The summons arrived like a blade at my throat.
By the third dawn after the banquet, I found myself standing before the obsidian gates of the Royal Citadel. Towers of black stone loomed like fangs against the crimson sky, their banners snapping in the wind. Rows of armored guards lined the causeway, spears glinting with an aura that screamed don't even think about running.
My knees wanted to give out before I even stepped inside.
Grack, of course, was grinning like he owned the place. "Magnificent, eh? Director, you walk like a lion to the slaughter."
"Don't you mean lamb?" I muttered.
Lira, walking at my other side, didn't glance at me. Her crimson eyes were sharp, scanning every detail of the citadel. "Don't falter now, Rayan. If you look weak here, you'll be eaten alive before the council even begins."
Easy for her to say. She didn't have the Chaos Ledger weighing down her soul like a ticking bomb.
The grand hall swallowed us whole. Pillars carved with demonic runes rose to a ceiling lost in shadow. At the far end, a vast round table gleamed like polished obsidian, ringed with thrones—each one already occupied.
The royal family. The princes. The princesses. High nobles whose power radiated like fire.
And at the head of the chamber, shrouded by darkness, sat a massive throne draped in crimson banners. It was empty, but the presence it carried was enough to make my skin crawl.
The Demon King himself was absent. But even his absence felt heavier than most beings' presence.
Trumpets blared. A herald stepped forward.
"Director Rayan Arvale, Head of the Twelfth Directorate, bearer of Balance, the Mad Gambler!"
The titles rang out like thunder. My stomach turned.
I forced my legs to move, each step echoing too loud in the silence. I swore the nobles' eyes could cut me to ribbons.
Finally, I reached my seat—an obsidian chair marked with my Directorate's crest. Sitting down felt like being shackled.
Across the table, Prince Kairoth's golden gaze burned into me. He smiled faintly, like a man watching a piece on a chessboard he'd just moved.
The council began.
"Brothers and sisters," Kairoth's voice rolled through the chamber like distant thunder, "our realm stands at the edge of change. Father's silence grows heavier. The succession must be discussed."
The words hit me like a brick. Succession? Discussed? In front of me?
I wasn't ready for this. I wanted to vanish.
The other royals exchanged sharp glances. Some smirked, others frowned. A princess with onyx hair and frost-white eyes sneered at me like I was dirt under her boot.
And then, one noble scoffed openly.
"Why is the new Director here? A child with a human face, barely blooded. Should we let clowns sit at the table of kings now?"
The hall murmured with laughter. A dozen eyes turned toward me.
My palms sweated. My tongue glued itself to the roof of my mouth. I wanted to shrink, to disappear.
The Ledger pulsed.[ Reputation at Stake. Suggested Response: Silence + Cold Stare. ]
I swallowed. Slowly, I lifted my gaze and stared at the noble. Not speaking. Not blinking.
Seconds stretched. The air thickened. The noble shifted uncomfortably.
"Wh-what insolence," he stammered.
But the others didn't laugh anymore. They whispered instead.
"Silent Executioner…""He dares not even respond, as if the insult isn't worth words.""Only one confident in absolute power could act so."
My insides were jelly, but my outside was stone.
The Ledger flickered.[ Reputation Increased. Current Perception: "Unfathomable Strategist." ]
I nearly fainted from relief.
The debate raged.
Some royals argued over war with the northern clans. Others demanded harsher taxes on merchants. Proposals flew like daggers, alliances formed and broke within moments.
And all the while, my name kept surfacing.
"Director Arvale has spoken of balance. What does he think?""Director Arvale gambled his lifespan in battle—surely he understands sacrifice.""Director Arvale, what is your vision for the realm?"
Each time, I wanted to scream don't involve me. But the Ledger nudged me, and vague words tumbled from my lips.
"Every war is a gamble. The wise play their cards carefully.""Balance must be weighed not only in power, but in trust.""Those who burn too quickly often vanish first."
Every phrase was half nonsense, half desperation. But every time, the nobles nodded like students before a master.
Lira's lips twitched at my side, barely hiding her amusement.
Then came the knife.
A prince with silver horns leaned forward, his smile sharp as glass. "Tell us, Director Arvale. You speak of balance and gambles. But tell me this—whose side will you take, when the crown is contested? Prince Kairoth's? Mine? Or do you dare claim your own?"
The hall went still.
Eyes turned toward me like blades.
My chest locked. My brain screamed. I can't choose! If I pick one, the others will kill me! If I pick myself, they'll all kill me!
The Ledger glowed.[ Emergency Suggestion: Laugh. ]
I blinked. "Laugh?"
But my mouth obeyed before I could stop it. A low chuckle slipped out. Then another. Until it grew into a soft, steady laugh.
The hall froze.
They stared at me as though I had just declared war on the universe.
Kairoth's eyes gleamed, unreadable. The silver-horned prince frowned. The princess with frost eyes narrowed.
And then, slowly, one by one, they nodded.
"He dares laugh at the question itself…""As if sides mean nothing to him.""Balance. Of course. He will weigh us all, and decide when the time comes."
The Ledger pulsed.[ Current Perception: "Neutral Arbiter of Power." ]
I wanted to die right there.
The council dragged on for hours, but when it finally adjourned, I stumbled out of the hall drenched in sweat.
Grack clapped my back, nearly knocking me over. "Magnificent, Director! They'll sing of that laugh for generations!"
"I was going to faint!" I hissed.
Lira's smirk widened. "You don't realize it yet, Rayan. But you've just declared yourself as the one power no prince can ignore."
I froze mid-step. "I… did what?"
