"The Demon," Gabriel whispered, his voice barely audible, as if uttering the name might summon the specter itself. He froze, his breath hitching in his throat, fists tightening at his sides until his knuckles turned white. The name cut through him like a blade, sharp and unrelenting, unearthing memories he had buried deep within the shadows of his mind. His heart pounded fiercely, each beat echoing like the war drums of a battlefield, relentless and unyielding.

“There’s only one demon,” Lexon said with a laugh, nudging Gabriel playfully. “And he’s standing right here.”

The group chuckled, but Gabriel did not join them. His face was stone. The Demon. The one who had haunted his nightmares. The one who had caused him unimaginable pain, who had killed his brother and, likely, his father too. Gabriel wasn’t afraid of many things, but the Demon? The Demon terrified him.

And yet, fear wasn’t the strongest emotion coursing through him. It was rage—hot, unrelenting, and suffocating. His veins burned with it. He imagined the man’s face, his smug expression, and the moment Gabriel would carve it off. He would watch the life drain from the Demon’s eyes. He would kill him. Slowly. Thoroughly.

I’ll never let him hurt anyone else that I care about.

“You alright?” a voice cut through his fury, a distant echo.

The words were muffled, distant, like they were underwater. His vision reddened, his fists trembling at his sides. The world around him was a haze.

A firm shake on his shoulder jolted him. Gabriel blinked rapidly, looking down at the hand gripping him. It was Galland’s. The Commander’s calm but piercing gaze bore into him.

Gabriel’s eyes refocused, and he saw the surrounding faces. Concerned. Confused. Brows drawn. Silence hung in the air, thick and heavy, until Lakan’s voice finally broke it.

“What made you so angry?”

Gabriel swallowed hard, realizing he had let too much slip. His mask had cracked, and his control had faltered. He couldn’t brush it off—not with everyone staring at him.

“I’ve… heard of him,” Gabriel said finally, his voice low and strained. An uncomfortable silence followed. All eyes remained on him, searching for more.

“Well…” Lakan ventured cautiously, his tone inviting more explanation.

“A story for another time, perhaps,” Galland interjected smoothly, his tone leaving no room for argument. The others hesitated, then reluctantly nodded, though their curiosity lingered in their expressions. Galland placed a firm hand on Gabriel’s shoulder once more. “Come with me, Orion.”

Gabriel exhaled, grateful for the reprieve, and nodded. Without another word, he followed the Commander, leaving the others behind. As they walked, Gabriel’s thoughts churned. His secrets, his past—they felt heavier than ever. He couldn’t shake the belief that, for better or worse, the walls he’d so carefully built around himself were beginning to crumble.

Gabriel followed Galland as the path cleared through the gathering soldiers, the Commander’s presence alone parting the men like a tide. Gabriel kept his pace just a few steps behind, hesitating to walk alongside him. There was something in Galland’s demeanor—a quiet gravity—that unsettled him. He wasn’t able to place it, but it gnawed at him. The Commander had something to say, and Gabriel wasn’t sure he wanted to hear it.

His heartbeat quickened, each step heavier than the last. I’ve revealed too much. The weight of the earlier conversation still lingering like a shadow.

Gabriel quickened his strides, falling into step beside Galland. “I had a feeling you’d be coming today,” Galland said.

“Am I that predictable?” Gabriel forced a chuckle, though it felt hollow.

Galland gave him a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Perhaps.”

Gabriel fumbled to fill the silence. “I was relieved to see the company wasn’t hurt during the patrol.”

Galland nodded but said nothing, his expression unchanging as they walked.

Gabriel tried again. “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere more private,” Galland said.

Gabriel swallowed hard and nodded. He didn’t press further.

“I hear congratulations are in order. You make a fine Prime,” Galland said after a pause.

“Thank you, Commander.”

Galland continued, “Some may have thought I was taking a risk endorsing you to the academy. But it was worth it.”

Gabriel experienced a flicker of curiosity. Galland had never spoken much about his decision to endorse him. “Why did you take that risk?”

