Hanyul grabbed Songjin's wrist, causing a mental entanglement that was difficult to unravel.
To Songjin, someone like him appeared
closed-off, calm, arrogant, and utterly in control of the space around him.
But he would not lose to him simply because he had saved his friend.
He cast questioning glances at Hanyul's hand, still gripping him, as Hanyul spoke indifferently, unconcerned that he had yet to let go.
"I don't want any gratitude from you."
The other pulled his hand away with restraint, unwilling to ignite unnecessary flames, and said,
"Leave it. I don't mind—take it as a gift. Do whatever you want with it."
Rolling his eyes in clear disinterest, Hanyul replied,
"I'm really not interested. Take it."
Suddenly, Songjin laughed softly. He covered his mouth as if suppressing laughter, raised three flags, stepped away from him, and said,
"Believe me, you'll need it. In the end, we'll know who the winner is."
Hanyul stared at him in disbelief—no, he hadn't even fully processed what he was seeing.
He was laughing at him.
Laughing because he hadn't finished the competition.
And even this bear would be of no use to him.
"You damn bastard."
He shouted it so loudly he suspected even the last animal hiding in its burrow had heard him.
And all of this happened because of Jinho—
that foolish servant who hindered him and prevented him from finishing the race.
He had the advantage before this happened.
He had lost.
And the competition was held for the prince and his knights—there was no point in continuing.
Five flags had been claimed, and the other had taken three of them.
Even if two remained, he wouldn't win.
The game was one of speed—of racing to obtain an additional flag.
He sighed in bitterness.
Yet he wasn't as angry as he had expected to be.
Yes, he still felt frustration over the loss,
but its taste wasn't as bitter as he had imagined.
…
He walked, then suddenly stopped.
I would have lost him again.
Not like the previous time—but in a far crueler way.
Is fate playing its games with me?
Does it want me to suffer deep sorrow… or illness?
There's no meaning to this.
Why did he follow me? This knife won't help him recover.
At that moment, I felt as though I were drowning—seeing him turn blue before my eyes.
I was so angry… until my anger evaporated within a second when I realized my helplessness was greater.
I didn't know what I should do.
Nor did I understand what I was supposed to continue doing.
If protecting him was my only goal—then I failed. So what will I ever succeed at?
Songjin said this as he sat on the ground, hugging his legs helplessly, sorrow etched across his face.
It was a soul wounded while trying to mend itself—
a form of self-torture extracted from nothingness.
…
Behind the door of his study, the Duke sat with his legs spread apart, waiting for his daughter to present a justification that might make him feel she had not erred.
Mariana stood between shock and the struggle to face reality.
The reality that the novel had been altered to such an extent that she now suspected Jinho's death might precede her father's.
Everything conflicted.
Her mind—once guided by ink that dictated every step—was now dissolving in scattered places and broken lines.
But she thought lightly, cleverly.
Raphael would never abandon Jinho—no matter what.
And Songjin would be his first defender.
So if she denied knowing about his departure, she would be safe.
It was a choice built on a nearly certain probability—but she had to make it.
After all, her end was death.
She didn't want to see it come too soon.
"Should I wait longer?"
Her father asked calmly, stirring a strange sensation in her stomach—nausea, cramping—but she sighed and replied,
"It would be strange to deny knowing he left, but that is the truth.
He excused himself to use the restroom and never returned until my brother brought him back."
"Silence."
A loud voice struck her ears, making her feel as though they might bleed at any moment.
He was calling her a liar while believing her—
insulting her while absolving her, however it suited him.
Like a madman who didn't know what he was doing.
"Are you saying he bypassed ten guards whose positions only you know, and went there calmly?"
She answered with composure and steady eyes,
"Father, please be realistic. Why would I send someone I vowed to protect into a dangerous place when I know it's dangerous?"
He rose and stepped toward her.
They exchanged gazes—steady, calm, yet turbulent.
Each mind swarmed with countless thoughts.
Yet he did not allow them to spill outward, so as not to shatter his authority.
He is not her father.
She feels no paternal warmth from him.
