I paused to catch my breath, and one of the noble children ran her hand along my arm, speaking in a nervous tone.

“W-what is this? Are you trying to scare us with these disgusting stories?”

The once quiet lecture hall quickly filled with the murmur of the nobles, stirred by the girl’s remark. Most seemed to interpret my words as lies – or rather, they wanted to believe they were lies. After all, it was easier to dismiss the grotesque reality I was describing than to accept that there might be truths beyond their comprehension. But their eyes betrayed a hint of doubt as if they wondered if a prince like me had access to some secret texts they couldn’t understand.

“Enough of those disgusting explanations. There’s one more form we know about, something… better, okay? Why don’t you talk about that?” one of the noble children said, grinning.

Laughter trickled out from various corners, spreading as others joined in with mocking smiles. I knew exactly what they were referring to.

The final form of the tentacle, known even in the human world, and the main reason why humans despise monsters: the reproductive transformation. It shares the function of s*xual organs and is used for mating, making it non-offensive as well. In a way, it’s another survival mechanism, as it serves the purpose of reproduction.

Monsters come in all sizes and forms, and due to the differences in size between them, mating often involves the use of tentacles rather than traditional reproductive organs. That was the reason behind the nobles’ laughter—it was nothing more than a crude joke to them.

They could laugh because they had never seen it with their own eyes. It wasn’t their reality, just a funny story. But I knew what happened to people who were toyed with by monsters. The Demon Realm would occasionally open, rip through space, and spit out humans before closing again. Those who fell into the Gate and had the misfortune to end up in the Demon Realm suffered unimaginable fates.

When a human falls into the Demon Realm, the scent attracts monsters, leading to a fierce battle to claim them. Ultimately, the strongest would possess the human. In my past life, I too had the desire to claim a human – after all, to a monster’s eyes, humans were irresistibly beautiful.

However, I never desired them enough to risk my life. I was content with other monsters, so I probably just gave up and retreated. But unlike me, there were always those who were willing to fight to the death to possess a human.

“As for the fifth form of tentacles, it’s already documented in books available to the public. If you’re curious, you can look it up for yourself.”

I couldn’t help but think of the humans who had become the monsters’ playthings. They were all the same, driven mad, foaming at the mouth. Their eyes rolled back, gasping under the crushing pressure of dark magic.

Dragged through the mud, tossed around until the monsters got bored and devoured them – that was the fate of humans in the Demon Realm. Or worse, crushed under the weight of dark magic, unable to survive even a year before succumbing to death. Could anyone still laugh if they had witnessed such horrors firsthand? No, such details were unnecessary for Zetak. He only needed to understand the basic use of tentacles; there was no need to burden him with the grim specifics.

“Ahem, ahem. That will be enough. You may return to your seat now,” the professor interrupted, still eyeing me with a glint that suggested he was eager to verify if my words were true.

No doubt he’d ask me later. I’d have to make a quick exit before that happened, to avoid unnecessary trouble. And even if he did ask, I could always claim that I had made it all up – there was no way he could confirm anything else.

“As His Highness has given a thorough explanation, we will now move on to the next section. This part is important, so please take notes,” the professor said as he wiped the drawing from the board.

I could’ve sworn I heard him laugh and mutter something about a ‘paramecium’ before erasing it. It seemed he couldn’t resist mocking me right to the end.

I watched as the professor began to write on the blackboard, then I looked down at the pen. I reached for it with my left hand, but before I could grab it, a hand slid over from behind me. Covered in snake-like scales, it placed the pen in my right hand.

“Don’t forget the healer’s advice about your rehabilitation. Keep at it.”

I turned my head towards the voice whispering close to my ear. Through the dark strands of his hair, I caught a glimpse of his red eyes.

“You can only draw paramecium because you’re neglecting your rehabilitation.”

“It wasn’t a paramecium, it was a centipede. A rather menacing one.”

“Centipede.”

