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Chapter 06
‘She’s really sharp. Too perceptive for her own good.’
Lionel gently removed Sasha’s arm from his, never breaking eye contact. To keep her from noticing his deliberate action, he immediately handed her a glass of apple juice.
“Sorry. I’ve been learning swordsmanship lately, so I don’t have much time. I’m preparing to enter the capital’s academy.”
“Academy?”
Sasha tilted her head, blinking her blue eyes—an adorably sweet gesture sure to draw compliments from anyone.
“Yeah. The Imperial Pellodian Academy.”
“You’re already preparing? Isn’t that place for people to enter at twenty?”
“It’s not a place just anyone can get into. I need to start preparing now. I only have seven years left.”
“Wow! I had no idea you were thinking so far ahead,” Sasha exclaimed, lips pursed in awe. She fell into brief thought before suddenly clapping her hands together.
“That’s it! If you and I attend the academy together, we’ll make the perfect pair. I should start preparing too!”
‘…Great.’
Lionel immediately regretted using the academy as an excuse.
‘She’s not seriously thinking about applying to Pellodian, right?’
Up until now, Sasha had never shown even the slightest interest in academics. She was always busy talking about how cute and beautiful she was, or dreaming aloud about the dazzling future she and Lionel would share.
‘No way. She couldn’t. Pellodian’s not something just anyone can get into.’
The Pellodian Academy was the empire’s top institution, specializing in studies related to dealing with magical beasts—magic, swordsmanship, spellcraft design, artifact engineering, and healing arts.
For any noble expected to inherit a title, graduating from Pellodian was practically a requirement. Only those with deep knowledge in a specialized field were considered capable of leading the empire’s future with insight and wisdom.
“Yeah. It’d be nice if we both end up going.”
“Then I’ll start preparing right away!”
Face lit with excitement, Sasha bounced off joyfully.
Lionel rubbed his face with his hand and sighed, trying to hide how exhausted he was.
How many more of them do I still have to deal with?
Just dealing with Sasha had drained all his energy for the day.
Then he noticed—Jaylin was nowhere to be seen. As his official playmate, she surely would’ve received an invitation to the birthday party.
He remembered the last time they met—her face frozen like ice. That day, Lionel had taken away what she held most dear.
‘It was just an old, worthless book. So what? You said you liked me—did you really get that upset over something like that? Is that why you didn’t come to my birthday today?’
He tried to recall the last emotion on her face.
Betrayal? Anger?
No. It was none of those.
What he’d seen was sorrow.
‘Could she have figured out I did it on purpose?’
He suddenly thought—maybe Jaylin would never come to the estate again.
‘Fine. Whatever.’
He didn’t care.
She probably didn’t like him anymore, anyway.
She was probably completely over him. Maybe she even wanted to take back those words she said—that she liked him.
Maybe that was all her feelings ever amounted to. Shallow. No different from anyone else.
Lionel felt his fingertips lose strength.
Everything felt dull. Meaningless.
Then someone stepped toward him.
Sensing the presence, Lionel quickly put his mask back on and looked up.
By the time his gaze lifted, the blank look on his face had already vanished without a trace.
With a bright, cheerful voice, Lionel spoke.
“Nathan! Long time no see. Thanks so much for coming to my birthday.”
And then came the rest of the guests.
Lionel had to greet person after person.
Amid the chaos, the butler approached and handed Lionel a small box.
“Young Master, this is a birthday gift from the Duke.”
“Why are you bringing it…? Wait—Father’s not coming?”
“No, sir. He had urgent matters and left for the capital early this morning. He asked me to give you his congratulations.”
“…Alright. Tell him thank you for the gift.”
Lionel couldn’t make any expression.
He couldn’t remember how to smile anymore.
Even on his birthday, he didn’t get to see his father’s face.
When had it started? This feeling that he was always alone?
Lionel unwrapped the box and opened it.
Inside was a watch—just like last year.
The black steel wristwatch exuded restrained elegance.
Set at the center, where the hour hand pivoted, was a golden sapphire—the same color as Lionel’s eyes.
It was clearly custom-made for him.
A handwritten card from his father was tucked inside the box. Lionel opened it.
“Happy twelfth birthday, Lionel. You’re always a source of pride to me.”
‘…It’s my thirteenth birthday.’
Apparently, his father had even forgotten which birthday it was.
Lionel’s golden eyes dulled.
“Please thank him for me.”
“Wouldn’t it be better if you told him yourself?”
“He’s busy. Probably doesn’t have time to see me anyway. Just tell him for me.”
From that point on, Lionel mechanically forced food down his throat and smiled like a doll.
He moved through the event like an empty shell.
He spoke with countless people who had come to celebrate his birthday, but he couldn’t remember a single conversation or face.
The garden was decorated with vibrant flowers and golden ribbons, tables stacked with gourmet dishes and piles of gifts—yet none of it meant anything to Lionel.
He was empty.
It felt like a void had opened inside him. He shoved tasteless food into his mouth like a machine, trying to fill the hunger—but it didn’t help.
No matter how much he ate, the hunger wouldn’t go away.
He was starving.
The gnawing hunger threatened to swallow him whole.
As the sun set and the party ended, the once-crowded mansion emptied.
The one person he wanted to see most—his father—never even showed his face.
This wasn’t what he wanted.
Not the fancy food.
Not the crowd of well-wishers.
Not the expensive gifts.
Suddenly overwhelmed by nausea, Lionel rushed to the bathroom and vomited up everything he had forced down.
He felt like a doll in a lavish painting.
A puppet playing the role of the duke’s heir.
A life where all he had to do was wear the mask and smile.
He wanted to disappear forever.
Wiping the spit from his mouth, Lionel wandered aimlessly.
He wanted to run away.
Anywhere—
Anywhere but here.
His pace quickened, then turned into a sprint. He didn’t know where he was going—he just hoped his legs would take him somewhere far away.
Anywhere else.
A single cold drop cut through the sweltering summer air and landed on Lionel’s nose.
Then another.
Soon, it was no longer a drizzle, but a raging storm that beat down on his body like a waterfall.
Summer rain—cold, fierce, and cleansing—poured from the sky.
Lionel kept running through the downpour, unable to see ahead.
His feet instinctively took him down a familiar path—the path to the cave he always sought out when he felt down.
Branches scratched his body, the wet grass was slippery, but he couldn’t stop.
Then suddenly, a cold sensation in front of him made him halt.
The rain soaked Lionel completely, cold water running down his face and hands. Every droplet was sharp and vivid.
In that one fleeting moment, time felt like an eternity.
Lionel inhaled sharply.
Hidden beneath the scent of wet earth was something sharp—thick, metallic.
Blood.
Every nerve in his body sharpened. His senses turned razor-sharp.
Lionel slowly raised his head.
There, standing in the narrow forest path, was a black bear—massive as a house—tearing into the carcass of a small animal.
Its wet, black fur glistened eerily in the rain.
Its massive front paws were tipped with claws long enough to tear a man to pieces with a single swipe.
‘It hasn’t noticed me yet.’
Lionel clenched his teeth and carefully took a step back.
Even though he was learning the sword, Lionel was only thirteen—and unarmed.
He carefully retreated, keeping his eyes on the bear.
But he couldn’t see behind him.
His foot caught on a protruding root, and with a grunt, Lionel fell to the ground.
The noise made the bear stop eating.
Slowly, it raised its head.
Its soulless, blood-red eyes locked with Lionel’s.
‘Damn it.’
Not looking away, Lionel groped the ground for anything he could use—and grabbed a thin branch.
It was a pathetic weapon.
But he had to try.
He couldn’t die like this.
