Betrayal
Seya lowered himself with all his might to show his submission. Watching him, the Young Duke of Fides felt an inexplicable wave of nausea rise in his throat.
“Seya, stand up. You don't have to do this anymore.”
But Seya did not lift his head.
“I said, stop!”
Only when the Young Duke forcibly pulled him up did the boy's face finally lift from the floor. Seya stared blankly at the Young Duke's contorted face.
“Ah, I... I have no manners. I know just kneeling isn't enough, but I didn't know what else to do. What should I do?”
“Don't kneel like that! He's the one who locked us up here. He killed your friends, and he's been experimenting on the children of the Capital like they're toys...!”
Seya's eyes widened as he stared blankly at the Young Duke, who was glaring at Ditto. Flynn expected Seya to at least show some anger, even if he didn't charge forward recklessly like he usually did.
“Then... I've been committing a terrible sin all this time?”
“What...?”
“I should have died sooner.”
As Seya muttered those listless words, all the strength drained from his body. Unable to support the boy's weight any longer, the Young Duke collapsed to the ground with him, and Seya bowed his head once more.
“If the Imperial Family wants us dead, there's nothing we can do about it. It was all pointless from the very beginning.”
“What are you talking about?”
Behind the dazed Young Duke, a low chuckle echoed.
“Didn't I tell you? It's utterly useless.”
Ditto was smiling, looking as though he had known it would turn out this way from the start.
“You probably thought you could hold out until someone came to rescue you, but even if the entire world came for you, nothing would change. If I tell them to shut their mouths, they must shut them.”
He raised his hand and made a pulling gesture. At the signal, a man in a black robe tore Seya away from the Young Duke's embrace.
“Stop! What do you think you're doing?!”
When the Young Duke tried to intervene, two other men rushed forward and forced him to his knees on the floor. The Young Duke desperately hoped Seya would struggle and resist as he always did, but the boy was dragged before Ditto as passively as an unwound doll.
The moment the man let go of him, Seya knelt again and pressed his face flat against the floor. Ditto smiled, watching the Young Duke's futile struggles.
“Sometimes, everything is so easy it borders on boring. If I had saved the world like Sierra the Great, perhaps I wouldn't be so terribly amused.”
“Your Highness could never be a hero like him.”
At the Young Duke's defiant retort, Ditto's smile widened.
“There is nothing I cannot be. I could be a slaughterer, or I could be the hero who defeated a mad nobleman—a lunatic who pretended to help street urchins only to kidnap and massacre them.”
The Young Duke felt his blood run cold. He didn't even have to think to realize exactly which "mad nobleman" Ditto was referring to.
“No one will believe such a lie.”
“I thought you were clever, but you still spout such foolish nonsense. Once the isolated Fidus Family loses even their arrogant acting head, who do you think will take your side? No one would dare defy the Imperial Family to help you. If I say it is so, then it is so. That is what it means to be a god.”
Ditto watched with sadistic pleasure as the light in the Young Duke's clear eyes began to dim, and continued.
“Tomorrow, this news will spread across the entire Capital: 'The acting Duke of the Fidus Family, who ran a charity for street children, was actually a murderous monster who slaughtered them. Blinded by greed for power, he ultimately drove the young heir of the Fidus Family to his death. And it was the almighty Prince who apprehended the sinner.'”
He took a step toward Seya, who still hadn't lifted his head, and used his boot to nudge the boy's chin upward. Seya passively let his face be raised, but his eyes remained tightly shut.
“'Left at the scene were the brutally murdered corpses of the children, and the charred bodies of the Fidus household, who paid for their sins at the hands of the Prince.' Well? Don't you think that's a story everyone would find satisfying?”
Ditto didn't blame the Young Duke for merely trembling in silence.
“Then, shall we start by making some children's corpses? It would be a waste to throw away such excellent ingredients, after all.”
Removing his foot from Seya's chin, he tapped his boot against the floor a few times as if he had touched something filthy. At the threat of Seya's death, the Young Duke snapped back to his senses.
“If it's the Cor Holy Water you want, it's useless. I've already spilled it all over the basement floor.”
“Oh dear, what a waste.”
He spoke in a tone that carried absolutely no regret. The Young Duke quickly understood why. Sloshing inside a small vial Ditto pulled from his robes was, without a doubt, Cor Holy Water.
“H-how did you...”
“The world is always on my side,” Ditto replied with a delighted laugh.
He tilted the vial slightly, letting a few drops of Cor Holy Water fall into Seya's mouth. To the Young Duke's immense relief, nothing happened.
But his sigh of relief was short-lived. The Young Duke watched in a daze as Ditto slowly raised his hand. Ditto clenched his fist with terrifying force. With a sickening crunch, blood began to seep from his palm.
Though such a wound would heal without leaving even a scar on the hand of an Imperial, the blood he had intentionally squeezed out pooled and began to drip.
At the sight of the vivid red liquid, a memory flashed through the Young Duke's mind—the red liquid in the flask that Priest Gude had guarded with his life.
That was it. It was Imperial blood. That's why he was so desperate not to drop it.
While the Young Duke was lost in thought, the drops of blood slowly dripped into Seya's mouth. One drop, two drops, three drops.
Even though it was merely blood, an instinctive revulsion washed over the Young Duke. He didn't know the mechanics behind it, but it was glaringly obvious that this would have a horrific effect.
He had heard that Seya's friends had lived like mindless dolls before dying shortly after. What would happen to Seya?
No matter how frantically he thrashed in his anxiety, his small body, pinned down by two grown men, wouldn't budge.
