Two days later, the royal family gathered for dinner—something they had not done in years. Karl, Elsa, Novel, and Ersia sat at the grand dining table.

  Karl, setting his fork down, glanced at them. “We are all busy with our duties, but I believe it’s good to have a family dinner at least once a week.”

  Elsa smiled, though there was a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. “Yes, you are right.”

  The atmosphere was warm—almost too perfect. The servants standing by the walls exchanged glances, relieved to see a moment of peace in the palace. For once, the First Prince wasn’t buried in his responsibilities, and the Emperor wasn’t locked away in his office.

  But Novel felt uneasy. He wanted to ask about Lucian, yet seeing his family smiling, he hesitated. Should he ruin this rare moment of happiness?

  No. Not yet.

  The next morning, Novel sat alone in his study, deep in thought. Something wasn’t right.

  He had spent years away from the palace, training, fulfilling his duties, and preparing to lead. Yet no one had ever spoken of Lucian. His brother had been erased from memory as if he never existed.

  His mind raced with questions.

  Why? Why had Lucian been sent away? What had happened in the years he was gone?

  A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.

  “Your Highness,” a servant spoke cautiously. “You seem troubled. Is there something on your mind?”

  Novel turned to him. “How long have you worked in the palace?”

  The servant straightened. “Twenty years, Your Highness.”

  Novel’s eyes narrowed. “Then you must know everything that has happened here.”

  The servant hesitated. “I… I will do my best to help you, Your Highness.”

  A cold silence filled the room.

  This was it. The moment for answers.

  Novel leaned forward, his voice dropping. “Tell me. What happened to the Third Prince? Why was he sent to the Southern Palace?”

  The servant’s face paled instantly. His hands trembled, and he cast a fearful glance toward the door as if someone might be listening.

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  “I… I’m sorry, Your Highness,” he stammered. “I don’t know anything about it.”

  Novel studied him. The servant's voice was weak, and his posture screamed fear.

  He was lying.

  But why?

  Novel sat back, his expression unreadable. “Very well. You may go.”

  The servant bowed quickly and exited; his footsteps hurried as if fleeing danger.

  Novel sat in the dim light of his study, his fingers tapping against the desk.

  “What happened in the palace when I was gone? What is everyone so afraid of?”

  "If even the servant’s fear speaking of Lucian, then whoever is behind this… is someone powerful.”

  For the first time in his life, Novel realized—

  The answers he sought would not be given. He would have to uncover them himself.

  The royal palace was no longer at peace. Rumors of the Third Prince’s return had spread, and now, people dared to compare him to the First Prince. But what shook the palace even more was Novel’s growing curiosity.

  The servants spoke in whispers.

  "The First Prince is asking about the Third Prince."

  "What if he tries to visit the Southern Palace?"

  One of the palace servants, trembling with unease, rushed to Adios. “Sir, the First Prince is asking too many questions. If this continues, he may uncover everything.”

  Adios exhaled sharply. “It was only a matter of time… but I must inform His Majesty before this turns into something uncontrollable.”

  He straightened his posture, walked through the grand halls of the palace, and knocked on Karl’s office door.

  Knock. Knock.

  A cold voice answered. “Come in.”

  Adios stepped inside, his face tense. Karl, noticing this, set down a document requesting reinforcements in the Northern border and narrowed his eyes.

  “Where were you?”

  Adios hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Your Majesty… The First Prince is asking about the Third Prince.”

  Silence.

  Karl’s expression was unreadable. His fingers tapped against the desk in rhythmic thought. He already knew this moment would come—but not this soon.

  Then, he did something Adios did not expect.

  Karl picked up the letter about the Northern conflict and made a decision that left Adios frozen.

  That evening, Adios arrived at the Southern Palace.

  Chloe spotted him from a distance and immediately rushed to Lucian. “The King’s aide is here.”

  Lucian, now accustomed to unexpected visits, walked out with his usual cold demeanor.

  Adios bowed slightly. “I greet the—”

  Lucian raised a hand, cutting him off. “Enough with the empty formalities. Why are you here?”

  Adios observed him closely. Gone was the abandoned child from years ago. What stood before him now was a man whose presence was commanding, whose eyes held a fire that refused to die.

  Without hesitation, Adios handed over a royal decree sealed with the King’s emblem.

  Lucian unfolded the letter and read its contents. Then, a slow, hollow laugh escaped his lips.

  “Ha… Ha… Ha…”

  Chloe stiffened at the sound.

  Lucian’s laughter held no joy—it was laced with rage, mockery, and disbelief.

  “He sent me here to rot. Stripped me of everything. Didn’t even bother to see if I was alive… And now… he orders me to go to the North?”**His expression darkened. “And not just that—it’s a direct command without a choice?”

  His voice was dangerously low.

  Lucian met Adios’ gaze; his smirk was cold and unforgiving.

  “Go and tell him… What will I get for following his order?”

  Chloe’s heart skipped a beat. Lucian was no longer the weak, neglected prince. This was a man who knew how to fight back.

  Adios inhaled sharply. “I will deliver your words, Your Highness.”