Egor woke before Klaus.
He crossed the room and carefully opened the shutters just enough to look outside.
The sun was only just rising above the horizon, casting a pale, unsettling light across the land. It didn't warm. It exposed.
A faint breeze slipped through the window.
And with it—
that smell.
Gunpowder.
Egor shivered.
It had followed him from the moment he stepped through the portal into Isorobia—Klaus's world.
He closed the shutters quietly and went to the bath.
This time, he didn't fill the pool.
Instead, he opened a single tap. Hot water streamed steadily downward, forming something close to a shower.
He had learned his lesson.
The safest way to avoid seeing Klaus naked—
was to wake earlier.
And at night—
to stare at literally anything else while Klaus undressed.
When Egor returned, the room was already occupied.
Slaves moved quietly between the furniture, laying out breakfast.
Too quietly.
Egor watched them for a moment.
How often did they come in?
How much did they hear?
Had Klaus's uncle placed them here to listen?
Klaus opened his eyes just as Egor finished his second piece of toast with honey.
The prince dressed lazily, as always—shirt thrown on, trousers pulled up, laces ignored.
He sat down across from him, stretching.
"You're up early," Klaus said. "Didn't sleep well?"
"No," Egor replied, licking honey from his fingers. "Quite the opposite. It's too comfortable here. I woke up, washed, and decided not to wait for you."
Klaus studied him for a moment.
Watching.
Measuring.
Looking for something.
Resentment?
Regret?
Nothing.
Egor showed none of it.
As if yesterday had simply never happened.
Klaus looked away first.
"There's a reception today. Highborn guests."
A pause.
"You'll stand with the guards. I can't seat a slave at the same table as them."
Another pause.
"After that, we can go outside. Ride, maybe. Do you know how to handle a horse?"
"My grandmother let me ride a pony once," Egor shrugged.
"Then you'll learn properly."
A brief silence.
"You'll need it when we leave this place."
Egor glanced at him.
"And after that?"
Klaus leaned back slightly.
"I haven't decided yet."
A pause.
"My uncle wants me to hear someone out first."
"I suppose I will."
—
The reception began hours later.
Until then, Egor stayed in the room, going through the documents Klaus had given him.
Ledgers.
Records.
Lists of slaves.
Their abilities.
Their origins.
Their progress.
When they were acquired.
From which village.
How they advanced.
What they were capable of.
Klaus had asked him to identify those worth attention.
Many were useful.
Some were strong.
But truly exceptional—
rare.
In each ledger, Egor found one or two.
Top rank.
Unusual abilities.
He wrote them down separately, adding notes.
He was finishing the last entry when Klaus returned.
Annoyed.
"How is it?" Klaus asked.
"Not bad," Egor said. "What's wrong with you?"
"I hate this," Klaus muttered. "Every one of them wants something. And I have to pretend I don't understand what."
A pause.
"At least until I speak to that man."
"Maybe he'll come before the reception?"
"I hoped so."
A glance toward the door.
"He hasn't."
A beat.
"Get ready. It's time."
—
The hall was enormous.
Tables already set.
Guests waiting.
Egor took his place in the shadows beside the guards.
Nearly twenty of them.
Too many.
Who was Jiro afraid of?
Klaus sat beside his uncle.
At a signal, the doors opened.
Guests entered.
One by one.
Families.
Couples.
Alone.
They bowed.
Spoke.
Sat.
When all were gathered, Jiro stood.
"I welcome you all," he said smoothly. "And I am especially pleased that my nephew has returned."
A slight incline of his head.
Klaus mirrored it.
"Let us begin."
At first—
silence.
Then—
glances.
Toward Klaus.
Constant.
Hungry.
Restless.
Egor was right.
They all wanted something.
None wanted to be the first to ask.
It took one question from Jiro to break it.
After that—
they rushed in.
Complaints.
Requests.
Carefully hidden demands.
Slaves were becoming harder to acquire.
Lands were failing.
Harvests shrinking.
Borders unstable.
Trade routes unsafe.
And then—
marriage.
"My husband died at the border many years ago," a widow said lightly. "And I have not remarried since. Of course, Your Highness is surrounded by young beauties…"
A pause.
"But perhaps a woman with experience might also be of interest?"
Her tone was playful.
Her eyes were not.
She was old enough to be his mother.
No one spoke of marriage after that.
—
After the meal, music filled the hall.
Servants cleared the tables.
Wine.
Fruit.
Sweets.
Guests broke into smaller groups.
The atmosphere loosened.
But not around Klaus.
He was surrounded constantly.
Listening.
Smiling.
Nodding.
Promising nothing.
—
Egor grew bored.
Until—
he saw her.
A girl.
Young.
Beautiful.
A pale blue dress of light fabric exposed her shoulders.
Fine embroidery traced the bodice.
Jewelry caught the light.
Her hair was carefully arranged.
Klaus smiled at her.
She blushed.
Touched his hand.
Something twisted sharply inside Egor.
