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A Cadet Becomes a Prophet?! Chapter 2

Chapter 2

A total of 72.‌

After‍⁠ collecting all the‍‍‍ magical items, Fernan​ stepped forward.

A massive cavern appeared,​ and at its‍​​ center was a small altar.

“Is‌ that…?”

Aint’s​‌‍ gaze was fixed‍ unwaveringly on a single point.

It‌​‌ was an instinctive‍ pull.

At‍ the end of⁠​‌ the altar was‌ a sword. A long, rough sword⁠ that didn’t emit⁠ any particular aura;⁠‍ yet, strangely, it​ drew the eye.‌‍‍ The heart, the​‌ soul, felt drawn‌ to it.

Aint‍‍ slowly approached the‌ sword.

Unlike‌‍ Aint, Fernan felt⁠ no such pull‍​ in his soul.‌⁠​ And the sword‍⁠ wasn’t there.

That‍​ was natural. Aint​ must have already​ taken it.

Though⁠⁠‍ the sword had​ disappeared, there was​ a mark on‌‌ the altar that‍​ clearly showed a sword had once‍ been embedded there.​

Aint‌ grasped the sword.⁠​ In that instant,‌‌ a brilliant light⁠⁠⁠ banished all the​‌ cavern’s darkness.

When⁠⁠ Aint opened his​‌‌ eyes after closing‌⁠ them briefly, the‍​‌ place was no‍​ longer an altar‍ or a cavern.​

“…Where‍‍​ is this?”

It‌ was a secluded‍‍‍ alley near the​‌⁠ Imperial Academy.

“…So⁠ it’s true.”

Traces‌​‌ of magic remained.‌‌ So faint they‍‍ would vanish soon,​ but their mere​ existence mattered—just like‌‍‍ the indentation on‌ the altar where‍⁠‌ a sword had​ clearly once rested,​⁠⁠ and the fact‌⁠‌ that Aint was‌ no longer there.⁠‌⁠

Fernan⁠​‌ had no choice‌⁠ but to accept​‍⁠ it.

“Damn​ it.”

The​‌​ Book of Prophecy‌ was real after​‍​ all.

“That‍ means…”

The‍ Demon Legion would⁠ return and trample​ the continent. And​ as the fallen​‍⁠ imperial family rises‌​ again, I’ll face‌ them and be​ destroyed. My father‍ will excommunicate me‌​​ to save the‍‌ family, and I’ll‍ lose my reputation,‍​‌ honor, power, and⁠ wealth.

Fernan‍ laughed.

“Ha,⁠⁠ what a joke.”⁠​⁠

“…What⁠ a fucked-up future.”​​⁠

With‍‍⁠ bloodshot eyes, Fernan‌ clenched his teeth.​‍

“…Who⁠⁠ the hell gave‌ you permission to⁠‍‍ take my money?”​‍

Money​‍ is everything in⁠‍ this world. With‌ money, you can‍​ do anything. A future in which‌⁠​ he lost that—such​⁠⁠ a future must​​ not and cannot‌​ exist.

He…‌

“I​ will never accept‌​ a future like‌ that.”

He⁠‍ would make sure‍ of it.

Back‍‌​ in his quarters,‍‌‍ Fernan, now fully​‌ convinced that The⁠​ Book of Prophecy⁠⁠ was real, began​ to organize his‌​ thoughts.

Of⁠⁠ all the contents​‍ dormant in his‌⁠⁠ mind, three memories⁠⁠ of the prophecy​ stood out most​⁠ vividly.

And‌ the key figure‌​ linking all three…‍‍⁠ The protagonist of⁠⁠ this world, as​‌‌ acknowledged by The⁠⁠ Book of Prophecy.​⁠‍

The‌⁠ one who leads⁠ Fernan to ruin.‌ The hero who​ saves the world⁠ from demons.

“It’s‍ Armian.”

A first-year student, newly‌‌‍ admitted this year‌​​ into the knight⁠⁠‍ program at the‌​​ Imperial Academy.

Currently​ a descendant of‌‌⁠ the ancient, now-declining⁠​‍ imperial family.

An​‌ aspiring knight whose‌‍​ top priority is‌ to become a Royal Knight.

In‍‌ the end, he⁠ achieves that dream‌ and rises to‌​ become Emperor through​​ a combination of⁠‌ luck and relentless⁠ effort.

“A‌‍ front-line asset.”

