One month had passed, and Lucian’s training had been progressing steadily. However, today was different.

King Karl and Queen Elsa arrived at the training grounds for an inspection. Their presence alone made the air tense. The knights stood straighter, swords gripped tightly as they demonstrated their discipline. Karl observed them in silence, his sharp gaze scanning the field, searching for flaws. Elsa stood beside him, her hands clasped, wearing a faint smile as she admired the progress of the trainees.

Satisfied, Karl turned to leave.

But then—

“Commander! Commander! I’ve completed the task you assigned me!”

The voice rang across the field like a crack in the air.

Karl halted. The knights around him stiffened. Elsa’s smile disappeared.

Slowly, they turned toward the source of the voice.

Lucian.

He stood at the far end of the training ground, panting slightly, his face bright with determination. But the moment he saw his father’s cold, piercing eyes, his breath caught in his throat. The glow of pride flickered and died instantly.

The entire training ground fell silent.

Karl’s expression darkened. His voice was quiet, but it carried through the silence like a knife.

“What is he doing here?”

The Commander swallowed hard. “Your Majesty, the Third Prince is merely following my instructions.”

Karl’s eyes narrowed into slits. “So, he is training here?”

“No, Your Majesty,” the Commander said quickly, his voice tense. “He only runs laps around the field.”

Karl scoffed. “Running laps? Does he think that will make him strong?” He stepped toward Lucian, his heavy boots crushing the dirt beneath them.

Lucian’s body instinctively tensed. The urge to step back, to shrink away, clawed at him, but he held his ground.

Karl stopped before him, towering like a stormcloud. “So, you want to become a knight?”

Lucian’s hands balled into fists at his sides. He wanted to answer, but his throat felt tight.

Karl’s voice was sharper this time. “I asked you a question.”

Lucian barely managed a whisper. “Y-Yeah.”

Karl smirked. “Then let’s test that.”

He turned, scanning the knights before pointing at a young trainee.

“You. Spar with him.”

The young trainee grinned—a cruel, knowing grin. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

The Commander stiffened. “Your Majesty, the Prince has never fought before. He will get hurt.”

Karl’s lips curled, eyes gleaming with something far colder than amusement. “That’s exactly what I want. He needs to learn his place.”

Lucian’s fingers trembled as a wooden sword was shoved into his hands. The weight was unfamiliar—heavier than he expected. The air felt thinner as he stepped into the training circle.

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The young trainee didn’t hesitate.

The first strike came hard and fast. Lucian barely raised his sword before the wooden blade slammed into his ribs. Pain exploded through his side. He staggered backwards, gasping.

The next blow struck his thigh. His legs buckled, but he caught himself.

Then came another. And another.

Wooden strikes landed against his arms, his legs, his back. The sound of impact filled the field, mixed with Lucian’s labored breathing.

The watching knights looked away, their jaws clenched. No one moved to stop it.

Karl watched, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

Lucian tried to raise his sword again, but his arms wouldn’t obey him. They felt heavy. Weak. His entire body throbbed, and his vision blurred. He could barely breathe.

One last strike—straight to his head.

A loud crack.

Lucian collapsed.

Blood dripped from his forehead, staining the dirt beneath him. His wooden sword lay inches from his fingertips. The world swam.

Above him, Karl’s shadow loomed.

He crouched down, voice low and cruel. “Well done,” he said—not to Lucian, but to the young trainee. “This is the kind of strength I expect from my knights.”

Lucian barely registered the scattered murmurs of “Congratulations.”

A ringing sound filled his ears.

The world blurred. His limbs felt like they weren’t his own.

His father’s voice cut through the haze.

“Did you really think you could become a knight?” Karl’s tone was edged with disgust. “Know your place, boy. Don’t ever do anything that catches my attention again.”

Karl straightened, already turning away. To him, the moment was over. Lucian wasn’t even worth another glance.

Lucian’s vision wavered, but his hand twitched.

He reached out.

His fingers trembled toward the figure of his mother.

“M-Mother…”

Elsa had been silent the entire time. Frozen in place, her breath shallow.

Her fingers twitched as if she wanted to reach out. Wanted to stop this. Wanted to help him.

Lucian’s eyes—dazed, unfocused, pleading—met hers.

His fingers stretched toward her, his entire body screaming for her to save him.

She hesitated.

A war raged in her eyes.

But then Karl turned to her. His expression was calm, unreadable. But it carried an unspoken command.

Elsa’s lips parted. Her chest rose and fell quickly.

Then—she turned away.

Lucian’s fingers fell limply to the ground.

His throat tightened. His chest ached—not from the beating, but from something deeper.

It hurt more than the strikes. More than the bruises.

She left him.

She didn’t look back.

Lucian closed his eyes.

And for the first time, he truly understood.

He had no family.

He had never had one.

And no one—not his father, not his mother, not anyone—was coming to save him.

The Commander quickly lifted Lucian and carried him to the southern palace.

Chloe saw them through the window and ran to them. When she saw Lucian’s injuries, she gasped. “How could he do this to his son? And the Queen—she just stood there and did nothing?”

Alex rushed in. “Chloe, we need to stop the bleeding first.”

The Commander nodded. “Call the royal physician.”

Chloe’s face darkened. “He won’t come.”

“Why?” the Commander asked.

“Because it’s the King’s order.”

Alex clenched his fists. “Chloe, take this medicine and wipe away the blood. I’ll find another way.”

Sometime later, Alex returned with a doctor from the town.

Chloe gasped. “Where did you find him?”

“The town,” Alex replied. “Doctor, please, help him.”

The doctor examined Lucian. “His condition is serious. Fetch these herbs immediately.”

Chloe bit her lip. “We don’t have money for herbs.”

Alex reassured her, “I’ll find a way.”

Shortly after, Alex returned with the herbs. The Commander followed.

Alex handed over the herbs. “The Commander gave me the money.”

Chloe looked at the Commander. “Thank you.”

The doctor treated Lucian’s wounds and bandaged him. “Now, we wait for him to wake up.”

Lucian remained unconscious for three days. When he finally woke, Chloe rushed to him. “Prince, you’re awake! Oh, thank God! Are you in pain?”

Lucian didn’t respond. He simply looked at her and turned away.

Chloe was worried but didn’t push him. She brought food, but Lucian ate in silence and returned to bed.

Outside his room, she confided in Alex. “He hasn’t spoken a word. He’s in shock.”

Lucian overheard them and silently wept, remembering all the suffering he had endured. That night, he called Chloe and said, “Don’t disturb me for a week.”

Chloe protested, but Lucian shut his door.

The Commander intervened. “Let him be.”

For a week, Lucian relived his torment in silence. When he finally emerged, Chloe rushed to him. “Prince, are you okay?”

Lucian gave a small smile. “I’m fine.”

Chloe leaned in and whispered to Alex, “He’s changed. I’ve served him for the last ten years… He’s not the Lucian we once knew.”

Alex furrowed his brows. “What are you saying, Chloe? How is that possible?”

Hearing their conversation, the Commander’s expression grew serious. A sense of caution settled in.

Meanwhile, Lucian, now healed from his injuries, trained in secret within his room. Chloe noticed but never questioned him, nor did she tell anyone about it.