"Hm," Van hummed thoughtfully.

"What is it?" Amoria asked, glancing at him.

"Nothing... Just curious." His gaze drifted upward as he murmured,

'I never realized he was so lonely it drove him to this...' Van reflected. 'And those times I suggested adding more girls to the party and he refused... Was that the reason?' He lowered his gaze, a somber look settling over him.

'But... Then...' His thoughts drifted to Millina—and how shattered Magus had been after her death 4 and a half years into their journey. So broken that he lowered his guard and ended up with Amoria accidentally.

'Then... Why?' Van wondered, 'Was Millina really that special to you? Was she different from everyone? How...?'

"Van?" Amoria's voice broke through, pulling him back from his thoughts.

"Ah, yeah, just got a frog in my throat," Van said, clearing his throat before continuing.

"You'd think the capital would want tighter control over us, given our prowess. The king, queen, and their closest nobility knew about my skills—and his—after all. And Magus was using his powers to manipulate key figures, with enough potential to topple the kingdom..."

He trailed off before adding, "Why weren't Magus and I branded with slave marks? Wouldn't that have been the easiest way to keep us from stepping out of line? Salem Dyke—the... former Shadow Lord—actually tried that on me."

"... Well, long long before you two, another hero was summoned," Amoria began. "The previous king and the Shadow Lord—the head of the investigations department—thought the same and branded him with a slave mark to keep him in check."

Her voice lowered slightly. "But the moment they did, the royal family began falling ill, one by one. Then, the head of investigations' family followed. It only affected those who agreed to the branding. Yet the king, desperate for control, dismissed it as mere bad luck, stubbornly ignoring the Holy Church's warnings. Even without a vision or revelation, they knew this was a clear act of disrespect toward the Goddess. But the king—driven by his hunger for power—refused to relent, insisting the slave mark remain on the hero."

She paused, her tone darkening. "And then famine and plague swept through the entire kingdom, nearly wiping everyone out—except those who weren't human. Only after that did the head priest of the Holy Church receive a vivid dream. In it, the Goddess held him in chains, warning them not to test her again."

Her voice wavered slightly as she finished. "The mark had to be removed."

"Only after all that, huh...?" Van remarked dryly.

"Yes..." Amoria murmured reluctantly. "Only after they relented and unsealed him did the kingdom recover. Prosperity and health returned soon enough."

Van tilted his head, a thoughtful glint in his eyes. "... So she can just wipe out humanity whenever she pleases? Just like that?"

"That... is one way to look at it," Amoria admitted cautiously. "But if you serve her, if you pray to her, she will keep you safe. What happened before was divine punishment—for defying her and defiling her champion." She took a deep breath, her shoulders loosening, "So, the current king knows better than to ever try something like that again."

"And what about me?" Van asked, his tone teetering between mockery and knowing, one brow arched as he fixed his gaze on her. "I was summoned too, wasn't I? Sure, I get it—maybe they held back on branding me out of fear of divine punishment or whatever. But what about a few days ago, when Salem Dyke gave it a try? Or better yet... what about those knights and their... training methods?"

Amoria exhaled slowly, carefully choosing her words. "M-maybe... she thought your experience was necessary..." she murmured, her gaze dropping, the words not quite meeting her eyes.

Van let out a soft, mocking scoff.

"As for Salem... perhaps he realiz—..believed, that the Goddess didn't care about you," she continued quietly, her voice faltering as she struggled to meet his eyes.

Van chuckled, low and dark. "Ah, Amoria. I know you like to believe everything happens for a reason, or that she has some grand plan for me. But let's not pretend our sweet, loving Goddess gives a damn about me."

He leaned back slightly, his gaze sharp and unwavering. "You've already told me how she's more than happy to mock me through Magus. I was lucky they didn't brand me as a slave. But let's be real—if they had, she wouldn't have batted an eye."

"And yet..." She swallowed hard. "She brought you here, right when we needed saving the most... and now, here we are, talking over tea." Her voice trailed off, a mixture of hope and hesitation clinging to her words.

Van's expression shifted in an instant, his gaze darkening as he leaned forward. "Let me make this very clear, Amoria," he said, his tone low but sharp as a knife. Her eyes widened in surprise at the sudden change in his demeanor.

"No one—not a single person—brought me here. I brought myself."

His words cut through the air like a blade. "That bitch of a Goddess doesn't control what I do. Not what happens to me. Not a single thing in my life. You want more proof? My Dark Soul passive. She can't TOUCH ME... And she never will."

"Do not... speak of her like that," Amoria whispered, her voice tight with distress.

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"Or what?" Van growled, his gaze unwavering.

"... Please," she murmured, her voice trembling. "At least... not with me." Her words were barely a whisper as her fingers curled tightly into the fabric of her gown, bunching it over her thighs.

A beat of silence lingered between them.

"... Fine," Van muttered, leaning back, his glare softening ever so slightly.

'If I didn't know any better... Rather than a protective deity...' Van thought as he relaxed, eyeing the now-timid Amoria. 'She's more like a prison guard, that Goddess,' he mused, picturing heavy steel chains coiled around Amoria's neck, limbs, and even her tongue.

"... Continue," Van murmured calmly.

Amoria took a slow, steadying breath, her fingers gradually loosening their grip on the fabric of her gown. "Magus got what he wanted—an audience with the king and, more importantly, the queen. It's customary for both to be present at such meetings. But, as I mentioned, they knew of his powers. They were prepared. Magus was caught off guard when he realized the queen's throne was empty."

"Fortunately, the request wasn't something the king considered threatening or condescending, so he approved it—and allowed him to meet you."

'Fortunately, she says...'