According‌​⁠ to the prophecy,‍‍⁠ Aint was undeniably⁠⁠ on the rise.​​‌ Investing in him⁠⁠ and staying close‍‍‌ to reap the​⁠ rewards—that was the‍ hallmark of a true merchant.

If​ only their personalities​⁠ weren’t polar opposites—if​ only Aint weren’t​ destined to destroy‌ Fernan—maybe he would’ve⁠⁠ already run to⁠​ him, wagging his​ tail like a dog.

He‍‍ had made a good first impression​ by giving Aint‌​‍ a top-quality potion.​​ But what if​ he kept investing,‌⁠ only for it⁠‍‌ to turn against‍ him?

That‌ would be like‍ digging his own‌ grave. An unforgivable⁠ stupidity.

“What’s​‌‍ the dilemma?”

At⁠ that moment, his‌⁠‌ assistant entered and⁠‍​ asked.

“Hyde.”⁠

“Yes?”‌‍​

“There’s‌​ a group of⁠ merchants that will‍ thrive if you⁠ invest in them.‍‍‍ What would you‌‌⁠ do?”

“I’d⁠⁠ definitely invest.”

“But‍‌⁠ what if the‌⁠​ merchant’s personality doesn’t⁠‌ match mine?”

“Is⁠‌⁠ that even a dilemma? Money can‍ buy compatibility.”

“…You’re‌‍ right. It was​‍⁠ a pointless worry.”‍‍‌

Fernan’s‍‍ eyes widened. It‍ was a surprisingly‍‌​ simple matter. Money‍ could do everything.​‍ Personality clashes were‍ trivial in the‌​‍ face of overwhelming‌​ wealth.

He‌‌‌ had only hesitated‌​​ because of something‌​ as grand as‍ demons and the‍ end of the‍⁠ world, but the‍‍‌ fundamental principle remained‍ the same.

Invest,‍ take risks, and‍‌ reap great returns.‌‌⁠

“I‌⁠ need to see​⁠​ him. Right now.”‍⁠​

“Excuse⁠ me?”

“Doubting‍‌ and missing the‍‍ investment opportunity is‌‍ the height of‍ foolishness.”

Without‌‍ even waiting for‍ his assistant’s response,‌‍ Fernan grabbed his‌‌‍ coat and ran⁠​ out.

“…Um,​ a guest has‌‌ arrived.”

A guest summoned by‌‍‌ the young master​‌‌ himself, no less.​‍ The assistant shook​ his head.

“I‌‍‌ guess I’ll be⁠⁠ the one cleaning‌‌‌ up the mess⁠ again.”

Sighing‌⁠‌ deeply, he followed​⁠ outside.

***‍

The‍⁠‍ newly admitted students⁠​‌ who passed the⁠ entrance exam were‍‍​ immediately assigned to⁠⁠‌ dormitories based on‍⁠ their rankings.

“Phew.”‌‍

This​‌ isn’t it either.‌‌

He‍‌​ lay down on⁠‍‌ the bed. Though‍⁠ the soft mattress​‌ couldn’t compare to‌⁠​ the ones at​⁠ home, it was⁠‍ still fairly decent.⁠

Even‍​‌ though he passed​ the entrance exam,‍ he didn’t score​‍ high enough to‍ enter the prestigious‍ Ravidus Hall, reserved⁠ for the top‍ students, nor even‍ the second-tier Bless⁠ Hall. Instead, he⁠​ was placed in‌‍​ De Base Hall.⁠‌‌ But Aint didn’t‍​⁠ mind.

There‍‌ had been a small issue along​ the way, but⁠ he overcame it—and⁠‍ more importantly, he‌ had achieved the⁠⁠​ first objective that​ brought him to​⁠ the Academy.

His⁠​​ gaze drifted to​‌‍ the sword lying‍⁠‍ next to him.​ It had once​​ belonged to Gardener​⁠ Alpenfarsen, the first‍⁠ Royal Knight of‍ the Empire; now​​ it would become‍​ Aint Armian’s cherished​​⁠ blade.

A gift arranged by⁠⁠​ the First Emperor‌⁠ himself—a treasure meant‌⁠ to guide him⁠‌ to greater heights.‌⁠‌

— De Base Hall?​

Even‍​‍ with Alpenfarsen’s ego‍‌ housed in the⁠‍ sword.

— A descendant of⁠ Armian not placed‍‍‌ in Bless Hall,‍ but in De‍‍‍ Base Hall at​ the Armian Academy?‍‍‌

— Unthinkable!

