“That’s impossible…”

The words slipped from the Second Prince's lips like a desperate cry. His mind was racing with dozens of thoughts, colliding and shattering like glass.

“No way…”

Paola Simon, the Vice-Commander of the Crow Knights, was a formidable knight. It wasn’t just a crude kind of strength; it was a mastery he had witnessed during their training sessions. Except for Teodora Benning, the leader of the Crow Knights with her otherworldly strength, no one in the order could match Paola.

Even the knights from the Third Guard, who had challenged her out of curiosity, stood no chance. In every sparring match, Paola didn’t just win through mana depth or brute strength, but through a gap in skill and experience that resulted in perfect victories.

“Kyle?”

Louis’s voice didn’t reach the Second Prince. His thoughts came to a halt as reality betrayed his expectations. His fingers clenched and released around the hilt of his sword, lost in a daze.

Brother, I… the throne… a knight…

The words floated in the air. Kyle had never said them out loud, nor did he know they were his own thoughts. His face twisted, and he staggered. He exhaled, then began urging his guards once more.

His emotions changed swiftly, like water falling off a cliff. Confusion swirled into fury in an instant. No one sensed the shift in him—not Lionet from afar, nor the First Prince, nor even Paola, who hung her head in defeat.

“I know your skills well enough.”

The words slipped from his mouth, directed at Paola. She had failed to carry out his command to cripple the enemy, her sword buried in the ground, unfinished.

“How could it end this way?”

The answer was clear: her skills hadn’t matched the opponent’s. But Paola didn’t say that. She only offered an apology, hoping to end the situation as quickly as possible.

“My apologies.”

The First Prince didn’t approach. He knew better than to gloat in victory or offer consolation that might seem insincere. He merely called Kyle’s name and waited for his brother to gather his knights and retreat.

That fact only grated on the Second Prince further.

He left.

Without a word, Kyle stormed out of the courtyard with quick strides. Paola let out a sigh and followed him.

“…I’m sorry.”

The First Prince addressed Paola. She paused, raising an eyebrow in surprise before shaking her head.

“Kyle can be sensitive at times. I’ll keep this quiet; stirring up trouble would only hurt my position.”

Explaining his brother’s behavior, the First Prince sighed.

“Why apologize, Your Highness? I only followed my lord’s orders. If the roles were reversed, I doubt my lord would apologize. There’s no need to concern yourself.”

The First Prince gave a bitter smile at Paola’s indifferent response.

“Kyle is fortunate. He has an excellent knight by his side.”

Paola laughed quietly, as if hearing something absurd.

“The truly fortunate one is you, Your Highness. With an instructor whose skill I could never match, how could you envy me?”

The First Prince turned to his instructor. His calm, dark eyes seemed to peer into a deep well. He gripped the wooden sword tightly. Paola glanced up at Maxime, then suddenly offered her right hand for a handshake.

“It’s been a long time since I had such a good match.”

Maxime grasped her hand and nodded.

“It’s been a while since I could wield a sword so freely.”

“If you hadn’t held back for enjoyment, it would have ended much sooner, I’d imagine.”

Paola then beckoned Lionet, who stood watching, looking displeased at the thought of following the Second Prince back.

“It was an impressive duel.”

Standing beside Paola, Lionet said as he extended a hand to Maxime. Maxime looked puzzled but shook his hand. Lionet’s confident grip trembled slightly.

“Thank you.”

Seeing someone he barely knew extend a hand first, Maxime could only tilt his head. Lionet followed Paola, offering a smile that even reached his eyes. The First Prince approached Maxime, who still looked bewildered.

“Perhaps he was impressed by your swordsmanship. Quite a beautiful knight.”

The First Prince’s mumbled words left Maxime at a loss for a reply. After all, that man was a sorcerer.

“…Indeed.”

Perhaps he was fond of the new face. Thinking that, Maxime began to gather his things. The First Prince instructed his servant to restore the damaged courtyard.

==

Late dawn, Second Prince’s residence.