Galland’s steps slowed slightly as he glanced at Gabriel. “Because I saw potential. You saved my men’s lives. You were a warrior long before you knew how to fight.”

Gabriel’s chest swelled with unexpected pride, his back straightening. “Thank you, Galland. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”

Galland gave a faint smile as they passed under an archway and rounded a corner. He stopped in front of a large oak door, the heavy grain of the wood polished but worn with age. With a single, deliberate push, Galland opened the door and gestured for Gabriel to enter.

The room was sparse, utilitarian in design. Gray stone walls boxed in the modest space, which was only as large as the closet in Gabriel’s quarters at the castle. There were no embellishments—no tapestries, no books, no artwork. Only a sturdy desk stood in the center, flanked by two chairs. Gabriel couldn’t help but smile. This is so like him.

“Take a seat,” Galland said, already moving to the chair behind the desk.

Gabriel lowered himself into the opposite chair, the hard oak pressing against his back. He watched as Galland pulled open a drawer and retrieved a small pouch, its leather worn but well-cared-for. The Commander set it down on the desk with deliberate care, his eyes flickering to the map spread across the surface. Tiny metal figurines dotted the map, each meticulously placed.

Galland noticed Gabriel’s curious glance. “These figurines represent our troop positions,” he explained. “You’ve seen me use them before when you were with the regiment.”

Gabriel nodded, though he still didn’t understand why Galland was showing him this now.

“These were a gift from the Red General,” Galland said, his tone softening. “When I became Prime, he told me that to lead men, I needed to know where to find them. He said these would help me become a general.”

Gabriel blinked, taken aback. Galland rarely spoke about his past, and this glimpse of the man he admired left him with more questions than answers. It was like peering through a crack in a fortress wall—brief but tantalizing.

Galland pushed the pouch across the desk toward Gabriel. “Open it.”

Gabriel hesitated, his fingers brushing against the soft leather. He glanced up at Galland, whose nod urged him onward. Loosening the drawstrings, Gabriel peered inside and pulled out a small metal figurine. It was finely crafted, every detail rendered with precision. His fingers glided over the flowing mane of a horse frozen mid-gallop. The craftsmanship was so detailed it seemed ready to burst into motion. He carefully pulled out another piece, smaller yet no less remarkable, shaped like a pack horse laden with invisible burdens. As he peered into the pouch, Gabriel discovered more intricately crafted pieces nestled within.

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“The artistry is remarkable,” Gabriel murmured, turning a new figure in his hands.

Galland smiled. “I am glad you like them. They are yours.”

“What!” Gabriel exclaimed, his voice echoing slightly in the small room.

Galland smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “While I don’t have any children, it’s one of the few family traditions I’ve ever cherished. You deserve it, Prime.”

“This is too much,” Gabriel said, shaking his head. “I can’t accept it.”

Galland crossed his arms, his posture firm, yet his gaze held no anger, only expectation.

Gabriel hesitated. “You can give it to your child when they come of age,” he mumbled, sliding the pouch back across the desk.

“That won’t be happening.” Galland’s words were calm, but his smile lacked warmth.

Gabriel blinked. A whirlwind of emotions swept over him—gratitude, respect, puzzlement. The idea made little sense. Any woman would be honored to marry Galland. He was young, accomplished, and respected.

“Apologies for overstepping, Commander,” Gabriel said carefully, searching for the right words. “But you would make a great father—better than the one I ever had.”

Galland’s expression softened, though it was tinged with something Gabriel couldn’t quite place. “You’re a good lad, Orion. One any father would be proud to call his son. But we must all face our destinies, and mine does not include fatherhood.”

“Why?” Gabriel asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Galland subtly shook his head, brushing the question aside. “Take the gift, Orion,” he said, his tone firmer now.

Gabriel looked into Galland’s eyes and saw an intensity that made refusal impossible. He reached out and held the pouch, unconsciously pulling it closer to his chest as if protecting it. “Thank you, Galland. This… this means so much to me. Thank you for everything.”

