“Ah, so the traitor is here.”

Through the open door of the warehouse, screams and noise could be heard. The sky was still pitch black, but the flashing red light outside illuminated the surroundings brightly.

Emil Borden looked at the silhouette standing against the light streaming in. The empty eyes staring at him. Emil Borden could tell right away that the person leading the group was one of Leon Benning’s puppet knights.

“They call it betrayal just because it suits them. I was never on Leon Benning’s side from the beginning.”

Emil Borden let out his characteristic sardonic smile. The puppet knight shrugged his shoulders indifferently, but the knight and soldiers behind him looked as if they couldn’t contain their fury at Emil Borden’s words. Perhaps because of the flames outside or their anger, one of the knights stomped toward Emil, his face bright red, foam frothing at his mouth.

“You filthy traitor! Do you know how much damage we suffered because of you?”

The knight grabbed Emil by the collar and slammed him against the warehouse wall. The clattering sound of various weapons falling off the table filled the room with noise. Emil Borden let out a chuckle, unable to hold back his amusement as he looked at the knight grabbing him by the collar.

“Oh, that’s right. I left you a little gift. How did you like it?”

Thanks to Emil’s covert manipulations with the funds, more than half of the Count’s available funds had disappeared. Not only that, but unknown poison had been added to the soldiers’ pre-departure meal, leaving many incapacitated and unable to join the operation against the palace. Emil Borden didn’t even try to hide what he had done. Instead, he had left a letter proudly announcing his actions before he departed.

“Oh, yes. The Count seemed to like it very much, you bastard!”

Thud!

The knight’s fist struck Emil mercilessly. Doubling over, Emil coughed, spitting up bile as he collapsed forward. The knight grabbed Emil’s head, lifting it up. Despite his beaten appearance, Emil’s bright blue eyes still gleamed with mockery as he looked at the knight. The knight, unable to contain his disgust upon meeting Emil’s gaze, began beating him mercilessly with punches and kicks.

“I’ve wanted to beat that irritating face of yours until I felt better.”

“Ugh.”

Emil’s face was quickly turned into a bloody mess. The clothes that had been relatively tidy were now torn and scattered everywhere. The knight, seemingly satisfied after one last kick to Emil’s chest, grabbed his face again. Emil’s expression of mockery was still there, though he looked more subdued. The knight glared at Emil with a taunting sneer.

“You walked around grinning like you were favored by the Count, picking fights with everyone. You bastard.”

Emil let out a weak chuckle, blood spurting from his torn lips.

“I didn’t know stating facts would count as picking fights. No wonder you’ve never risen above the rank of common knight. Can you even use aura? By the looks of it, you don’t have the skill for that. Here you are, getting tossed around by someone like me.”

The knight, infuriated by Emil’s mocking despite the circumstances, raised his fist to strike again. In a flash, Emil’s hand shot up beneath the knight’s chin.

Thud.

A sharp sound of flesh being pierced. Emil looked blankly at the dagger he had thrust through the knight’s throat. The knight, still raising his fist, stared down at Emil’s hand in shock, not yet realizing what had happened to him.

“Impossible…”

Without even finishing his words, the knight collapsed to the side with a heavy thud. Misinterpreting the look in Emil’s eyes as fear had been his fatal mistake. It was simply the look of someone biding his time, waiting for the right moment. Emil glanced disdainfully at the fallen knight and then looked up. Leon Benning’s puppet knight was staring down at him.

“So, you’re not going to kill me here, right? The Count ordered you to bring me back alive, I assume.”

“Yes, the Count has instructed us to bring you back alive.”

Despite the death of the knight he had come with, the puppet knight did not even blink. The other pursuers, however, glared at Emil with looks that could kill.

“Stand up. If you’re as aware as you claim, you must know that any further resistance will only lead to a more painful death.”

Of course, he knew. Probably better than anyone else here. Emil let out a sigh, each breath accompanied by a gurgling sound as blood clogged his throat. He habitually stifled the bloody cough, as a nobleman’s manners dictated, before looking up at the puppet knight.

“Yes, but I’m so weak that I can barely stand. Age is catching up to me, and getting beaten up doesn’t help.”

“You brought this upon yourself. Why provoke them to the point of getting beaten half to death?”

The puppet knight gestured to the pursuers following him.

“No funny business. If anyone lays another hand on Emil Borden, I’ll behead them myself.”

The pursuers looked dissatisfied but quickly backed down when the puppet knight’s expression turned cold. They approached Emil with steps heavy with resentment.