"The king needed Magus. And he needed him satisfied—careful not to offend the Goddess. So, while the king frowned upon Magus's probable influence over the headmistress that recommended him to have an audience, the meeting proceeded without incident. The king decided to give you two the chance to meet from time to time."

Van fell silent, lost in thought.

"Tell me... How did that recess go?" he asked finally, his voice low but deliberate.

"... I'm sorry?" Amoria tilted her head, confusion flickering in her eyes.

"I only know what I saw from where I stood, only what I heard from him, and what we talked about that day." Van's gaze remained steady. "I want to know how it was... for him."

His expression softened slightly as he added, "I want to understand."

"There isn't much to understand, Van," Amoria said softly.

"..."

"He was lonely," she continued gently. "Every woman he met felt one-dimensional to him, like an object. And every man despised him—for his influence in general and, especially, over women. Magus grew tired of it. His mind was deteriorating, and he saw no way out. That day, he wanted to tell you everything—how the weight of it all was crushing him."

She looked into Van's eyes, her voice quiet but unwavering. "But then he saw the weariness in your gaze... the slump in your shoulders as you came out to meet him... how you could barely lift your eyes to his. And he decided not to burden you with it... He'd... Instead, talk about how..."

Van gave a knowing chuckle, gently continuing where she left off. "He'd tell me how good he was doing. And talk about how he got together with that elven professor like it happened just yesterday... Constantly checking if everything was okay with me... And I'd keep my mouth shut about my so-called 'training.' for the next 2 years."

His expression twisted slightly at the memory. "Until two years later.—when he finally went to the queen and got the fifty knights who were involved fired the next day. Nickelson? All he got was a slap on the wrist."

Amoria gave a slow, solemn nod. "... Yes." She looked away, her voice trailing off.

Van's eyes narrowed, a sudden twitch betraying his confusion. "Wait... How did he get to the queen? I thought they were keeping her away from him."

Amoria sighed. "Van, three years is a long time. The only time Magus could truly be himself was with you. The rest of the time... his mind just kept deteriorating, further and further."

Her voice grew heavier, dark with emotion. "You were all he had. And when he realized you'd been suffering in silence all along..."

Van remained still, waiting for her to finish.

"He wasn't just enraged," Amoria whispered.

"He was pushed over the edge."

Her expression darkened as she began to explain.

=================

Magus couldn't help himself. He figured, if it was a man, it was by default an enemy. He slipped through the castle walls like a shadow, killing the guards that crossed his path without hesitation. It was the first time he had ever killed someone directly... but by then, it barely mattered.

That night, he reached Her Majesty's personal chambers.

Magus knelt beside the queen's sleeping form, leaning close to her ear, whispering her awake with soft words as his hand drifted over her body. She stirred—but rather than panic, her mind went blank. Her body responded instinctively, arms wrapping around him as if embracing a long-lost lover.

What followed was an intimate encounter—no words exchanged, only whispers, touches... Everything that would cause the Queen's emotions, and loyalty to her husband to sway and break. And when it ended, Magus slumped by her bed, his expression hidden from view, his back to her.

"My..." she whispered, clutching her bare chest at the sight of him. [Godly Innocence] had taken hold of her heart. She reached out, holding him gently from behind, as a mother would hold her son as he's distress... As a lover would hold her beloved to understand, "Hero Magus, isn't it...? I feel your pain. Please... share it with me."

Magus sat still, his head lowered, his face hidden from the queen.

"No... You're just saying that," he whispered, his voice trailing off.

He knew what to say to dig into her guilt. To trigger that motherly instinct, to make her prod and insist further.

"It's all just my skills..." he rasped, his voice tight, trembling. "You don't really care about me. Not for what I am. You just..." He sniffled, hiding his face further, his body shaking as though on the verge of collapse.

"... No one understands me," he whispered through clenched teeth, his voice cracking. "Nobody truly loves me..."

The queen's heart clenched at the sight of his despair, her chest tightening with sympathy. "No... You can't think that!" she whispered, pulling him closer as she stroked his hair. "You are worthy of love. And if no one else will love you... then I shall. I'll take that place. You won't have to suffer alone ever again."

She pressed her hand gently to the back of his head, cradling him as she whispered, "Skills or no skills... I can feel it. I know I can love you with all my heart...! You mustn't give up..!!"

Magus's eyes opened slowly, unseen by the queen.

He stared at her hand—and in his mind, it became the velvet arms of a doll, wrapped around his body. From the doll's fingertips, strings dug deep into his flesh, weaving through his bones, pulling tight.

'Finally,' he thought with a hollow sneer, 'She'll be the greatest doll yet.'

He raised his gaze, slowly turning his attention to the chamber door beyond the bed—his thoughts drifting to the king.

'She manages the finances... gives you advice... That's what I learned from the maids. You handle the kingdom's external and internal affairs... Which means...'

His glare hardened, his heart thudding steadily, each beat like a hammer against his ribs, slow but heavy. His blood simmered, the rage swelling within him, bubbling just beneath the surface; his eyes widening so hard, his eyelids were on the verge of ripping.

'You knew about Van's torment, didn't you, oh-great-King?'

The memory of Van's broken voice filled his mind—those heart-wrenching cries, the confessions of everything he had endured. Each word scraped across Magus's soul like jagged glass.

'You motherfucker...' His jaw tightened, teeth grinding with a slow, deliberate pressure as his palm pressed against hers. 'I'll make you regret you weren't swallowed as a sperm cell... you worthless shitstain...'

The fury within him burned hotter. And Magus, cradled in the queen's arms, let the venomous thought fester:

'I will make you pay for it all.'

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