and the crown prince fell into a magical coma from an enemy attack mere months after Sion was born. Thus, the King Consort took control of the country as the King, and he did a decent enough job at it. This much, Alba knows from the game. 

What he hadn’t known was that the King barely ever gave Sion a second glance. That he blamed Sion for weakening the Queen through childbirth, blamed him for the Queen's coma. And that as soon as Sion was no longer a toddler, he had dismissed all of his personal servants to cut costs. 

Mages were expensive, after all, and the King needed many to investigate the Queen and Prince Lake’s sleep. 

The King kept the bare minimum of servants needed to keep up appearances, but the servants didn’t bother to give Sion much care, given how little the King cared for him. 

So Sion grew up independently. He learned his letters from a kind apprentice mage, and learned his lessons from books. He learned to sneak off into town, into the farmlands, to do what work a village boy might do for food and coins. 

(Because sometimes, there was no food left in the castle for a forgotten prince.)

“It was a miracle I wasn’t ever kidnapped,” Sion says with a snort. “But my mother put in a lot of work into reducing crime in the royal capital during her reign, and Crea - that apprentice mage, I mean - was a commoner. I copied what he did, and so I didn’t come off as a noble brat.”

“How could- didn’t anyone say anything?” 

“My father was the King,” says Sion. “What could anyone say? Only the highest-ranked nobles might’ve dared to speak up, but I don’t think anyone really knew about what was going on.”  

Alba feels Sion reach an arm around him, caress his hip with a hand to press him into his side. 

“You don’t need to look so furious,” Sion says, sounding amused. “I don’t think my childhood was bad.”

“In what universe-”

“-I am who I am because of what I went through,” Sion cuts in. “I doubt I would’ve ever gotten close with Crea, and with you, if it weren't for it. So don’t you dare pity me.”

“...I won’t,” Alba says quietly. 

“Good.”

After the Queen and Prince Lake were revived from their long stasis when Sion was twelve, he went on to live a fairly normal life for a prince. Technically, Lake was a couple years younger than him by the time they woke- but he was still restored to the position of crown prince. 

“But like I said, I never wanted to be King anyways,” Sion says, “I like my mother, and my brother, and I guess even my shitty dad, in a way. It’s just… my brother wants to marry someone that can’t give him an heir, you see.”

“Wait, isn’t that bad?”

“Very bad for nobles,” Sion says with a laugh. “But luckily, his partner is a commoner orphan-”

“-Isn’t that bad too?!”

“My parents are big believers in true love,” Sion says dryly. “Anyways, but because of that, there’s no need to worry about the consort’s family kicking up a fuss.” He smiles wryly. “So the plan is to just pass off the crown to my children.”

“Then wouldn’t it make more sense to make you the crown prince?”

“Brother offered that himself, but I declined,” says Sion, “Like I said, Saint, he’s a good person.”

“So then…” Alba frowns. 

“...what’s the issue?” Sion finishes the sentence. “It’s really quite simple.” 

He brings his face close, too close, and Alba really can’t be blamed for flushing red. 

(It’s still incredibly unfair that Sion is this handsome.) 

“You see, Saint,” he murmurs, “I prefer the company of men as well.”

Alba’s brow furrows. “What does that have to do with this?”

“...I don’t mean as friends.”

He’s still not entirely sure where Sion is going with this, but he decides to play along. 

“Oh yeah, I agree,” Alba says with a nod, “It’s silly to say that you can’t hang out with girls as friends.”

“You-”

A face flushed as red as Alba’s is the last thing he registers before he’s knocked cold to the ground.

Sion doesn’t bring up the topics he discussed at the picnic again, and so Alba leaves it be. It must’ve been difficult, revealing so much of himself to Alba. He won’t push. 

And so, the last couple weeks of their vacation end up happily passing by without incident. It isn’t as though they do anything different, but for Alba, knowing that they’re really friends-

(-that Sion likes him-)

-it makes everything feel even better.

On the day before they’re set to head back to the academy, Sion steps into the guest room that Alba’s been using this past month. 

He’s holding a small, wooden box. 

“Your Highness?” Alba says, surprised. “Why are you here so late?”

