Hamon took out a small ring Ahazan had given him on the first day along with the worn letter tied to it and placed them deliberately on the table, as if to make a point.

He had carried them with him the entire time, burdened by relentless self-reproach. His face twisted in pain as he spoke.

“It had already been a great mystery to me. In Lyrgaon Kingdom, when a royal child is born, it is tradition to fashion a ring from this moonstone and pass it down as an inheritance later on. Yuri and I were born around the same time, so my mother split a single moonstone into two rings. I was told that one of them was given to the late empress as Yuri’s.”

He lowered his gaze to the ring on his finger.

“But… the ring Yuri inherited from the late empress had a completely different color from the one I received this time.”

By the tradition that one could only inherit such a ring after the death of their parents, it seemed Hamon had long expected to receive a ring identical in color to Yuri’s until he recently lost his mother.

But the ring he inherited bore no resemblance to Yuri’s.

Instead, it matched perfectly with the ring Ahazan had given him just two days ago.

Hamon brought Ahazan’s ring beside his own and examined them once more.

No matter how he looked at it, the two rings were unmistakably made from the same moonstone.

“On top of that, Yuri had no knowledge of the existence of the two rings. Even now. I considered the possibility that my aunt might have lost the ring my mother gave her and had another one made for Yuri instead. After seeing my own ring, I became even more convinced of that.”

As Ahazan listened, he finally understood why Hamon had turned so pale and restless upon receiving the ring.

Even Ahazan himself who had received the ring from the late Empress Elizabeth had never heard such details.

If simply examining the ring was enough for Hamon to begin doubting Yuri’s true nature, then perhaps there had been no need to show him the letter written in the late Empress’s own hand.

That letter written just moments before she lost her life to her own son contained a pitiful yet noble heart, one he would have rather kept hidden from the world forever.

Unaware of Ahazan’s thoughts, Hamon set the ring down and picked up the aged letter, its surface made of worn leather parchment.

[If I prove to be an incompetent mother who fails to turn Yuri’s heart, and if today becomes the day I can no longer see the Crown Prince… please keep this ring. Should an unfortunate event arise in the future and you require even the smallest help, show this ring and letter to my elder sister in Desalon. Lyrgaon and Desalon will stand on the Crown Prince’s side.]

Hamon had no way of knowing for certain whether the densely written script truly belonged to the late Empress Elizabeth.

But at the end of the letter—

[Do not forget. The Crown Prince must ascend the throne.]

Beside that line was a bold, resolute signature.

That alone, as her nephew, he could recognize without doubt.

And so, he could no longer deny that everything Ahazan had told him before… was the truth.

‘Yuri… He is no different from a real brother to me. He is not the kind of shameless monster who would kill his own mother just to become Emperor. He loved my mother dearly… so why would he do something so horrifying?’

‘Love? Do you think something like that justifies abandoning the greater cause? If that love had truly been worth more than the throne, your kingdom would never have been used and destroyed the way it was.’

‘That is why you’re called a heartless war demon.’

‘At the very least, that war demon doesn’t defend the enemy after being played by cunning deception and destroying a flourishing nation.’

A pathetic prince who had been deceived by Yuri’s cunning schemes, brought about the fall of the Kingdom of Desalon, and still defended his enemy.

“That pathetic prince… was me.”

Hamon’s voice trembled.

“I was the one who was deceived by that bastard and led Desalon to ruin. Because of me, my father, the king, was executed as a criminal… and my mother, the queen, fell gravely ill and died in vain.”

Unlike Ahazan, whose expression remained unchanged from beginning to end, Hamon’s face crumpled.

Tears streamed down as though his chest could no longer bear the weight of it.

He slipped from his chair, almost collapsing, and fell to his knees.

Pressing both hands against his eyes, he began to sob in utter despair.

“And yet… how could I ever try to harm Your Majesty again…? There is someone else I would rather tear apart with my own hands…!”

At last, his voice erupted twisted with grief and rage.

Ahazan looked down at him coldly.

Hamon had finally acknowledged both the truth he had failed to see and the sins he had committed.

And only now did Ahazan deem him fit to discuss what must come next.

“I’m sorry, but we don’t have the luxury to listen to your grievances.”

Ahazan turned his gaze away, as if he could no longer bear to watch.

To him, what mattered far more than Hamon’s past mistakes being deceived by Yuri and losing his kingdom and parents was the time Hamon was wasting now.

Even after committing treason, he had refused the Empire’s offered path to survival.

That, above all, was a far greater loss.

The real war, as Ahazan saw it, was only just beginning.

It would not be fought with blades or blood on the battlefield.

