“Click.”

Someone clicked their tongue. The music Ren had not even realized he could hear cut off at once, as if that had been the signal.

A suffocating silence fell. The kind of silence in which no one seemed willing to speak.

A silence that felt as if it were punishing someone.

Ren gripped Temar’s hand tightly. Temar, as though still turning over the conversation they had just had, was not focused on the banquet hall before them.

An unfamiliar silence. Dozens of eyes pressing down on him.

Yet, unexpectedly, Ren did not tremble. Those eyes did not frighten him.

He had forgotten, but Ren was used to this.

Back when he lived in the shack, the villagers had often looked at him this way. Ren was used to being watched, and that attention was usually negative like this. So if their intention was to crush his spirit with something like this, they had chosen wrong.

Ren was not flustered, not cowed, not hurt.

If anything, his heart grew calmer.

It was obvious they wanted something from him, and that they were trying to take the upper hand.

‘Maybe it has something to do with what Brother was trying to say.’

It probably would be hard to get through this safely without anything happening. There must be something here that would make him angry enough to have Temar trembling.

‘Am I almost an adult now?’

Ren calmly let the gazes pass over him, gazes that seemed to be trying to pressure him, not even letting out a breath. He also quietly glanced aside at the knights watching from every direction as if aiming spears at him. Their eyes were sharp, but they were not as strong as the old apothecary’s.

‘Becoming an adult doesn’t seem like it’s all good.’

There had been many unfair things, many infuriating things, but Ren had never been a child who simply endured. He had never hesitated to fight, running wild through the village until his anger cooled. How many people’s blood had he gotten on his fists? Ren had never been a child who bowed his head to injustice.

But things were different from then.

Ren no longer screamed blindly or charged in headfirst. He did not beg Temar to run away and make things difficult for him, nor did he throw a tantrum.

He now knew how to wait, and how to lower his head.

But he was still a boy.

Though he kept his outward attitude calm by turning his attention to other thoughts, the hand holding his brother’s gradually tightened.

Just as Temar finally came back to himself, paused at the brightened view before him, and was about to sink into thought again,

Ragniel tapped his glass with a teaspoon.

The clear yet sharp sound of metal striking glass rang nervously through the banquet hall.

The attendants moved busily, and the banquet hall grew even brighter as the chandelier light scattered softly. Among the nobles’ faces that had been hidden in the gloom, Ren found someone who felt strangely familiar.

Jewel-colored eyes. Purple eyes darker than Peruan’s were staring at Ren without a single opening. When their eyes met, the man blinked.

Ren looked away. Among those studying him with gazes that seemed to take him apart piece by piece, there were some who looked at him with concern. 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺

Luman, Geloman, and Ragniel. Giselle, seated diagonally to the right of Ragniel at the highest seat, watched with expressionless eyes, as if observing a performance. His manner suggested he had no interest in Ren at all, but for some reason Ren felt he was pretending to be expressionless.

“What are you doing, not showing them to their seats?”

The tone was scolding, but the voice was not cold. The attendant realized that the earlier display had been staged and quickly apologized. Leaving the Hero and his younger brother standing there blankly had become nothing more than the attendant’s rudeness. Ren slowly moved toward the seat he was shown.

Countless gazes clung to his back. They were gazes that seemed to grab at his ankles, enough to make him stumble, but Ren managed to sit down with his back straight, walking exactly as he had from the start.

Ren and Temar’s seats were apart. Temar opened his mouth as if to say something about that, but Ren secretly pinched his arm.

Fortunately or unfortunately, the middle-aged man who resembled Peruan, the one Ren had met eyes with earlier, was seated beside him. When Ren sat in the chair the attendant pulled out for him, the man instructed the attendant to hurry and prepare his glass as well.

“Thank you.”

“I had wondered how high my son’s standards were. Now I understand.”

“Pardon?”

The middle-aged man’s eyes curved faintly. Seeing the round shape of those eyes and the warmth inside them, Ren realized he was Peruan’s father.

“To arrive later than His Majesty. It seems you were busy putting on makeup. Hah.”

The words, laced with displeasure, rang out aggressively.

Had the long preparation time been for that noble’s line?

Ren suddenly felt ashamed. It had not been his choice, but the care put into dressing him up felt as if it lost all its shine in an instant. He had not paid it any mind when he left the room, or when he walked down the corridor with Temar. Because Temar had said nothing about how he looked. He had only thought it felt awkward, not strange.

Had he expected praise once he came to the banquet hall?

Was he still that immature after all? At that single remark, Ren felt as if even the flesh beneath his skin were heating up. He had to force himself to look composed and keep his body from flinching.

Temar and Geloman seemed not to understand the noble’s words, and it seemed there was no one here who would make an excuse on Ren’s behalf. His toes curled inside the new shoes that had been trapping his feet so uncomfortably.

Ragniel looked down at his plate as if avoiding his gaze. The attendants carrying the food slowly brought out the appetizers on their trays as if they had heard nothing at all.

Utensils and dishes were set down in order.

