Even when I was the Crown Prince, Bapharos had already set his sights on the future and intentionally immersed himself in the academy. For years, he mingled with the noble heirs, sparing no effort in building his loyal faction.

While Bapharos was quietly laying the foundations, the other siblings had given up and retreated as soon as the Crown Prince was appointed. Those who had idly enjoyed life in the palace couldn’t hope to overcome the power structure Bapharos had built.

“Your arrogance will be your downfall one day. You should learn a bit of humility.”

“Then why don’t you teach me that humility yourself? How about you be my sparring opponent instead of Brother Jaibid?”

At Riog’s challenge, I noticed Bapharos’ forehead twitch slightly. Though displeased with Riog’s behavior, his eyes gleamed with the intensity of a predator.

“…He’s planning to crush him,”

As I muttered these words, I made my way to the arena. Bapharos planned to crush Riog, to shatter his pride beyond repair in front of the other students. Riog was far too arrogant, completely ignorant of the concept of patience. Had he been wiser, he would have kept quiet, watched his surroundings and assessed his opponent.

Had he done so, he would have realized that Bapharos was no easy opponent and would have waited for the right moment to strike. Instead, he overestimated his abilities. He was too excited, imagining that defeating Bapharos in front of the nobles would be his grand debut. His original intention was probably to humiliate me, but when he saw Bapharos, he changed his mind. He must have thought that defeating someone like Bapharos would bring him more glory than challenging a dethroned prince like me.

As I descended into the training grounds, Zetak approached me. His mere movement caused the nearby nobles to jump and quickly move out of his way.

“Damn it. If he weren’t the royal servant, we’d have beaten him and driven him out by now.”

“Stop it. Haven’t you heard the rumors? They say he’s the corpse prince’s special one. You don’t want to mess with that and get into trouble.”

“I know, that’s why I’m holding back… But are the rumors true? Is he really… with that disgusting thing?”

Although Zetak must have heard their gossip, he didn’t react as he once would have. He had probably gotten used to the whispers by now.

“Is there any other reason for a servant to sleep in your room? My servant went to deliver the new schedule and saw it – the monster rising from the embrace of the corpse prince”.

“Oh my god! So they did it, huh? Did he embrace that thing? Ugh, I feel like I’m going to be sick.”

Her whisper brought back memories of a few nights ago. To tame a dog, you have to keep stroking it and making contact with it. That’s why, after I’d brought Zetak into my room, I’d let him sleep by my side. Often I would stroke him until he fell asleep, although I usually dozed off first. From a human perspective, my actions could be seen as caring, even tender.

It was my desperate attempt to change the future, but to those unaware of my true intentions, it had become nothing more than fodder for gossip. I understood why. A royal sleeping in the same bed as a boy, holding him close, was an irresistible rumor for nobles bored with the mundane life of the academy.

“Does sleeping with me make you uncomfortable?”

I asked as I took the damp towel Zetak handed me. I had assumed that over time, even if we weren’t close, he might at least develop some attachment from being around me so often. But with these kinds of rumors floating around, I wondered if he felt disgusted, forced to hear such things about us.

“If you’d prefer, I can bring in a separate bed for you. And if that’s still not enough—”

I was about to offer him his room, but before I could finish, my words were drowned out by the cheers of the nobles. The sparring had already begun.

The training grounds, once filled with students, now focused solely on Bapharos and Riog. At some point, the spectators had gathered around the edges of the grounds, eagerly watching the unfolding duel.

To the untrained eye, it looked like an even match. Bapharos held the advantage in strength, while Riog seemed to have the upper hand in technique. The fight appeared tense, as though either could gain the upper hand at any moment. At least, that’s how it seemed on the surface.

“…He’s toying with him.”

Bapharos deliberately held back, pretending to be on equal footing with Riog, allowing him to feel confident and prolonging the match. He wanted to break Riog’s pride as well as his skill and leave him utterly humiliated.

As time went on, more nobles from other faculties began to gather around the training grounds. The attendants rushed to spread the word of the Spar, and soon the students of the Academy were coming in droves to witness the fight.

