"Thank you for your hard work again today, Sir Hugo. I feel as if I always keep you working late."

"No need for apologies, Your Majesty. How could I ever find it difficult to serve you?"

Having finished his duties for the day, the King walked toward his chamber, the biting winter breeze filling the cold palace corridors. Moonlight filtered through the windows, casting a soft glow. The night was quiet and peaceful as always, but the King let out a troubled sigh.

"I’m concerned about tomorrow’s court meeting. I can’t afford to press Michelle too hard—it’s quite a burden."

Hugo Vern, the King’s knight, kept glancing around the hallway as if uneasy. The King noticed his unusual tension and questioned him.

"By the way, Sir Hugo, I’ve sensed something different about you tonight. Is something troubling you?"

Caught off guard, Hugo Vern furrowed his brows, hesitating to respond. Observing this hesitation, the King narrowed his eyes, urging him to speak.

"If there is a reason, speak. Have I ever been displeased with your counsel?"

With the King’s command, Hugo reluctantly sighed.

"I beg your pardon, Your Majesty…"

Hugo’s gaze drifted to the window bathed in moonlight. The stillness of the winter night lay beyond it, untouched.

"It does not feel right, Your Majesty."

The King frowned at Hugo’s sudden comment.

"What do you mean by 'not right'?"

"The air is different tonight, Your Majesty. The currents and mana… they’re unsettled."

Though the words seemed cryptic, Hugo’s expression was deadly serious. The King straightened, listening intently. When a knight of Hugo Vern’s caliber voiced such unease, it was not without reason.

"Explain in detail."

"The air is heavy, Your Majesty, as if something dire is about to happen. Those with a sensitivity to mana, like myself, would feel the same."

"Something is about to happen? What kind of thing?"

The King couldn’t feel the foreboding Hugo described. He lacked the talent to sense mana and knew that letting Hugo’s unease unsettle him could lead to poor judgment. Seeing the King’s patience, Hugo continued, now calm.

"I haven’t fought in that many battles, Your Majesty, but the air before a battle always feels heavy and still like this."

"A battle…?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. That foreboding presence people call the 'tension of war.'"

Hugo’s feeling of foreboding solidified into certainty. He’d felt the same way when Leon Bening’s forces seized the palace before, and now he couldn’t brush it aside. Bowing deeply, Hugo made his plea.

"Your Majesty, what I feel tonight is no different from the day the kingdom was seized. It wouldn’t be strange if calamity befell the palace tonight. Please, allow me to stay by your side tonight."

The King shook his head solemnly at Hugo’s request.

"If what you sense is true, I am more worried for the princes and princess. Sir Hugo, take the First Guard and immediately reexamine the palace’s defenses."

Hugo’s face twisted with concern.

"Your Majesty, if I lead the First Guard to secure the palace, who will protect you?"

"Isn’t Sir Aron on duty tonight? Besides, if something does happen, it’s unlikely to threaten me directly. I am only concerned that some misfortune might befall my subjects, as it did before."

The King spoke in a low voice, his worry evident. Though Hugo still looked uneasy, he nodded, seemingly resolved to follow the King’s wishes.

"Understood, Your Majesty. Sir Aron should be able to handle most situations that arise."

"Ensure that you don’t incite unnecessary alarm among the palace staff. Behave as if you’re conducting a standard inspection. It’s unlikely, but if your premonition is wrong, it would be unwise to sow chaos."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Though he remained uneasy, Hugo turned and left to gather the First Guard. While the King feared his premonition might be accurate, Hugo worried about something far worse. He could practically smell blood that had yet to be spilled.

'…I must hurry and finish the security check, then return to His Majesty.'

Whoooosh.

The winter wind howled, as if a hawk had taken flight. Luckily, it wasn’t far to the First Guard’s headquarters. Hugo quickened his pace, and when he arrived, the guards on duty snapped to attention.

"Sir, to what do we owe this visit…?"

"By His Majesty’s command, I’m reexamining palace security. Alert the knights and have them assemble."

"Understood, Sir."

The guard, clearly surprised, saluted and hurried off. Soon, the members of the First Guard, tense expressions on their faces, assembled. Hugo masked his own unease as he looked over his knights.

"As you’ve heard, we’ll be rechecking palace security. Divide into two groups and survey the sectors. Report any unusual findings immediately."

Though the inspection was sudden, none of the knights questioned it. Their trust in Hugo was absolute. They quickly divided into groups, ready to follow his orders.

"Christine, what’s the matter?" Charlotte asked, noticing Christine’s anxious demeanor.