Galland nodded once, the weight of his gaze unwavering. Then, after a brief silence, he spoke again, his voice quieter yet somehow heavier. “Orion, there’s something else I want to talk to you about.”

Gabriel’s pulse quickened. A flicker of unease spread through him as he met Galland’s searching eyes. His brows furrowed, but he nodded, urging the Commander to continue.

“I’ve never asked too many questions about your past, nor how you earned the king’s favor,” Galland said, his words deliberate. “Do you know why?”

Gabriel froze, the question hanging in the air like a blade suspended by a thread. He had never truly considered the absence of such questions. So much of his life had been spent dodging suspicion, carefully weaving half-truths and outright lies. But Galland had never pried. That thought alone unsettled him. Had he been so consumed by his own struggles that he failed to recognize the restraint of those around him?

His throat tightened as he shook his head slowly, unable to find the words to respond.

“Because it didn’t affect me or the company,” Galland said evenly. “And if you wanted to share, you would have.”

“Thank you,” Gabriel replied, his voice low with sincerity.

Galland’s expression hardened slightly, his words now laced with a weight that wasn’t there before. “However, now I have to ask—because I fear it will affect me, and more importantly, Balatia.”

Gabriel’s chest tightened. He didn’t want to lie—not to Galland, not to the man who had placed so much trust in him. But he couldn’t tell the truth either, couldn’t allow the entire story to come spilling out.

“Who are you, really?” Galland’s question was direct, cutting through any attempt at evasion.

Gabriel swallowed hard, his throat dry, fighting to keep his expression neutral, his face unreadable. “I…” He hesitated, sensing the familiar tug of an easy lie. But this was Galland. Lies would cut deeper than silence. His hands clenched at his sides.

“I know you’re no merchant’s son,” Galland continued, his tone steady, but his gaze unyielding. “It was believable at first, but the king’s favor? That’s not something given lightly. I’ve spent time in the borderlands, Orion, and your complexion—it’s more like an Accamanian’s than a Balatian’s.”

Gabriel froze, Galland’s words pulling at the carefully built façade he had held for so long. The commander said nothing more, waiting patiently, expectantly, for an answer. The silence pressed down on Gabriel like an anchor.

“I…” Gabriel started, but the words caught in his throat. He had lied so much, for so long, that it felt like his default. But the thought of lying to Galland now, after all he had done for him, turned his stomach. He couldn’t. Not this time.

Galland leaned forward slightly. “You hadn’t just heard of the Demon. You know him.”

Gabriel's shoulders sagged, as if the weight of his secrets had finally broken through his resolve. He couldn’t keep the truth buried any longer, not from Galland. Not from the man who had just handed him a piece of his family’s legacy, who had believed in him when no one else had.

“I never wanted to lie to you, Galland. Never.” Gabriel’s voice trembled, thick with the weight of years of deception. “But… I didn’t have a choice.”

Galland’s hand tightened on the edge of the desk, his knuckles whitening as the silence stretched between them. He said nothing, his piercing gaze boring into Gabriel, waiting for him to speak. The space between them seemed to shrink, the air charged with expectation and tension so thick it was suffocating.

Gabriel’s mouth opened, but the words refused to come. His chest tightened, the enormity of what he was about to say clawing at his throat. This was the secret he had buried deeper than any other, a truth that could undo everything he had built. He had sworn to keep it hidden, to lock it away where no one could find it. And yet here he was, at the edge of it all, his chest heaving under the weight of a trust he couldn’t betray.

His voice broke as the words finally slipped free. “I am… Accamanian.”

It was barely above a whisper, but the weight of those three words echoed through the room like a thunderclap. For a moment, the silence was deafening. The mask Gabriel had worn for so long shattered in that instant, leaving him vulnerable in a way he hadn’t been since the day he’d fled his homeland.

He swallowed hard, his throat dry, and continued, his voice faltering. “That’s why… why I had to run. Why I had to hide. Why I had to lie.”

