TYND 2

There were no signs of struggle on Yolone Sirin’s body, and his fingerprints were found on the rope and chair; even the handwriting of the note, presumed to be a suicide note, was identified as his. The room was immaculately tidy, and all of his rare and expensive magical artifacts remained undisturbed, exactly where he’d left them. Most tellingly, if anyone had assassinated the archmage, they would’ve taken his research journals—yet they were untouched.

Given the compelling evidence, the conclusion was inescapable; it was a suicide. 

“Yolone Sirin dedicated his entire life to the pursuit of peace. Losing someone like him is a painful wound for Araxys. We should’ve been more attentive to his emotional well-being.” 

The young crown prince with a long name, Dierm Addir Halphaeus Zibiah, pressed his fingers against his tired eyes and released a weary sigh. 

“I don’t know how to announce it… especially now, with so many grieving loved ones, so many struggling with post-war sorrow. How am I to break the news of the archmage’s death…?”

“Announce that he died not by suicide, but from injuries inflicted by a demonic fiend or a devil’s curse.”

“My dear grand duke, that’s not what I’m asking. I’ve already decided specifically which monster injured him, how, and what aftereffects led to his death. I was simply sharing with you the complex and heavy heart of a ruler who must inform his grieving people of the archmage’s death. All I need from you is a little sympathy.”

“……”

“Don’t look at me like you’re all disillusioned. You’re really a cold-hearted bastard. No wonder people call you the ‘Demon of Seará’. 

The Demon of Seará.

The nickname was born on the battlefield, where Theon’s brutal ferocity—reminiscent of Maton’s offspring, earned him a reputation as a demon in human form.  A demon, thankfully, fighting on their side. The moniker, imbued with more fear than reverence, held no particular meaning for Theon.

It didn’t matter if he was the Demon of Seará or the Demon of Maton—

He simply did what he was tasked to do. 

Theon turned his gaze from the crown prince and strode down the stairs.

“Your Grace, you’re walking rather fast.”

He came to an abrupt halt at the rare comment from the captain of the guard. Prince Dierm thanked the loyal guard captain and winked at Theon.

“Think about the difference in our height. It’s hard for me to keep up with those long legs of yours.”

Theon frowned but slowed his pace all the same. After twenty years of war, the imperial bloodline had become incredibly precious. It’d always been precious, but now that value carried an element of scarcity. Even when his retainers begged him to protect his noble and rare bloodline, Prince Dierm had personally led campaigns on the front lines numerous times. While his actions boosted the morale of his troops, they took a toll on his own body. His inability to keep up with Theon’s pace was because of the lingering injuries in his leg. As he descended the stairs at a noticeably slower pace than before, the crown prince spoke. 

“Romerie, Megan, Ken… they’re all worried, asking what happened to Lord Yolone. What should I tell them?”

“Tell them he died from a fiend’s poison spreading through his body.”

“You want me to lie to them too?”

“They’re no longer allies of our empire.”

“I know that. But until recently, they were comrades, people we fought back-to-back with. They’ve spent over a decade on the battlefield with Lord Yolone… shouldn’t they at least know the real reason their friend died?”

“It’s also possible one of them eliminated the archmage, who would’ve been a significant future threat to their own country.”

“Bollocks. They’re not heartless like you.”

“Tell that to Ken Bane.”

“No, I believe Lord Bane’s just as much a child of Seará’, with the same red blood flowing through his veins. He’s just been on a bit of an edge lately, but at heart, he’s a decent man.”

Theon saw no need to continue this conversation. Thankfully, they were nearing the underground prison, prompting Prince Dierm to fall silent as well. In the imperial palace’s underground prison was a boy found in the corner of the archmage’s chambers. 

Why Yolone Sirin took his own life or what ‘all the sins’ he claimed to bear was anyone’s guess. If depression or the lingering trauma of war drove him to such an extreme act, what could these so-called ‘sins’ possibly be? The only clue was his research journal. Encoded in the archmage’s cipher, it’d been handed to the imperial mage organisation. It’d take them three years at the earliest, five years at the latest, to full decipher it. 

The issue lay with the young boy—the sole witness, and perhaps the suspect, in the archmage’s death. Why’d there been a young boy in the old archmage’s—who was a lifelong bachelor—bedroom? Even during the war, he had fiercely guarded his privacy, forbidding anyone from entering his tent. Servants, healers, even the crown prince himself were denied entry. 

Could the boy be the archmage’s joyboy?

The boy’s appearance was pitiful, his clothes were filthy and caked in dust. But even in this state of dishevelment, his considerable beauty was evident. Perhaps the great archmage—a war hero, was nothing more than an old pervert with a taste for young boys. It was something that could only be confirmed by speaking with the boy. 

