The Satoru family mansion, once filled with laughter and the lively echoes of its inhabitants, now stood eerily quiet. The grand hallways, once bustling with activity, were now cold and desolate, reflecting the sorrow that had settled within its walls. The air was thick with the weight of loss, and every corner of the mansion seemed to mourn the absence of its youngest member.

Inside the lord’s study, the heavy silence was broken only by the sound of Tanaka’s footsteps as he entered the room. Tanaka, dressed in his usual butler attire—a formal black tailcoat with a white shirt, black trousers, and polished shoes—moved with a sense of purpose yet trepidation. His face, usually calm and composed, was marred with a deep sadness that he couldn’t hide.

Lord Ryuu Satoru stood by the large window, gazing out at the empty courtyard beyond. His white hair, a stark contrast to the dark mood that hung over him, shimmered faintly in the dim light. His emerald eyes, once vibrant, now held a shadow of pain and anger. He was dressed in a simple yet elegant black robe, befitting his noble status, but the choice of color mirrored his grief. The robe, made of fine silk, was adorned with minimal embroidery, a sign of his subdued state.

Noticing Tanaka’s presence, Ryuu spoke without turning, his voice cold and distant. “Have you found any evidence?”

Tanaka, standing a few feet away, lowered his head slightly, his eyes reflecting the weight of his answer. “No, my lord,” he replied quietly, the sadness in his tone unmistakable.

Ryuu’s grip on the window’s ledge tightened as he asked, “And what is the king doing about it?”

“The king has not said anything, my lord,” Tanaka responded, his voice laced with frustration and sorrow.

Slowly, Ryuu turned to face Tanaka, his expression hard and unforgiving. The anger in his emerald eyes burned intensely as he walked over to his desk and sat down, the chair creaking under the weight of his fury. Tanaka, sensing the tension, stood warily, unsure of what his lord would do next.

After a moment of tense silence, Ryuu adjusted himself in his seat and asked, “Where is the Second Prince now?”

Tanaka answered promptly, “The Second Prince is currently in the imperial kingdom, my lord.”

Ryuu listened carefully, then nodded slowly. “We need to speed up the process. After two days, all knights are to resume their training.” His voice was commanding, leaving no room for dissent.

“Yes, my lord,” Tanaka replied obediently, though he hesitated before adding, “My lord, I don’t think the young mast—”

Ryuu’s hand slammed onto the desk, cutting Tanaka off mid-sentence. “I don’t want to hear it!” he growled, his voice echoing through the room with the force of his anger.

Tanaka flinched slightly at the outburst but quickly recovered, bowing his head in submission. “Yes, my lord,” he whispered before turning to leave the room.

As the door closed behind Tanaka, Ryuu let out a weary sigh, rubbing his forehead in frustration. “The king is testing my patience,” he muttered to himself, his thoughts racing. Then, almost as if speaking to someone not present, he added, “What are you doing, old man?”

Meanwhile, in another part of the mansion, Lady Luna Satoru sat at her desk in her private chambers. Her blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders in soft waves, and her blue eyes, usually so full of life, were now distant as she stared into the mirror before her. She was dressed in an elegant yet simple pale blue gown that matched the color of her eyes, the fabric flowing gracefully around her as she sat. The gown was modestly adorned with delicate lace around the neckline and sleeves, giving it a touch of nobility without being ostentatious.

Beside her, Sylvie stood quietly, her hands folded in front of her. The maid, with her jet-black hair tied back neatly, and her dark eyes filled with concern, wore her usual uniform—a crisp black dress with a white apron and a small lace cap perched on her head. She watched her lady with a worried expression, noticing the smile on Luna’s face that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“My lady,” Sylvie began softly, her voice gentle but insistent, “if you wouldn’t mind, please, when are you going to start eating?”

Luna’s gaze remained fixed on the mirror as she continued to comb her hair, her movements slow and methodical. “Not yet, Sylvie,” she replied with a smile, though it was clear that her heart wasn’t in it.

Turning slightly, Luna looked at Sylvie with that same distant smile. “You shouldn’t worry about me. I’m fine,” she assured her maid, though her tone was almost too light, too carefree, to be believed.

Sylvie wasn’t convinced, but she nodded anyway, sensing that there was little she could do to change her lady’s mind. “Okay, my lady,” she said softly, though the worry in her eyes remained as Luna turned her back to the mirror once more.

In the grand halls of the imperial castle, the Second Prince, Lemillion, made his way with a confident stride. His striking blonde hair shimmered under the soft glow of the chandeliers, and his piercing green eyes were alight with a mix of anticipation and pride. Lemillion was dressed in a regal ensemble, his royal blue coat embroidered with gold threads that glimmered as he walked. The collar of his coat was high and adorned with silver clasps, and his boots, polished to perfection, echoed lightly against the marble floor.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

As Lemillion walked through the halls, the maids, busy with their daily tasks, paused to bow and greet him. He smiled and waved at them with practiced charm, a gesture that sent them into quiet whispers as they continued their work. "The Second Prince is always so kind," one maid murmured to another, "unlike the First Prince, who barely acknowledges us." Another nodded in agreement, casting a shy glance back at Lemillion as he continued on his way.

Approaching the door to his father's study, Lemillion noticed Cedric standing outside, waiting. Cedric, dressed in the attire of a wealthy merchant, wore a dark green velvet coat with silver embroidery, and a wide-brimmed hat rested under his arm. His expression was stoic as he greeted the prince.

"Your father has been waiting patiently for you, Your Highness," Cedric said, his tone flat and devoid of any warmth.

