I might survive a few years. But ten years? That would be impossible. As time passed, my body would weaken, and if I was unlucky, I might lose a limb. At that point, my chances of survival would be close to zero. I would most likely end up as a monster’s meal or their plaything before I met my end. And it would all happen in front of Zetak.

If I was going to die, I did not want it to be like this. If he only hated me, maybe it would be different. But to die like this in front of someone who had a mixture of affection and hate would be far too cruel.

“What kind of thoughts make you wear that expression?” 

“…” 

“It’s probably another senseless thought. Just go to sleep.” 

Zetak got out of bed, apparently to turn off the light. He probably would have ended the day there if there hadn’t been a knock at the door. It was much too late for a visit. Perhaps Karial had sent something unnecessary again. Zetak seemed to think the same, his expression hardening. But when he opened the door, he was greeted by someone completely unexpected. 

“Ah… it’s been a while, brother.” 

A boy with such a small frame that he looked like he might topple over at the slightest push. The boy their mother was currently pinning all her hopes on. 

“Darvin.” 

Standing there with an awkward smile was my only younger brother who should be in the royal palace. 

***

The timing of entry to the Royal Academy is different for everyone. But one thing is common: by the age of 15, students usually have to make a decision about their future. They must decide whether to remain at the Academy, return to their family estates to manage their own affairs or, in rare cases, pursue further studies at private academies, driven by new-found academic ambitions. Some are even scouted and taken by the Mage Tower. Aside from these exceptions, students generally fall into two main groups:  

Those who wish to become involved in society and those who wish to remain neutral. Those who remain at the Academy seek to position themselves at the centre of social activity, while those who return home seek to maintain neutrality within their territories. 

The Royal Academy is not simply a place of learning. While there are various classes, its true purpose is to provide an opportunity for countless nobles to perform and socialise. True students who attend with the intention of gaining knowledge are few and far between. 

It is a stage for the heirs of noble families to pit their wits against each other, a small-scale social battleground where families judge their rivals. As a disinherited prince, I had no reason to remain at the Academy. It was probably for this reason that Bapharos had urged me to leave – not to linger and become fodder for noble gossip. 

But despite his advice, I decided to stay. The reason I ignored his advice and stayed was clear. 

“Brother, please save me.” 

This boy, Darvin, was the cause. Though his sudden, unannounced visit had left me puzzled at first, the confusion quickly faded. What followed was a sense of inevitability – what was bound to happen had finally come. If I returned to the royal palace, Mother would undoubtedly pressure me to look after Darvin.

And if that were the case, I would inevitably become his shield, whether I liked it or not. It was all too obvious that I would be drawn into unwanted palace intrigues. To avoid such tiresome matters, I had remained at the Academy all this time. But now Darvin himself had come to see me.

“Mother seems to want to kill me.”

“Mother?” 

The completely unexpected statement made me widen my eyes. She hadn’t sent him here? If Bapharos had pulled some strings, I might have accepted it as a typical palace intrigue. But Mother trying to kill him? Darvin sighed, fidgeting with the teacup in front of him.

“She’s made me take strange medicines, sent knights to train me at dawn and even cut my meals in half. At this rate, I really think I might die.”

“Your Highness, Her Majesty the Empress is doing all this for your health.”

The elderly nanny standing behind Darvin sighed as she spoke. I glanced over at him as she spoke. Despite the tailoring, the buttons looked as if they were struggling to stay on. His weight had probably increased even after the measurements were taken and before the clothes were finished.

I knew he had been born prematurely. They had used all kinds of potions, magic and holy power to keep him alive when he was on the brink of death. It seemed they had overdone it, though, for he had become very overweight.

“I know why she’s doing this. But you know as well as I do, brother – I am not cut out to be an emperor.” 

His one redeeming quality, given his laziness, was his ability to recognise his limitations. That was probably why he had survived for so long. Perhaps Darvin was the only sibling Bapharos hadn’t sent assassins after.

“Get to the point. There must be a reason you’ve come so late at night.” 

Darvin hesitated, his face crumpling into a pitiful expression. Behind him, the elderly nanny sighed again and gave him a light tap on the shoulder, as if to urge him to speak. Seemingly emboldened by the gesture, Darvin finally opened his mouth, though his words trailed off as he nervously gauged my reaction. 