“...Here,” Sion mutters, shoving the box towards Alba. 

Alba takes it cautiously. After glancing between the box and Sion a couple times, he eventually decides to open it. 

There’s a silver hair clip nestled in white fabric, a small purple gem embedded in its center. It’s a simple design, but it’s still a unique style. 

He feels his blood freeze. 

Alba recognizes this hair clip. 

This was the hair clip that the Saint wore on the cover of Flower Heart. The one that Alba had wanted to find for himself. 

How could Sion be the one to give this to him? The villain, who the protagonist didn’t even speak two words to until his introduction scene?

What the hell was going on?

“I went out of my way to commission that, and you won’t even give me a thank you?” Sion says, cutting through his thoughts. “How despicable, Saint.”

“You… commissioned this?” Alba says, a little blankly. “This is your custom design?”

“Well, the jeweler helped with some details,” Sion admits, “But overall, yes, it’s my design.”

That makes even less sense. But-

He should push all this aside for now. 

His prideful friend has given him a wonderful, heartfelt gift. Isn’t that what really matters right now?

The soft smile that spreads across Alba’s face is more than genuine. 

“Thank you,” Alba says quietly. He carefully takes the hair clip out of the box, then slips the box into a pocket. Happily, he brushes up his hair out of his face, clipping it away. 

“You could just cut your hair, you know,” Sion says snidely. 

“I like keeping it medium-length,” says Alba, “But really, your Highness, thank you.”

But for some reason, Sion looks displeased. 

“You aren’t going to ask what I want?”

“Oh,” Alba says. He smiles indulgently. “Okay, what do you want?”

He assumes Sion just wants more swee-

“Stop calling me ‘your Highness’.”

“Huh?” says Alba, confused. 

“‘Milord’ is fine if you won’t call anyone else that.” Sion’s eyes narrow. “But preferably, just call me Sion.”

“Um. Okay?” Alba shrugs. “I’ll do that then, Sion.”

“You-” Sion flips around, facing his back to Alba. “Who drops the honorifics for a prince so easily?” Alba can hear the sneer in Sion’s voice. “I’ll have you arrested for lèse-majesté.”

“You were the one to ask me to do it, weren’t you?!”

“But you still did i-” Sion cuts himself off out of nowhere, whipping back around with eyes blown wide. “Was that a light?”

“What are you talking about?” Alba says, confused. 

“I… never mind,” mutters Sion, deflating a little. 

Alba peers at Sion, and now it’s his turn to widen his eyes. “Sion, are you blushing?”

Unsurprisingly, Sion jabs a foot into his ankle.

Flower Heart was a bit unusual for a dating sim visual novel in that it had no common route. The player would directly select the route they wanted to play in the main menu. 

The opening scene was always the same, however. The Saint, sitting alone in the academy’s fancy cafeteria for lunch on the first day of class, monologuing some basic backstory and worldbuilding for the player to read through. 

Then came the love interest. Each love interest would show off her particular personality in varying ways, but in the end, they would all give the Saint a unique trinket and profess their love. 

It wasn’t possible to accept the confession in its entirety in the opening scene. But the Saint would at least automatically accept the trinket, and so his path to love would begin. 

(On a side note, Sion also happened to appear in the opening scene. After the Saint chatted with the love interest for a little while, Sion would pop up and insult the Saint, then begin acting aggressively towards the love interest.)

All in all, Alba can’t see how that opening scene could possibly happen in reality anymore. 

Which is why he’s taken off-guard when Lily Alabaster comes up to him at lunch, bearing a bracelet of pearls.

“I’m sorry, I really can’t accept this,” Alba says politely. 

“I-I don’t mind… if you can’t accept my confession…” Lily whispers, voice barely audible, “But, but if you could at least keep the bracelet! I just- I want you to have it… a token, at least...”

Tears shine in Lily’s eyes, and Alba’s heart twinges. 

If he hadn’t known that accepting the trinket might begin the main story of the game, he might’ve accepted the bracelet- it would be a harmless gesture, after all. 

(Even though Alba has no interest in trinkets that aren’t from Sion. 

Alba absentmindedly brushes his hand past the hair clip in his hair.)