“Get up, you damn rat.”

The hand roughly pulling him up made Emil groan in pain. The soldier holding Emil’s right arm spat curses at him as he looked Emil over.

“You acted all tough. Go ahead, show off again.”

Emil glanced sideways at the soldier.

Hawking, Emil spat a mouthful of blood right in the man’s face. Laughing hoarsely, Emil watched as the soldier, his face splattered with blood, turned red with rage and roughly slapped him.

“Argh!”

“Spit again, you bastard!”

Shhhk.

With a chilling sound, the soldier’s head was suddenly severed. The puppet knight, who had watched it all calmly, nudged the fallen soldier aside and approached Emil.

“To think you’d still be scheming in a situation like this.”

The puppet knight narrowed his eyes as he looked at the swaying Emil. Then he grabbed Emil’s arm. Unlike the soldier’s grip, this one had no space for resistance, and Emil stiffened as his arm was held in an unbreakable grip.

“Come along peacefully.”

Emil’s right arm was firmly in the puppet knight’s grasp, while his left was held by another soldier. The knight holding his left arm looked at Emil with a mixture of pity and disgust. Blood was dripping from his mouth and nose, his once-handsome face now covered in bruises.

“Why did you do it? Why did you betray the Count?”

Emil glanced at the knight holding his left arm, panting heavily as he met the soldier’s gaze.

“Tell me, are you married?”

The knight frowned at Emil’s sudden question, wondering if he’d gone mad from the beating.

“Married…?”

Emil’s gaze shifted slightly toward the puppet knight holding his right arm. The knight looked puzzled by the strange line of questioning.

“No, I’m not married.”

“So, I suppose you wouldn’t understand even if I explained. You wouldn’t grasp why I turned against the Count, without a family or children of your own.”

The puppet knight tightened his grip on Emil’s arm, causing him to wince from the pain.

“Enough with the useless chatter.”

“It’s not useless. You, of all people, wouldn’t know what it means to have family.”

The puppet knight’s face hardened at Emil’s words. Emil looked straight at him, his blue eyes showing a hint of something the puppet knight couldn’t understand: pity.

“You dare to pretend to be a father now, after using your daughter like that.”

Emil scoffed at the puppet knight’s words.

“Well, it’s better than pretending not to be a father until the day I die. Isn’t it better to try, even if it’s too late?”

With that, Emil’s lips moved, uttering words the puppet knight and the knight holding his left arm couldn’t comprehend.

“What are you doing—!”

The puppet knight spun Emil around, but Emil held onto the knight’s arm, refusing to let him escape. In the puppet knight’s eyes, he saw a smile that wasn’t sardonic, but one filled with nostalgia and some unknown emotion.

“…I’m sorry.”

The puppet knight’s eyes widened as he sensed a massive surge of energy from Emil’s chest. The conflicting orders—to bring Emil in alive and to cut down the ominous power emanating from him—paralyzed the puppet knight with hesitation. Emil looked up at him and smiled.

“It’s too late.”

With that, a blinding light erupted.

 

"Your Majesty, why are you staying silent when your son is greeting you?"

Kyle Loire had drawn his sword. The king twisted his body, struggling against the soldiers who were holding him up, but his resistance was futile. Kyle looked at his father.

"Kyle."

The king spoke as if swallowing his pain. Kyle looked at him with an unyielding, cold gaze. The king couldn’t bring himself to say anything. He knew why Kyle was doing this; he was well aware of his own mistakes. Kyle studied the king’s weary face for a long time, as if trying to spot any flaw.

"...I’ve been waiting for this day to come," Kyle finally spoke, his voice echoing distantly in the king's ears like a far-off memory.

"Now that it’s come to this, I don’t even know where to begin."

Kyle glanced briefly at Leon Benning. The Count gave a generous nod, as if allowing the second prince all the time he needed. The king sighed at the sight of such indulgence.

"Even after achieving your ambition, you still glance back at that Count, watching for his approval. Do you truly believe that’s behavior befitting a prince of this country, Kyle?"

Kyle turned back to face his father.

"If you were truly a king concerned about the well-being of the royal family, then swapping the birth order of my brother and sister was indeed a foolish decision, Your Majesty."

Kyle’s voice was sharp and cold, like a sword freshly drawn from its sheath. His eyes, however, burned with fiery resentment.

"To overturn the foundation and peace of the royal family and the kingdom with just a few words, and then, at this point, to try to set things right—it’s truly pathetic, Your Majesty."

