The summons came not as a chime, but as a presence.
Ken stood at the window of his dormitory, watching the first light of dawn paint the spires in shades of cold gold. His mind was a closed loop, replaying the previous night's events—Carrow's ruin, Selene's intervention, the chilling efficiency of her counter-move.
The door to his room opened without a sound.
He did not turn. He had sensed her approach three minutes prior—a unique energy signature like a sliver of amethyst ice moving through the warm stone of the academy.
"You are expected, brother," Selene's voice was a melody of false warmth. "The royal luncheon waits for no one, not even a prince who keeps such… interesting hours."
Ken turned slowly, his Prince-mask already in place—soft eyes, slight confusion.
"Sister. I was just preparing. I didn't realize the invitation was so urgent."
Selene stood in the doorway, dressed not in academy wear, but in a gown of deep violet and silver, her hair coiled in an intricate crown of braids. She looked every inch the imperial princess, and nothing like a student.
"All invitations from Mother are urgent," she said, her smile not touching her eyes. "Especially when they follow a night of such fascinating revelations. The Inquisition humiliated, its lead investigator disgraced… one might think a phantom had orchestrated it all."
She let the words hang, watching him.
Ken picked up his formal jacket, moving with deliberate clumsiness.
"I heard it was a scandal. I'm glad Seraphine was cleared. She seems… decent."
"Decent," Selene repeated, as if tasting the word. "Yes. A decent tool is a valuable thing. Come. The transport is waiting."
---
**The Royal Spire, an hour later.**
The family dining chamber was a study in restrained power. A table of polished blackwood stretched before a window that looked out over the entire capital. The air was still, scented with rare incense.
Empress Valeriana sat at the head, her back to the light, her face in shadow. She was eating a piece of fruit with a small, sharp knife.
To her right sat Crown Prince Dorian, looking bored and irritable. An empty chair waited beside him.
To her left, an empty chair for Selene.
And one more, at the far end, for Ken.
He took his seat, the picture of nervous deference. He avoided looking directly at the Empress—a sign of respect, and a tactical necessity. His **Eye of Truth**, kept at its most passive shimmer, still gathered data.
*Empress Valeriana: Bio-signs stable, controlled. Heart rate 58 BPM. No physiological markers of anger or stress following Carrow's disgrace. Conclusion: Either anticipated, or irrelevant to her greater design.*
*Dorian: Elevated cortisol, micro-tremors in left hand. Agitated. Likely cause: Recent failure to outperform in tactical simulations. Secondary cause: Annoyance at Ken's presence.*
*Selene: A perfect closed system. Surface calm. Deeper readings: obscured by a subtle, personal dampening field. Artificial. She is hiding her energy signature even here.*
"Ken," the Empress said, her voice like silk over stone. "How are your studies? I hear you achieved a… respectable average on your mid-term evaluations."
"They are sufficient, Your Radiance," Ken said, keeping his eyes on his plate. "I strive to learn what I can."
"Modesty," Valeriana mused. "A rare trait in our bloodline. Dorian could learn from it."
Dorian stiffened but said nothing.
The meal proceeded in silence for several minutes, the only sound the delicate clink of utensils on porcelain.
Then, the Empress set her knife down.
"The Inquisition has failed me," she stated, the words dropping into the quiet like stones. "Carrow was a blunt instrument, and he has broken against a sharper will. It seems the Phantom is more than a mere heretic. He is a strategist."
She looked directly at Ken for the first time.
"What do you think, Prince Ken? You have a quiet mind. Who is this Phantom? A disgruntled noble? A trained operative from a rival kingdom? Or… something more personal?"
It was a trap layered in velvet.
Ken let his hand tremble slightly as he reached for his water glass.
"I… I wouldn't know, Your Radiance. He seems… very dangerous. I hope they catch him soon."
"Hope," Valeriana echoed, a ghost of a smile on her lips. "Hope is the prayer of the powerless. I do not hope. I calculate."