— If the late‍⁠ emperor knew, he’d‍‍ rise from his⁠ grave and wring‌‌‌ the necks of‌​​ demons!

“Why‍ are demons suddenly​ involved?”

— Because only demon⁠‌ schemes could lead‍⁠‌ to something like​‌ this!

“What⁠ is this? A roundabout insult? I can’t help it.​⁠ I’m weak, after​ all.”

— Incredible. That a descendant of Armian‌‍⁠ would be this‍ weak…

“If‌ we’re assigning blame,​‌⁠ then it’s also‍ the First Emperor’s​​ fault for creating​ a system where‍‍​ anyone could become‌‍ Emperor.”

Well…⁠⁠‍ that was the‍​​ real issue.

The⁠​‌ Empire was supported‍⁠ by seven Elector‌⁠ Princes. Their possession⁠⁠​ of the Golden⁠​​ Decree granted them​‌​ the right to⁠ elect the Emperor.⁠⁠

When‍‌‍ an emperor died,​ new elections were⁠ held. Whoever secured‌⁠ a majority of⁠⁠ the electors’ votes​ would become Emperor.​‌‍

If⁠‍ only he had​‍‌ passed on the‍‍ throne. Why did‌⁠⁠ he have to​​⁠ donate most of⁠​​ Armian’s territory to‌ the Empire…?

It‌‌ would’ve been one⁠ thing to simply​ lose the throne,‌‍‍ but the First‍ Emperor gave away​⁠‌ most of Armian’s‌ land to the⁠⁠‌ Empire.

Of‌‌ course, while the⁠ throne remained in​​‌ Armian hands, it‍ wasn’t a problem.‌‌

But‌ the moment they‌ lost the crown,⁠ the majority of​⁠ Armian’s properties were​ handed to the​ new royal family.‌‍‌

In‍‌ that process, Armian⁠‌​ had to fight​‌‌ to survive, and​ as a result,⁠ even parts of​‌ the secret swordsmanship​ passed down from⁠​ the founding generation⁠ were lost.

Thus‍ began the decline.​⁠

So​‍‌ honestly, while I respect the First‍⁠ Emperor, I also‌​‌ resent him. If‌‍‌ not for that‌ decision, Armian wouldn’t⁠⁠‌ have fallen so⁠⁠ far.

— How dare you!‍​

— The idea of‌ losing the throne‌‌ is absurd!

— To think such‍ incompetents bear the‌⁠‌ name of Armian!⁠⁠​

“Not⁠ everyone can be⁠‍ as great as​​​ the First Emperor.”‍‌⁠

Aint‌ gave a bitter⁠​ smile. No one‌‌ wants to lose⁠​ their throne.

Imperial‍‍⁠ authority over a patchwork of kingdoms​ was inherently weak,​ and the fact‍‍‌ that it lasted‌‌ nearly a thousand⁠ years was practically⁠ a miracle.

— Well. Luckily, you⁠‍‌ have talent. I’ll‍​‍ help you however​‍‌ I can to​‌​ restore that glory.‍⁠​

— Maybe the late⁠​‍ emperor foresaw this‌ and left me​⁠ behind as your​​ guide.

“Thank​ you.”

It‍‌​ was a welcome​ offer. After all,‌ Aint had enrolled​ in the Academy,⁠​ enduring shame and‌‌​ hardship, because of⁠ Gardener Alpenfarsen.

At⁠‍‍ that moment—

Knock,‌⁠ knock.

“You’re⁠‍ Armian, right? Are​ you in there?”‌

“Who‍ is it?”

“I’m‍​ your senior.”

“…Excuse⁠ me?”

— Expecting someone?

No‌‌ one. Since the​ Armian family lost⁠ the throne, they’d‍‌ withdrawn into themselves.​​ Aint didn’t know⁠‌⁠ any nobles.

And‍ yet, someone had‍ come claiming to‍​ be his senior.‍⁠

‘No‌​ way…’

Aint‌‍⁠ cautiously opened the‍‌ door. Just as⁠⁠​ he suspected, a familiar man stood​‌ there.

A perfectly dressed noble,‍‌‍ exuding natural dignity.‌​

“Senior‌⁠ Fernan?”

“It’s‌ been a while.​​ Or maybe not?”‍‌⁠

Fernan⁠⁠ shrugged.

“Are‌‍‌ you busy?”