But as things were, Alba steels his heart. Despite how much has changed, a love interest has still come up to him to offer him a trinket. He can’t risk taking it just like the Saint in the game did. 

“I’m sorry,” Alba says again, trying for a slighter harsher tone this time. “I really can’t.”

Lily wilts. “I-I understand.”

That’s when a familiar voice hits his ears. 

“My, Saint, I see you’re as despicable as ever. Making people cry now?”

Alba glances back, and there stands Sion, looking more amused than judgmental. 

“Sion!” Alba exclaims, more than a little relieved. He shifts up from his seat. “I’m really sorry, but I need to go now.”

“Oh? Did we have plans?”

“Sion…” whines Alba. He should’ve known better than to try to use Sion as a lifeboat. 

“Truly, don’t let me get in your way,” Sion says with a sunny smile, walking closer. He peers down at Lily. “Go on, let’s se-”

Sion cuts himself off, his expression darkening instantly. 

His hand whips out to clench Lily’s wrist, tight. She cries out in pain, the pearl bracelet dropping from her hand to the ground. 

Snatching a napkin from the table, Sion scoops it up gingerly and slips it into his pocket. 

“Your, your highness, that’s- it’s not for-” Lily stammers out, crying in earnest now. 

Sion ignores her entirely. 

“Saint,” he says, voice as cold as ice, “Let’s go.”

Alba has simply been staring, dumbfounded. “Sion, what…”

“Just trust me,” Sion urges. “Please.”

And in the end, that’s all Sion ever needs to say.

Sion takes them to his room, where he slams open his drawers to retrieve odd metal tools Alba doesn’t recognize. Looking grim, he carefully retrieves the pearl bracelet from his pocket, then begins to examine it. 

Alba can’t quite bring himself to break Sion’s concentration. So despite his burning curiosity, he sits quietly on the bed, waiting. 

Finally, Sion leans back. 

(The look on his face is utterly furious.)

“Sion,” Alba says quietly, “Was there something wrong with the bracelet?”

“We need to report this to the principal,” Sion says coolly, “To the local lord as well, if the principal doesn’t. So she sees a court.” His fists clench. “She tried to use a love spell on you.”

“But why?” Alba can only say, feeling numb. “It isn’t like that would unlock my powers.”

He had played through Lily’s route first, as it was one of the earliest unlocked ones. He had emphasized with Lily’s shyness, and he had found Lily to be the kindest of all the love interests. 

The tears she had shed in the cafeteria… Alba is certain they were genuine. 

This can’t be right. 

“Who cares what her motivations are?” Sion snaps angrily. “It doesn’t change what she did. I’ve seen plenty of love spells, and this is the nastiest one I’ve ever seen. It suppresses any affection you’d have towards anyone but the target.”

He continues, still angry- “And, it’s tied to her life force so that once it takes effect, taking the bracelet off wouldn’t be enough to break the spell.” He runs a hand through his hair in a clear show of stress. “Either she would have to die, or I would have to get a mage of the highest rank to dispel the enchantment.”

...Wait. 

“Sion,” Alba says urgently, “That means it wasn’t Lady Alabaster.”

“What?” Sion’s voice is merciless.

(He really is out for blood…)

“If you’d need a mage of the highest rank to dispel the spell,” Alba points out, “How could Lady Alabaster have cast it?”

No student at this academy is skilled enough to be called a mage of the highest rank, not even Sion. 

“I-” Sion cuts himself off, then takes a deep breath. “You’re right. She must have had someone behind her. It won’t do to just go after her.”

“Why won’t you believe she was just used?” Alba asks, frustrated. 

“Then I’ll ask you this- why do you believe she was used?” Sion demands. “Have you ever even talked with her before today?”

“Well, I mean...”

Maybe not in this life, but he had played hours of her route in his last. But he couldn’t use that as an explanation, so he was stuck for answers. 

But then, Alba pauses. 

Why couldn’t he use that as an explanation?

Was there any reason to hide the fact that he was a reincarnator?

There was no guarantee he would be believed, of course. But that didn’t mean he shouldn’t at least try. 

“Sion,” Alba says quietly, “I have something I need to tell you.”

Sion’s expression is unreadable once Alba finishes explaining. 

