The morning sun washed across the marble corridors of the Imperial Palace, bright enough to chase away the exhaustion of the previous night, yet Kael felt none of its warmth. Today's schedule was filled once again—meetings, discussions, strategies. The world expected the Hero to have returned stronger than before.
He simply hoped his body would not betray him.
The meeting room was large, its ceiling decorated with murals of ancient victories. Around the long oval table sat the four Guardians of Emestrild—Elric, Teodore, Iris, and Kael—accompanied by the empire's veteran ministers. Reinhardt presided over everything, his posture regal, his eyes attentive.
Today's topic: border defense, internal trade routes, and the rise of cultist movement.
Elric and Teodore presented reports on their respective territories—North and South—while Iris elaborated on East's trade opportunities.
Kael listened in silence. But when the conversation shifted to inter-border trade, he raised his hand subtly.
"If we strengthen the trade road between Delcra and the capital… open a new resting station near the borderline… it could reduce travel cost and increase food supply efficiency," he explained calmly.
Ministers exchanged surprised glances. His voice was steady. His words sharp.
No one suspected anything unusual.
Instead, whispers filled the room with admiration.
"So the Hero improved his political insight all these years…"
"He truly came back refined…"
Robert stood at the corner with his hands clasped behind his back, looking at Kael with unwavering pride. Months of training were paying off. Kael spoke like a noble. He acted like the Archduke he was meant to be.
Four hours passed before Reinhardt finally dismissed the ministers. His smile remained bright—almost too bright.
"All of you did great. Then come, join me for luncheon. It's the least I can do for my Guardians."
Teodore narrowed his eyes. That smile, he thought. Only Kael makes him behave like this.
As they walked to the dining hall, Elric slipped closer to Kael's side.
"You did great," she whispered softly.
"I thought you might startle again like always."
Her voice held pride… and a sliver of worry.
Kael remained expressionless, but his silence was heavy.
He wanted to tell her—about the strange feeling crawling under his skin since yesterday.
But not here.
Not in front of everyone.
The long dining table was laden with warm dishes—soups, fresh bread, roasted meat, and sweet fruits from Delcra. Reinhardt insisted Kael sit beside him. He almost ignored the others entirely, speaking only to Kael, recalling their past days in the palace.
"Remember when we trained at the courtyard?"
"We stole bread from the kitchen—ah, Sebastian was furious."
"And that one time we—"
He listed memories Kael didn't have.
Kael simply smiled and nodded as he had practiced. The world believed the Hero had returned. He must act like it.
Teodore finally spoke, his tone polite but cutting.
"So, Lord Kael… why did you hide yourself for five years?"
The room fell silent.
Kael's fork stopped midair.
"It is strange, isn't it?" Teodore continued. "Defeat the Demon King… then vanish. Now suddenly appear again."
The question wasn't aimed at Kael—it was a provocation directed at Reinhardt.
Reinhardt's smile vanished.
He slammed his wine glass on the table.
The impact echoed sharply.
"Didn't I already explain this to you?" his voice dropped dangerously low.
"Or has your age made you forgetful, Lord Valdran?"
Everyone stiffened.
Before Teodore could bite back, Iris placed her cup down gently.
"Lord Valdran," she said, her voice calm, collected. "Is it not enough that all Guardian seats are now filled? You no longer need to search for someone 'worthy' for the West Gate."
Elric remained silent, but her cold gaze warned Teodore to tread carefully.
Teodore scanned the three of them—Reinhardt, Iris, Elric—and smirked.
"So… all of you already knew Lord Kael was alive except me?"
The atmosphere grew tense.
Kael quietly placed down his spoon. All eyes followed him as he rose to his feet.
"Kael, where are—" Reinhardt began, but Kael bowed slightly.
"I think I have done here. I may retreat to my room."
His voice was calm, polite, perfectly practiced.
But his eyes avoided Teodore.
Robert immediately followed him out, leaving the four Guardians alone with Reinhardt.
Teodore leaned back in his chair, arms crossed.
