The Spiral of Fate
The first pain I had ever felt in my life.
The moment I was paying the price for my mistake, a woman appeared.
She was terrifyingly beautiful.
To the point that I momentarily thought she was something other than human.
But it wasn't just her appearance.
Her words carried a piercing force that went straight to the heart.
— A flower grown in a greenhouse dies if taken outside.
Artan gulped at those words.
They hit the exact, simple truth with perfect accuracy.
Her expression, colder than ever, felt like a rebuke. A boy like me had no right to complain.
I myself thought I was too pathetic.
I had run out alone with nothing but arrogance and foolishness, and all I had done was hold back tears.
Only then, for a moment, could I calmly observe my own actions. The faults I had left behind were too many.
I had only just realized and regretted them.
But right after meeting someone, I forgot it all.
Salvation was coming, and my heart of remorse was clouded, with my arrogance rising its head.
Clearly the white-haired blue-eyed woman had seen through my foolishness at once.
— The path of someone born in a greenhouse is one of two.
A pure, bright sound like a flute pierced my ears.
Artan shivered.
Someone born in a greenhouse — the clear way he referred to himself. To him, the greenhouse was the imperial palace, the empire itself.
Larger than any greenhouse.
The first path: live a life of weeds and another existence.
Noble, untouched.
Until yesterday I would have thought it my own life without question.
But now that my flaw was exposed, I couldn't nod confidently.
— The path of a greenhouse without it: unable to do anything.
The second path came out immediately.
The terror in those words froze Artan. He thought it wasn't his path.
No, he wanted to believe that. But he couldn't answer the woman's gaze as if asking, "Is that truly your path?"
— Which one are you?
She asked finally, as if his silence irritated her.
I had to answer. But I didn't want to disappoint her.
If I said the second path, she would be disappointed. My own self-esteem would fall to the bottom.
Even the first path seemed likely to disappoint her.
I couldn't spit out words without conviction, or she would figure it out right away.
Heat rose in Artan's head. So what should I say to satisfy the woman?
It didn't matter if the answer was fortunate or unfortunate.
Suddenly, footsteps sounded, and her gaze turned.
Artan was the same, and his eyes widened.
"Quillere."
I liked the name, but the situation wasn't good. A group of assassins in black robes.
Artan, with his outstanding talent and keen senses, detected the atmosphere they gave off.
Quillere didn't seem to feel anything strange, but they were different.
An edge of sharpness hidden in their extremely restrained aura. Knights never exuded such a flow.
Artan intuitively judged that they were assassins or similar figures from the underworld.
Tension rose naturally.
"The lord wishes to see you."
The woman, Quillere, seemed familiar with them.
But they didn't look like good acquaintances at all. The assassins stood rigidly with faces hardened, and her expression grew even colder.
It was a flashpoint situation, but strangely, no battle broke out right away.
The reason could only be Quillere. Even surrounded by assassins in a foreign land, she remained calm.
The assassins were the ones who seemed tense.
Especially the purple-haired woman who seemed to be their leader was shaken.
A rigid face and stiff atmosphere. Intense vigilance was visible.
It was astonishing.
The leader woman's aura was at an extraordinary level just by looking at it. Even now Artan couldn't match her.
That such a person would show a demeanor as if frightened and step over the line.
The boy looked at Quillere with a face full of new questions. By now her identity was extremely intriguing.
Was she really that strong?
Thinking back, it was a strange thing.
This woman appeared in front of him in crisis and gave him a cold, penetrating reprimand.
She seemed to know him well.
He wanted to ask, to inquire.
"... For what purpose?"
But those dark figures interfered.
They were clearly the black-hearted people rejected by society. Tumorous lumps that devoured the continent.
These things that were merely tumors or pus dared to steal his time.
The crown prince frowned.
He wanted to talk to the woman quickly, but she kept drawing his attention with trivial talk.
The lord, the purpose, whatever, Artan knew nothing, and he wasn't curious about them.
So he grabbed Quillere's collar and said.
"Who are these people?"
For a moment, it felt as if her body stiffened.
Of course, it was a misunderstanding.
She didn't reply at all and stood like ice, fitting her appearance.
Ignoring the supreme crown prince was something she would normally look down on. But somehow, Artan didn't feel bad about it.
That coldness looked like her symbol.
Well, I'll let it slide this time.
Thinking this playful thought, Artan waited.
It was really foolish.
As one childhood friend once pointed out, he lacked understanding of his status and responsibilities.
Duties and hidden dangers too.
"Let this little one go."
Quillere's words only made Artan tilt his head.
It wasn't his turn to act. He didn't know his role inside this.
That's why he stopped breathing at her next words.
"Then I'll follow you."
It was a word that pierced his flaws terribly.
He hadn't expected it, having acted alone.
Only after seeing Artan did he realize.
If I ran away alone here, what would happen to that guy?
"......"
Two possibilities flashed.