He had barely commented throughout the entire explanation, only stepping in when Alba had thoughtlessly used a modern term that Sion didn’t understand. 

And now, his expression is unreadable. 

“Do you… believe me?” Alba says hesitantly. 

“I suppose it’s not unheard of for a Saint to dabble in divination,” Sion says, contemplative, “And I can’t see how else you would’ve known all those sordid details about these noble houses. But your claim that you were reincarnated… it makes me wonder if you hit your head harder than usual today, Saint.”

“Right,” Alba says quietly. That was an expected reaction, really. 

(It still makes him feel disappointed.)

“But I believe you.”

Alba jerks up, eyes wide. 

“I doubt you have the imagination to think up something this complicated, after all!” Sion chirps. 

“Do you always have to ruin the moment?” Alba complains. 

“That’s rich, coming from you,” Sion grumbles, but before Alba can inquire more into that, he continues. “Saint, why did you look so horrified when I gave you that hair clip?”

“Oh, it just-” Alba touches the hair clip lightly. “The cover of the ah, novels had the Saint wearing this hair clip. I didn’t understand how you were the one giving it to me… I still don’t, to be honest.”

Sion’s expression grows grim. “In that case, I also believe that Lady Alabaster was just used.”

“You do?” Alba perks up. 

“But not because of her personality in those prophetic novels you read,” continues Sion. “I believe she’s innocent because in another life, another woman would simply be used in the same way.”

“You can’t mean…”

“I think it’s a fairly obvious conclusion,” Sion says mildly, “The Saint of those books wore the hair clip I made for you- thus, he was friends with me as well. Every book begins with the ‘love interest’ giving you a love spell-laced trinket, which causes me to try to break the spell by causing the downfall of this ‘love interest’.” He shrugs. “And when that fails, I attempt to bring you directly to a highest-ranked mage to dispel the spell. Unfortunately that fails, and I’m killed by an enthralled you.”

Alba shakes his head, paling. “No, that- that can’t be true.”

“I think my explanation wraps everything up quite nicely,” says Sion, “Would you have an alternative one?”

“There were never any hints in the- books that there was love spells involved!” Alba snaps, “How could the Saint have a happy ending with his chosen consort if he never unlocked his true powers? Wouldn’t the Empire fall within a few years, especially with-” his voice falters. “Especially with you gone…”

“You’re entirely correct, which leads me to believe this is a plot to bring the Empire to ruin.” Sion nods. “As for your questions- did the novels ever mention how long this ‘happy ending’ lasted for?”

“...No. They all end shortly after graduation, after the Saint marries his love interest of the rou- book.”

“Then it’s simple- the books simply failed to mention the impeding ruin of the Empire.” Sion snorts. “And to be blunt, I suspect my mother would’ve had you quietly assassinated. My father wouldn’t care, but my mother… she would’ve never forgiven you for my death, even if I had actually been a villain.” 

He shrugs. “The easy acquittal must have been to provide plausible deniability when your assassination was discovered. If I had wanted him killed, I would have executed him at the trial.”

Alba’s hands clench in his lap. 

“And on top of all that,” Sion continues, “It’s very clear that the Saint of those books never actually unlocked his true powers.”

“Is there a way to know?” Alba asks dully. 

“It’s an obscure bit of trivia nowadays, so I’m not surprised you don’t know,” says Sion, “But when the Saint discovers their true love, it’s said they glow with a heavenly aura. It can flicker occasionally leading up to the moment of truth, and even after then, it can appear at times when the Saint feels their love deeply.”

Sion’s gaze is unyielding. “If the Saint had truly fallen in love with those women, why didn’t any of these books mention that even once?”

“...How can you be so calm?” demands Alba. He feels tears prick at his eyes, though he wipes them away angrily. “You died- I killed you-”

He played through the games, not thinking twice as the Saint killed Sion, again and again and again and again-

“I do admit I feel rather ashamed,” Sion says with a mocking sigh, “To think I might’ve been killed by you in another life, Saint. You. I don’t think I can ever work past this shame…”

“How can you- how can you still joke about this?”

