A Long-Overdue Greeting
Dito tilted his head at the pathetic entrance and watched him leap down from the windowsill. He caught the fleeting trace of relief that crossed the Duke's face. Though the newcomer was still panting and gasping for breath, his eyes stared straight at Dito, clear and unwavering. It wasn't an unfamiliar face. It was the foolish Seventh Prince—a useless nobody with nothing but pride. Consumed by inferiority as he watched his brothers, he had been slated as Dito's next experimental subject. A half-baked prince who always kept his head low, stealing anxious glances. Yet, the boy standing before him lacked the characteristic servility of those trapped at the bottom of the hierarchy. Is this really the Seventh Prince?
In that instant, a jolt of realization struck Dito, a thrilling rush of pleasure as the scattered pieces of the puzzle clicked into place. Rasiah's sudden, brief recovery; the Duke stepping forward out of nowhere during the Hunt; and now, the three of them gathered here at this impossibly perfect moment.
"Haha...!"
Dito let out a dry, incredulous laugh. In a flash, his target shifted to the Seventh Prince. Ran Abaran's throat was instantly caught in Dito's ruthless grip.
"It was you. You're the reason everything went off track, aren't you?" The Seventh Prince grimaced as the grip around his throat tightened, but his gaze never wavered from Dito's eyes. "To think it was a piece of trash like you. How foolish of me not to notice. There's no way you could have scurried around like a rat all on your own... Ah, did you hold hands with our dear sister?"
"Ack..." Even as Ran Abaran desperately parted his lips to draw air through his constricted airway, he slowly shook his head.
"Since when? From the very beginning? Have you been deceiving everyone all this time? Did you come here to bring me down like those fools? Do you have some hidden power you're keeping secret?" Despite the barrage of questions and the crushing pressure on his throat, the Seventh Prince did not lose his composure.
"I don't... have the strength... to defeat you," Ran Abaran gasped out, his words halting.
Strength? Dito's lips curled into a sneer, as if asking if he possessed something else instead.
"If you're trying to play some pathetic mind games, save your breath." Dito squeezed harder, as if ready to snap Ran's neck then and there. Clawing instinctively at Dito's hand, Ran choked out a desperate plea.
"I'll tell you... where... *cough*... the Red Book is."
Dito's grip loosened. The Duke stared blankly as color returned to the Seventh Prince's pale, suffocated face. The Red Book? What is that? He didn't know what it was, but it was clearly of immense importance. The amusement had vanished entirely from Dito's face.
"How do you know about that?"
"Does it matter? What matters is that I know where it is."
Dito shoved the Seventh Prince roughly to the floor. Ran collapsed, coughing violently.
"You never learned how to negotiate properly. A powerless weakling like you has no right to propose a deal, even if you hold a winning card."
It was a harsh, yet undeniable truth. Duke Phedus watched the Seventh Prince, unable to hide his anxiety. Now that the prince had shown himself, he had essentially surrendered whatever leverage he had. Trapped in the Second Prince's grasp, Dito would use any means necessary to wring the information out of him.
Yet, it seemed unlikely that the young prince didn't realize this. Perhaps he had come here simply to buy time by confronting Dito. But even if that were the case, the Duke couldn't just lie here and leave everything on the boy's shoulders. Duke Phedus carefully nudged his right leg to test its movement, his eyes locked on Ran and Dito. Under the watchful gaze of everyone in the room, the Seventh Prince spoke.
"It's not my leverage. And this isn't a deal. I can tell you where the Red Book is right this second." Ran spoke haltingly, clearing his throat between words. Dito furrowed his brow, failing to grasp the riddle.
"What do you mean by—"
"The Red Book is inside Prince Rasiah's coffin."
Dito didn't immediately lash out at the Seventh Prince for daring to interrupt him. In fact, he seemed to have forgotten his anger entirely, his gaze darting frantically out the window toward the Imperial Palace. Watching him, a faint smirk played on Ran's lips.
"The Emperor ordered Rasiah's body to be cremated and laid to rest as quickly as possible. You know why better than anyone."
Dito's bloodshot eyes snapped back to the Seventh Prince. "I don't know how you found out about the Red Book, but if you're lying to buy time—"
"You'll have to believe me."
