I had not expected the outer wall stone to be this cold. Raid stood in a corner of the alley that ran along the eastern outer wall of the imperial capital Verga, pulling his coat closed around himself. The stone pavement absorbed the thin light of early dusk, remaining a dull gray. From beyond the wall came the sound of carriage wheels striking the stones and what sounded like a peddler's angry shout. Daily life in the imperial capital. It had nothing to do with him being here. He had been moving since dawn. From the era when he was the Empire's foremost mage—memories from more than fifteen years ago, walking the halls of the National Mage Academy 《Toumonin》 with his own strength—he unfolded the structure of the royal capital in his mind. The location of the dungeons. The times of guard rotations. The patrol routes of the knights. He still had the knowledge. It hadn't rusted. But it was useless now. The more knowledge he had, the more clearly he could see the height of the barriers standing before him—a man trying to sneak in as little more than a fugitive. (The Empire's foremost mage, crouching in an alley shadow. That's funny.) He thought it to himself, without directing it at anyone. There was something smoldering mixed in with the self-deprecation. He slipped his hand inside his coat and gripped the hilt of a black short blade. He still didn't know what this was—the one given to him by the hooded figure at the port. A sensation like soil and night mixed together—the mana wave of the Demon Continent—transmitted through his palm. A heavy texture clearly different from the Empire's magical essence. He had traced the patterns carved into the blade with his fingers several times. He had no memory of seeing anything similar in the Empire's spell texts or the Academy's archives. How many hours had it been since Lilia and the others were taken away? Lilia's voice was still in the back of his ears. In the mist, grabbed by a knight's hand around her wrist, she had turned back and called only "Raid." In that moment, he had glimpsed her white breath scattering in the winter harbor air, and her odd eyes—pale purple and pale amber. And the sight of Aira turning back for just one second before being taken away. She said nothing. Only her green eyes looked at Raid. He still hadn't fully read everything contained in that one second. When he tried to read it, something wavered deep in his chest. Before he could analyze it, the weight of the short blade always pulled him back. For now, that was fine. There was a saying about grasping at straws. At forty-two years old, he honestly hadn't expected to find himself in such a situation. But if he were to describe his current circumstances accurately, there was no other word for it. Raid gripped the short blade again inside his coat, concentrating his consciousness on the inside of his palm. He tried to pour in magical power. He quietly ignited the mana circuit within his body—one that deteriorated with each use and could now only be described as "rusted"—. Beneath the sleeve of his left arm, a pale blue scar gained faint warmth. A scar from mana fusion damage. Ordinary magic still worked. Carefully, slowly, he poured in magical power while changing its quality to match the sensation of soil and night unique to the Demon Continent. The short blade trembled. Faintly. A fine vibration that transmitted through his fingertips. The patterns began to glow dimly. A different color from the Empire's magical power. Not the pale blue light of magical essence, but a brownish light, like something sleeping in the earth. There was a sound. A *thud*. No—two sounds overlapped—*thud-thud*—echoing off the stone pavement. Raid kept his grip on the short blade and lowered his gaze. Two people were on the stone pavement. Still bearing the impact of their landing, both were on their knees. No—not just their knees—their foreheads were striking the stones. A complete kowtow. Their bodies were parallel to the ground, heads bowed so low. Two black coats spread in the same shape, like fallen leaves on the pavement. "Your Majesty, are you unharmed?!" The voice echoed off the outer wall. It echoed magnificently. The sound bounced off the hard stone construction of the imperial capital's outer wall, and the "unharmed?!" part folded back at least three times. Beyond the alley, the sound of a merchant's horse rearing up with a snort began. The peddler's angry shout jumped higher. Raid was silent for a while. (Your Majesty) (Me) (Your Majesty...?) "Be quiet," Raid said in a low voice. But it seemed the outer wall's echo was still active, because that "be quiet" was also swallowed by the wall and came back around. The ending "et" bounced back three times. The merchant's horse reared up again. A dull sound of cargo falling on the pavement. "Get down!" Raid said, this time truly in a whisper, pressing his own back against the outer wall's shadow. The two quickly rolled toward the wall's edge. Their movements were fast. The way they transitioned from kowtow to action—trained, Raid could judge. They were trained. The three of them pressed themselves against the wall's shadow and weathered the storm for a few seconds. A peddler peeked around the corner of the alley. An old man with white hair, his face clearly reading "what are these guys doing?" Confirming that the three remained motionless against the wall, the old man slowly shook his head and left again. The sound of the horse's hooves faded into the distance. Silence. "...Wait a moment," Raid said. This time, the outer wall's echo didn't come back. Good. Raid looked at the two again. One was a slender young woman with sharp eyes. She wore practical clothes under her black coat and had a short sword at her waist. Min—he didn't know her name, but the information transmitted through the short blade's sensation told him that was what he should call her—observed Raid intently while keeping her back against