The servant glanced back briefly as they walked. The knight known as Arsen Bern was staring at the back of the servant’s head with an expression so hardened it felt like a well-honed blade was pressing against his neck. The servant couldn’t understand why he deserved such a fearsome gaze when he was merely delivering a message on behalf of the count.

“The Count,” came a low voice unexpectedly.

Startled, the servant whipped his head around. Arsen Bern’s gaze pierced through him.

“How is he doing?”

Though it was phrased as a polite inquiry, Arsen’s expression was far from that of someone casually asking about another’s well-being. The servant, struggling to keep his composure under the pressure of the knight’s gaze, opened his mouth hesitantly, almost reluctantly.

“He…is well.”

“Yes, of course. I’m sure he is,” Arsen replied, his voice sharp. The servant couldn’t discern the emotion underlying that tone. It was as if Arsen’s eyes, though looking in the servant’s direction, were focused on something else entirely—something far away. Finally, they arrived at the room where the count was waiting, and the knight, once radiating a restrained fury, composed himself entirely. Observing the change with a nervous sweat, the servant gestured for him to enter.

“The count is waiting for you inside.”

Eager to leave Arsen’s presence, the servant quickly walked off down the hall. Arsen—Maxime—placed his hand on the door handle, taking a steadying breath.

“When you face an enemy, don’t show your emotions carelessly. You know him well enough by now.”

During the interim period after the no-man’s land, Naeran had always said this to Maxime during their training sessions, knocking sense into him. Now was the time to contain his emotions. He had to sheathe his claws, feign calm, and maintain the appearance of a composed conversation to gather information.

Before he could finish preparing himself mentally, a voice called from within the room.

“Come in.”

It was almost as if the count wanted to boast that he could sense every breath, even from within. Without any sign of surprise, Maxime opened the door and entered the room, steadying himself once more before meeting the face of his “enemy.”

“It’s been a while, Sir Arsen.”

“It has, Count.”

Without waiting for an invitation, Maxime casually pulled out the chair opposite the count and sat down. The count showed no signs of discomfort; he simply regarded Maxime with mild interest, as though observing a new kind of animal.

“This is the first time we’re meeting in person since the Magic Tower investigation. And the first time it’s just the two of us, is it not?”

“Indeed. I didn’t expect we’d meet like this again.”

“I always thought we’d cross paths at least once more.”

Leon Bening raised an eyebrow and shrugged. Tension was unnecessary. Maxime briefly shifted his gaze past Leon’s shoulder, then returned his focus to the count as he resumed speaking.

“First, I have a question about the Magic Tower search.”

“Ask away.”

The count clasped his hands together, resting his elbows on the table as if he were about to pose a grave question. Maxime returned the count’s gaze with a cold stare.

“Where is Adeline?”

Maxime’s expression contorted slightly. This question was really about why Adeline hadn’t carried out either of the commands given to her—why she had failed to kill Maxime, yet disappeared without a trace.

“I don’t know why you’d ask me about the whereabouts of your own knight. I haven’t seen her since the search began in earnest.”

Leon narrowed his eyes at Maxime’s response.

“Really? It’s strange; I haven’t seen her since I assigned her to work alongside you. It’s unlikely that a loyal hunting dog would abandon its master without cause. I should have tightened her leash.”

“Perhaps it was simply a master’s misjudgment. Perhaps the hunter should have been more careful in choosing their prey.”

The count unclasped his hands and adjusted his posture. For a moment, Maxime caught a glimpse of a cold, murderous glint in the count’s otherwise expressionless eyes, which quickly faded. Leon couldn’t publicly question him nor divert resources from the martial tournament to track down a missing knight.

“Now that we have a precedent, I suppose I’ll need to tighten my hunting dogs’ leashes even further.”

“I wasn’t aware you kept so many hunting dogs,” Maxime replied with a hint of sarcasm.

Leon let out a brief, mocking chuckle.

“Well, that’s enough about my hunting dogs. There’s another matter I wanted to discuss with you.”

Drumming his fingers on the table, Leon shifted his tone. It was no longer light and inquisitive but rather sharp and heavy, almost as though he intended to interrogate a criminal.

“Arsen Bern. I find you a strange individual. No, ‘strange’ doesn’t quite cover it—you’re incredibly suspicious.”

Maxime felt the weight of Leon Bening’s suspicion, like an invisible force pressing down on him, a force that demanded he remove his mask. Invisible swords clashed in the air, sparking figurative flames as Maxime resisted.

“As a loyal servant to His Majesty, it’s only natural for me to keep track of those who serve near him—especially the knights who serve so closely.”

“Have you been investigating me, then?” Maxime replied sharply. But Leon merely shrugged.

“Let me give you a piece of advice. If you don’t understand the language of nobles, surviving the royal court will be difficult.”

Leon smiled, completely unfazed by Maxime’s accusatory tone, and Maxime frowned, uncomfortable with the count’s smile. It was not a genuine smile, nor was it even convincingly false; rather, it was simply a slight lift of his lips, barely resembling a smile at all.

“I believe you mentioned being the nephew of Hugo Bern, the Captain of the Guard? It’s been quite the task verifying your background. Not a noble family, residing in a remote area.”

“To my knowledge, I haven’t done anything suspicious.”

“The fact that I couldn’t gather any information on you is precisely what’s suspicious. Your age, background, your school of swordsmanship—even your name.”

