Duke Manius straightened up, his face twisted like a beast. He didn’t think twice before grabbing Sora by the hair and yanking her up with all his strength.

  “Ah! I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—It was my fault!”

  “You miserable fucking bitch—You stained King Vlad II’s clothes!” Manius shouted. Then he struck Sora across the face and shoved her backward. Vlad II said nothing. He only looked at her like she was some kind of animal—so full of superiority and hatred that it made me sick.

  “S-Sorry, my lords… It was an accident.”

  “It wasn’t.” I threw my common sense to hell and stepped forward. I couldn’t allow them to hurt my precious friend. “One of your ladies-in-waiting tripped Sora. This wasn’t her fault.”

  “Do you dare contradict me, useless little brat?” Manius yanked Sora’s hair again. Her clothes ended up smeared with the food on the floor. She looked terrified, trembling nonstop. God, I hated seeing her like that—she didn’t deserve this.

  “A-Ah… I’m sorry, Duke Manius and King Vlad II. I swear, it wasn’t my intention.” Sora’s eyes began to fill with tears. This was too serious.

  “I haven’t seen any of my ladies nearby. What proof do you have?” Vlad II smiled with malice. “I don’t see anyone else standing here—except your servant.”

  “It’s a lie. I saw the dark-skinned girl walking near the table. She stuck out her foot and then slipped back to her seat.” I pointed at her with my left index finger. She stood and walked toward us with a carefree smile.

  “Your Highnesses, I didn’t do it.”

  Fucking liar. Miserable bitch. How could she lie with such an obvious face? I wanted to order my guards to seize her immediately, but I held back for Sora’s sake.

  Alda rose and moved to my side. Mother did the same, her expression rigid.

  “Oh, interesting…” Vlad II narrowed his eyes, dropping his fake calm. “Are you calling me a liar? Me—your legitimate King? These clothes are worth more than that miserable servant will earn in two full lifetimes. And you’ve dared to slander a member of my court…”

  “Brother, let’s teach that brat his lesson. It’s time he learns to respect us!”

  At that threat, Sir Marte Hogan and Mother stepped in front of me. Sir Marte’s hand went to the sword hilt, and Girasol spread her arms to block any attack.

  Vlad II’s guards drew their weapons and surrounded us. The courtiers froze in panic and fell silent.

  We were seconds away from an international incident.

  “Let’s not be violent, please.” Mother tried to calm them with a warm smile. But I could see her legs trembling—she was probably a breath away from fainting. Yet there she stood: brave, strong, ready to die just to protect me.

  “Your son is a disgrace to his bloodline, Girasol.”

  “Give the order, brother—Let’s kill the boy king, his bastard sister, and Girasol!” Manius kept torturing Sora with his greasy but powerful fingers. The difference in strength was brutal—Sora’s delicate arms and weak hits did nothing to him.

  “We don’t have to come to this, Your Majesty. I can give you a garment even more expensive than that.” Mother walked forward with a forced smile, looking hurt and terribly sad. “I-I can also compensate you and your brother in other ways.”

  Huh?

  No, no, no, no, no.

  Mother gently took King Vlad II’s left hand. She intertwined her fingers with his, and then guided his hand to her right breast.

  “Interesting,” Vlad II said. “Rumor says you’re the most beautiful woman in this kingdom. Is it true?”

  The bastard’s filthy, disgusting fingers squeezed Mother’s breast—then, as if that weren’t enough, he used his other hand to grope the left one too.

  Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.

  For fuck’s sake.

  I wanted to scream, grab a knife, and stab that bastard right there.

  But I couldn’t.

  Not now.

  Alda and Sora kept crying, helpless. Watching Mother being abused in front of us while we could do nothing was driving us insane.

  “P-Please, Your Majesty… have mercy on my son, my servant, and my people.” Mother didn’t shed a single tear. She stayed firm, unshaking in front of the king. Even humiliated in public, she refused to give them the pleasure of seeing her cry.

  Guards and courtiers alike kept their mouths shut. No one wanted to provoke the king’s wrath.

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  God, how I admired Girasol—not only as regent, but as a woman, as a person. She was willing to sacrifice herself to protect the people she loved.

  And because of that, I hated Vlad for hurting her.

  “Fine. For your courage, I’ll forgive your son.” Vlad II’s words left me confused—did he mean only me? “I hope that body of yours is worth it, because my brother and I are going to use you until we’re tired.”

  Then he added, coldly:

  “But not your servant. Brother—kill her.”

  “Wait!” I screamed, but it was too late.

  Sora and I exchanged one last look.

  Her eyes, red from all the crying, and the terror on her face will follow me for the rest of my life.

  She didn’t have time to beg or plead. The pig’s thick hands grabbed a carving knife, and without a shred of hesitation, he plunged it into my beloved friend’s neck.

  No.

  No.

  No.

  No—no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no…

  No.

  NO!

  “I’ll—!” A thick, cold hand clamped over my mouth. It was Sir Marte.

  “HMMMMMGHHH—!”

  “Sora! NOOO!” Alda dropped to her knees and vomited while she cried—everything in her stomach bursting out in one violent wave of pain. Even stomach acid came out through her nose, a horrific display of grief, horror, and helplessness.

  I was furious.