The Ledger flickered.[ Warning: You are now officially entangled in the Royal Succession Struggle. Escape chance: 0%. ]
I stared at the glowing words, heart sinking.
"Zero percent?"
The Ledger pulsed once more, almost smugly.[ Correction: Negative zero percent. ]
The council chamber had emptied, but its echoes lingered.
Even in silence, I could still hear their voices, their schemes threading around me like invisible chains. Every prince, every princess, every noble had walked out with one thought planted in their heads—Director Rayan Arvale, the man who cannot be read.
I wanted to vomit.
The Ledger pulsed, smug.[ Role Confirmed: "Neutral Arbiter." Current survival probability: 23%. ]
Twenty-three percent. Better than zero. But not nearly enough.
We were escorted to a side hall—a chamber of glass windows overlooking the Demon City. The sky glowed crimson, and below, streets bustled with merchants, soldiers, and shadows that never moved quite like normal.
Grack stretched lazily, as if we'd just left a tavern brawl instead of the most dangerous room in existence. "See? Nothing to fear, Director. You've already survived the deadliest trial of all: talking without saying anything."
I rubbed my face. "I was a second away from choking on my own tongue."
"You didn't choke," Lira said smoothly, her voice cool and sharp as glass. "That's what matters. Your silence unsettled them. Your laugh? It sealed the image."
"Image of what?" I groaned.
She turned to me, her crimson eyes glinting. "Of a demon who sees the world as a game of pieces. They think you're holding your cards close. That makes you dangerous."
I slumped against the window. Dangerous? I could barely keep myself alive.
Then the door creaked.
A figure stepped inside—a princess, her hair silver as moonlight, her horns delicately spiraled, her eyes pale as frost. The same one who had mocked me earlier.
The air dropped a few degrees as she walked closer, her steps silent but heavy with authority.
"Director Arvale," she said, her voice like cracking ice. "You intrigue me."
My spine stiffened. Intrigue was rarely a good thing in this world.
"I didn't—" I began, but her hand lifted, silencing me.
"You speak little. You laugh at death. You hide in plain sight. Some would call you weak, but I… I see calculation." Her gaze narrowed. "You will support me, won't you?"
The room froze.
Grack coughed. Lira tilted her head, lips twitching. I sat there, sweating.
The Ledger buzzed.[ Choice Detected:
Accept → Gain her protection. Lose neutrality.
Refuse → Risk immediate enmity.
Evade → Reputation gamble. ]
I swallowed. "I…"
The Ledger glowed again.[ Suggested Response: Evade with Paradox. ]
Paradox? What the hell did that mean?
But my mouth moved before I could stop it.
"My support is already yours, Princess," I said slowly, carefully, "in the same way it belongs to every contender—equally, and not at all."
Her eyes widened a fraction. Then narrowed. Then—she smiled. Cold. Frostbitten.
"You are clever," she whispered. "Clever men often die first."
She turned and glided out of the room. The temperature rose again.
I collapsed into my chair, gasping.
"Rayan," Grack said, shaking his head, "you either just made her your ally… or ensured she'll stab you in your sleep."
"Or both," Lira added softly, smirking.
Both. Definitely both.
The following days blurred into a nightmare of politics.
Letters arrived, sealed with wax. Invitations to "private banquets." Anonymous threats. Cryptic gifts—like a dagger carved from bone, left on my desk without explanation.
The Directorate buzzed with gossip. My subordinates watched me differently now—half in awe, half in terror.
"Director Arvale, is it true you silenced a noble without words?""Did you really laugh at the princes?""Is it true you're playing them all against each other?"
I wanted to scream No! I'm just trying not to die! But instead, I nodded vaguely, letting them build their own myths.
The Ledger chimed.[ Reputation Growth: Uncontrollable. You are now viewed as "The Silent Gambler." ]
Uncontrollable. That word chilled me.
And then came the trap.
A messenger arrived, bowing low. "Director Arvale, you are requested at a private gathering. Prince Kairoth himself invites you."
My blood froze.
Lira's eyes narrowed instantly. "It's a test."
Grack chuckled. "Or a feast. With these royals, it's usually both."
I considered refusing. But refusing a prince's invitation was suicide. Accepting might be suicide too, but at least it delayed the timing.
The Ledger pulsed grimly.[ No valid path of escape detected. Attendance: Mandatory. ]
I forced a smile. "Fine. Let's meet the prince."
That night, I walked into a chamber bathed in golden light. Unlike the council hall's dark oppression, this place was warm, adorned with banners and wine. A long table stretched across the room, laden with food.
At its head sat Kairoth. The golden-eyed prince.
He smiled as I entered, raising a goblet. "Director Arvale. Welcome. Sit. Drink. Speak with me."
His voice was honey, but his eyes were knives.
I sat. My hands trembled under the table.
"You have stirred the council," he said smoothly. "The others watch you with suspicion, fear, respect. Even my sister who hates all things subtle… has taken interest."
His gaze sharpened. "I like you, Director. Because you remind me of myself."
I nearly choked on the wine. Of himself? That's the worst possible comparison!
"You and I," he continued, "see the world as wagers. Calculations. Balances. We laugh where others rage."
He leaned closer. "But you must decide. Will you be my piece… or will you gamble against me?"
The Ledger pulsed urgently.[ Decision Point Approaching. Danger Level: Catastrophic. ]
My heart thundered. Sweat drenched my back.
I forced myself to meet his gaze.
And for the first time, I realized something terrifying.
He wasn't mocking me. He wasn't tricking me. He genuinely believed I was a master strategist like him.
The world had decided who I was. And now, even the princes believed it.