“No,​‌ I don’t have‍​ anything going on⁠‍​ right now…”

“In‍ that case, I’d‍​ like a bit‌‍‌ of your time.⁠​ It’s too public​‍​ here. I know​‍ a quiet place‌ I’d prefer to‍ go.”

“Ah.⁠​ Right now?”

“Yes.”‍‌

“Five⁠ minutes. Please just⁠​⁠ give me five‌‍ minutes to get‍‍ ready.”

“Of‌⁠ course.”

Fernan⁠⁠⁠ pulled out a piece of paper,​‌ scribbled something on‍ it, and handed​​​ it over.

“I’ll‌‌ go ahead. See⁠‍‍ you here.”

“Y-Yes!”‌

Fernan‌‍​ disappeared. Aint closed‌‌ the door and⁠‌⁠ took a deep​ breath.

“What​‌​ is this? He​‍ said investment. Don’t‌ tell me he’s‍⁠⁠ here to collect⁠ for the potion​‌⁠ already?”

“Or…⁠‍‍ did he see‍ me enter the‍​‍ dungeon?”

“No,‌​⁠ that can’t be.‌ There was no​‍ one around… But​‌ could I really‌​⁠ hide from Fernan‌⁠ if he wanted⁠ to find me?”‌⁠

Dozens‍‍ of thoughts flooded⁠⁠‍ his mind, plunging‍‍​ it into chaos.‍

— What’s wrong?

— Why are you​​‍ panicking over that​​ guy?

“He’s‌‌ a pretty important⁠‌​ figure at the​⁠⁠ Academy.”

— But he’s just​ a student, right?⁠​

“Yes,​ but consider his⁠ status. His full‍ name is Fernan‍‌ Pellenberg. He’s the‍​⁠ eldest son of‍‍​ House Pellenberg.”

— Pellenberg? That rich‌⁠⁠ family?

“…Excuse​‍ me?”

Aint‍‍ tilted his head​ in confusion at‍ the sudden insult.‍‌‍ Their first encounter⁠‌ had happened so⁠ abruptly they hadn’t‌ had time to​‌ truly look at‌⁠ one another.

Now⁠‍ that he could​ observe him properly,⁠‍ the impression wasn’t⁠​ bad. Though he‌ looked ordinary, his‌‌ eyes had a sharp gleam, and‍‍⁠ here and there,‍⁠ ambition could be‍‍ seen.

He’s‍⁠ ambitious. If he‍⁠‍ also has talent⁠‌‍ and the right​ environment, he could‌ go far.

It⁠‍​ wasn’t a certainty.‍‍‌ But Fernan’s instincts⁠‍ told him so.⁠ One of a merchant’s most critical⁠‍ virtues was the‍​‍ ability to read‌ people, and in⁠ that, Fernan was‌​ confident.

Even⁠​ if it hadn’t​ been for the⁠ Book of Prophecy,​ he would’ve given​​⁠ Aint Armian high⁠ marks.

However,​ he couldn’t afford⁠‍ to be openly‍​ friendly. A close⁠ relationship with the⁠⁠ former royal family‍‌‍ would inevitably create‍‌ conflict with the‍ current one.

“Senior.”‍‍⁠

Perhaps​ because he had‍‍⁠ steeled himself, Aint’s‍‍​ eyes trembled less​ now.

“Sit‍‌‍ down.”

“Yes.”‌‌‍

A private room in⁠ a tea house⁠​‌ located in the⁠ center of the⁠‍ Academy.

Run‌⁠ by the Pellenberg⁠‌ family, the tea‍‌⁠ house ensured privacy​ in its private⁠ rooms—making it the‌​​ perfect place for⁠‌ this kind of‌‌‍ talk.

“What⁠ will you drink?”​‍⁠

“Anything‌‌⁠ is fine.”

“Two‍​‍ coffees, please.”

“Yes,‍‌ sir.”

Shortly​​ after, the server‌ brought the coffee⁠ and left. They​‌​ now had complete⁠ privacy.

Nervous,‍‌ Aint swallowed hard.‍​ Fernan’s gaze drifted‌‍‌ toward his waist.‍‌⁠

“You​‌ brought your sword.”‍‌

“Ah…⁠‍​ It just makes‌‌​ me feel more⁠⁠⁠ at ease to‌ carry it with​⁠​ me. I never‍⁠ intended to harm​​ you, Senior Fernan.”​‍

“I⁠​ understand. Most knights​ don’t part with⁠ their swords.”

Fernan⁠ nodded.