Once again, Dito was forced to cut himself short. Ran Abaran had pulled a single sheet of paper from his robes. It was covered in dense writing, with a torn edge suggesting it had been ripped from a book. On the surface, it looked like an ordinary page. But its true nature was revealed as Ran slowly held it up to the moonlight streaming through the window. Between the shadows cast by the paper, faint, glowing letters began to shimmer.
"Because I have one of the pages right here."
Dito stared at Ran in utter disbelief. It didn't last long. In the very next second, Ran's actions turned his disbelief into sheer horror.
"What are you doing?!"
Without a moment's hesitation, Ran tossed the page directly into the roaring fireplace.
The paper caught fire instantly, turning to ash in a heartbeat. It was a disaster that unfolded before anyone could react. Though Dito hastily extinguished the flames, the page was already gone without a trace.
"You..." Dito glared at the Seventh Prince as if he wanted to incinerate him just like that piece of paper, but Ran remained entirely unfazed.
Ran looked out the window toward the palace. "The rest of it is inside Rasiah's coffin. When I left, they were already placing the coffin onto the pyre. You have about twenty minutes left. If you don't make it back in time, the Red Book will vanish from this world forever. Are you going to keep wasting time?"
He wasn't the one forced to accept a deal. In truth, there was no deal to begin with. Dito was simply trapped in a maze of Ran Abaran's design, blindly following the breadcrumbs laid out for him. Fury flared in Dito's eyes.
Am I actually going to die here? Feeling my life on the line for the first time in a while, I stared back at Dito, unable to even swallow my spit. This was my first time facing a villain from such close proximity. His chillingly cruel eyes gleamed, looking ready to tear me limb from limb.
"Instead of killing you, I could drag you away and subject you to a pain worse than death. Until you spit out every single thing you know."
Right. That would be the easiest way for Dito. Taking me along, since I might know the contents of the Red Book, was a win-win for him. But for me, it was the absolute worst-case scenario.
Dito must have read the answer in my eyes. "How foolish. If you had run far away, you might have lived a little longer."
The only reason Dito's mockery didn't sting was because I completely agreed with him. I really am a fool. If only I had bought myself a bit more time to think, or at least accepted Mentil's offer, I wouldn't have had to show my face in front of the story's ultimate villain.
A smile spread across his face. He seemed to be trying to mimic the playful grin he used to wear around Rasiah, but it twisted into a grotesque, distorted smirk. "You'll be coming with me. I did just lose a brother, after all."
To him, the word 'brother' seemed to mean nothing more than a new toy. I stared at Dito's reaching hand for a moment before meeting his cruel, bloodthirsty eyes. Having only recently absorbed Rasiah's power, he seemed unable to contain his excitement. If I got dragged away like this, I wouldn't die, but I was guaranteed to suffer a world of pain.
There was no point in imagining the pain to come. The best thing to do was empty my mind and focus on my senses. I steadied my breathing. Once a choice is made, there is no turning back. All that's left is to face the consequences. To avoid provoking the agitated Dito, I waited quietly for him to grab me.
Clang.
Or at least, I would have, if two swords hadn't suddenly swept in from behind to block Dito's path.
"Has everyone lost their minds...?" Dito sneered at the owner of the blades pointed right at his nose. "If you just stayed down, you could have died in peace. I don't understand why you keep making such foolish choices."
I turned my head to look at the two fools—one desperately clutching his stomach with his left hand, and the other holding his mangled leg. Especially Ratel, who boasted a monstrous recovery rate. Isn't he waking up a bit too fast for someone who just had a hole blown through his gut? Fortunately, he seemed to be healing faster than I had anticipated. A wave of relief washed over me, making my limbs feel weak. Ratel would survive. It might not play out exactly like the original novel, but at least he wouldn't die at Dito's hands.
"Leave him and get lost."
Actually, maybe he will die. At Ratel's polite invitation, one of Dito's eyebrows arched, and my heart sank a little. Who would have thought that Ratel's defining trait—his refusal to back down to a stronger opponent even after a decisive defeat—would put my life in such jeopardy?
"Do you really have time to waste?" Ratel said to Dito, completely unconcerned with whether my heart was shriveling up or not. "Or have you lost your mind so completely that you can't even hear that?"