Galland stiffened, the shock on his face unmistakable. His usually steady demeanor faltered, his composure slipping as he rose abruptly from his chair. His eyes narrowed, searching Gabriel’s face as though trying to reconcile the boy he’d trusted with the revelation now before him. “Accamanian?” His tone was sharp, clipped, as if testing the word on his tongue. “So,” he said after a beat, his voice steely, “who are you, really?”

Gabriel dropped his gaze, unable to meet Galland’s unrelenting stare. The shame of his truth pressed down on him, an unbearable weight. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms, and forced himself to speak. “I can’t say,” he murmured, the words barely audible, as though saying them aloud might break something irreparable.

Galland’s chair scraped against the stone floor as he moved, his boots heavy with purpose. He came around the desk in a measured stride, his commanding presence filling the room. Gabriel felt the tension in the air spike as Galland stopped before him, placing a firm, almost crushing hand on his shoulder.

“Tell me,” Galland demanded, his voice low but unyielding, like the quiet rumble of a storm.

Gabriel shook his head, his shoulders sagging under the pressure of the command. “I can’t,” he said again, his voice thick with regret. “I swore an oath to the king, Galland. I swore I would never say. Only he… only he can reveal who I am.”

Galland’s hand remained on his shoulder, and for a moment, neither of them moved. The Commander’s disappointment was palpable, the silence heavy with unspoken words. Gabriel’s chest burned with guilt, His heart sinking. If Galland knew who he truly was, he would never respect him, never look at him the same way again.

Gabriel reached out, clutching the pouch Galland had given him. Slowly, he slid it back across the desk. “I know you wouldn’t want me to have this anymore,” he whispered, his eyes downcast, his voice thick with shame.

Galland picked up the pouch, studying it for a long moment before speaking. “Is Orion even your name?”

Gabriel was silent, the pause stretching painfully between them. Finally, he shook his head. “No.”

The single word hung in the air, dense and irrevocable. It was as though a chasm had opened between them, one that Gabriel feared could never be bridged.

“And you’ve lied to everyone?” Galland’s voice was quiet. “The teachers at the academy. Even your friends?”

Gabriel nodded, his voice barely audible. “Yes.”

“Was it worth it?”

Gabriel lifted his gaze, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “It was the only way,” he whispered, his words trembling with emotion.

Galland let out a long breath, sinking back into his chair. His shoulders slumped, the weight of their conversation dragging him down. In that moment, he didn’t look like the indomitable commander Gabriel had always admired. He looked… tired. Gabriel hated seeing him like this, hated knowing that he was the cause.

Then, to Gabriel’s surprise, Galland picked up the pouch and pushed it back across the table toward him. “I’ll talk to the king,” he said firmly.

Gabriel’s eyes widened in confusion. “What?” he breathed, the word barely forming. He stared at the pouch, then at Galland, whose face revealed nothing—no anger, no betrayal, only calm resolve.

Galland nudged the pouch forward again, his gesture leaving no room for argument. Slowly, hesitantly, Gabriel reached for it, his hand trembling. As his fingers closed around the soft leather, he clutched it tightly to his chest, as though it were a lifeline—a lone raft in a vast, unrelenting ocean. In that moment, it felt like the only solid thing tethering him to the world, grounding him amidst the chaos.

His gaze searched Galland’s, silently asking what couldn’t be put into words.

Galland held his stare, then inclined his head toward the door. The gesture was simple.

Gabriel swallowed hard and nodded, understanding the unspoken dismissal. He rose from his seat, his movements stiff and reluctant. “I’m sorry, Galland,” he said, his voice cracking. “I never wanted to lie to you.”

Galland didn’t respond. He was already studying the map on his desk, his expression unreadable, his focus fixed elsewhere. It was as though Gabriel was already gone from the room.

Gabriel’s chest tightened at the lack of acknowledgment. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, his voice breaking as he turned and walked toward the door, feeling the fragile ground beneath him beginning to crack.