“Because none of this has happened,” says Sion nonchalantly, “And none of this will happen. This is reality, Saint. Those prophetic novels were simply prophecy, and the future a prophecy foretells can always change.”

Alba feels a hand caress his cheek gently. 

Sion continues, “And even if it did truly happen, it wouldn’t have been your fault. You would’ve been enthralled, Saint.”

“Still-”

“-What’s important right now,” Sion cuts in, “is that we use the information you have. I’m rather curious about this ‘advanced’ world you spoke of, but for now-”

He drags open a drawer to retrieve a rough map of the Empire, and spreads it across his desk. 

“Let’s see if these ‘love interests’ are connected in any way.”

Sion carefully marks out the territory of the family for each love interest on the map. 

“Is this all of them?” he asks, once Alba finishes talking. 

“Except for the hidden one, yeah.”

“The ‘hidden one’?” Sion says sharply. 

“The last ah, book can’t be read until you finish all the other ones,” Alba explains. “And they advertised the basic details of all the love interests except for the hidden one.”

“Is there anything you know about her?”

“Only what I can infer, I guess,” Alba says cautiously, “She almost definitely has a first name that’s a flower and a last name that’s a colour.”

“That description fits half the ladies at the academy.”

Alba coughs. “Um, the colour should match the flower… like, y’know, red rose, white lily… oh!” He brightens. “It’s probably also not a colour or flower that one of the other love interests already has.”

“I suppose that narrows things down,” Sion says contemplatively, “If we don’t include noble houses whose names derive from red, white, pink, orange, yellow, or green, that really only leaves…”

He pauses, flushing a little. “On second thought, the hidden love interest probably isn’t relevant.”

“Huh?” 

“Let’s move on,” Sion says quickly, turning back to the desk. “It’s already clear what the connection is anyways.”

Peering at the map, Alba sees what he means. 

Every one of the love interests lives in the western region of the Empire. 

Right against the border with Tonaari. 

“We can’t make any conclusions from just this,” Sion says, “It’s possible that the trinket was just sold to ignorant noble families, using the nearby border as a means to get to them…  but it’s also possible that they actively betrayed the Empire.”

He rolls up the map, tying it neatly with twine. 

“I’ll explain the situation to my mother in order to get her authorization to dispatch some spies,” he says. “Investigating Lady Alabaster’s family can be easily explained, but for the other families, we’ll have to use you as an excuse. How do you feel about having the divine gift of prophecy?”

“Um,” Alba says, “How about we say it was a one-time thing?”

Sion snorts. “I can try that. Anyways, even once we get people investigating this, it won’t change the fact that you’re in danger.” He grimaces. “Once you awaken to your true powers, your purification magic should surpass even a mage of the highest rank, and you should easily shake off this kind of coercion, but until then…” He turns his gaze away. “Saint, you…“

He sounds like he’s pulling teeth. “You should really start actively looking for a marriage candidate.”

“What?” Alba says, dismayed. 

“I can… introduce you to other nobles,” Sion says quietly. “We can go into town too, if you think you’d have a better shot of finding someone you liked among commone-”

“-I’m not doing that,” snaps Alba. 

“And why not?” Sion snaps right back, turning a glare at Alba. 

“I just- I don’t-”

(He doesn’t want to marry some faceless, nebulous man, and he definitely doesn’t want to marry some faceless, nebulous woman. 

The only person he might want to marry is-)

“It’s to keep you safe, Saint,” Sion continues, frustrated. “Don’t you-”

Alba’s stomach rumbles loudly, the sound cutting through the room. 

“...Well, I suppose we basically skipped lunch,” Sion says with a snort. He ruffles through his drawers. “We shouldn’t go out until we get a guard for you, so here. Use this to tide you over.”

And Sion holds out a chocolate chip cookie. 

Alba stares at it blankly. Chocolate is Sion’s favourite kind of sweet, and chocolate chip cookies are well adored by the prince. 

But Sion is handing one to him just like that, all because he happened to be a bit hungry. 

He really can’t hold back the warm feeling that spreads in his chest. 

“Thank you,” Alba says, smiling brightly as he takes the cookie from Sion’s hand. 

Except Sion is staring down at him in shock, mouth slightly open, eyes blank with surprise. 