"I am a Guardian of this empire. I may not have joined the Hero Campaign, but I still defend this land," he said coldly.
"All of us work together to protect this empire. But it seems… every one of you kept a secret from me. Should I know something?"
Reinhardt's eyes lifted slowly—dark, sharp, warning.
"Lord Valdran…" he spoke with deceptive softness.
"Not every secret in this empire is meant for everyone."
Teodore's jaw clenched.
Iris watched him calmly, Elric's expression unreadable.
Somewhere deeper inside the palace, Kael walked away with Robert—shoulders tense, heart uneasy.
He could not hear what they said behind him.
But his instincts whispered:
Something terrible is coming.
-----------------------------------------
Their footsteps echoed through the tall corridor toward Kael's guest chamber—measured, steady, but heavy with unspoken tension. Robert followed right behind him, hands clenched at his sides, a wrinkle of worry forming between his brows. He wanted to ask Kael if he was unwell—his face earlier had lost color—but he kept silent until they reached the safety of the room.
However, they didn't make it that far.
A cluster of nobles turned the corner, their voices brightening instantly at the sight of Kael.
"Good afternoon, Lord Kael, Prince Robert."
Robert froze.
Kael stopped walking.
The nobles bowed gracefully—yet their eyes were fixed not on Kael, but on Robert.
Robert's shoulders tensed as if struck.
Even after abandoning his royal name years ago, some nobles still remembered. They still dared to say it aloud.
"It seems you returned to the palace after so long, Prince Robert."
"It warms our hearts to see you here again."
"You are still part of the Imperial bloodline—"
Kael watched Robert subtly step behind him, as if using him as a shield. The nobles barely acknowledged Kael at all—Robert was clearly their true target.
Robert bowed stiffly, forcing a polite smile.
"Please do not call me that. I am no longer a prince. I serve Lord Kael now. I have no relation to the Imperial Family anymore."
His tone was sharper than usual.
Tense.
Uncomfortable.
He stepped closer to Kael, his hand brushing Kael's sleeve as if to ground himself.
"Let's go, Master Kael," he whispered urgently.
The nobles tried to speak more, but Kael and Robert walked quickly away—too quick for etiquette, but Kael didn't care. Robert's unease was far more important.
They finally reached the hallway to Kael's chamber. Robert hurried in first and closed the door, leaning on it for a second as if catching his breath.
Kael stood in the middle of the room, watching him silently.
Robert flinched slightly under the stare.
He pulled himself upright and quickly tried to smile.
"I'm sorry," he said, brushing imaginary dust from his clothes.
"I just…don't like this place."
Kael blinked once, eyes softening.
"Why?.."
His voice was soft, low—almost gentle.
Robert's eyes widened.
Kael had never asked about him before. Never asked for a reason. Never showed this quiet curiosity.
For a moment, Robert didn't know how to respond.
He looked down at his hands.
Then sighed.
"…How about a cup of coffee while we talk?"
His voice softened, carrying relief, gratitude… and a trace of vulnerability he rarely showed.
Kael nodded slowly.
Robert called the palace servants to boil water, then prepared the ingredients himself at the small brewing table. His hands, though steady, trembled just a little as he began grinding the beans.
Kael sat on the chair near the balcony, watching the sky outside begin to tint gold. Watching Robert's back as he moved.
Inside the room, there was silence.
Not heavy.
Not tense.
But warm.
Waiting.
And for the first time since stepping into the Imperial Palace, Robert allowed his guarded smile to fade—just a little.
Because Kael had asked.
Because Kael cared.
The warm fragrance of freshly roasted beans filled the chamber. Robert worked quietly at the brewing stand, his movements soft and precise—almost ceremonial. The palace servants entered with a tray of light snacks, placing a plate of delicate macarons on the table as Robert requested.
He set a cup down before Kael with gentle hands.
"Your after-lunch coffee, young master. I made it lighter today… if you don't mind."
Kael preferred his coffee bitter, but he accepted the cup without complaint. The warmth spread through his palms, steadying his breath. When he took his first sip, his eyes softened slightly.
