“…So that’s how it is.”

  I withdrew my hand slowly from the assassin’s forehead, letting his lifeless body collapse onto the blood-soaked cobblestones.

  “So strange… Even if Cedric Ravelle is reckless, Lord Theodore Ravelle would never dare openly assassinate a prince of the Eldoria Imperium.”

  I closed my eyes briefly, organizing the memories I had just extracted.

  Soul-scanning techniques were among the most efficient interrogation methods in existence. Most practitioners used crude, destructive approaches—ripping through consciousness and leaving shattered minds in their wake.

  For me, it was different.

  After seven hundred and two reincarnations, I had long mastered the art of precision. I could extract only what I wished, leave no trace, even ensure the subject felt nothing at all.

  If I wished.

  Unfortunately for the black-clothed man, I did not.

  His soul had fractured under the strain, collapsing into nothingness after I was done.

  From his memories, the answer was clear: the order had come from Cedric Ravelle, the eldest son of the Ravelle Family.

  Two days ago, we had clashed at the Cyclebound Auction Hall.

  I had humiliated him publicly.

  But even so… this?

  Assassinating a prince inside the capital?

  Foolish.

  If I were killed here, within the heart of the imperial capital, the Emperor would be forced to respond decisively. It would not matter whether the culprit was a commoner or the heir of a great noble house. Authority must be upheld.

  The death of an imperial prince, left unanswered, would weaken the throne itself.

  In the worst case, it could inspire ambitious nobles to test the boundaries of imperial tolerance.

  No.

  Lord Theodore Ravelle would never risk such consequences.

  Which meant—

  Cedric had acted alone.

  Or someone had carefully pushed him to.

  A faint chill settled in my chest.

  Several faces flashed through my mind, one after another.

  Scheming nobles.

  Hidden factions.

  Smiling courtiers with daggers behind their backs.

  My eyes turned cold.

  I do not enjoy being someone else’s chess piece.

  While I analyzed the tangled threads of possibility, soft footsteps approached from behind.

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  “…Your Highness?”

  Daphne’s voice trembled slightly.

  I turned toward her.

  Her face was pale, her eyes wide. She stood amid the carnage, hands clenched at her sides, trying to appear composed despite the crimson scene around us.

  “Daphne,” I asked gently, softening my tone, “are you hurt?”

  She shook her head quickly. “N-No, Your Highness. I’m fine.”

  Her gaze shifted downward—to the severed limbs, the scattered bodies, the darkening blood pooling between broken stones.

  For someone her age, her restraint was remarkable. Many would have fainted. Others would have vomited.

  She did neither.

  Still… I could see the unease she tried to hide.

  I exhaled quietly.

  It seems my killing intent slipped further than intended.

  After centuries of battle across countless lives, bloodshed meant little to me. But for Daphne, this was not a battlefield. It was a street she had traveled many times.

  “You killed them… all of them,” she whispered.

  “I did,” I answered calmly.

  After a brief pause, I added with a faint, rueful smile, “I apologize if I frightened you. I must have looked rather merciless.”

  “N-No!” she protested immediately, lifting her head. “You weren’t frightening! I was just… surprised.”

  She straightened her back, forcing courage into her posture.

  “Your Highness is kind. I would never fear you.”

  Her sincerity made something in my chest soften.

  Without thinking too much, I stepped closer and pressed a brief, gentle kiss against her lips—no more than a fleeting touch—before resting my hand lightly atop her head.

  “Thank you,” I murmured.

  Her cheeks turned crimson at once, and she lowered her gaze shyly.

  This was hardly the place for affection. The air still smelled of iron and death.

  I stepped back, regaining composure.

  “This situation is troublesome,” I said quietly.

  Daphne tilted her head, confused, but did not press further.

  Instead, I walked toward a nearby alley.

  “Are you not going to come out?” I called coldly.

  A moment later, trembling footsteps echoed against the stone walls.

  The coachman emerged, his face drained of color.

  “Y-Your Highness…”

  His fear was naked, uncontrollable.

  I regarded him silently.

  “I warned you,” I said evenly. “You would regret this.”

  He dropped to his knees.

  “Please! I-I was forced! I didn’t want— I swear I won’t do it again!”

  His body shook violently, tears streaking down his face.

  “You’re correct,” I replied calmly.

  “You will not.”

  I raised my sword.

  A strangled sob escaped him. The stench of fear filled the alley as his composure broke entirely.

  My blade pierced his heart without hesitation.

  It was swift.

  Merciful compared to the assassins.

  When I withdrew the sword, silence returned once more.

  I turned back to Daphne.

  “Let’s return.”

  “Y-Yes, Your Highness.”

  She stepped forward and, after a moment of hesitation, climbed into the driver’s seat to guide the carriage.

  I sat beside her.

  As the carriage began moving, wheels rolling over uneven stone, I spoke quietly.

  “Daphne. Do not tell anyone that I was the one who killed them.”

  She blinked in surprise. “But, Your Highness—”

  “Just follow my instructions,” I said gently but firmly. “If questioned, tell them this…”

  I explained the prepared narrative—one I had devised long ago in anticipation of inevitable attempts on my life.

  Daphne listened carefully. Though curiosity flickered in her eyes, she nodded.

  “I understand.”

  After a moment, she glanced at me again—this time with bright admiration.

  “I never imagined Your Highness was so strong,” she said softly. “If you revealed your true power, all those people who speak ill of you would fall silent instantly.”

  A faint smile tugged at my lips.

  “Let them speak.”

  “Huh?”

  “You,” I said, looking at her directly, “are the only one permitted to know.”

  Her breath caught.

  Color rushed to her cheeks again.

  “I’m honored,” she whispered.

  I leaned slightly closer and pressed another light kiss against her lips.

  She turned away shyly afterward, though the happiness in her expression was unmistakable.

  After a while, her voice grew quieter.

  “…Still, I feel useless. I couldn’t help you at all. I almost became a burden.”

  I glanced at her.

  “Oh?”

  She tightened her grip on the reins.

  “I want to protect you too.”

  A faint gleam passed through my eyes.

  “Do you wish to become stronger?”

  She hesitated.

  For a moment, doubt flickered across her face. Then her gaze hardened with determination.

  “Yes.”

  I leaned back, thoughtful.

  Strengthening Daphne would be wise. If she possessed the means to defend herself, many of my concerns would lessen.

  I had several methods suitable for her.

  However, this world’s cultivation system differed from those I once mastered. I would need to adapt the techniques carefully to avoid destabilizing her foundation.

  Still… it was possible.

  Not only for her.

  Valeria .

  Susanne .

  Lyanna .

  If the coming storm truly began to gather—

  They would need protection as well.

  And if others believed they could use those close to me as leverage—

  A faint, cold smile touched my lips.

  They would soon learn.

  That would be their final mistake.