Kyle raised his sword, pointing it at the king. Words he had been unable to voice before now rose from deep within, cutting through the king’s heart without mercy.

"I hate you. No, I despise you. Ever since I learned the truth, from that moment on, I’ve harbored nothing but hatred for you, Father."

Betrayal glistened in Kyle’s eyes. His voice started to tremble. Every word he spoke seemed to tear through the king’s guilt, exposing it for all to see.

"Do you know how it feels to discover that the place where you belong, the people who should be by your side, and the respect you deserve were all based on lies, and that the one responsible is your own father?"

The king could not answer. Kyle wasn’t expecting an answer either. A chilling silence filled the basement. No one dared to interrupt Kyle’s impassioned words. After a long pause, Kyle looked at the king once more.

"Even now… even now, tell me. Tell me that I am your only heir, the only son of my mother, that I should rightfully be the crown prince of this nation."

The king looked at the trembling tip of Kyle’s sword. Just like Kyle’s angered voice, the sword wavered, unable to stay steady.

"Father!"

It was a desperate plea. As far as Kyle could remember, this was the first time he had ever pleaded with his father, and it would be the last. The king looked at Kyle as if his very soul had left him.

"...I’m sorry, Kyle."

The king’s apology carried the weight of all his unspoken words. Words that said he could not acknowledge Kyle as his mother’s only son or the crown prince. The last shred of hope Kyle had held onto was crushed. He let his sword fall limply by his side.

"Is that so."

It was all over. All that awaited the king now was the blade that would sever his head. Slowly, the king looked at Kyle, who once again raised his sword, this time without any hesitation. Kyle’s pained eyes met the king’s, even as he raised his blade. He didn’t seem intent on beheading him; instead, he approached slowly, very slowly.

Thud.

There was a heavy sensation below his chest. The king felt the cold metal pierce through his body and out his back. He coughed, struggling for breath, as his damaged lungs forced up blood.

"Ka... Kyle..."

The king collapsed forward. Through his fading vision, he saw Leon Benning, the Count, patting Kyle on the shoulder. Kyle, with his back to his father, walked toward the secret passage. The king’s eyes caught sight of a strange, glowing scar on the back of Kyle’s neck—shining with the shape of some magical curse or spell. Surely, it couldn’t be.

"Your Majesty."

Leon Benning’s voice reached him as his consciousness began to fade.

"You… bastard..."

The king’s voice, thick with blood, barely made it out. He could faintly hear the Count’s laughter.

"Why did you have to doubt your son so much?"

With a sickening sound, the sword was pulled from the king’s chest. Blood spurted across the floor, and the king collapsed.

"Though it’s true he genuinely despised you."

The Count left that final mocking remark. Blood pooled around the king as he lay on the floor. Hatred had faded, leaving only regret swirling in his mind. His consciousness grew dim, and the king succumbed to the darkness, closing his eyes.

 

"Hah."

Emil let out a low breath. It was a miracle he was still alive. The explosion had completely destroyed the surroundings. He had no sensation below his torso. His right arm was severed, and glancing down, he saw that his left leg was also gone.

There was no pain. Only a feeling of lightness remained. The puppet he had clung to until the end was now buried under the debris. It seemed that all the pursuers chasing Emil Borden had lost their lives in the blast.

"...So this is how it ends."

Emil Borden let out a bitter laugh. In the end, he had tried to go out with a flourish, even though it didn’t suit him. Emil looked up at the sky. Black smoke rose in thick clouds against the pitch-black sky.

This wasn’t the kind of death he had envisioned. But considering the suffering he had caused his daughter, it felt like deserved retribution. Emil heard the sound of approaching footsteps. His left eye was, damnably, blind—probably because half his face had been blown away. His remaining vision picked up the figure of a knight with light brown hair. Emil, seeing his son-in-law, spoke with a voice that came out in broken gasps.

"Is my daughter… safe?"

Maxim looked down at Emil Borden. The man he had considered an enemy for years now lay in a pitiful state amidst the rubble.

"She is safe."

"...I see."

The last lingering regret in Emil’s heart disappeared. He felt the darkness quickly closing in on him. Emil realized that his next words would be his last. He chose them carefully. But he didn’t need long to decide what to say.

"Take care of Marion… make her happy."

After a brief silence, Maxim’s answer came.

"Of course, I will."

Hearing this, Emil Borden closed his eyes with a smile. Not a bitter smile, but one that was peaceful and natural.