Robert smiled—relief and pride mixing in his chest.
"That's good," he whispered to himself, then sat across from Kael.
For a moment, neither said a word. Only the crackle of the brewing stand and the faint hum of distant palace noise filled the air.
Then Robert folded his hands. His eyes dimmed with memories.
"I don't know if you remember this… but I'm actually a former prince. His Majesty's younger brother."
He laughed weakly. "My real name was Robert Reis Emestrild. I was his half-sibling."
Kael looked up. Robert's voice trembled slightly, but he forced himself to continue.
"My mother was just a commoner. A healer with rare talent. The king wanted her… only because he wanted her bloodline."
Robert's throat tightened.
"I have an older sister"
A sad smile tugged at his lips.
"We were happy. And then… they were killed by the other princes."
Kael's grip tightened on his cup.
Robert swallowed.
"Our father—the king—was cruel. He didn't care for me or Reinhardt. To him, we were tools or threats. Nothing more."
He looked down, eyes glassy but dry.
"He never held me. Never called my name with affection. The only one who ever cared… was Reinhardt."
His voice lowered, fragile.
"He was the one who brought me to you. To the Hero Campaign. You showed me the world, Master Kael. Because you befriended me… no one dared to bully me."
A small, aching laugh escaped him.
"But when you fell into a coma… everything collapsed."
Kael's breath caught.
"Reinhardt tried everything to save you. And when he failed… he lost his mind."
Robert shivered.
"He killed all our siblings. Even the innocent ones."
Kael's eyes widened slightly.
"I think he let me live only because I stood beside you. But I didn't want to be a threat to his throne."
Robert lifted his gaze.
"So… I abandoned my name. Took my mother's surname, Dandelian."
His fingers trembled.
"I'm afraid… Master Kael. Whenever they call me 'prince'… whenever they look at me like royalty… I remember that night."
He didn't say the rest.
He didn't say how Reinhardt's spear pierced his shoulder.
How he nearly died on that floor.
Kael reached out—hesitant but sincere—and rested his hand on Robert's shoulder.
Robert's eyes softened.
"…Thank you."
Kael stood, quietly poured another cup of coffee, and placed it before Robert.
Robert laughed shakily.
"Thank you… but actually… I miss the coffee you used to make back then."
Kael blinked. His voice was low, almost embarrassed.
"If… you teach me… maybe I can make it for you…"
Robert's eyes widened.
Then he laughed—a warm, real laugh.
"You really are a kind lord, Master Kael. I'm glad you're my master."
He lifted the cup, smiling.
But then—
The smile vanished.
Robert's brow furrowed.
He sniffed the coffee again.
His hand shook.
"…Master," he whispered, voice breaking.
"You don't feel anything… from the coffee?"
Kael stared at him, confused.
Then Robert coughed.
Hard.
The cup fell from his hand, shattering against the floor.
"Robert?"
Kael's voice trembled as he rushed toward him.
Robert's breaths grew ragged.
He grabbed his chest—clawing.
Fighting for air.
Kael grabbed his shoulders.
"What's wrong?"
Robert forced his trembling hand up to show Kael.
Blood.
Dark, fresh blood stained his fingers.
"The… coffee…"
His voice cracked, fading.
"It's… poison…"
And Robert collapsed.
Kael's heart dropped.
He reached toward Robert—but pain stabbed through his own chest.
He gasped sharply.
Then warm liquid dripped down his lips.
He touched his nose—blood stained his fingertips.
Another wave hit him.
A violent cough ripped through his chest, forcing thick, hot blood from his mouth.
Kael stared in horror.
The poison wasn't meant for Robert alone.
Both had been poisoned.
And the chamber was suddenly too quiet—
too suffocating—
too deadly.
As Kael fell to his knees beside Robert, blood dripping onto the cold marble floor, he understood one thing clearly:
Someone had come for him.
Someone had finally made their move.
And their opening strike was meant to kill them both.