Kyle’s posture shifted. His body straightened as he lifted his head, scanning the audience with piercing eyes.

A sudden, eerie silence fell over the arena.

One by one, the spectators’ laughter faded as they locked eyes with him. A chill ran down their spines.

Fear.

Something had changed.

And for the first time, they weren’t sure if Kyle was someone they could laugh at anymore.

Novel noticed a sudden change in Kyle’s demeanor—his posture, gaze, and entire presence felt different.

Concerned, he asked, “Are you okay? If you're injured, we can stop the match here.”

Kyle, now exuding an air of cold determination, locked eyes with Novel and replied, “Let’s continue.”

The examiner hesitated but, seeing Kyle’s unwavering resolve, signaled for the match to resume.

This time, Kyle launched an unrelenting assault, moving with a speed and precision that left Novel struggling to react. The audience held their breath as the battle intensified—each strike, dodge, and counterattack was executed with growing ferocity.

At first, they seemed evenly matched, but gradually, Kyle’s relentless offence forced Novel backwards. The arena trembled under the weight of their duel, and the tension in the air became palpable.

Then, in a split second, Novel's foot caught on a crooked stone. He stumbled, his balance faltering. Instinctively, he swung his sword to steady himself, but the blade sliced through the cloth, concealing Kyle’s face.

Kyle barely noticed—his focus remained solely on victory. He pressed forward, his sword poised for the finishing blow.

Suddenly, a voice rang through the arena.

“Your Highness, the Third Prince!”

Time seemed to freeze.

Kyle’s blade hovered just inches from Novel’s throat, his expression unchanging. The voice belonged to Chloe—his nanny.

Gasps rippled through the crowd as all eyes turned toward Kyle. The cloth that had hidden his identity had fallen, revealing the unmistakable golden hair and piercing blue eyes—features identical to the King’s.

A stunned silence engulfed the arena.

Novel stared at him in shock. His younger brother—the one he had not seen in years—stood before him, no longer a nameless competitor but a lost prince returned.

Kyle—no, Lucian—tilted his head slightly. “Well? Are you conceding?”

Novel swallowed hard, then let out a deep breath. “Yes… I lost.”

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The moment his words left his lips, the crowd erupted in cheers.

“The Third Prince! Long live the Third Prince!”

Karl watched from the royal stands, his expression unreadable. He knew it was too late now—whether he accepted it or not, the people had already embraced Lucian as their rightful prince.

And the kingdom would never be the same again.

News of the Third Prince’s victory at the Knight Exam spread like wildfire across the kingdom. The people couldn’t stop talking about it.

“The kingdom is truly blessed! We now have not one but two extraordinary knights. The future of our army is in strong hands!”

“Yes! The First and Third Prince—what a force they will be!”

Even the nobles, who once dismissed Lucian’s existence, were now murmuring amongst themselves.

Meanwhile, within the grand halls of the palace, the ministers gathered in hushed conversations.

“Are we truly talking about him?” one minister whispered cautiously. “The Third Prince? The very same prince the King despises?”

Another minister glanced around warily. “Yes, but keep your voice down. If His Majesty hears us speaking his name, his wrath will be upon us.”

Despite their caution, the entire palace was abuzz with the same topic. The Third Prince had returned—not as a forgotten shadow, but as a warrior of undeniable strength.

In the Queen’s chamber, Elsa noticed the subdued whispers among the maids.

“What are you all murmuring about?” she asked, her voice calm but firm.

The maids hesitated. One of them finally spoke, “Your Majesty… it’s about…”

Elsa raised an eyebrow. “Why did you stop? Speak.”

Before the maid could respond, the door opened, and Novel and Ersia stepped inside.

Novel took a deep breath before speaking. “Lucian, Mother. It was Lucian who won the Knight Exam.”

Elsa’s body stiffened. Her breath hitched. Lucian. The name she had not heard spoken so openly in years. The son she had lost—not to death, but to cruelty and choice.

Novel’s voice softened, but there was a demand for truth in his tone. “Mother… why is Lucian not with us? Why weren’t we allowed to see him? What happened when I was gone?”

Elsa’s lips parted, but no words came. The memories surged back—the night she was forced to make an impossible choice. The look in Lucian’s eyes when he realized he had been abandoned. His tiny hands reached out for her as the doors to the Southern Palace closed forever.

Tears welled in her eyes before she could stop them.

Novel and Ersia stared in shock. They had never seen their mother cry.

Ersia rushed to Elsa’s side, panicked. “Mother, what’s wrong?! Why are you crying?”

Elsa clutched Ersia tightly in her arms, holding her as if she were afraid to let go. “It’s nothing, my love,” she whispered. “Nothing at all.”

But Novel knew better. He clenched his fists. His mother’s tears were not for the present. They were for the past—for the brother they had lost.

And for the first time, Novel truly understood.

Lucian had never left them.

They had left Lucian.

After the fierce battle between Novel and Lucian, the kingdom found itself divided. Some remained loyal to Novel, believing he was the rightful heir and future ruler. Others, having witnessed Lucian’s incredible swordsmanship, started to wonder if the Third Prince was the true warrior the kingdom needed.

But as admiration for Lucian grew, so did the whispers about his dark past. The truth of his mistreatment within the palace spread like wildfire. The very knights and maids who had once mocked and ignored him now feared him. Some even avoided the corridors where he walked, afraid of what he might do to those who had wronged him.

Karl, seated in his study, read the endless reports flooding in. Lucian’s name was everywhere. The kingdom was no longer speaking of the First Prince alone—they were comparing him with a boy Karl had spent years trying to erase.

The Emperor sighed, gripping the armrest of his chair. “This is only the beginning,” he muttered. He knew Lucian’s name would only continue to grow, and soon, it would be impossible to contain.