The moon hid behind the clouds, leaving the night in darkness. The wind swept through the streets with a haunting, tumultuous sound. It was a night loved by thieves. The starless sky shielded them like a curtain, and the wind, sweeping away leaves and dust, was both a guide and a muffle to their footsteps.

A thief and an unaware victim faced each other in the same room. León Benning leaned back in his chair, his lifeless gray eyes shining in the darkness untouched by moonlight.

Clank, clank.

The wind rattled the window, the sound taunting the Second Prince as he clutched his head in agony, the low groans of his voice mimicking the wind. “Brother… my brother…”

His words weren’t directed at Count Benning. The Second Prince repeated the words like a curse, seated at the table, his gaze blank.

“Brother, the throne… the King…”

Count Benning watched from afar, a shadow merging into the darkness beside him. A black mage emerged, cloaked in shadow, undetected by the Second Prince’s unfocused eyes.

“He’s unstable. We may need to repeat the process.”

“The tower almost crumbled.”

Count Benning replied indifferently as the black mage approached the Second Prince. A crimson glow pulsed beneath his nightshirt. With no regard for the sacrilege, the mage grabbed the nape of his neck and pulled it back.

There was a red mark like a scar, hungrily devouring the prince’s mana, leaving only dregs behind.

“It appears the curse is stabilizing. There shouldn’t be any issues maintaining it.”

“Tch.” León Benning clicked his tongue. He would have to stay up all night.

“What caused this outburst? Didn’t we meet with the mages last time, ensuring no one would agitate him with magic? There was supposed to be no more erratic behavior.”

The black mage quickly denied it.

“No, certainly not. Who would risk their neck for such a reckless act?”

León Benning scoffed.

“People who would easily sacrifice their own children if it suited their purpose, with tongues as smooth as oil. I despise those who are obsessed with magic, always hiding a knife behind their backs like me.”

A sharp murderous intent emanated from León Benning, and the mage recoiled, shaking his head.

“No, no. Even if there’s a one-in-a-million chance, I can assure you no senior members of the Tower would attempt it.”

León Benning’s gaze narrowed, and the mage swallowed hard.

“You’d likely risk your neck without a second thought.”

“There is something that might explain this unusual behavior.”

The mage quickly presented his theory before Benning could probe further.

“Speak.”

“When it comes to mind control, it’s essential to erase memories that interfere with creating the desired personality. But we skipped that process with the Second Prince’s curse.”

“Continue.”

The mage swallowed again. León Benning’s murderous intent still focused on him.

“Mind control twists, exaggerates, and erases memories, distorting the established personality.”

“I know that well enough.”

The mage waved his hands as he explained.

“It’s possible that the untouched memories conflicted with the distorted ones, causing a temporary glitch. The key memory or person involved might have triggered this behavior.”

“Are you saying he still clings to his father? Or that he harbors some brotherly affection for the First Prince?”

“…It’s possible.”

Benning thought he had converted all such emotions into dependence on him, but perhaps fragments remained, causing this instability.

Mind control and curses were not flawless. There was always a chance of confusion. The black mage added excuses, trying to placate León Benning’s wrath.

“You know, the court members—especially the King, the First Prince, and the Princess—needed to be unaware, which required us to distort but not erase those memories…”

León Benning tapped the table. The explanation wasn’t implausible, as they had taken a calculated risk to avoid drawing attention from the court.

“So, something related to the First Prince and swords triggered him, leading to this erratic behavior, enough to disrupt the curse.”

León Benning’s lip curled as he referred to the Second Prince as “that wretch.”

“Yes, I believe that is the most likely explanation.”

The Count nodded, tapping his fingers on the table. The black mage wondered if he could finally exhale in relief or if he still needed to stay alert.

“I see. A prince and swords…”

“Yes, exactly.”

The Count’s words gave the black mage some relief. Benning nodded, though he kept tapping his fingers on the table.

“This time, we’ll need to handle adjustments with more care.”

The black mage agreed eagerly.

“Yes. I’ll reinforce the curse’s bindings even further.”