“That is too harsh. Aren’t you being too strict with people who have only just begun staying in the royal castle? And he is only beautiful. In my opinion, the attendant’s skill must have been lacking. Perhaps they saw such extraordinary beauty and trembled so badly they made a mistake.”

The one who broke the atmosphere was Luman. He smiled slyly and shook his head.

“Rumors will spread that the royal castle has a poor sense of hospitality. Ah, I suppose I should watch my own mouth first. After all, my tongue is loose and I have many friends.”

“Luman.”

“Haha. Giselle, how about you stop frowning too? How is anyone supposed to swallow bread in an atmosphere this heavy? What are you all doing to a child......”

“It seems the reports you wrote were nowhere near enough.”

Clang. The noble who had spoken put down his glass, making his displeasure plain. It seemed he had deliberately struck it against the plate, and an unpleasant sound rang out as the wine sloshed and spilled over.

A dark wine stain spread over the luxurious ivory tablecloth like blood.

Luman, cut off mid-sentence, furrowed his brows. His gaze as he looked at the noble was cold.

How had a praised Hero who had protected an entire nation ended up in this state inside the royal castle?

Peruan’s father, Riperoman, was just about to open his mouth.

A clear voice cut through the air stretched tight with tension.

“There were so many fascinating things on the way here.”

‘Luman. Idiot. I can handle this by myself.’

The heavy makeup made Ren look like a finely crafted glass doll, but it could not hide the life in his eyes.

When he glanced toward Luman without meaning to, Luman somehow knew and met his eyes, and the corners of his eyes softened loosely. As if trying not to let that weakened expression show, he bit his lip.

Then Ren remembered the tears that had run down his cheeks, and the way he had fled.

Why had he run away back then?

Ren suddenly felt his heart stir. It was as if Luman’s feelings, the feelings that had made him tremble and flee before Ren, had only now reached him.

But now was not the time to turn over his feelings. After firmly pushing down the emotion that churned like motion sickness, surging as if it might shake his whole body apart, Ren smiled brightly.

“I saw Lord Leviantehnuk’s portrait!”

The banquet hall immediately stirred.

The name Ren had mentioned seemed to spread like wildfire.

“Saint Leviantehnuk! Ren, how did you recognize him?”

The delighted voice belonged to Ragniel. He was terribly obsessed with scripture and sacred paintings.

As if the regent king’s era still continued, Ragniel barely maintained his role as king, acting out his part like a puppet just enough not to lose face. This was the only subject on which he did not watch the nobles’ reactions.

When he spoke of scripture, sacred paintings, and saints, he felt hope. And only in the moments when he spoke of them did Ragniel feel as if he had become a true “king.” Because at those times, the nobles humored him even when his eyes had gone half mad.

A strange light entered Riperoman’s eyes. How could Ren have brought that saint’s name to his lips? It could not have been thanks to the Heroes, who did not know tricks.

“I read about him in a fairy tale.”

Looking at Ragniel, whose eyes held a faint madness and seemed to have moved the Milky Way inside them, Ren began to speak.

Ragniel, as he spoke about Saint Leviantehnuk, looked even younger than Ren. But the strength in his eyes and voice was by no means as weak as a child’s. It held a robust hope.

The ministers showed displeasure, but they did not interrupt. A few, including Riperoman, watched Ragniel and Ren closely.

So the two of them led the conversation, and Luman looked somewhat relieved, yet conflicted. He felt he knew who had mentioned that subject to Ren. His gaze turned toward Riperoman. Purple eyes greeted him with a loose smile.

With a petty little tch, Luman turned his head. Then his eyes caught sight of Temar, whose hair had become very short.

He had only been looking at Ren and noticed it just now. While Luman stared blankly at him, an excited Ragniel raised a toast, the banquet hall began an awkward yet seemingly harmonious conversation, and the stopped music began to flow again.

How long had they spoken of Saint Leviantehnuk?

Ragniel, who had been talking like a child about the final interpretation of the fairy tale, finally stopped when Giselle called to him.

Deep pity and guilt filled his eyes. But Ragniel skillfully hid them, rose from his seat, and filled his glass to the brim with wine. The red wine, reflected in the firelight, looked just like blood.

“I called you here today because I have something to announce.”

It had come.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Holding back the urge to clutch at his pounding heart, Ren pinched his own thigh hard. Moisture gathered in Ren’s eyes. It was probably because of the pain from pinching his thigh. It had to be.

“In order to defend our rightful territory......”

The voice of a perfect king, at least from the outside, did not waver at all.

The dignified words held a brief silence.

Was it mourning, or comfort?

“We have decided to march.”

Ren slowly blinked. Fortunately, tears had not gathered enough to fall.

They would dry soon.

And perhaps Temar could come back soon too.

This time, there would be enough time to say goodbye.

That was enough, wasn’t it?

That was enough.

Ren desperately soothed himself.

But the king’s words were not over.

“......Following the prophecy of Sorse, the day of departure will be the day the Goddess Meteo’s star shines brightest.”

Ragniel raised his hand high. The wine sloshed, nearly overflowing but not spilling.

“Tomorrow.”