  FURIOUS.

  No one I loved had ever been murdered before. God, I hated this. My chest burned with rancor, and if Sir Marte hadn’t restrained me, I would’ve done something stupid just to lash out.

  “Take them out of here,” Mother ordered, her dark expression refusing tears. “Shall we withdraw now, my lords?”

  “Yes. It’s time. Leave that stinking corpse.”

  “As you say, brother.”

  I tried to break free, but it was useless. My trainer’s superior strength dragged me away from the banquet hall. I couldn’t even close Sora’s eyes with my own hands. Her empty, lifeless expression shattered me.

  Sir Marte carried us to the back courtyard—the same place Ingrid had nearly been kidnapped, where the smell of blood still lingered.

  “Your Highness… Your Highness, please calm down.”

  “How can I calm down? Did you not see it? They killed Sora!” My throat nearly tore on that last shout. I dropped to my knees and threw a full tantrum, screaming with everything I had. “Sir Marte—why didn’t you kill them? We could’ve killed those bastards!”

  Alda stayed sobbing. She’d spent all her strength on that last vomit and now had nothing left. The shock was worse for her than for me—she had never seen death up close, much less the murder of someone dear.

  “Your Highness…” Sir Marte murmured. “You are the king of these lands. If you give in to a fit of rage, we will all suffer. Our people are no match for Apollo’s forces. Even if I killed King Vlad II and his brother, someone else would take their place… Do you understand what I mean?”

  “I-I do…” I whispered, choking on tears and frustration. “I know, I know. But it’s not fair. It’s not fair. None of this makes sense.”

  Sora never hurt anyone.

  She lived honestly, always smiling. She was one of the first people I saw when I woke up in this strange world—and probably the second to notice something was off about me. I loved her. Her voice. Her touch. The way she moved through the castle so full of life.

  Ah…

  Yes.

  Now I understood.

  Even if I felt nothing sexual because my hormones hadn’t developed yet… I—Ulric León—

  I truly loved Sora as a person.

  She was my first love.

  If only I’d reincarnated with my adult body, maybe I could’ve protected her.

  And Mother, too…

  If I were an adult, neither of them would’ve had to endure this.

  “Damn it!” I screamed, slamming my fists into the ground to bleed the rage out of my body. Again and again, until my weak hands split and bled.

  “Sir Marte… take me to the back barracks…”

  “At your command.”

  The giant knight lifted my sister again, and we moved in silence to the training yard. There, I gripped a wooden sword with all my strength, charged the straw dummy, and hacked at it over and over.

  One, two, three, four, five—

  “AAAAAAHHHHHH!”

  I didn’t stop. I pictured Vlad II’s face, and his filthy brother’s, again and again, until it blurred.

  Sora. Sora. Sora. Sora…

  My Sora.

  If only I were stronger. If only this body were Esaú’s and not Ulric’s… I could have protected her.

  “You’ll be a great king, Ulric—keep your chin up!”

  “Love doesn’t mean marriage. We’re all free to love and be loved.”

  “When you finish the book, we’ll discuss it together—I’m so excited to talk with you!”

  “If you were a few years older, I wouldn’t mind going out with you sometime.”

  So many memories flooded my mind, and in all of them I saw Sora’s smiling face.

  What an injustice.

  This happened in my old life too—people with power crushing the weak through violence and threats. I was sure her death had been planned. That ugly little girl had tripped Sora on purpose, made her fall right onto Vlad. They wanted to terrorize us, to keep grinding our dignity into the dirt. Mother saw it too—she played along to save us.

  Sir Marte let me cry. He didn’t interrupt my breakdown even once, and I was grateful for that.

  I lost track of time. By then my fingers were bleeding, and my whole body was drenched in sweat.

  Still, the wound in my heart would take a long time to heal.

  Maybe it never would.

  “B-Brother…” Alda hugged me from behind, still sobbing quietly. Her pain came out differently than mine. Instead of exploding, she swallowed it. “Sora really died…”

  “Yes.”

  I couldn’t say anything else.

  I turned and hugged her with my weak arms.

  “I’ll protect you and Mother. And Ingrid too.”

  Empty promises, with no foundation. How could I protect anyone when I was still a useless brat? I needed strength, power, and knowledge—fast.

  Alda said nothing. She cried cold tears until she fell asleep, her legs giving out. Sir Marte, who hadn’t spoken for a while, approached us.

  “I’ll take her to her room.”

  “Yes… thank you.”

  I was left alone in the forgotten barracks. My sobbing ended, and only the night’s silence remained. A soft wind drifted through the yard, not cold enough to chill.

  “Hey, Sora… I’m almost done with the book. My favorite part was the reign of Oscar I, the Mage King who unified all his vassals with fire magic. I want to be like him—so gallant and powerful he needed no one to achieve peace. He didn’t marry because of the vow of celibacy he made, but I’m sure he loved Camilla, even if not sexually.”

  I lay on my back, staring at the star-filled sky. I’d never noticed before, but this world had almost no light pollution—so the stars shone clearer.

  I kept talking about the book alone. I wanted to share my favorite parts with Sora, get excited like I used to in my old life, and enjoy new stories from this world—while a thin line of tears accompanied me in this lonely mourning.

  “I failed…”