Morning had arrived. The long, blood-soaked night had come to an end, leaving behind only the ruined royal palace, dried bloodstains on the stone walls, and dismembered corpses scattered across the grounds. Leon Benning walked through the palace corridors. He had no guards or attendants accompanying him. He merely strode through the palace with a detached, vacant gaze, as if inspecting the aftermath.

Everywhere he stepped, blood marred the floor, as though his very shadow bled in his wake. Wandering aimlessly for a while, Leon eventually seemed to settle on a destination, straightening his steps and rounding a corner.

He passed through a long hallway that opened into a wider space. Leon's eyes fell on the red carpet lining the floor, its darkened patches evidence of spilled blood. Lifting his gaze, he looked toward the grand doors at the far end. These doors, stately and pale as ivory, led to the royal council chamber. Slowly, Leon approached the doors, which were also flecked with the blood of those who had perished during the night.

"Ah, Count," a voice called out.

Leon turned his head to see servants of the Benning household bowing to him as they cleaned up the palace. Leon gave them no reaction, merely turning back to the doors. The servants exhaled quiet sighs of relief and quickly scurried away. Leon placed his hand on the grand door, and without a creak, it swung open.

"So, this is how it ends," Leon muttered to himself as he entered the council chamber.

The council chamber stood unchanged, untouched by the violence that had engulfed the rest of the palace. While blood soaked the royal family’s quarters and the king's bedchamber, the chamber of council meetings and royal decrees remained pristine. The vast glass windows let sunlight pour in, illuminating the marble floor and the royal throne that sat at the end of the red carpet.

"A needless bloodbath that could’ve been avoided," Leon murmured as he approached the throne. There was no regret or bitterness in his tone—only cold indifference. The massive throne loomed imposingly, as if to remind its occupant of the weight it bore. Leon ran his hand along its armrest. He had no intention of sitting on it. If he had, he would have killed the Second Prince as soon as the "revolution" was over.

Have you obtained everything you desired?

A voice whispered in his ear, carried on the wind. Leon turned sharply, his brows furrowing. Whose voice was it? His clothes fluttered in the breeze that seemed to have come from nowhere.

"You’re that kind of person," the voice continued, echoing in his memory. "You seem as though you lack ambition, but in truth, your desires run deeper than anyone else's. Perhaps 'ambition' isn’t the right word for it. No, your cravings are more primal, more akin to hunger. You consume simply because you can."

Leon recognized the voice. It belonged to someone who had once spoken to him, a person whose cynicism and despair ran even deeper than his own. His expression darkened as he turned back to the throne, a faint, emotionless smile creeping onto his lips.

"Perhaps that’s how you see the feelings in my heart now," he thought.

He gave no answer to the voice—not because he didn’t want to, but because he couldn’t. He wouldn’t have been able to answer it then, and he couldn’t now. The wind died down, and Leon stepped away from the throne, his boots thudding softly against the blood-stained carpet as he exited the council chamber.

The place where the First Prince, Louis, was held was not a prison. Instead, under the guise of "protection," he had been confined to an annex within the palace. His hands and feet were unbound, and he was neither tortured nor subjected to physical hardship. Yet Louis felt more tormented than ever.

"Don’t try anything foolish," a voice warned him periodically.

Louis ignored it, staring blankly at the floor. He had encountered them while en route to the Adventurer’s Guild with the Second Guard after sending Maxim ahead. Despite their desperate resistance, the Second Guard had fallen one by one to the relentless reinforcements of Leon Benning’s knights.

"Your Highness! You must escape!" the guards had cried.

The fight had been fierce, but in the end, Leon's knights had triumphed. Grabbing the guards by their hair, they had turned to Louis with a proposition.

"Your Highness, will you surrender and come with us willingly, or will you persist in this futile resistance, resulting in the deaths of all your knights and injury to yourself?"

"Don’t listen to their wicked words, Your Highness! Escape!"

With a sickening sound, a blade began to sink into one of the knights' necks. Louis had shouted then.

"Stop!"

The knight’s executioner froze mid-motion. Though the knight tried to protest, Louis had already made up his mind.

"I surrender. I’ll go with you peacefully. Just spare their lives," Louis had said.

He still remembered the emotionless voice that had replied, "A wise choice."

Now, seated in his confinement, Louis rubbed his aching shoulders and looked up as the sound of approaching footsteps broke the silence. Soldiers guarding the annex stirred, and Louis didn’t need to look to know who had come to see him. A familiar face, similar to his own but not quite close enough to call brotherly, stood before him.

"How are you feeling, dear brother?" Kyle Loire asked, though the satisfaction in his tone was far from comforting.

Louis didn’t respond. He knew Kyle’s gaze held no guilt. Even if it did, it would only stoke Louis’s anger. If Kyle felt regret, he shouldn’t have done it in the first place.

When Louis remained silent, Kyle shrugged nonchalantly and glanced around the small, stifling room. For someone accustomed to the vast expanse of the royal palace, this space was stiflingly narrow. Smirking, Kyle’s eyes returned to Louis.