A sword duel between royal brothers during the vacancy of the Crown Prince—there was no juicier gossip than this.

Bapharos would likely wait until the crowd had reached its peak, then slowly tighten the noose around Riog, stripping him of any chance at victory and leaving him in utter disgrace. The stage was set for a public fall, and Bapharos was patient enough to make sure everyone witnessed it.

The two stepped back, putting some distance between them as their swords disengaged. Riog looked slightly surprised that Bapharos had kept up with him so well. Still, the look in his eyes conveyed an unshakable confidence that he would win.

“You’re better than I expected, brother. It seems you’ve been putting in some effort.”

“You as well, Riog. For someone your age, your skill is impressive. No wonder they call you a prodigy.”

Riog’s shoulders lifted slightly, clearly pleased with the praise. His expression seemed to say, Of course, it’s only natural. He hadn’t yet realized that Bapharos’ words were just part of the setup for his imminent downfall.

Riog had been hailed and acclaimed as a prodigy all his life. He was the type who had never known failure, and to lose in front of so many people would leave a wound that would haunt him forever. It was clear that the humiliation would cause him to leave the Academy of his own accord.

And once that happened, Father would undoubtedly remove him from the list of potential heirs. Bapharos had surely calculated all of this. He planned to completely uproot a potential rival, ensuring that Riog would never rise to challenge him in the future.

The two cautiously circled each other, then leaped towards each other, swords swinging with precision and power. As I watched, I noticed something strange: Zetak was unusually calm. He stood motionless, watching the duel in silence. Although his hair hid his face, preventing me from seeing his exact expression, I had a sense of what he was thinking.

[The Crown Prince is so amazing! The way you wield your sword is just… incredible!]

For a boy like Zetak, swordsmanship must have been an object of admiration and awe. Whenever I received training, he would look at me as if I were a hero who had saved the world, even though what I displayed was little more than the skills of a novice.

[…Do you think this looks impressive?]

My swordsmanship was often considered neither exceptional nor weak – just ordinary. That was the usual assessment. I hadn’t deliberately hidden my skill; gathering ki was simply a way of protecting myself, not something I intended to show off or achieve great feats with. I never felt the need to flaunt it, so I kept it to myself.

Even when I had swung my sword carelessly, Zetak had found it impressive. I could easily imagine him watching the dazzling duel on the training grounds now, with both awe and admiration.

“Do you want to learn the sword?”

“…”

Zetak’s red eyes turned to me, but instead of the burning desire I had expected, they were cold, much colder than I had expected. Had I been mistaken? Had he not admired me for my swordsmanship? Even as these thoughts crossed my mind, I found my mouth moving again before I could stop it.

“Your body will continue to merge with the monster inside you. Soon enough, using your claws to slash and pierce will feel more natural than wielding a sword. You’d be better off learning martial arts instead. If you want, I can assign you an instructor.”

I tried to show him as much kindness as I could, but Zetak simply turned his head away, clearly uninterested. The look in his eyes as he watched the duel between Bapharos and Riog was anything but admiration.

He was calculating. Assessing whether he could kill either of them if they ever faced off. And ultimately, whether he could kill me and still escape the palace unscathed. He must have concluded that, for now, it wasn’t possible. That’s why he remained quiet, waiting for his moment. A sudden roar erupted from the crowd.

“Woah!!”

The roar from the students surrounding the training grounds signaled the shift in the duel. It seemed Bapharos was finally beginning to show his true skill, his movements growing more intricate and dazzling.

Riog was struggling, sweat starting to bead on his forehead as he tried to keep up with Bapharos’s increasingly relentless attacks. Bapharos wouldn’t end the match quickly—he wanted to drag it out, turn Riog into nothing more than a spectacle for the watching nobles. His plan was clear: to wear Riog down until he collapsed on his own, utterly defeated.

By now, Riog must have realized he had been played. His face twisted in frustration, and his attacks became sloppy, driven by anger. His movements grew larger, leaving more openings, but instead of exploiting those vulnerabilities to end the match quickly, Bapharos let them go unnoticed. He ignored the vital spots where he could have forced Riog to surrender and instead focused on relentlessly attacking non-lethal areas.