Leon’s incessant drumming on the table grated on Maxime’s nerves.

“The timing of your entrance into the Guard, your level of skill, and the complete lack of rumors about you. It’s almost as if you were someone who didn’t exist until you suddenly fell from the sky.”

So then,

Leon extended one finger.

“I’ve come up with a theory. Arsen Bern never existed to begin with. The man before me is someone hiding his true identity, working in the shadows.”

Silence descended over the room like a mist. Maxime didn’t respond, and Leon’s empty gaze remained fixed on him, as though attempting to pierce through him.

“I am His Majesty’s loyal knight. How could you use the word ‘shadow’ so lightly?”

Leon ignored Maxime’s words, narrowing his eyes as if recalling an old memory.

“Four years ago, there was a cadet at the academy who spoke to me in much the same way, with the same attitude. I don’t inherently dislike people who defy me. But if that defiance blocks my path, if it dares to hinder me, then things are different.”

Leon’s probing eyes met Maxime’s hardened gaze, and Maxime replied in a steady voice.

“He must have been a resilient cadet.”

“Brave, certainly. But do you know what happened to that brave cadet afterward?”

“…You wouldn’t have forgiven him. Did you eliminate him?”

Leon chuckled.

“Hardly. He was a cadet—a promising figure at the academy. Killing him outright wouldn’t have gone unnoticed. But I didn’t forgive him either. Another solution was required.”

“And what became of him?”

Leon met Maxime’s eyes once more, his gaze asking if Maxime already knew the answer. Maxime didn’t waver.

“I’ll leave that to your imagination.”

“Was that all you wanted to tell me?”

“This is a warning, Arsen Bern. Surely, you understand.”

“I apologize. I am but a man unversed in noble customs, so I’ll take it as though I didn’t understand a thing.”

Maxime replied coldly, while Leon Bening’s gaze remained fixed on him. Then, his expression hardened into something icier than before.

“I did have a few more questions, but we’ll leave it at that for now. I expect we’ll meet again soon.”

Another meeting. I look forward to that day as well, though I hope it will be with my sword at your throat.

Maxime closed his eyes and gave a nod.

“Yes. Until we meet again.”

Arsen Bern—Maxime—turned and left, his steps calm and unhurried, the sound echoing as he closed the door behind him. Leon watched the space where Arsen had been standing. The knight’s mannerisms, his bearing, and his own instincts all told him one thing: Arsen Bern was indeed the Maxime Apart he had been searching for.

“Lilia.”

At Leon’s quiet summons, a blood-red woman emerged from the shadows. Her crimson dress clung tightly to her curves, matching the deep red of her hair that tumbled luxuriously over her shoulders. With her arms crossed over her ample chest, she smiled, exuding a presence capable of ensnaring any man who laid eyes on her.

“I’m here.”

Before the Magic Tower investigation began, she had moved her base under Count Bening’s authority. Her violet eyes gleamed in the shadows, and she licked her glossy, full lips as she stared at the door Arsen had disappeared through, as though savoring the memory of a delicious morsel.

“That knight looks… delectable. I wonder what kind of exquisite blood he has.”

“Enough idle talk. So, what’s your assessment?”

Lilia narrowed her eyes, then shook her head.

“I couldn’t sense a trace of the curse. I’ve been watching him closely since he entered the room, but there was no sign of any curse or brainwashing you mentioned.”

Leon’s expression darkened, and a chilling aura filled the room.

“You were the last one to encounter Maxime Apart, were you not?”

“Yes, I did meet him then. But his aura now feels entirely different from what I sensed before.”

Lilia’s expression shifted again, her eyes filling with renewed interest. Her gaze was like that of a predator fixated on its prey, or perhaps a woman smitten with her first love. With flushed cheeks, she looked at Leon, her voice laced with sensuality as she asked for permission.

“So, about that knight… Can I have a taste of him later?”

“Arsen Bern must die in this tournament.”

Leon’s answer was brief, showing no interest in her desires. Lilia pouted, disappointed.

“Such a pity. It’s been a while since I found such a tempting man. Well, then, may I handle him next?”

“I’ll allow it, but only if there’s no next time.”

With that curt reply, Leon stood from his seat. If he wasn’t sure, he’d eliminate Arsen now. From the Magic Tower to the east, Arsen Bern had been a persistent factor, something he should have dealt with earlier.

It was time to act decisively. To proceed without hesitation, any obstacles had to be removed. Before leaving the room, Leon turned to Lilia with a final order.

“As I mentioned, strengthen the control over the puppets.”

Lilia shrugged.

“If I weaken their sense of self too much, they’ll just be lumps of meat unable to wield a sword properly. They need at least enough awareness to be useful on the battlefield.”

“That’s your responsibility to manage.”

With those cold words, Leon exited. Lilia let out a quiet laugh as she watched him go.

“Perfect control doesn’t exist, yet he’s always asking for it.”

Recalling the knight’s face, Lilia’s eyes sparkled, her heart quickening as she savored the memory of his presence. Her mouth watered just thinking about it, her heart beating faster.

“Aah…”

A soft, sweet sigh escaped her lips. She wouldn’t let this prey slip through her grasp. She would sink her teeth into the knight’s neck, savor him, and toy with him at her leisure.

“Arsen… Bern…”

She repeated his name, savoring each syllable as if it were a piece of candy.