‘So⁠‌ that’s the sword.​⁠ The one said‍‍​ to house the​​‌ ego of the‌‍‍ first Royal Knight,‍‍ Gardner Alfenparsen.’

It​⁠ looked relatively old⁠ and unimpressive, which‌‌ raised some doubts.​​

But⁠‌ when they met⁠⁠‌ in front of‍ the dungeon, he’d‍ been carrying a different sword, so‌⁠​ this one was⁠ likely the real‍ deal.

The⁠ Book of Prophecy‌‌​ also described its⁠ appearance as worn.‍

‘The​​⁠ Book of Prophecy‍‌‌ was right after⁠ all.’

Despite‌‌ having checked it⁠ multiple times, Fernan⁠‌ continued to confirm​​ it again and⁠‌ again. It was⁠ a compulsive habit‌​‍ of merchants.

Of‍‌ course, a more‌​ important reason was‍‍ that he didn’t‍ want to believe⁠​ in a future‍‍ where he fell‍‌⁠ into ruin.

“Are‍‍ your wounds okay?”‍‍

“Yes.‍​ Thanks to you…⁠‍ If it was​​ a top-quality potion,‌‍‌ I’ll gather the⁠ money and pay⁠​‍ you back as‍‌ soon as I can.”

“No‌⁠ need. Didn’t I say it was​ an investment?”

“…Yes.”⁠‌⁠

“By​ the way, have⁠​‌ you eaten?”

Fernan,⁠ reading Aint’s expression,‍‍ refrained from bringing‍ up sponsorship.

People⁠ like him didn’t‌‌ easily succumb to⁠ temptation—unless they were‌⁠ in utter desperation‌ or given an‍‌‍ irresistible offer.

Fernan​‌ had neither at‌‍​ the moment. A hasty proposal could⁠ only offend Aint’s⁠⁠ Armian pride and‌ turn him into‍ an enemy.

“Not​‍⁠ yet…”

“In‍‌ that case…”

The​ conversation that followed​ was nothing more​ than idle chatter.‌ After a good⁠‍​ while, Fernan stood​⁠​ to leave.

“Well⁠​ then, I’ll see⁠ you again. Oh,​ and don’t act‌⁠ like you know‍‍ me in public.⁠‍⁠ There could be‍⁠ people watching me.”‌‍

“Yes.”​

Left​‍ alone, Aint tilted⁠ his head in‌‌​ confusion.

“What⁠‍‌ was all that?”​‌⁠

‘Did​​ he really just⁠ come to chat?’⁠

— He was just‍‌⁠ trying to understand‍‌‌ you.

“Understand​⁠ me?”

— To figure out‍​‌ what kind of​ person you are.‍‍​

— That’s how rich⁠‌ people operate. Before⁠‍ doing anything, they​⁠ always assess the​ person first.

“So⁠ he was checking⁠​ if I’m useful‌‍⁠ or not?”

— Exactly. What a pitiful world we‌‍​ live in.

— To think someone‌ would dare treat‌⁠‌ an Armian like⁠ that.

“…But‍‌ it’s not necessarily‌‌ a bad thing,‌​ right?”

If​ he had mentioned‌ direct sponsorship as‌ an extension of​⁠ the potion investment,​‍ it probably would’ve‌‍‌ felt like an‍‍⁠ insult to his‌⁠⁠ house.

People⁠​‍ would’ve looked down‍ on Fernan. But‍​‌ he had stayed⁠​ within the proper‌​ bounds. If all‍⁠‍ he wanted was‌‌ to build a good relationship, there​​ was no reason​ to reject it.‍‌

“Because⁠‌‌ the Pellenberg family’s‌‌‍ money isn’t something‌ you can ignore.”​⁠

— A wise thought.‌⁠‌

— If it’s about‍‌ money, the Pellenbergs‌ have the most.​ Get one of⁠ them as your‍‍ patron, and you’re​ set. The late⁠ emperor used to‍ say that too.‌

Gardner‌‍ let out a hearty laugh.

***‍‍

“Hmm..”‍

Most​‍ of the conversation‍ with Aint had‌ been trivial talk.​‍ But it is⁠⁠ often in the‌⁠‌ mundane where a person’s true nature‌ is revealed.

And⁠‌‍ with the Book‌‌ of Prophecy in​‍ hand, Fernan had​‍‍ gained a fairly‌⁠ accurate understanding of‌‍ Aint Armian.