It would be quieter. More refined.

And far more dangerous.

“Then why… why does Your Majesty not punish Prince Yuri immediately? No, if only you had told me this sooner…!”

Hamon Desalon demanded recklessly, his voice laced with resentment.

His reason had already been consumed by the fury he bore toward Yuri.

“Even if your country has fallen, you should at least keep your wits about you.”

For that brief moment, Ahazan looked at Hamon with a gaze as sharp and cold as thin ice.

“It was you who rejected our request for dialogue to the very end.”

Hamon could not offer a single word in rebuttal.

Because it was all true.

The only thing that filled the space was the sound of his sobbing.

Ahazan, feeling a dull weariness at how perfectly Hamon’s reaction matched his expectations, continued in a dry tone.

“You ask why I didn’t punish Yuri sooner? If everything were dealt with strictly by moral principle and immediate judgment, would you even be standing here now?”

The greatest imperial war in history, which had raged on for ten years, had made it impossible for anyone to predict who would ultimately emerge victorious.

Ahazan, who had fought daily on the battlefield with sword in hand, could not know.

Neither could Yuri, who had remained in the imperial palace, governing in his stead.

Of course, if it had been up to him, Ahazan might have exposed Yuri’s true nature and punished him long ago just as Hamon had said.

But aside from Ahazan himself, Yuri was the only remaining imperial prince.

No matter how cruel his nature or how monstrous his crimes, Yuri knew well enough to conceal that side of himself before others. To the people, at the very least, he was a capable and intelligent ruler someone fit to be emperor.

And so, at first as an unmarried Crown Prince without an heir, and later as an emperor marching into war with his life constantly at risk, Ahazan had no choice but to bury Yuri’s sins.

All for the sake of the Empire’s future.

“The side story has ended. Now it’s time to bring this civil war to a close.”

Until now, preserving the nation had taken precedence over imperial authority.

Both Ahazan and Yuri had understood that all too well.

That was why the conflict between them had remained drawn out passive, restrained.

But not anymore.

Now, as the Empire lay in ruins from war, the time had come when he must restore it while also preventing the internal rebellion that would soon erupt.

A moment of absolute crisis.

“Which means… I need to make use of those whose crimes are relatively lighter.”

The more allies, the better.

Especially those who harbored resentment toward the same enemy such allies would be far easier to align with.

Even Ahazan, who was well-versed in strategy, could not fully grasp how far Yuri’s influence had spread within the imperial court during all these years.

And because of that, not a single misstep could be afforded in what was to come.

“If an ally proves useless, then they’re nothing but a burden. In that case, I’ll cut them off at the root myself.”

Ahazan casually raised his uninjured hand before lowering it again, speaking in an almost relaxed tone though the meaning behind his words was undeniably cruel.

He gave a slight shrug, adding as if it were nothing more than a passing remark.

“After all, if I discard something carelessly and someone else picks it up, it would only become troublesome.”

The faint smile stretching across his lips held not a trace of warmth only ruthless indifference.

Even as he burned with anger toward his enemy, Hamon Desalon felt a chill run down his spine.

And so, choosing survival above all else, he nodded.

“I will devote my life to Your Majesty’s cause.”

Yet perhaps aware of how pitiful he must seem, he chose to cast aside any pretense and speak with complete honesty.

“Though… truthfully, my participation is driven by personal vengeance… even so, if Your Majesty is willing to use someone like me, I will serve without hesitation.”

At Hamon’s resolute vow, Ahazan showed neither satisfaction nor displeasure.

Instead, he tilted his head slightly and spoke in a low, threatening tone.

“Loyalty can wait. First, make sure your gates are properly secured so no spies slip in.”

He was referring to the incident that had occurred just the day before.

Ahazan knew well that Hamon had not been involved.

By the time the incident happened, Hamon had already seen the ring and letter—and had begun to doubt Yuri.

No.

Even without that, it was obvious who had been behind such a reckless and shallow attempt to threaten him.

Still, one could not say the master of a house bore no fault when intruders could enter so easily.

And so, Ahazan’s words carried a sharp warning.

“My wife… because of what happened yesterday—”

For a brief moment, his expression stiffened in a way that was unlike him.

It was a matter too personal, too unpleasant, for him to speak of lightly.

“…If something had happened to her, your oath would already have become your last words.”

A rage so overwhelming that neither the Empire nor his duty as emperor could have restrained it.

Realizing that such fury had not been directed at him, Hamon Desalon silently thanked his fortune  and for a long time after, he could do nothing but press a trembling hand to his chest, as if to steady his heart.