"We don't need you anymore. You can go now, you know."
Lenko narrowed his eyes, watching as the girl remained rooted in place, arms crossed defiantly as she stood at the far side of the bed where his young lord lay. The audacity of her—to linger even after he'd begrudgingly allowed her into the village inn, solely so his young lord could rest. Rest he desperately needed, not just from mana exhaustion, but from pushing himself well past the limits of any sane person's endurance.
Because Muzio never rush to anything.
Lenko bit the inside of his cheek, glancing at the pale face of the prince. Maybe it was his 'head sickness' acting up again, or maybe—just maybe—it was the shock of waking up in the middle of Sir McKenzy's royal manure heap. Anyone would've lost their grip after that.
He bristled as she rolled her eyes. For a moment, he thought she was finally about to leave—but instead of heading to the door, she veered toward the side of the room. She paused by the old window, peeling at its weathered frame as she squinted through it with narrowed eyes.
"Just so you know," she said, voice low but firm, "you do need me."
That caught Keiser's attention.
Lenko had squared his shoulders and stepped forward, voice firm for once. "No, we don't. We can hire a proper mercenary—not a thief who's already stolen from us once."
Princess Yona didn't react to his protest. Instead, she let go of the window sill and turned her gaze toward Keiser—or rather, toward Muzio.
"You're the tenth prince, aren't you?"
It wasn't Keiser who flinched.
It was Lenko.
The boy went pale, practically choking on his own breath. "N-no! He's not! He's just… he just looks like the royal family, that's all! Eye color—uh, great bone structure!" He flailed his arms in wild gestures, waving off the question while avoiding both the princess's eyes and Keiser's.
Keiser barely held back a groan. Seriously? This is your valet? he mentally directed the accusation to the body he now occupied.
A pang throbbed in his chest, and he winced slightly. Okay, bastard. Can't take a joke. Great. The dull ache returned like a mocking pulse.
Maybe Lenko was right after all. Maybe he really was suffering from this so-called "head sickness."
He wasn't sure what was worse: the growing suspicion from the princess, or the loyal idiocy of a boy so desperate to protect a secret that was already unraveling.
Keiser narrowed his eyes at Princess Yona.
If she truly knew who he was—if she dared to say it to his face—then it meant she wanted something. Otherwise, she would've kept that information to herself, tucked it away to use as leverage when it best suited her. That was how the court worked. How people like her worked. And if she wasn't asking for something, then perhaps she simply assumed Muzio was too powerless to be worth bartering with.
She's testing me.
Keiser might have been born a commoner, a soldier forged on the battlefield, a knight who only knew how to swing steel at beasts and men alike—but he wasn't ignorant of court games. He had been trained—painstakingly so—to maneuver in noble society. Of course, most of what he knew had been carefully shaped, curated, and controlled by Gideon.
Still, he knew enough to recognize the scent of bait when it was dangled in front of him.
"What do you want?" he asked coolly.
He paused, considering. Perhaps it was time to place a few of his own pieces on the board, if only to level it.
"Princess Yona Hanako," he added, voice sharper now, "of the Hinode Matriarchy…?"
The shift in air was subtle—but it was there. A flicker in her gaze. A slight tilt of her chin.
A beat passed between them, heavy with unspoken calculations.
Keiser could hear Lenko sputtering again behind him, ever the poor liar. Meanwhile, Princess Yona's cheek twitched.
Ah, right.
She hated it when someone used her full name. Only the First Prince could get away with that. Keiser recalled overhearing one of their infamous arguments—an exchange where they kept flinging each other's full names like insults wrapped in endearments. Sickening, really, to anyone unfortunate enough to witness those two lovebirds flirting beneath the guise of formality.
"You must already know, then," Princess Yona said flatly.
She stepped away from the window, walking to the center of the room with unbothered grace. There, she casually picked up a cloak—new, by the look of it. Its fabric was muted in color, a dusty gray-green, unlike the pitch-black one she had worn before to blend into the night. This one was clearly from the village. Recently bought.
Keiser narrowed his eyes.
She has money.
From where, though? Did she steal it? Is she getting support from someone else?
Does the First Prince know she's out here playing fugitive in a village near Sheol?
The thoughts came quick and sharp. Every new piece didn't add up. But one thing was certain—she wasn't here by accident.
Keiser moved his hand slowly, subtly—as if fidgeting. But it was a distraction. He watched her eyes follow the motion, unaware that his own gaze was drifting, scanning the room for something—anything—that could be used, or perhaps revealed more.
He paused when she did.
Her eyes flicked to meet his. Measured. Watching.
"The First Prince sent me here," she said, her tone careful, "to find his missing brother—and to handle a certain… problem near Hinnom."
Her gaze then slid past Keiser, landing squarely on Lenko. "And it seems I've found not just one missing brother."
Keiser exhaled through his nose. A slow, weighted sigh.
Olga.
She must've told the Princess. Then the Princess brought it up with the First Prince. The court was probably whispering. And now—now the First Prince was looking for Muzio.
Wait.
Why?
Why would the First Prince care about a runaway tenth prince? What was there to gain?
Keiser's jaw tensed.
Something isn't adding up.