Her gaze shifted to Selene.
"My daughter believes the Phantom is a symptom, not the disease. That he thrives because the academy—because our *order*—has grown weak. Complacent."
Selene inclined her head gracefully.
"I merely observe, Mother. The Phantom exploits gaps. In security, in loyalty, in logic. To find him, we must first admit where we are fragile."
"And are we fragile, Ken?" The Empress's eyes snapped back to him.
He felt the weight of the question, the pressure in the room. Dorian was smirking now, enjoying his discomfort.
"The academy seems very strong," Ken offered weakly.
"Seems," Valeriana said. "Appearances are the first layer of deception. Selene has proposed a new approach. A… gentler inquisition. One that watches from within, rather than clubbing from without."
She paused, letting the dread build.
"She has requested oversight of a new internal review committee. Composed of students. To monitor morale, report… anomalies. To find the Phantom by understanding the ecosystem he poisons."
Ken's mind raced.
*Selene gaining formal surveillance authority. A committee of students. She is building her own network, with imperial sanction.*
"A wise idea," Ken murmured.
"I have granted it," Valeriana said. "And she has submitted her first list of nominees for the committee. Surprisingly, she has nominated you."
The air vanished from Ken's lungs.
He didn't have to fake his shock. It was ice-cold and real.
"M-Me? But I'm… I'm not observant. I have no talent for—"
"Precisely," Selene cut in, her voice sweet. "You are perceived as harmless. Unthreatening. People will speak around you, act naturally near you. You are a perfect passive sensor. And your… connection to Cadet Rae, who was so recently under suspicion, provides a useful narrative. The weak prince, seeking to prove his loyalty by helping clean the academy."
It was a masterful cage.
If he refused, he would look suspiciously ungrateful, or worse, disloyal.
If he accepted, he would be Selene's official tool, placed squarely in the spotlight of her new power structure.
"It would be an honor," Ken forced out, the words ash in his mouth.
"Good," Valeriana said, finality in the syllable. "The committee begins its work today. Your first task is to compile a report on student sentiment following the gala… incident. Selene will provide the details."
The luncheon concluded shortly after, the food mostly untouched.
As Ken stood to leave, Selene glided to his side, looping her arm through his with sisterly affection.
"Walk with me, brother."
They exited into a secluded terrace garden, the sound of a fountain masking their words.
"You see?" Selene said, her false warmth gone, replaced by cool amusement. "I have given you a gift. Authority. Access. A legitimate reason to be exactly where you need to be, listening to exactly what you need to hear."
"And in return, I report to you," Ken said, his voice flat.
"You report *through* me," she corrected. "A subtle but important distinction. Your findings will shape the narrative I feed my mother. You will help me control the story of the Phantom."
She stopped, turning to face him.
"This is my favor. You will be my eyes and ears. You will help me find this phantom… and when we do, we will decide what to do with him together."
Her amethyst eyes held his, and for a flicker, he saw no malice, but a terrifying, shared understanding.
She didn't want to destroy the Phantom.
She wanted to own him.
"Why?" Ken asked, the Prince-mask gone for a rare, unguarded moment. "What do you gain from this… game?"
Selene's smile was genuine now, and all the more chilling for it.
"The same thing you do, brother. A future not dictated by that woman in the shadows. The difference is, I prefer to play the board, not lurk beneath it."
She released his arm.
"Your first committee meeting is in the Violet Seminar Room at 15:00. Don't be late. And Ken?"
She paused at the archway.
"Do try to look a little more inspired. It's unbecoming for a prince of the blood to seem so… defeated."
She left him there, the weight of her gambit settling on his shoulders like a lead mantle.
He was no longer just the Phantom hiding in the dark.
He was now the Queen's appointed hunter, tasked with catching himself.
The game had not just changed.
It had become a hall of mirrors.
And his own reflection was the most dangerous one of all.
---
**[End of Chapter 12]**