“But, you see…”

Tap, tap.

It wasn’t the Count’s fingers on the table.

Before he realized it, the black mage crumbled to the floor.

“…!!”

“You’ve come a long way, almost to the point of no return as a human. It seems you don’t feel much pain.”

Benning’s voice was icy.

Both his left arm and right leg were severed, and instead of blood, a thick, black liquid oozed from the wounds. As the black mage looked up in shock, the Count approached him.

“However, some matters require thorough attention, don’t they?”

The mage’s pupils trembled as a cold chill filled the prince’s chamber. The Count knelt before him.

“Did you think I wouldn’t test his memories of the King, the First Prince, and the Princess? Didn’t you think I would examine everything that might obstruct future plans? You know the results.”

The black mage feared what the Count might say next.

“No matter the situation, nothing ever caused such turmoil. Enough to reset the curse and mind control.”

The mage’s expression shifted from shock to utter fear. He knew. He couldn’t put it into words.

“Does the Tower think I’m a joke? Or is it that I’ve become one?”

“No, absolutely not!”

“Strange. You could easily escape, yet you seem confident I won’t kill you.”

The murderous intent crushed the mage, paralyzing him with fear. He could barely keep his wits and stop himself from casting any spells.

“You understand that fleeing would only worsen the situation.”

León Benning grabbed the mage’s hair, forcing him to look up. His trembling eyes met the Count’s gaze.

“Then you know my sparing you isn’t mercy, but a final warning.”

Even as he nodded desperately, the black mage couldn’t control his trembling.

“Go and spread the word. I don’t know who dared meddle with the prince’s curse, but this will not end well for them.”

The Count’s voice was heavy, filling the mage’s throat with ice, making it hard to breathe.

“Prepare to make a few more puppets.”

Benning released his grip, dropping the mage onto the floor. The suffocating pressure and murderous intent faded. Shadows wrapped around the mage, consuming him as he disappeared. Not a drop of blood or a trace of his severed limbs remained.

León Benning frowned slightly at the scene.

“Brother, Father, the throne…”

“Still lingering on that?”

Benning approached the Second Prince, who still clutched his head, muttering incoherently. He reached for the curse on the prince’s neck.

“Graaah…”

As Benning’s fingers touched the brand, a scream of agony escaped the Second Prince. But with the room surrounded by the Count’s overwhelming mana, not a sound would escape.

“Gaaaah!”

“Remember. Though you are a child of the main wife, you were treated the same as the bastard who no one knows where he came from—the First Prince.”

Benning’s voice echoed through the prince’s mind. His eyes rolled back, body convulsing, as the Count’s influence intensified.

“You hate your father. That hatred fuels your sword, and you desire the throne for yourself.”

His screams faded, leaving only Benning’s quiet murmur.

“To achieve it, you must depend solely on Count León Benning. If you listen, everything will be yours.”

“Everything… everything…”

The Second Prince’s lips trembled as he echoed the Count’s words. The trembling subsided. The ominous light of the brand on his neck returned to a scar-like mark.

“Hm.”

The Count placed the unconscious prince on the bed, scowling. Events were unfolding beyond his control.

It might be time to mobilize some ‘puppets.’

The wind brushed against the window again, whispering in the darkness.

==

“I knew.”

The professor didn’t react to the black mage’s report. His limbs, reattached and pale, hung loosely. It would take time for his nerves to return.

“You knew?”

“…About the brief glance at the brand.”

The professor let out a dry laugh.

“Well, it’s over now. No need to poke further; provoking the Count could get us into trouble.”

Research funds, experimental materials—they needed much.

“Are you truly planning to keep her hidden?”

“I don’t know about mind control, but a leash might suffice to get her to cooperate in research. If not, she’ll make a fine test subject. That mana is rare material, after all.”

“…Yes, of course.”

The mage nodded. It was worth the risk, given the potential gain. The professor looked through the glass at the mage within.

“If they found out, the Count would use her as a pawn, without a doubt.”

The professor smirked. Beyond his gaze, a blonde mage lay asleep.