"Jealous?" a guard muttered beside him.
Egor shot him a look.
"What, thought he'd only fuck you?" another added with a grin.
"He doesn't fuck me," Egor said through his teeth.
"Oh? Then you fuck him?"
"That's not—"
"Everyone sees it."
Egor clenched his fists.
"If he throws you away," the guard smirked, "come to me."
Egor turned away.
But what burned worse than their words—
was Klaus's smile.
That polite smile.
Given to her.
When had this started?
The feeling had a name.
Jealousy.
And he had no right to it.
They were just friends.
A memory surfaced—
Klaus leaving a bar with a man.
So he could.
With men.
Then I—
No.
Stop.
Friendship is enough.
Isn't it?
—
The doors opened again.
Egor looked up—
and froze.
Professor Skotsky.
The man immediately found Klaus in the crowd and smiled.
Klaus's composure slipped for a fraction of a second.
"Your Highness," the professor said with a bow. "Forgive my lateness."
"I'm glad you arrived safely… Mr…?" Klaus replied coolly.
"Vitos Harits," he said. "We have seen each other before, though not formally. May I request a private audience? The matter cannot wait."
Klaus turned to the others.
"Excuse me."
He left.
Egor followed.
—
The moment the door closed—
the air changed.
"What is the meaning of this?" Klaus snapped. "After that letter. After your silence. You come here?"
A step forward.
"Are you not afraid I might have you executed?"
The anger was real—
but not entirely.
Curiosity burned beneath it.
"Call me whatever you like," Klaus cut him off impatiently. "Skotsky or Harits, I don't care. Speak."
The professor exhaled slowly.
Then:
"Your mother is alive."
Silence.
Klaus didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
"…What?"
"Minami of the Astrik family is alive."
The mask shattered.
"Where is she?" Klaus demanded. "Where?"
"You need to hear everything first."
—
"The Astrik family possessed something extremely rare," Skotsky began. "A slave whose ability was unique even among mages."
A pause.
"He could stop magic mid-cast."
"Completely."
"In training battles, he prevented lethal outcomes. In war, such an ability would decide everything."
A beat.
"He was the reason the Astrik family was able to raise such a powerful force."
"The king wanted him."
"Your grandfather refused."
A breath.
"So the king removed the problem."
Klaus's jaw tightened.
"Fire," Skotsky said quietly. "An 'accident.' That is the official version."
A pause.
"It was not an accident."
"And my mother?" Klaus asked.
"The king wanted her as well."
A bitter smile.
"He chose not to choose."
Silence.
"He took both."
—
"Your mother discovered the truth," Skotsky continued. "She saw that slave in the palace. Recognized him immediately."
A pause.
"She understood what had been done to her family."
"What did she do?" Klaus asked.
"She investigated first. Quietly."
A beat.
"Then she tried to run."
A pause.
"She was already pregnant."
Klaus froze.
"She tried to get rid of the child," Skotsky said bluntly. "She understood what it meant. Whose child it was."
Silence.
Heavy.
"The king found out," Skotsky continued. "After that, she was never left alone. Servants watched her day and night."
Another pause.
"She changed."
"She stopped speaking to him."
"Stopped letting him touch her."
"And then—"
His voice hardened.
"She walked into a public reception."
"A full hall."
"Guests."
"And she screamed."
"She called him a murderer."
"A devil."
"She swore she would kill the child inside her."
"And him."
Silence.
"They declared her mad."
"Locked her away."
—
"She gave birth."
A pause.
"And that same night—"
"They erased her."
Klaus looked up.
"They told the court she died in childbirth."
"But she didn't."
—
"Where is she?" Klaus asked again.
"Alive," Skotsky said quietly.
"In a remote estate."
"Hidden."
"Forgotten."
Klaus's voice shook.
"I want to see her."
"She's not… what she was," Skotsky warned.
"Her mind—"
"I don't care."
Silence.
—
"How did you find her?" Klaus asked.
Skotsky hesitated.
"We were close," he said finally. "As children."
A pause.
"I thought I would marry her."
A bitter smile.
"Your father chose differently."
"I searched for her after they announced her death."
"I didn't believe it."
"I found her."
A pause.
"She didn't recognize me."
Silence.
"She spoke nonsense."
"Her eyes…"
He stopped.
"…were empty."
—
"And the king?" Egor asked quietly.
"He stopped visiting her," Skotsky said. "But he kept her alive."
A pause.
"To rot."
—
"I will see her," Klaus said.
Skotsky nodded slowly.
"I'll give you a map."
A pause.
"I won't go with you."
"Why?"
"Because I barely survived the last time."
He touched his face.
The scar.
"I was discovered."
"Your father ordered my death."
"I escaped."
"Barely."
"I cut off my own crest," he said calmly. "Placed it on another body."
"Burned it."
"They believed I was dead."
Silence.
"That's how I left this world," he finished quietly.
"And how I ended up meeting Pauoka."