I AM A MAGE BUT WITH MILF SYSTEM

The Queen’s gaze snapped to the King, her eyes wide with a desperation that she couldn’t mask.

“Why are you not speaking, Your Majesty?” She asked, her voice trembling, sharp and pleading all at once. “How can Regina be accepted? She has been dead to us for years—banished, gone.”

Each of her words cracked like a whip, echoing through the grand hall, but the King remained silent. He leaned back in his throne, one hand resting casually on the arm, offering her no answers.

Meanwhile, Julian watched it all unfold with a smirk that was barely visible. The panic flickering in his grandmother’s eyes, the way Hallie’s jaw tightened like she was swallowing a scream—it was better than he had hoped.

His gaze slid to Ivan, and oh, how the mighty had fallen. The prince’s earlier confidence, that inflated ego he had stood with, was cracking like a cheap glass.

Ivan’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, but he didn’t dare speak. His silence screamed louder than his rage could—he was beginning to question everything, and Julian could smell it.

The hall buzzed with hushed whispers, nobles shifting in their seats, stealing glances at the royal family imploding before them.

The Duke of Hans barely hid his grin, leaning forward like he was watching a prize fight. Ethwer’s posture stiffened further, but he managed to keep his cool.

Julian tilted his head slightly, his hands nearing the actual throne, the movement a subtle flex of the power that he now wielded.

He didn’t need to say a word—the Queen’s desperation, Ivan’s crumbling front—it was all playing out like a script he had written himself.

Hallie finally broke, her voice cutting through the Queen’s fading echo.

“This is absurd!” She shot up from her seat, her elegant gown rustling as she pointed a trembling finger at Julian. “You dare sit there, acting as if you belong, while dragging my sister’s shame into this court? Regina made her choice—she turned her back on us, on this family. And now you think you can walk in and claim what’s ours?”

Her eyes blazed with fury, but there was a faint hesitation in her voice as if she feared something — something that she did not wish to see even in her worst nightmare.

Julian met her stare and let the faintest smile curl on his lips. “Aunt Hallie,” he said smoothly, “if Mother’s shame was so unthinkable, why does His Majesty welcome his blood back?”

He leaned forward slightly, resting an elbow on his knee, his tone almost playful. “It seems to me the only shame here is how unprepared you are for the truth.”

A gasp rippled through the crowd. Ivan flinched, his fists tightening, but he still held his tongue. The Queen’s head whipped back to the King, her desperation boiling into anger.

“Say something!” she demanded, her voice almost a shout. “You can’t let this stand—Regina defied you, defied us. She’s no daughter of mine, and her spawn—” She cut herself off.

After what felt like an eternity, the king finally showed a reaction, lifting a hand to silence the room. His eyes flicked from the Queen to Julian, then back again.

“Enough,” he said, his voice low but carrying the weight of an absolute. “Regina’s choices were hers, and the past is done. What matters is the kingdom—its strength, its future.” He paused, letting the words settle, then turned his gaze fully on Julian. “And Julian has proven his worth to both.”

The hall went dead quiet, the air thick enough to choke someone weak. Julian’s smirk deepened inwardly—outwardly, he lowered his head in a bow.

“Your Majesty honors me,” he said, smooth as silk, knowing that he had just won.

The Queen sank back into her throne, her face red with barely contained rage.

Hallie stood frozen, her accusation remaining unanswered, while Ivan still stood, his earlier bravado dissipating completely.

The king waved a hand. “Let the meeting proceed,” he said, as if the family dispute was just a warm-up. “Ethwer, your concerns—speak.”

But the damage was done. Julian leaned back, crossing one leg over the other, his blue eyes sweeping the room. The Queen’s hate, Hallie’s fear, Ivan’s broken pride—it was all fuel.

Regina’s ghost loomed larger than ever, and Julian was her shadow, stretching over the throne they had tried to keep from him.

At the same time,

The Duke of Ethwer, who was questioned, stood tense, his earlier fire blown out. He clenched his jaw, gritting his teeth as he forced a deep breath through his nose.

“No, Your Majesty, my concerns are no longer important.”

With a defeated bow, he sank back into his seat. Once seated, he dropped his gaze to the floor, staring at the polished stone as if it could swallow his embarrassment.

He was utterly defeated— more like pitifully. He had swung at Julian and missed so badly that the whole court felt pity.

Beside him, the Duke of Norish leaned in, his whisper cutting through the heavy silence. “He got you good, didn’t he?” He teased, his tone dry as if he was poking a bruise just to see Ethwer squirm.

Ether exhaled sharply before risking a glance up at Julian. Big mistake. He flinched—actually flinched—as those deep blue eyes stared back at him, unblinking, piercing straight through his soul.

Julian’s stare wasn’t just cold; it was a message screaming, You’re not even worthy in my eyes.

And the fun part? It was true.

Ethwer had thrown his accusations, and Julian didn’t even bother to respond. Didn’t need to. The King himself had flipped the table, and Ethwer was left with no choice but to accept his defeat.

Julian sat there, lounging on that borrowed throne like he had been born to it.

Whispers buzzed like flies, nobles shifting uncomfortably, some stealing glances at Ethwer’s collapse, others at the royal family still taken aback.

Hallie too sunk back into her seat, her hands folded in her lap. Ivan, poor Ivan, hadn’t unclenched his fists. He kept his head down, avoiding Julian’s gaze like it was a curse.