Theon scanned the small, trembling boy huddled in the corner of the cell. He appeared to be in his early teens, no more than 155cm tall, alarmingly thin—almost skeletal. His head was buried against his knees, hiding his face, but his hair was…

White.

Though his curls were tangled with dust and grime, Theon could tell that once cleansed, his hair would reveal a pure, snowy white.

“What’s the situation? Has he said anything?”

While Theon observed the boy, the crown prince questioned the knight standing guard. He was a member of the Black Lion Knights, under Theon’s command. The archmage’s suicide was a closely guarded secret, entrusted only to a select few, hence the reliance on a trusted knight rather than a regular prison guard.

“He seems to understand what’s being said, but he hasn’t uttered a single intelligible word. He just keeps repeating ‘Chi-chi‘,” the knight replied. 

Mentioning the word ‘Chi-chi’, the boy slowly lifted his head. Even in the dim light of the dungeon, his large, emerald-green eyes shone like jewels. At that moment, Theon’s suspicion turned to certainty.

He’s definitely a joyboy.

The boy flinched as his eyes met Theon’s, shrinking back further into the corner, as if trying to merge with the stone wall, despite having nowhere left to retreat. 

Does he…… know me? 

Beyond the fear and tension, Theon saw something else in those green eyes. Astonishingly, the boy held a feeling of fondness toward him—a sentiment that might even be called trust and affection.

It was the same as when I first saw him.

The same reaction when they’d first crossed paths in the archmage’s bedroom two days ago. Though trembling in fear, the boy had reacted to Theon’s presence with a strange sense of relief, as if recognising an ally. This was highly unusual, considering most kids his age were instantly terrified by his presence. 

“Then I take it no interrogation has been conducted?”

“Yes. We’ve also discovered scores of old scars covering his body. Nothing recent, but they suggest a prolonged period of repeated torture and healing.” 

“You mean he was abused?”

“Yes. And it seems he hasn’t had a proper meal in a very long time.”

“Even I can see that. Look at his sunken stomach, those limbs—he’s so thin they look like bare twigs. You’ve been feeding him these past two days, haven’t you?”

“We offered him soup and bread, but he wouldn’t touch the bread—he just gulped down the soup.”

“Why wouldn’t he eat the bread?”

“My guess… it seems he doesn’t know how to eat it.”

“What?”

Prince Dierm looked at the knight as if he’d said something ridiculous, while the knight’s expression was a mixture of confusion and uneasiness.

“More precisely, it appears he doesn’t know how to chew. He tried to swallow the pieces of meat in the soup whole, as if they were liquid, and started choking. I’d to pat him on his back to get him to spit it out, but he did the same thing at the next meal.”

“Goodness……”

The crown prince ran a hand over his face, his expression grim. Even the Captain of the Guard, a man known for his stoicism, let out a surprised gasp. Theon, too, was taken aback.

Has the archmage been taking out his wartime stress on this kid? To the point of depriving him of proper sustenance, even the basic knowledge of how to eat? Were these the ‘sins’ referred to in his suicide note? Even so, the phrase ‘I will carry’ felt strange. 

“First, we need to move the kid to a room. It’s too cold and hard down here. Not to mention being underground is bad for the lungs.” 

With that, the crown prince took the key from the knight and unlocked the cell door himself. The boy, startled by the clanging sound of the door, buried his head further into his knees, curling up even tighter.

“It’s too soon, Your Imperial Highness. We’re not even certain if Lord Yolone took his own life. This child could be an assassin.”

“An assassin, this scrawny thing? We’ll continue the interrogation, yes, but in a clean room rather than this cell. Theon, bring him along.”

The knight tried to protest, but the crown prince had already decided the child was a victim. Silently, Theo followed his order. As he stepped into the cell, the boy lifted his head slightly from his knees, those emerald-green eyes wet with unshed tears. Theon knelt on one knee in front of the boy and unlocked the shackles on his wrists and ankles. Those green eyes stared at him intently. 

“Take him to the magic tower… no, the palace would be better. There should be a room free at the end of the fourth-floor corridor. We need to keep him hidden from prying eyes, so move him there—”

The crown prince abruptly stopped mid-sentence. 

“……”

A strange silence settled over the cell.

“Hey, bro, you know this kid?” 

Prince Dierm, utterly stunned, slipped into a casual tone. And for good reason—the child had grabbed hold of Theon’s cloak with his tiny hand, clinging tightly. 

As if it were his only lifeline.