Someone, please save us. Please.
The child's unreachable prayer spilled over as tears.
BOOM!!!
At that moment, a deafening explosion shook the entire room.
“Who dares make my son cry?!”
At the sound of a voice he thought he would never hear again, the Young Duke slowly turned his head.
A towering stature, silver-gray hair, and deep-set eyes. The face he had yearned for so desperately was standing right there.
“Who dares make my son cry?!”
Roaring like a beast, he swept his flashing eyes across the room. His gaze did not land on the Second Prince, nor did it linger on the statue of Sierra the Great.
It locked instantly onto his son, who was forced to his knees on the floor by two men.
In an instant, his face contorted with a towering, monstrous rage.
“Step away from him this instant. Unless you wish to be erased from this world, leaving nothing but your hands behind.”
Overwhelmed by his sheer pressure, the men hesitated and tried to back away from the boy. But Jing, having lost all patience, couldn't bear their sluggish movements and simply blew them away before they could even take a step.
Jing—no, Agoni Fidus—quickly pulled his son up and checked his condition.
“Flynn, are you alright? Are you hurt anywhere?”
Even at his father's frantic questioning, Flynn could only stare blankly, unable to utter a single word.
Seeing his brilliant son standing with his mouth agape like a simpleton, unable to speak, anxiety flickered across the Duke's face.
“Did you hit your head? Is it hard to speak?”
As Agoni Fidus ran his hands through Flynn's hair searching for wounds, his eyes caught the scratches and bruises scattered across his son's face, and his eyes, raw and swollen from crying.
Seeing the clear evidence of the hardships his son had endured in his absence, the Duke's brow furrowed in deep pain.
Gritting his teeth, Agoni Fidus gently caressed the bruised forehead. Only then did Flynn slowly raise his hands.
His small hands, tiny compared to his father's, hesitantly traced the rough, bearded face of the man before him.
“Father...?”
“Yes. Are you coming to your senses now?”
“Have you... returned as a ghost?”
Indeed, it was a natural assumption. His father, whom he believed to be dead, had suddenly appeared before him; there was no other logical explanation.
While Agoni briefly pondered where to begin explaining why he had been forced to fake his death, the boy suddenly gave his bushy beard a firm tug.
“If you're a ghost... does that mean you couldn't go anywhere and became a Fugitive?”
Tears, which had briefly dried, welled up in the boy's eyes once more. Was he disappointed that his father had died and was now trapped, unable to move on?
As Agoni stood in silent guilt, unable to find the right words, the tears in Flynn's eyes spilled over like a waterfall.
Finally, the boy threw his arms around his father's legs, clinging to him tightly.
“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Father. Even if you've become a Fugitive, I'm just so happy to see you again. Even if you couldn't find eternal rest, I don't care. I'm just so glad.”
Swept up in the overwhelming emotion of their dramatic reunion, neither of them noticed a shadow quietly slipping away from beneath their cloaks.
***
His gripped right shoulder throbbed with intense pain. Jack had not let his guard down around Tollin for even a second; he was a man who knew exactly how to handle intellectual types.
Even so, enduring the humiliation of being dragged along by Jack without uttering a single word of protest had been Tollin's own choice.
Of course, had he known that the news awaiting him the moment he stepped into the Temple would be the disappearance of the Young Duke, he would never have remained so passive.
“Are you saying the Young Duke ran away?” Jack asked, unable to comprehend the words he had just heard.
“Indeed. This is... not a matter that can be brushed aside as mere childish mischief. Fleeing to avoid the ritual is an offense that warrants immediate execution upon capture... as you well know, of course.”
The priest who claimed to have seen the Young Duke last spoke with an arrogant sneer, his eyes sweeping over Tollin.
“What on earth are you talking about?! What kind of fool would run away right before the ritual, and empty-handed at that?!”
Tollin, who had kept his mouth shut until now, could no longer contain himself and roared in fury.
If Flynn had possessed the ability to vanish so flawlessly on his own, Tollin would never have needed to risk his life planning to smuggle the boy out in the first place.
“Common sense dictates that he was kidnapped! Is the Temple trying to evade responsibility for the safety of the sole heir of the Fidus Family?!”
Tollin's struggle was so violent that even Jack, who was holding his shoulder, faltered slightly under the sheer force of his desperation.
Tollin's eyes, burning with rage and anxiety, locked onto Priest Vesper, who had been quietly observing the scene. A thin, mocking smile played on the priest's lips as he spoke.
“We are not without evidence.”
Priest Vesper gestured to the young priest who had first reported the disappearance. Looking visibly uncomfortable, the young priest took a step forward, casting a nervous glance at Vesper.
“...He had a pair of rings with him. He insisted they were Fidus family heirlooms and refused to part with them until the very moment of the ritual. I believe... he planned this from the very beginning.”
The young priest, unable to abandon his greed even at the end, lied smoothly, keeping the glittering rings hidden deep inside his pocket.
“...How does possessing his family's rings prove he ran away?”
“I am saying he did not simply vanish empty-handed, as you claimed.”
The priest was right. Those rings were exactly what Tollin had given Flynn to use in case he had to flee at a moment's notice. He had never imagined they would come back to bite them like this.
“Damn it...! Jack, search every corner of the Temple right now.”
“...”
Tollin issued the order out of habit, but Jack did not budge. Feeling the unrelenting grip still pinning his shoulder, Tollin looked up, only to sink into a quiet despair as he met the cold, unyielding eyes staring down at him.