No matter which, Sigilla would definitely take me with her. Fortunately, the chance that she didn't know Artan was the crown prince was high.
Just one ordinary little boy like this, sending him away wouldn't matter.
But if I run away.
As a target for revenge, or as bait to lure me, Artan wasn't tempting.
He immediately looked like an ordinary boy wasn't true. His noble status oozed from his speech and demeanor.
Figuring out his identity was a matter of time.
And once his true self was revealed, his safety couldn't be guaranteed. There were too many forces aiming at royalty, especially the crown prince.
"... Hmph."
Glancing, Artan was staring at them with an unhappy face.
He still didn't understand the situation. Even so, he would become a great ruler in the future. Fate was terrifying.
I looked at the assassins again.
They had faces tightly hardened and looked very ruthless.
It seemed impossible for them to show mercy.
The head was pounding from impatience.
Naturally, the most precious thing was my life.
But Artan was a key figure in this world with enormous weight. I hadn't confirmed his role in Sa-gye War II, but it was definitely true.
If he was wrong, the history would be completely reversed.
Moreover... in the original work, Artan suffered but returned safely.
If he faced so many enemies, that couldn't happen. So this was purely a crisis I had created.
My fault wasn't there, but it was more unjust to Artan than me. He couldn't die, and I couldn't suffer misfortune.
Battle was impossible.
Running away... was also impossible.
Originally, transformation was only for one person.
Taking someone else would consume mana at a completely different level. Just taking Artan up a slope a bit consumed a lot of mana.
Chasing and running was impossible.
The items in the tote bag were useless.
High-grade items weren't linked, so there was no strong enough thing to break this impasse.
So I had to deal damage.
"Let this little one go."
I would pretend to follow and look for a chance to escape!
To do that, I had to get far from Artan first.
"Then I'll follow you."
My intention was clearly stated.
Sigilla rolled her eyes as if thinking, then nodded.
The deal was struck.
I took a deep breath. I was very tense, but it was a trial I had to face.
I was about to go to her side when someone grabbed my collar from behind again.
"Hold on! You can win easily anyway! Why make such a choice for me..."
Doubt and urgency came from Artan's voice. I was dumbfounded.
What was this little guy saying? Self-consciousness has limits.
If I couldn't win, he wouldn't say that.
With a little thought, I could figure it out.
Was this really Artan Prickus, called the genius?
"Think for yourself."
I coldly brushed off his hand and took a step.
Quillere left.
Artan stared blankly at her back. Eventually she disappeared with the ruthless group.
"......"
Artan stood still for a long time.
His unmoving figure was like nailed to the ground. The wind ruffled his hair and stole his body heat.
His already injured body was growing colder, and a sudden chill hit him.
But it wasn't colder than his heart. Artan, who was frozen like petrified, shouted at last.
"Aaaah!"
By now, as he had come this far, the dignity of the royalty was already ruined. He knelt and covered his head, shattering even the last shred of dignity.
He couldn't endure otherwise.
He had liked the feeling of enlightenment, of changing.
But the woman who gave him that enlightenment had sacrificed herself for him. For him alone.
"I was weak..."
Quillere was clearly a powerhouse that even now's me couldn't imagine.
Just from the fear the assassins showed, it was clear. Even though she had the power to win, she had agreed to the evil ones' demands.
By making a deal to send herself away.
Only then did he recognize his position.
He realized. He was an obstacle inside this. A stumbling block for Quillere's ankle.
His very existence only interfered for her, never helped.
He hated it so much.
Even at this level, boasting as a strong person.
The ugly days came to mind and squeezed his chest.
What kind of strong person was I.
"... I am the weak."
It was too pathetic.
Suddenly Quillere's voice came back.
A flower in a greenhouse. That was right. Without a greenhouse, unable to do anything... that was exactly the second path.
Perhaps she had seen through everything from the beginning.
I shouldn't have been stubborn.
I should have quickly realized my own powerlessness and reflected.
I was no different from weeds born in a greenhouse, so I should have acted at that level.
If I had given up exploring the ruins or at least taken a knight unit, this wouldn't have happened.
He wouldn't have done it if he hated adult help.
"Haha..."
Self-deprecation leaked out.
Negative emotions mixed in.
His high self-esteem self was now flowing in a bad direction after judging himself as foolish.
What would happen to Quillere.
Since she was strong, she might not die. But she wouldn't escape injury.
She would be injured because of me. The rib area I had hit earlier ached.
The reality faced up close with my own eyes was cold.
Nothing changed by realizing. I had only faced the truth that I was weak.
If this was the case, it might have been better when I knew nothing...
The forehead pressed against the ground hurt, and the vision blurred.
A low, heavy voice sounded from somewhere.
"You truly didn't understand anything."
Artan, startled, turned around.
There was a familiar face.
Bulise Grifeon's older brother, Harold Grifeon, the imperial sword of the high royal family, not belonging to any knight order including the guard.
The empire's hero, Sword Master Harold Grifeon.