But the moment shattered the second Evelina regained her composure.

Evelina gave a dismissive wave of her hand, her expression turning into one of bored amusement. "Oh, don’t get all sentimental on me now. It’s a bit late for a confession of faith. And I didn’t do this to save the North. I did it because I like being right, and I like having my foot on the Council’s throat. The fact that your soldiers don’t starve to death is merely a convenient side effect of my personal greed."

The admiration in Ace’s eyes flickered, replaced by a spark of familiar irritation.

He stepped closer, invading her personal space until she could smell the leather and heat on his skin.

"Liar," he challenged, "You could have kept the grain for yourself and fled to the hidden valleys. Instead, you’re here, building engines to pull water from stone and feeding the very people who called you a fool. Your greed has a funny way of looking like salvation."

"And your bravery has a funny way of looking like stalking," she snapped, stepping back and pointing a pen at his chest,

"You are infuriating," he hissed, taking a step toward her.

"And you are annoying," she fired back, leaning over her desk, "Now, unless you have something useful to contribute... like, say, finding me a Master Architect who doesn’t faint at the sight of a steam engine, kindly go play with your swords.’’

Ace stared at her, his chest heaving.

He wanted to argue, or perhaps to do something much more impulsive, but he found himself once again trapped in her orbit.

He was the Duke of the North, he could command ten thousand men to their deaths, but he couldn’t get this one woman to admit she had a heart.

"I’m going," he muttered, turning on his heel, "But don’t expect me to save you when the Imperial Council decides to kidnap you for your grains."

"I will buy the Council before that happens,’’ she called out as he reached the door, ’’It’s much more efficient."

Ace slammed the door behind him, leaving Evelina alone.

He was the most powerful military commander in the Empire, and he had just been dismissed like a truant schoolboy.

And worst of it all? He couldn’t do anything about it at all.

Evelina stared at the closed door for a moment, her mask finally slipping to reveal a small smile.

[Target’s Status: Furious but smitten)]

[Current Objective: Locate the Master Architect]

Evelina remained still in her spot as she watched the closed door, as if the System notifications hadn’t registered in her mind yet.

Then, she touched the spot on her chest where it felt a little itchy and uncomfortable, like the gentle scratch of a kitten.

[Warning: Heart rate elevated]

[System Note: Host, your spite-to-affection ratio is becoming critically unbalanced]

"Shut up," Evelina froze and corrected her position,"It’s just the heat."

...

The silence in the Alvarez manor was no longer the peaceful quiet of a noble estate; it had the stillness of a tomb.

Outside, the heat had distorted the sky and turned the once-fertile valleys into a cracked wasteland.

The North was dying.

It wasn’t just the crops anymore. The great reservoirs that fed the garrison outposts had plummeted, leaving behind only salt-crusted mud.

In the barracks of the Third and Fifth Divisions, the iron backbone of Ace’s military might, the discipline that had held for centuries was beginning to fray like old hemp.

Men who had stood unshaken against the savage mountain tribes were now collapsing from heatstroke. Rumors of mutiny crawled through the ranks like a fever.

Evelina sat in her study, the [Merchant’s Eye] flickering intermittently as it tracked the plummeting ’Stability’ metrics of the territory.

[Notification: Regional Stability: 34% and dropping]

At this moment, she heard the familiar thud of boots in the hallway. The door was pushed back slowly.

Ace stood in the doorway. His silver-and-black military tunic was stained with the dust of the outposts, and the handsome lines of his face seemed to have a touch of exhaustion.

He didn’t look like the irritating, arrogant Duke who had spent the morning bickering with her. He looked like a man who was carrying the weight of ten thousand dying souls on his shoulders.

"I told you, Ace. You need to give me some space as I’m currently busy calculating the depreciation of our coal reserves."

He didn’t fire back with a witty remark or an annoyed huff.

Ace walked toward her desk, his shadow stretching long and dark across her maps. Then, the impossible happened.

The Duke of the North, the man whose pride was as formidable as the mountains themselves, the warrior who had never lowered his head to Emperor or enemy, sank to one knee.

The sound of his knee hitting the stone floor echoed like a gunshot in the quiet room.

Evelina froze. Her quill hovered over the parchment, a single drop of ink falling to blot the page.

She slowly raised her head, her breath hitching in her throat.

Ace was bowing. His head was lowered, his broad shoulders tensed, his hands resting flat on his thigh in a gesture of absolute submission.

"The North is dying, Evelina," he whispered, his voice a hoarse rasp that tore through her composure,"The wells are dry. The people are fighting over morning dew. I can lead people into war and defeat countless armies to protect my people but... the current situation is slipping through my hands like loose sand.’’

He looked up then, and there was a raw vulnerability in his eyes.

"Help me save them," he said.

In that moment, a memory from her past life pierced through her cold facade.

She remembered this Ace. Not the man she had bickered with for weeks, but the formidable and unwavering protector of the North.

In her past life, she had watched him from afar, mesmerized by the way he cared for his people selflessly.