—

But he was unexpectedly upright and steadfast. Perhaps it was around that time that his interest in him began to wane, and he started seeing him in a new light.

The son of the Kaizel family, with eyes that were as honest and pure as they were rare. Seeing him, it struck Ail that he was the perfect piece for the puzzle. For deceiving his crumbling maternal family, his mother who had lost the Emperor’s love, Tasha Kaizel now pregnant, and Lyman Kaizel who had risen to the position of Chancellor—Ruth was the ideal fit. And, as expected, he followed along well.

The first time Ail felt truly human emotions was four years ago at the hunting tournament. Pretending to be human while being something else entirely had always been a challenge. Faking emotions he had never experienced had its limits. It was then, during the hunting tournament, that he felt anger for the first time—anger toward the attackers who had ambushed him. But more powerful than that emotion was his determination to find Ruth, whom he had left behind.

While it was partly due to their contract, when he stumbled upon more attackers in the forest and saw Ruth sigh and put him on a horse to send him off, that sight lingered in his mind. Ignoring his knights’ pleas to postpone the search until the next day, Ail ran deep into the forest.

Eventually, he came across traces of Elsen, who had foolishly left the knights to find Ruth. Following those traces, he found Ruth’s horse and saw Elsen supporting Ruth as they emerged. At that moment, he wanted to run up and embrace him. Perhaps it was the first time he felt affection toward another person. Yet he was so weak, so small. He couldn’t support Ruth, let alone lift him.

The emotions he felt then—perhaps they were what people called pity and humiliation. The frustration of being unable to reach out and the sting of defeat he had never felt before. Maybe that was why he later added the role of a foolish, effeminate prince to his facade.

Yes, maybe it was at that moment that his senses awakened. But what fascinated him was that those senses were valid for no one else.

The only person who evoked any feeling in him was Ruth Kaizel. Crushing defeat, humiliation, and a twisted desire to kneel him before him—even by force. None of these emotions extended to anyone else.

A prime example was his father’s illness. Even when the Emperor was too sick to govern, Ail remained unmoved. Seeing the Emperor’s condition only made him think about how to turn the situation to his advantage.

He knew there was something wrong with him, but he had no intention of fixing it. His incompleteness was what kept him steady. It gave him an unshakable purpose and the ambition to extend his reach to the ends of the continent.

Nothing else mattered. All that was important to him was his ambition toward the world.

Lost in such thoughts, Ruth’s face suddenly came to mind. The pale face, groaning in pain until noon, flashed in his memory, and a pang struck his heart. He had summoned a physician, so surely treatment had been administered, yet unease gnawed at him. Even though he had secured him—kept him by his side just as he wanted—there was an emptiness. He felt as though Ruth would slip away from his grasp and vanish.

So, he had broken his wings. Yet the anxiety remained.

Why did he feel so uneasy?

As Ail entered the Silver Palace, he saw the chamberlain waiting for him and offered a formal greeting.

“How is my father’s condition?”

With a deep bow, the chamberlain replied, “He has just regained consciousness. He is waiting for Your Highness.”

“I see.”

Speaking in a gentle, composed tone befitting a dutiful son visiting his ailing father, Ail walked deeper into the palace. Standing before the Emperor’s bedchamber, he noticed Nathan already waiting there. A mild smile spread across Ail’s face.

“It’s been a while.”

But Nathan, startled, recoiled behind a maid’s skirt, trembling despite Ail’s kind greeting. Watching him, Ail clicked his tongue. Nathan had always been an exceptionally timid child.

Even now, Nathan clung to Ruth while avoiding Ail as if he were a monster. While Ail felt no familial affection for Nathan, and never found the child particularly endearing, Nathan’s attachment to Ruth irritated him.

Ruth, who never reached out to him, would always embrace Nathan first, cradling him and pressing kisses to his cheek. Ruth had said he liked children, but Ail couldn’t stomach how tenderly Ruth treated the boy. What if Ruth one day decided he wanted children of his own and insisted on marriage? That would be troublesome.

Thinking how fortunate he was to have tethered Ruth to the palace, Ail glanced down at Nathan and asked the chamberlain, “Should I wait?”

“Please enter with Prince Nathan.”

The chamberlain opened the door, releasing a suffocating scent of medicinal herbs. It mingled with the stench of decay emanating from the bedridden Emperor, forming an unbearable reek of death.

The maid pushed Nathan into the room, and the door closed behind him. Ail looked briefly at Nathan before striding forward without hesitation to stand before Emperor Pedro Linus. Beside Pedro sat Tasha, her face as gaunt as the Emperor’s.

After a light bow to Tasha, Ail approached Pedro and took his hand.

“You’ve deteriorated significantly.”

The Emperor’s hand felt rough and gnarled, like the bark of an ancient tree. Ail gazed at Pedro’s face, hidden in the shadow of death, with eyes full of simulated sympathy and compassion.

Nathan clung to Tasha, and Ail softly said, “Take his hand, Nathan.”

Feigning the role of a dutiful son and caring brother, Ail clasped Pedro’s frail hand tightly. Comforted by Ail’s tenderness, Pedro whispered something nearly inaudible. Ail bent closer, suppressing the urge to gag as he listened to the dying man’s final requests.

Ail offered empty reassurances: “You’ll recover. Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.“

The Emperor, relieved, gazed warmly at his son—a gaze that had never once been directed at Ail in health. The sight of his once-imposing father now reduced to a shadow of his former self made Ail smirk inwardly.

Human beings, no matter how powerful, all ended the same way: rotting bodies, reeking of death, summoning their kin to secure their legacies.

Whatever Pedro’s concerns—Nathan or Tasha—Ail didn’t care. Soon, they would all meet the same end.

The time was approaching. Soon, Ail could bare his claws and teeth without restraint.