Zetak repeated my words, but for some reason, he bit his lip afterward.

“Well, you were never very good at drawing.”

He was busy putting the pen back into my hand, gently curling my fingers around it. But as soon as he let go, my grip loosened and the pen slipped from my grasp.

“I’m not ready to hold a pen yet. I’m just about ready to move coins. This seems a bit rushed.”

“At least try to grasp it. If you keep at it, you’ll get there one day.”

I looked down at my right hand. The pen was resting on my palm. Right- resting was the correct term. It wasn’t something I was holding; it had simply been placed there by Zetak. What did he expect me to write with a hand like this? Was this some kind of test or just an attempt to frustrate me? I tried to wrap my fingers around the pen.

But my hand only trembled, unable to close completely. I could feel Zetak’s eyes fixed on my struggling hand, watching intently. What was he thinking? Guilt? Or perhaps satisfaction?

I could feel the noble children looking at me, some with pity, others enjoying the fall of a once skillful man.

“Look at him. What’s the point of wielding sword energy if he’s crippled for life?”

“He had it coming. I knew things would go wrong the moment he began to associate with that monster-tainted child. And even after he ended up like that, why didn’t he cast him aside?”

Their whispers reached my ears, but they didn’t bother me. These were the same people who had always called me a walking corpse. Being called a cripple didn’t change much – it was just another insult added to a list that had long since lost its sting.

I reached for the pen again, but it slipped from my hand and fell under the desk. The carpet muffled the sound, but as soon as I dropped it, the nobles all turned their eyes to me, as if they had been waiting for this moment. They pretended not to care, but it was clear that their attention had been on me all along.

When Riog was trampled by Bapharos, they rejoiced at the fall of a genius. To see someone even higher in the ranks fall now must have been a source of twisted glee for them. Each time I dropped the pen, Zetak would silently pick it up and put it back in my hand. He did this four times without complaint.

But after the fourth time, my fingers began to twitch uncontrollably. The tremors spread, moving up my arm until everything below my elbow was shaking. I could feel the tension building, not just in my hand, but in the silent stares of those around me.

Unconsciously, I gripped my right arm and bit down hard on my lip. I tried to hold it in, but despite my best efforts, a painful groan escaped me. My face must have turned pale. The strain of forcing my hand to move had caused the muscles to cramp violently, sending waves of pain through my arm.

“Does it hurt a lot?”

Zetak’s cold hand cupped mine. Slowly he began to massage my hand, and the cramps began to ease, though the pain remained.

“It’s not unbearable… but it almost feels like it would be better to just cut it off.”

As I stared at my arm, I couldn’t help but think of the three tentacles that had remained with me until the end of my previous life. One of them had been nothing more than decoration, its nerves completely paralyzed. I had kept it in hoping that one day it might revive, but it had remained useless until the moment of my death.

‘Maybe this arm was no different. Wouldn’t it be better to cut it off now and move on, rather than holding on to false hope like I did with the tentacle?’

As I entertained this thought, I noticed that Zetak’s eyes had darkened, as if he had sensed my thoughts.

“Don’t cut it off.”

I hadn’t said a word, but he seemed to have read my mind.

“If you do, I won’t forgive you.”

His words were soft but carried a weight that left no room for argument.

Was he telling me not to cut it off out of some lingering attachment, or was it because he wanted me to suffer, to bear this pain? If it was the former, it was a good sign. Even if it was the latter, it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe after another decade of watching me suffer, his hatred would soften a little.

“If you want, I’ll give you my left arm as well. If you take it, how much of me could you forgive?”

Zetak’s expression hardened instantly. His once bright red eyes darkened until they looked almost black as if absorbing all the light around them.

“Don’t use your body as a bargaining chip.”

Despite his soft tone, there was an unmistakable anger laced with deadly intent. His voice was barely audible, but the malice in it sent a shiver down my spine. It wasn’t like him to be so upset about something like this.