Alba’s smile fades. “Sion? Is something the matter?”

Sion crumples over, and Alba is alarmed at first, but then he realizes-

He’s laughing.

“A-a cookie,” Sion manages to choke out between chortles. “A… a cookie.”

“A cookie?”

Sion grins up at him, laughter dancing in his eyes. “What kind of Saint awakens to his true powers because of a cookie?”

And that’s about when Alba finally notices that something is lighting their surroundings with a bright light.

The Saint’s “heavenly aura” apparently means a halo of white light around his head. 

Alba wants to bury himself into a hole and never come out again. A halo. There’s a bright, white halo around his head, and it’s showing no signs of fading, according to Sion. 

“If you hate your heavenly aura so much, just stop thinking of your deep, immense love for me, Saint,” coos Sion. 

“That would be easier if you got off my lap!”

Sion is pressed happily into his chest, arms wrapped right around him. How was he supposed to not think of Sion in a situation like this?

“...Your, your retort was about the wrong thing,” Sion mumbles, voice muffled as he buries himself deeper into Alba’s chest. 

“Huh?”

“Ugh. Never mind,” grumbles Sion. “You really are the densest man in the Empire, aren’t you?”

“Hey, where did that come from?” Alba complains. 

“I caress you and say I like men, and you start blathering nonsense,” Sion says, sneer clear in his voice, “But I give you a cookie, and you start professing your eternal love. I don’t understand you, Saint.”

“I-I didn’t know that was what you were getting at, okay!”

“And that’s what makes you the densest man in the Empire,” Sion says sweetly. 

“Urgh…”

He… can’t really think of a rebuttal. 

“But I suppose I can forgive you,” Sion says, voice haughty, “Now that you’re taking me as your consort.”

“...Am I?”

Sion stiffens in his arms. “What nonsense are you spouting now?”

“I mean,” mumbles Alba, “To most people, the title of Saint’s Consort would be moving up, but to you...”

Even if the Saint was de-facto more important to the Empire than even the King, in terms of official noble ranks, it tiered under a Duke. As a prince, becoming his consort would mean dropping significantly in power and forfeiting his right to the throne. 

“How many times do I have to tell you that I have no interest in becoming the King?” Sion says, relaxing once more. “That applies to whatever petty power I have as the second prince too- most things I have to run by the Queen anyways, and it isn’t as though she’ll stop listening to me just because I became your husband.”

Husband. 

Alba can’t help but blush. 

Sion continues, “I can do everything I want to do as your consort.” A hand reaches up to caress his cheek, and when Alba looks down, he meets Sion’s smiling eyes. “There’s no need to worry about it.”

“Okay,” Alba says, a little faint. 

“Though, I expect to be courted ten times as grandly as any of those ‘love interests’ in the prophetic novels,” Sion says primly. His eyes narrow. “What sort of things did the Saint of those books do?”

“Um, he would gift a lot of jewelry…”

“You can skip that,” Sion says. “What else?”

“A lot of flowers too,” says Alba. 

“The flowers associated with the name of the ‘love interest’, I presume?”

Alba nods cautiously. 

“Then you should get me ten times the number of asters,” says Sion with a firm nod. “Purple ones, of course.” He flashes Alba a sunny smile. “They’re wildflowers, so I’m sure you can have lots of fun collecting them yourself.”

“Okay,” Alba says slowly. “But why asters?”

“You can figure that one out for yourself, Saint.”

“Okay,” Alba says again. He smiles indulgently. “Whatever makes you happy.”

“Ugh.” Sion buries his face into Alba’s chest once more. “I do hope you’ll refrain from being this disgusting in public, Saint.”

Alba coughs. “I’ll try.”

“Good.”

“...to be this ‘disgusting’,” Alba mumbles. “Since I’m courting you, right?”

“You-”

Sion’s arms squeeze around Alba’s chest painfully tight, and unsurprisingly, his ribs start to ache. 

But his chest still feels as warm with affection as ever. 

(...Alba is beginning to get the nagging feeling that his halo may just never disappear. 

But he supposes it’s okay. 

He likes the idea of the whole world knowing how much he adores Sion. 

And he hopes Sion adores him back just as much.)