Marriage?

As Okjin strided through the grand halls of the Sylvaine duchy with his silk robes billowing behind him, he came to double doors of the meeting room and as a thought passed through his mind.

 Open.

A familiar energy seemed to surge to his command, eagerly obeying. The doors swung open majestically and Okjin was surprised how easily magic came to him and wondered what the magic system of this world was based on. He decided that he would store away that piece of information to process and ponder at a later time. 

The meeting hall of the Sylvaine Duchy was a grand yet austere chamber, its towering marble columns carved with celestial motifs—moons in all their phases, stars that glowed faintly with embedded enchantments, and swirling silver filigree that mirrored constellations above. The vaulted ceiling arched high, its domed center displaying an illusion of the night sky, shifting in real-time with the heavens.

 Despite the beauty, the air within was stifling, laden with an unspoken tension that clashed against the intended serenity of the room.

Seated in a semicircle at the head of the chamber were the six elders of Sylvaine, each wrapped in ceremonial robes embroidered with intricate lunar sigils. 

Though all bore the weight of age, the most ancient among them, Elder Ashton, sat at the center—his presence heavy with authority. His sharp, weathered features were partially hidden beneath his silver-trimmed hood, but the piercing gleam of his calculating eyes was unmistakable.

To his right sat Elder Mirabel, a woman with hollowed cheeks and an unyielding gaze, her thin lips perpetually pressed into disapproval. 

Next to her was Elder Yseult, whose frail frame belied a shrewd mind, her gnarled hands always clasped together as if in silent judgment.

 Elder Rosalind, though just as aged, held an air of faded elegance, her long grey hair pinned meticulously in place, her cold eyes never betraying her true thoughts.

On Ashton's left, Elder Gaius, the youngest of the council though still well past his prime, had an imposing frame, his broad shoulders stiff with military discipline. 

Beside him, Elder Vivian, the quietest of the six, was a woman with kind eyes but a wary expression, always seeming one step away from speaking yet never daring to.

The atmosphere was thick with formality, but beneath the practiced pleasantries lay something deeper—something unpleasant. Okjin, standing before them in Lirien's body, felt it keenly. A veiled hostility. An underlying resistance.

Elder Ashton spoke first, his voice smooth but lacking warmth. "Lirien, we are grateful for your presence. We know how tirelessly you have worked for our Duchy."

A chorus of nods followed, yet none felt sincere. It was all an elaborate prelude to what Okjin already expected.

"However," Ashton continued, his tone carefully measured, "concerns have arisen regarding your… performance. It is our duty to ensure that the Sylvaine name remains untarnished, and some on the imperial court as well as our circle of elders feel that you have not adequately demonstrated your commitment to our Emperor's cause."

Okjin's expression remained impassive, though internally, he scoffed. There it was. The thinly veiled accusation. They wanted more from him.

"To reinforce the Sylvaine Duchy's unwavering loyalty," Ashton went on, "we have decided that you shall be sent to the Empire's frontier. The battle against the shadow demons is far from over, and it is only right that the heir of the Moon's Light proves his worth where it matters most."

Shadow demons. 

Okjin had read about them in the novel. Born from the wrath of the dark god, they were monstrous entities forged to reclaim the magic stolen by mankind. For centuries, the light god's forces—including the Sylvaine bloodline—had worked to keep them at bay. The war was endless, a constant struggle between the celestial and the abyssal.

Their demand was clear: go to the battlefield, fight in their war, and prove himself in a way they deemed acceptable.

"Ah," Okjin finally spoke, his tone sweet yet laced with something sharper, "how diligent of the council to burden me with more responsibilities when I am already handling those you cannot."

A flicker of irritation crossed Ashton's face, but he masked it quickly.

"You misunderstand, Lirien," Elder Rosalind said smoothly. "Your power is a privilege, not a right. We merely wish to ensure it is used appropriately."

Okjin's smile didn't waver, but his eyes darkened.

 "A privilege, is it? And yet, it is I who raises the moon, maintains the wards, and oversees affairs none of you are capable of handling. Do tell me, what exactly does this council contribute beyond dictating my obligations?"

Silence.

The air grew tense, heavy enough to suffocate. The elders, so used to Lirien's quiet compliance, were clearly unprepared for open defiance.

Okjin pressed on, his voice growing icier. "Let me make myself clear—either you recognize me as Duke now, or I walk away and leave you to face the consequences of your incompetence."

A single breath. Then another. No one spoke.

Finally, Ashton cleared his throat, regaining his composure. He turned toward the other elders and a look of understanding passed through all of their eyes.

Then Elder Ashton spoke.

 "We understand Lirien. We will give to you what rightfully belongs to you. There is no need to be so rash. After all, there is… another matter to consider." His voice took on a new, coaxing edge. "Given your… unique circumstances, your position as heir is currently… precarious. A political marriage would ensure your position is beyond contestation."

Okjin narrowed his eyes, already seeing through the ruse. They were desperate. And yet, something about Ashton's wording made his stomach turn.

"Because of your… biology, it has been difficult to find a suitable match," Ashton continued, choosing his words with deliberate care. "However, we have secured a promising proposal. Your prospective fiancé is both politically advantageous and—more importantly—understanding of your condition."

Understanding of his condition?

A flicker of genuine confusion passed through Okjin. Condition? What were they talking about?

Then it hit him.

Was Lirien infertile?

The realization was so abrupt that Okjin nearly laughed. So that was why the elders were so hesitant to recognize him as Duke. No heir. No continuation of their precious bloodline.

But honestly? That was hardly a dealbreaker.

Lirien was an unmatched force of magic, otherworldly in both power and beauty. Even without the ability to sire an heir, he was an unparalleled prize.

In his past world, girls would have killed for someone like him—entertainment companies, modeling agencies, women of high society, all clamoring for a mere glimpse of his face.

The elders insinuated that his future spouse already knew about his 'flaw' and accepted it. Which meant they had significant power of their own—likely the daughter of an earl or marquis, someone of notable standing.

Okjin hesitated, considering.

Okjin also considers the last memory of Lirien:  

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．

… he needed the title of Duke. He needed access to the family tomes—the knowledge that was locked away in the hands of the Sylvaine patriarch. To be free of their control…

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．

Hmm… so Lirien needed the ancient books that came with the Duke's position. 

It must have been important if he was willing to put up with such awful treatment for some books. 

Okjin concluded he needed the title of Duke. More importantly, he needed access to the ancient tomes locked away by the Sylvaine patriarch.

 If a marriage was the price, it wasn't an unreasonable one. A political marriage didn't sound too bad considering that his infertility would make it so that he wouldn't have any expectations to engage in intimacy with his wife.

He also died single in his past life so a small part of Okjin wanted to see what a relationship could be like. Perhaps this was an opportunity to experience something different.

In his past life, Okjin really only ever studied. He was considered a genius prodigy. Despite his pathetic death, he was only 18 when he died in his last year of graduate school. He nearly completed his doctorate at a very prestigious university. He graduated high school when he was only 10 years old. He considered his mind a pretty good one. 

He supposed that Jerry's previous statement of him being a genius was not incorrect.

After a long pause, Okjin finally spoke. "Very well. I will meet with this prospective fiancée."

The elders exhaled, barely concealing their relief.

From the corner of his eye, Okjin caught sight of Jeremiah, fists clenched at his sides, his expression dark with unspoken fury.

He dismissed it as concern. After all, Jerry had always been protective. But as Okjin looked back at the elders, he had the nagging feeling that this was only the beginning of their games.