Christine shook her head.

"It just doesn’t feel right. Can’t you feel it?"

"Feel what…?"

Thunk.

A loud sound echoed through the night. The knights fell silent, the faint tension thickening with unease. Hugo Vern’s firm voice broke the silence.

"Move, quickly."

==

‘Do not forgive me. Louis, Michelle, Kyle.’

Hearing the truth had somehow felt anticlimactic. Perhaps it was the lingering doubts he’d harbored, or maybe it was just jealousy toward his brother.

‘I am sorry to tell you this only after your mothers passed away.’

Louis’s face had paled as he listened to the King’s words, while Michelle looked as if she would burst into tears. And he…? He wasn’t sure how he felt.

‘I do not want discord among you because of my mistakes.’

His father’s voice had sounded both shaky and composed, or maybe it was as calm as always. Whatever it had been, from that day forward, he could no longer trust his father.

‘Just continue to live as you always have. You are still brothers, and that will never change.’

They were too young to fully understand yet too old to ignore his words. It didn’t take long for Kyle to realize what had been taken from him.

‘Kyle, what’s going on? I heard the royal tutor has been asking about you. Are you skipping lessons again?’

Lessons? For what? The throne would never be his. Had his father kept silent because of guilt toward his children or merely because he felt confident in his power? Kyle wished, at least, that it had been the latter.

‘It’s an honor to meet you, Your Highness.’

And then, someone came to him.

‘I shall reclaim what rightfully belongs to you.’

How long he’d waited for those words.

‘Can you promise that?’

‘Your Highness, I have never broken a promise. I will ensure that you achieve what you desire.’

What is it that you want, Your Highness?

Kyle remembered the question clearly but couldn’t recall his response to the Count. Only that afterward, Leon Bening had officially declared his support, and the sleeping dragon had finally surfaced.

"Your Highness, the time has come."

In the Second Prince’s quarters, Kyle sat, staring at the sword at his feet. It felt as though he had lived in a dream, always reaching for something yet never quite grasping it.

It was always the Count who handed him what he wanted. And tonight, Kyle would wield his sword to seize what he had been denied.

"I understand."

Why was he willing to shed blood? No, the answer was clear: revenge against a father who had wronged him, a throne that rightfully belonged to him, and a festering jealousy toward the First Prince.

"Your armor will be prepared."

The servant departed, and with him, the last of Kyle’s lingering doubts. His hand trembled as he reached for his sword, his heartbeat quickening.

‘You’re such a coward, Your Highness.’

"Quiet."

Kyle grasped the sword, shaking off the echo of the witch’s laughter. His servant arrived, carrying his armor. Adorned with the lily emblem of the royal family, it bore three jagged sword scars. Kyle cursed that symbol as much as he coveted it.

"I’m ready."

The words were meant for himself as much as the servant. The weight of the armor settled on him, and faintly, he thought he heard someone’s scream in the distance. The night brightened as he looked out the window. Shouts and cries grew closer.

"Your Highness, all preparations are complete."

Kyle faced the knights of the Third Guard, who bowed before him. Yes, this was what he wanted—knights who followed his will. Once he reclaimed his place, all the palace’s knights would kneel to him like this.

"Fire! There’s a fire!"

"Evacuate Their Highnesses! Where is His Majesty?"

The chaos echoed through the palace grounds, and Kyle watched emotionlessly as servants rushed past him. One disheveled servant kneeled before him, shaking.

"Y-Your Highness. What… what is happening?"

The servant’s head fell to the ground before he could understand. Kyle looked up, his gaze meeting the gray-eyed Leon Bening, who stood there with a blood-soaked sword in hand.

"Your Highness. I, Leon Bening, am here to fulfill the promise I made to you."

"Everything is perfectly prepared, I presume?"

Leon smiled, his expression incongruous with the flames and the blood on his sword. His gaze remained emotionless, yet the palace’s fiery glow seemed to burn within his ash-colored eyes.

"Of course, Your Highness."

"I’ll handle everything personally, from beginning to end."

"As you wish, Your Highness."

Their eyes met in the smoky air, the sounds of screams, collapsing buildings, and clashing weapons filling the air around them.

"Where shall we go first, Your Highness?"

Leon’s voice rang sweetly in Kyle’s mind. There was only one place he could think of. His hand moved to the hilt of his sword, gripping its cold surface as if it would envelop his entire being.

"The King’s chambers."

In a low murmur, Kyle gave his command. Leon’s smile grew.

"I, Leon Bening, shall obey your command, Your Highness."