The source of the sound Ratel was referring to became clear soon enough. The thundering of hooves. People were approaching.
"I doubt Your Highness wishes to be spotted by the other members of the imperial family either," Duke Phedus added, reminding Dito that his time was running out.
I felt the tension slowly drain from Dito's grip.
"Are you going to keep wasting time?" I urged him, taking a much-needed breath of fresh air.
"Are you going to keep wasting time?" Ran Abaran asked. It was a demand disguised as a question.
Finally, Dito conceded. "Fine. I suppose I must concede. I can't afford to stay here any longer."
Accepting that he could delay no further, Dito stepped toward the window. Planting his foot on the sill, he looked back at the people remaining in the room. His gaze was venomous as he swept his eyes over them—the losers who had somehow won.
"Do not think you have won just because you survived this moment. Becoming a fugitive is no different from turning the entire world against you. Every living thing in this world will become the eyes and ears of Abaran, hunting you down."
The Duke knew these were not empty threats. Even now, his heart was heavy with the guilt of defying the divine will. The rest of the world would view him as a sinner far worse than he viewed himself. Even if they escaped death today, a future more agonizing than death might await them. Perhaps dying by the hand of a god would have been the kinder fate.
"Even so... we will still run, Your Highness." The apology caught in the Duke's throat, but he forced himself to hold it back.
Dito gave him a strange look before throwing himself out the window. Duke Phedus, unable to take his eyes off the empty sill, collapsed as his legs finally gave out. He couldn't believe it. They had actually survived. Only now did his surroundings register: the top of the tower on the verge of collapsing from the fire, the corpses littering the floor, and those who had made it through. Reality rushed back, bringing with it a sharp, urgent panic that they needed to flee.
"Y-Your Highness," Duke Phedus called out to Ran, his voice trembling. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to ask. More than anything, he wanted to save him this time. Limping, he approached Ran, who was slumped near the window, intending to support his savior.
But in the next instant,
"Jing, get back!"
Ratel roared, lunging toward Duke Phedus. Absurdly, the Duke found himself thinking that he had never heard Ratel raise his voice like that before. In tandem with the shout, he saw Ran Abaran drag his battered body up and hurl himself forward in slow motion. The reason became clear a split second later.
A long arrow of fire shot in through the window. Duke Phedus watched in a daze as the sharp tip pierced the Seventh Prince's back. He felt a searing heat pass through Ran Abaran and scorch his own chest. The flame that impaled them both burst out behind the Duke's back before slowly dying down. In slow motion—or perhaps in the blink of an eye—both Ran and Duke Phedus collapsed. The Duke could only stare blankly as the Seventh Prince fell slowly amidst the fading embers.
"No matter how good a card is, if I cannot hold it in my hand, it has no right to exist in this world." Outside, Dito's mocking voice drifted away.
Left alone, Ratel clutched his still-aching stomach and stumbled toward the two fallen figures. Shrouded in white smoke and the smell of burning flesh, their bodies lay as still as inanimate objects.
Ratel stared quietly at Ran Abaran's wound. He had been stabbed from behind, right where his heart was. If it had pierced through, he wouldn't have survived. If it had actually pierced through.
"It's over. Get up."
At Ratel's voice, the black-haired royal snapped his eyes open.
"Dammit... *cough*! I really thought I was a goner."
Pushing himself up with a rough cough, he curled inward slightly, wincing as the wound on his back stung. Though pale and looking a bit worse for wear, he was absurdly, inexplicably alive. Once the pain subsided, the man turned his head, his black eyes meeting Ratel's. A smile played on his lips—one that was hard to read, hovering somewhere between relief and sheer exhaustion. He spoke.
"Good to see you, Ratel."
The sheer nonchalance of the greeting was enough to drain the last of Ratel's strength. The exhaustion he had been suppressing through sheer willpower and stubbornness crashed over him all at once. He slowly sank to the floor, trying desperately to keep his heavy eyelids open, but it was useless. He had scraped together the absolute last of his energy to bluff in front of the Second Prince, and now he was completely spent. As his vision faded to black, a troubled voice drifted into his ears.
"Carrying two is going to be a bit much..."