His⁠‌ will was firm,‍ and he placed​​‌ great importance on‌‍⁠ his family’s honor.⁠​‍ He possessed a deep sense of‍⁠​ pride and a clear desire to​​ restore the house’s‌ former glory—an ambition⁠‍ rooted in nobility.‍⁠

‘A⁠‍‍ hasty move would‍⁠‍ only provoke hostility.⁠⁠ Better to approach‌ gradually, like water‍‌⁠ seeping into stone.’‍‌‍

Fernan‌‍ had decided on‌⁠​ the course to⁠ take with Aint.⁠ Their personalities didn’t​‍ quite align, so​ forging a relationship⁠⁠⁠ that was too‌‍ direct didn’t seem‍⁠ wise.

Maintaining‍‍⁠ proper distance, keeping‍​ a suitable level‍ of relationship, and‍ extracting just the​ right amount of⁠⁠ benefit: that was​ the best course‌ of action.

At‌ least that was⁠⁠‍ the conclusion for⁠ now.

“Well‌ then…”

“Young​​​ Master, have you⁠ returned?”

“What⁠​ is it?”

“Where⁠‍ have you been?”⁠‌‍

“I‍‍ had to meet​‍​ someone, briefly.”

“That⁠ someone wasn’t Luina​ Bercheff, was it?”‌​​

“Luina⁠⁠ Bercheff? Why bring​ her up all‍‍​ of a sudden?”‍​​

Luina‌‍ Bercheff was second‌‍ in the Faculty‍‍‍ of Knights. And⁠‍⁠ her family was‍ deeply indebted to‌ him.

“You‌‍​ asked to meet⁠‍ her today.”

“I⁠‍‍ did?”

“Yes,​ Young Master.”

“…Right,⁠​ I did.”

The‌ Pellenberg family had​‌‍ lent money to‍‍ the Bercheff family⁠⁠ in hopes of‌‍​ gaining access to‍‌​ their secret swordsmanship.⁠⁠

He⁠ vaguely remembered arranging⁠ the meeting to⁠ apply pressure, now​‍​ that she and‌ her house were​‍‍ beginning to feel‍ the weight of‌​ the debt.

“That‌⁠‌ was today?”

“Yes.‍ I was going‌‍‌ to inform you‍ that she was‌ waiting, but you⁠ suddenly left.”

“…Where​‌‍ is Luina now?”​

“She​‍​ waited three hours,⁠​ thinking you’d return​‍‍ soon, and then​ left. She probably​⁠‍ suspects you did‍ it on purpose—to‍⁠ intimidate her.”

“…If‌‌‍ she’s in debt,⁠‌ she should at​​ least be able⁠‌‌ to handle that—”⁠

Then,⁠‌ a terrible headache⁠‌ struck him, and​⁠ suddenly, fragments of‌‌⁠ memory from the‍‌ Book of Prophecy⁠⁠ surfaced in his‍⁠ mind.

[That’s‌‌ right. Her talent‌‍ is enough to⁠⁠​ reach the rank⁠ of Royal Knight.]​⁠

Declared‍ by the soul‍ dwelling in the⁠ sword—none other than​‌ the great First​​⁠ Royal Knight, Gardner‍‌ Alfenparsen.

[It⁠ seems there’s some​‌⁠ kind of heart-bound​ demon…]

If‍‌ only the shackles‌⁠‌ binding her could‌‌ be broken, she‍‍ would spread her‍⁠ wings and soar.‍

These‌ fragments reached him​ because they were​ connected to Aint‌‍‍ Armian.

‘A‍‍⁠ Royal Knight?’

One‌⁠ of the ten‍⁠ strongest knights on​​ the continent, officially‍ recognized by the​‍ Emperor?

[Her‌ loose chestnut hair​ and aquamarine eyes​‍​ were just part​​‌ of her charm.]‌

[Her​ sword was noble,‍‍ beautiful, pure, and​‍‍ alive.]

[Aint⁠ was completely captivated‍ by her sword⁠ dance under the​ moonlight.]

[He‌ wanted to free⁠‌ her from her⁠‌⁠ chains—that is, from⁠‍ the Pellenberg family.]⁠‍

Was​ she even Aint​‍​ Armian’s first love​ and the first‌ reason their relationship‍ would fall apart?​​

“…Damn⁠ it.”

Fernan⁠‌​ realized immediately.

‘Why⁠‍⁠ is something this​‌ important only coming​ to me now…?!’​⁠​

He⁠ had fastened the‍‌​ first button wrong.​

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