Lemillion smiled at him, though the gesture didn't reach his eyes. "Thank you, Cedric," he replied as Cedric opened the door to the study.

Inside, the king sat with an air of authority, his powerful frame hunched slightly over the desk as he read through a letter. The king's red hair, now streaked with strands of silver, was neatly combed back, and his yellow eyes gleamed with intensity as he scanned the words before him. He wore a deep crimson robe lined with fur, a symbol of his status and power. Without looking up, the king spoke, his voice commanding.

"Take a seat," the king ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Lemillion obeyed, sitting down as the door closed behind him. The silence in the room was thick, tension hanging in the air. Breaking the silence, Lemillion spoke first, his voice carefully neutral. "I hope you have been well, Father."

The king, dropping the letter onto the desk, fixed his gaze on his son. "Lemillion," he began, his voice carrying the weight of his authority, "why did you do it?"

Lemillion's smile faltered slightly, but he quickly recovered, feigning ignorance. "I'm not sure what you mean, Father."

The king's lips curled into a smirk, but there was no humor in it. "You are a bright child, Lemillion, and I know you are trying to prove yourself worthy of the throne. But why did you have to touch the Satoru family?"

Lemillion maintained his calm exterior, though there was a subtle shift in his posture. "I don't know what you're talking about," he replied, his voice smooth, but the king's patience had worn thin.

With a surge of mana, the king's presence filled the room, his power pressing down on Lemillion with an almost physical force. The air grew heavy, and Lemillion found himself struggling to breathe as the king's mana wrapped around his throat, choking him. "Boy," the king growled, his voice low and dangerous, "will you speak to me with honesty?"

Lemillion, gasping for breath, finally relented. "I did it for the kingdom," he choked out.

The king released his hold, and the oppressive mana receded. "Do you know why I gave Duke Ryuu his title?" the king asked, his voice now calm but no less intimidating.

Lemillion, still catching his breath, answered, "Because you saw worth in him."

The king nodded, his expression stern. "Then why did you touch him? Why provoke the Satoru family?"

Lemillion, still recovering from the suffocating pressure, tried to justify his actions. "If I hadn't done it, we wouldn't know when they might try to dethrone you. I'm doing you a favor, Father. I even destroyed the Reaper, the one said to be the strongest in the world."

The king regarded his son with a mix of pity and disappointment. "Do you think one explosion can kill him?"

Lemillion remained silent, sweat beading on his forehead. The king's gaze was piercing, and his voice was heavy with foreboding. "You have already awoken a sleeping beast. The Reaper is not only strong but also cunning. There were no remains found at the scene, were there?"

Lemillion's silence spoke volumes, and the king shook his head. "You are smart, my son, but you are not wise. There will come a time when even I will not be able to restrain the beast you have awoken."

The king stood up, his eyes distant as he stared at the paintings that adorned the walls of his study. "You are no longer fit to remain here," he said, his voice final. "Prepare your things. You will be sent to the neighboring kingdom. Prove your worth there if you can, but know this: you will not be given the right to the throne unless you do."

Lemillion shot up from his seat, his voice tinged with desperation. "Father, how can you do this?"

The king didn't turn to face him. "It is the best I can do for you. This is not a punishment; it is a test."

Furious and hurt, Lemillion stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Cedric, who had been waiting outside, entered the study after a moment of silence.

The king, still facing the paintings, asked quietly, "Did I do the right thing, Cedric?"

Cedric, ever the loyal advisor, bowed his head. "Yes, Your Majesty. It's the only way to keep your son safe and to ensure that Duke Ryuu does not seek retribution."

The king nodded, though there was a sadness in his eyes. "We need to search for the Reaper," he said, his voice firm once more.

Cedric hesitated. "Your Majesty, it is unlikely that anyone could have survived that explosion."

The king turned to Cedric, his gaze intense. "The Reaper has destroyed an entire kingdom before. Not even an army of millions could stop him, with mages included. One explosion will not be enough to kill him. Find them—both the Reaper and Duke Ryuu's son. I don't care how long it takes. Just find them and report back to me."

Cedric bowed deeply. "As you command, Your Majesty."

As Cedric left the room, the king was left alone with his thoughts. He stared at the door through which his son had just exited, a heavy weight settling in his chest. "Once they are found," the king murmured to himself, "I will have to end it."

In a bustling kingdom where humans and beastmen live in harmony, the streets are alive with activity. Merchants shout out their wares, their colorful stalls brimming with fresh produce, exotic spices, and finely crafted goods. Blacksmiths hammer away at their anvils, the sound of metal clanging echoing through the air as they shape weapons and tools with precision. The scent of freshly baked bread wafts from nearby bakeries, mingling with the aroma of roasted meats being sold by street vendors. Children weave through the crowds, playing games of tag, while adults haggle over prices, their voices rising above the general din.

Amidst the lively scene, a small girl in tattered rags dashes through the crowded streets, clutching a loaf of bread tightly to her chest. Her brown hair is tousled, and her black eyes dart nervously as she weaves between people, trying to avoid the notice of the market guards. Her heart races as she runs, the precious bread her only prize after a long day of hunger.

But as she rounds a corner, she suddenly collides with someone, the impact sending her sprawling to the ground. She gasps in surprise, the bread slipping from her grasp. Looking up, she sees a boy her age standing before her. He, too, is dressed in simple, worn clothes, though they are in slightly better condition than hers. His black hair is a little messy, and his black eyes gaze at her with a mixture of surprise and curiosity.

For a moment, the two children stare at each other in stunned silence, the busy world around them seeming to fade away. The girl’s mind races, trying to make sense of the situation.