"Why haven’t you imprisoned me?" Louis asked.

Kyle met his brother’s hollow gaze.

"First, to prevent you from contacting the knights. Second, this location allows me to ‘keep an eye on’ you personally."

Kyle’s smirk deepened as he added, almost casually, "Of course, once Father’s crimes are fully exposed, your head will roll as well."

He watched Louis closely, hoping to see fear. But Louis accepted the grim news with unnerving calmness. Kyle’s expression darkened as he stepped closer.

"Are you hoping that Michelle, who fled the palace last night, will come back to rescue you?" Kyle sneered.

Louis said nothing. Frustrated, Kyle grabbed him by the collar, shaking him like a ragdoll.

"Let me make this clear: that will never happen. I’ll overturn this capital—no, this entire kingdom—if I have to, just to capture every last one of those who slipped through my grasp. Maxim, the knight who served you, the Raven Knights who dared to betray me, and that arrogant Count Ray Agon…"

Kyle paused, his voice lowering.

"And even Michelle."

Throwing Louis aside, Kyle straightened and turned to leave. The soldiers outside the room cast mocking glances at Louis.

"Until next time, dear brother," Kyle said, his voice as cold and hard as marble.

Louis watched his half-brother's retreating back in silence, his expression unreadable.

Elsewhere, the kingdom had been turned upside down overnight. Count Ray Agon sat with a restless expression, tapping his knee with his fingers. Though he tried to remain composed, his growing impatience was evident.

"They’re not here yet?" he muttered.
"I’m sure they’ll be fine, my lord. Those protecting the First Princess aren’t ordinary people," one of his retainers reassured him.

Ray Agon sighed deeply. He had given explicit instructions to contact him immediately if anything happened. Perhaps the chaos of the night had prevented them from doing so. His retainer, Francois, also appeared tense as he glanced out the window. It was sheer luck that Leon Benning’s forces hadn’t targeted this residence yet.

As the seconds ticked by, Count Agon’s unease grew.

"I can’t wait any longer. We need to send someone to search for them. Francois, go downstairs and fetch Enric," he ordered, standing abruptly.

Francois nodded stiffly, aware of the precariousness of their situation. If all the royals but the Second Prince were killed or captured, the Agon household would face the same fate.

Just as Francois was about to leave, a heavy knock sounded at the mansion door. Both men froze. Francois turned back, and Count Agon stood still, his face pale.

"I’ll go," Francois said quickly.
"Be careful. We don’t know who or what they want," the count cautioned.

Francois hurried to the door and opened it cautiously. He gasped, stepping back in shock.

"Dame Yvonne!"

The knight at the door looked utterly exhausted, her face streaked with wounds. Francois quickly ushered her inside.

"My lord, Dame Yvonne has arrived!" Francois announced.

Count Agon’s face lit up with relief as Yvonne entered the room. But her grave expression quickly wiped the relief from his face. He gestured for her to sit.

"What’s happening? Is the First Princess safe? What about His Majesty?"

Yvonne sighed deeply, and the count’s expression grew grim. Francois swallowed hard, sensing the worst.

"Surely not, Yvonne…"

"The king has passed away," Yvonne said, her voice heavy.

The room fell into silence. Count Agon stared at her as if struck by a hammer. Slowly, he buried his face in his hands. Yvonne stared blankly at the floor, the life drained from her eyes.

"Damn it all," the count muttered through his fingers.

Yvonne continued. "The First Prince has been captured by Leon Benning's forces. The only royal who escaped last night’s chaos was the First Princess. The Second Guard is presumed annihilated, and the remaining forces, including the Fourth Guard, have taken refuge at the Adventurer’s Guild or safe houses."

Count Agon exhaled shakily, lowering his hands.

"The king… fell into their hands after all."

"Please, gather your forces quickly to aid the First Princess," Yvonne urged.

"Where is she now? Can we contact her from within the capital?" he asked.

"She is at the Adventurer’s Guild, but the capital is under Leon Benning’s control. It won’t be easy to reach her," Yvonne replied.

Leon Benning’s forces were actively patrolling near the guild. Yvonne herself had barely managed to slip past them to reach the count.

"I understand. I’ll rally my forces and send someone to support her. But you must stay here—it’s too dangerous for you to return," he said firmly.

"There’s no need for that," a clear voice interrupted.

Count Agon turned sharply toward the entrance, his eyes widening. Three hooded figures entered the room, removing their hoods to reveal themselves.

"Your Highness!" Count Agon exclaimed, standing and bowing deeply.

Michelle Loire shook her head, her brown hair slightly disheveled. Behind her stood Maxim Apart, running a hand through his light-brown hair, and a blue-haired adventurer who gazed intently at the count.

"We need your help, Count Agon," Michelle said urgently.

The count met her gaze, seeing the desperation in her eyes. He nodded solemnly.

"Please, take a seat. There’s much we need to discuss."