She has no issue breaking his rules.
But upon reflection—
Four guards were stationed at the front entrance, and the rest surrounded the forest.
Ten guards, surpassed by a servant unfamiliar with the area.
That was puzzling—nearly impossible.
And suspicious.
Silvester found nothing to say.
She showed neither regret nor fear of him.
"I no longer know what to do with you, Mari."
He sighed in surrender and stepped away, ordering her to leave.
Her gaze burned with her colors.
She knew—there was truly no possibility of retreat in this world.
She left, already intending to question Jinho—or rip the answer from between his teeth:
how he had found a gap that allowed him to bypass ten guards.
…
Things remained this way.
But the devil had a few whispers yet to make.
As dusk fell and the sun dipped, painting the sky a deeper red—
All the knights gathered.
The results were astounding.
Victory went to the prince by a narrow margin.
Yet Songjin didn't understand.
He and Hanyul were the last two in the rankings.
Their results were nearly nonexistent compared to the rest.
Silvester approached, congratulating Songjin on his victory over his son, then added,
"Congratulations, Captain of the Knights. You have not disappointed my expectations of the Empire's strength. Still… Hanyul could have won."
Hanyul and Songjin exchanged looks—like a moment of delayed realization.
Hanyul interrupted, having realized his father was pouring oil onto the fire.
"Father, he won fairly. You shouldn't say that."
Raphael sensed something wrong in the looks of the three.
So he said seriously,
"Leave me out of whatever this is."
Songjin turned and said calmly,
"Your Highness, some unfortunate events occurred in the middle of the competition—"
He couldn't finish his words, as Rora interrupted them, saying,
"Your Highness, I apologize for interrupting, but Mariana requests to see you urgently."
Bold of her to ask for him—especially after breaking her promise to protect him.
But explaining the matter to him without interference from her father or even her brother would be better.
Rora appeared serious and rushed, her eyes also carrying regret and fear.
He followed her, ignoring the rest.
"For this tale, there are lines yet to be."
Raphael said calmly, his voice laced with a threat to those who heard it.
...
---
Mariana was in her room, peeking her head out of the window, quietly observing as she weaved long plans behind her.
She had to move before her father's devilish instincts acted.
Living in a state of fear, one she hadn't felt before because of Jin-ho, she knew she had to leave the house as soon as possible.
The prince entered, prompting Rora to close the door after Mariana's request.
His gaze was calm, unlike the expressions he usually showed her.
He was curious about her desires, yet her boldness in summoning him personally intrigued him.
"What do you want, Mariana? You know I'm engaged in an important matter, I hope your words are worth it."
He spoke with the weight of his curiosity, serious and deeply probing, touching her very soul in contrast to his usual demeanor.
She sat directly in front of him, her eyes piercing him with a gaze both cold and sorrowful. She began recounting the events:
"Jin-ho entered the forest and was bitten by a snake. He was rescued in time and is resting in his room. I don't know how to atone for my sins, or even face you, after breaking my promise twice in a row."
Rafael observed silently, deeply, trying to process and match her words with his thoughts.
He sighed, crossing one leg over the other, and said:
"Do you have more to say?"
"I don't know if my words are urgent enough to reach you, but I must say this: I am responsible for him, and I failed to protect him personally as I promised. He pretended to go to the bathroom but entered the forest to return the dagger to Seong-jin. He encountered my brother, and what happened happened, and Han brought him back to us, injured."
He smiled, a smile of disbelief at what he heard. It wasn't a smile of satisfaction—it was a sudden realization that everything had gone wrong, that everything was cracking in ways he didn't understand.
He gestured with his hand, telling her to continue, to speak all that she had to say.
She looked regretful but continued:
"Whatever punishment I must accept, whatever judgment I deserve, please—Han is not to blame for this, I beg you."
She felt she had conveyed what she wanted to him, acting skillfully, yet inside she was only a woman trying to survive, wanting to live far from all this madness. She didn't care who changed or what happened, she just wanted to keep him by her side.
She heard a long, deep sigh escape him, and he spoke profoundly:
...