“I’ve met Bapharos a few times at the royal palace, and… he’s terrifying.”

“So Bapharos is at the palace?” 

“Yes, he’s been showing up more often lately. I think Father has summoned him. It’s probably about the crown prince appointment.” 

Now that he mentioned it, I realised that I hadn’t seen Bapharos’ face around the Academy lately. I glanced at Zetak, who gave me a slight nod. It seemed certain that Bapharos hadn’t been attending classes. 

“Ever since the news spread that Bapharos can wield sword aura, the other brothers seem to have quietly given up. Even in the palace, everyone says it’s only a matter of time before Bapharos becomes Crown Prince.”That made sense. After Riog, I thought more of my brothers might have gone to the Academy, but none of them had turned up. Perhaps it was because rumours had spread about how Riog had been crushed by Bapharos. 

At the same time, the fact that Bapharos could wield the Sword Aura at such a young age had greatly increased his support among the nobles and the Senate. He had a strong base of support from the start, so it wasn’t surprising that public opinion had solidified around him as the next Crown Prince. 

“Even if you stay out of it, Brother Bapharos will most likely be the next Crown Prince. Father’s frequent summoning of him these days is probably for that very reason…” 

“I told you to get to the point.”

Darvin fidgeted again, playing nervously with his fingers. Frustrated by his hesitation, the elderly nanny behind him finally stepped forward and spoke. 

“It seems that poison is being added to His Highness’s meals.” 

What she said was a dangerous statement. She was implying that someone was trying to poison a royal prince, and the suspect was none other than Bapharos. 

“Has the poison been definitively identified?”

“No, even after several tests, nothing unusual was found. However, given that His Highness has been feeling weak and his eyesight is deteriorating, it seems undeniable.” 

Darvin’s head hung low, his face drawn into a pitiful expression. Well, if the poison had been magically treated, it wouldn’t be so easy to detect. I could already guess what he was going to say.

‘Why would they bother killing him if he is  not a threat to Bapharos, who will be crown prince anyway?’ 

I stopped myself from explaining that palace intrigue didn’t work that way. 

As the Empress’s son, he had lived his life avoiding the weight of the bloodline he carried. Even if I tried to explain, he wouldn’t understand. Bapharos knew full well that Darvin had no interest in the throne, nor the ability or temperament to take it. But the blood ties alone were enough to overshadow everything. Bapharos wanted to eliminate even the smallest potential threat. Even if Darvin had no ambitions, nobles who despised Bapharos or the Empress might use him as a pawn. 

“So what do you want from me?” 

Darvin hesitated, unable to speak. He glanced behind me, clearly wary of Zetak’s presence. 

“Don’t worry about him, just say what you have to say.” 

“I… I came because I have a request, brother.” 

“…” 

“Could you speak to Brother Bapharos for me? I really have no desire to become Emperor, not even the slightest interest. If he wants me to live as if I were dead, that’s what I’ll do. Even if I’m banished to some remote palace, I won’t mind at all. Just ask him not to kill me.”

Darvin chose to flee rather than fight. Since he had no interest in the throne, he had no reason to fight. Lately, it seemed that more and more people were asking me to speak to Bapharos. Now that I thought about it, even Marienne had asked me to tell him, Nine times out of ten it’s a lie.

“If Brother appears frequently at the palace, wouldn’t it be better for you to speak to him directly?” 

“Well… Bapharos is just too frightening. I can’t get a word out in front of him.” 

Darvin fidgeted with his fingers as he spoke. Bapharos wasn’t like Riog, who openly looked down on others or insulted them. Still, I could understand why Darvin reacted the way he did. Bapharos didn’t show it openly, but he had a way of smiling while stabbing someone in the back. That kind of subtle yet crushing pressure must have been what Darvin found so frightening. 

“I know it’s shameless of me to ask, especially since we haven’t had much interaction before. But… you’re close to Brother Bapharos, aren’t you?” 

“Close?”

Surprised by his unexpected words, I instinctively asked again. *Was I close to Bapharos?* I tried to recall any memory of such a relationship, but nothing came to mind. If Darvin was saying this, it must mean that there were rumours of it in the palace. It was probably one of two things: either an unfounded rumour, or something Bapharos had deliberately spread for his own purposes.