the wall. Not appraising him, but confirming. Her gaze was one of verification. The other was a well-built man with a gentle face. His round eyes darted around nervously, and it was clear he was still internally processing the echo commotion from moments ago. Gen—the person who should be called by that name—noticed Raid's gaze and made a slightly embarrassed expression. "We apologize for startling you," Gen said. "You startled me, or rather... Where did you come from?" Raid asked. "Through a transfer portal. When Your Majesty's magical power flows into this short blade—the summoning wedge—we are designed to transfer to your location," Min said quietly. Her voice was emotionless. A voice devoted to reporting. "A summoning wedge," Raid said. He took the short blade out from inside his coat and looked at it again. The shape of the patterns. The earth-colored light. So it was a summoning tool—a spell technique passed down in the Demon Continent that reacted to a specific person's magical power and transferred people to the wielder's location. Which meant the hooded figure at the port had foreseen from the beginning that he would reach this place. "Why do you call me Your Majesty?" Raid asked. The two exchanged glances. Min opened her mouth. Gen also started to say something. Both their expressions carried the weight of "do we explain from here?" It was the face of the beginning of a long story. The bloodline of the Demon Continent's royal family, the circumstances of its succession, and what the title "Your Majesty" meant—any of these would be too much to finish while standing in an alley corner, and that was clear just from looking at their faces. "Later," Raid said curtly, cutting them off. The two went still. Raid continued while returning the short blade to the inside of his coat. "Right now, Lilia and the others' situation comes first. You two were in the royal capital, weren't you? What did you find out?" He wasn't honestly prepared to face the meaning of the title "Your Majesty" head-on right now. But he didn't want to admit that, so he reframed it as a "rational decision" and moved forward. He didn't even know which was the real reason. Min and Gen paused for a beat, then turned to face him directly. Min opened her mouth. Her tone of voice changed. It became lower than before. "The Nobility Council—an institution where influential nobles from within the Empire gather to make decisions regarding the Emperor's administration—has a resolution scheduled for tomorrow morning," Min said. "What's the content?" Raid asked. "Regarding the disposition of those with demon bloodline. The Empire has an ancient proclamation stating that those carrying demon blood are security risks and are not granted rights equal to imperial citizens. This time, they will formally decide how to handle those who were taken into custody based on that proclamation," Min said. "..." Raid said. "The resolution's content is execution and—" Min paused. That pause showed the weight of the next words. "Academic dissection. Under the pretext of using bodies connected to the Demon Continent's royal family for the Empire's magical research," Min said. A real silence fell in the shadow of the outer wall. All the sounds from before—the horse's rearing, the echo's laughter—were swallowed by that silence. Expression vanished from Raid's face. Not suppressing emotion. The blank space of processing information the moment it was received. "Dissection," Raid said, as if murmuring. He was confirming the information's outline by voicing that single word. "For the Empire's magical research," Raid said. "Yes," Min said. Min didn't waver. The face of one who conveys facts. That made it heavier. Gen tugged at Min's sleeve. Min prompted him with a glance. Gen hesitated slightly before opening his mouth. "One more thing. Regarding the other person—the advance guard vice-captain Aira—we have some information," Gen said. "...Tell me," Raid said. "She's under house arrest, but there seems to be a faction within the knight order advocating for leniency. Rather than a complete punishment, it appears to be a state of awaiting disposition. However—" Gen's voice became slightly more hesitant. "Your betrothed is also said to have entered the royal capital," Gen said. The muscles at the corner of Raid's mouth moved faintly. Execution. Dissection. Lilia. That weight filled his consciousness, and then the word "betrothed" pierced in from a completely different angle. Aira's name hadn't been mentioned. But he understood without thinking who that word referred to. In Demon Continent customs, betrothals to bind families together were sometimes exchanged in childhood—there was one exchanged long ago between Aira and Raid. Even now, more than fifteen years after Raid had come to the Empire, it remained as an unresolved contract in name only. He tried to process it. The sight of Aira turning back for just one second in the mist surfaced. Green eyes. A posture with not a millimeter of bend in her spine. The weight of the word "betrothed" and that back view arranged themselves oddly in his head. He couldn't organize it. He didn't even know if these were emotions that needed organizing right now. Something passed across the corner of the old mage's expression. Something too small to name appeared near his jawline and disappeared immediately. Raid lowered his eyes to the pavement. His fingertips touched the blade's scabbard. (Save Lilia. That comes first. The betrothed talk isn't something to think about here and now.) He organized it that way. He could organize it. He should have been able to organize it. But the remnant of the word "betrothed" caught in a corner of his chest and wouldn't disappear. He noticed it and pretended not to notice. Dusk was beginning to stain the outer wall. The stone's color was changing from the daytime gray to a brownish gold. Shadows were lengthening. The depths of the alley were darkening