The summons from the Regency Council arrived the day after Sirius returned to the royal capital of Gratius from his patrol of the Ashlands. A letter sealed with white wax. The letter itself was a symbol of authority. *Make for the royal capital using the Moonsilver Express Route* — it was written simply, tersely. Sirius urged his horse forward. The journey from the Ashlands to the royal capital normally took three days. But as a Boundary Knight, he could use the Moonsilver express routes without permission. The moonsilver crystals embedded along the roadside blocked out the surrounding magical storms. Through that passage, Sirius's horse ran with steady, rhythmic hoofbeats. Something caught in his chest. That strange wave of emotion he'd felt in the Ashlands. Since then, that sensation returned to him from time to time. A sadness that wasn't his own. A guilt that wasn't his own. He was certain it was a curse, but he didn't understand where it came from. The pattern on his left hand glowed faintly. "……" Sirius said nothing and quickened his horse's pace. The walls of the royal capital Gratius came into view two days after the summons arrived. The triple-layered white stone walls were reinforced with moonsilver, gleaming silver in the midday sun. Rising beyond those walls was the White Wax Palace — the five-tiered royal residence. It had been two years since Sirius last passed through the gates of the White Wax Palace. The last time he'd visited, the winter festival ceremony for Prince Alessandro was being held. Then, Sirius had seen the prince. That boy of ten, who had lost his father to his mother's rebellion and suddenly inherited the throne — his expression at the ceremony had been far too heavy for a child. *(That boy is eighteen now.)* Sirius was guided by an escort knight bearing a crimson spear through the corridors of the White Wax Palace. Elaborate sculptures adorned both sides of the hallway. Yet to Sirius's eyes, that grandeur was nothing but artifice. Had Queen Isabella not raised her rebellion because she sensed the coldness hidden beneath this very ostentation? — Such thoughts occupied Sirius's mind. The escort knight stopped and pushed open the heavy doors. "I present the Boundary Knight Sirius." The escort knight's report. Then Sirius stepped into the audience chamber. Candlelight reflected off the white-painted walls. At the far end of the spacious hall, seven members of the Regency Council sat arranged on either side. The chief councilor was an old man past sixty. His name was Edmond Valetti. An old friend of the king and current chairman of the Regency Council. And — Sirius's gaze fixed on a single point. In the center of the audience chamber stood a young man. Jet-black hair. Yet when it caught the light, it shimmered with a strange purple hue. His features were refined — almost too perfectly so. But above all, his eyes — those azure eyes held a crystalline blue. A small blue jewel hung from his right ear. Prince Alessandro. He stood perhaps 178 centimeters tall. About ten centimeters shorter than Sirius. Yet there was something strange about his bearing — an inherent elegance. He wore royal garments: a white tunic beneath a purple mantle. But — what struck Sirius most was his complexion. Deathly pale. Drained of blood as though he were a corpse. Exhaustion and guilt cast deep shadows across his face. Dark circles beneath his eyes spoke of nights without sleep. The prince looked at Sirius. In that moment — A wave of intense emotion flooded into Sirius's chest. Sirius caught his breath. It wasn't pain. But it was unmistakably not his own feeling. A profound sadness. A sense of isolation. And — guilt, washing over him in waves. *(What is this……)* Sirius held the prince's gaze. The prince, in that same instant, widened his eyes. Shock reflected in those azure pupils. He felt it too. Sirius's emotion. Sirius's hatred. The complex tangle of feelings churning within his heart. "……" Silence fell between them. Edmond, the chairman of the Regency Council, cleared his throat. "Sirius. We summoned you for a reason. We have decided to assign the prince a certain task." Edmond's voice. But Sirius's consciousness was elsewhere. The prince lowered his head quietly. The gesture was as courteous as possible — an apology from the depths of his being. "I will bear the sins my mother committed for the rest of my life." The prince's voice was soft, measured. Yet beneath it lay a profound self-reproach. "Taking your closest friend from you. Laying waste to this kingdom — all of it is my responsibility." Sirius clenched his fists. *(What is he saying)* What was this prince saying? Wasn't he the son of an enemy to be despised? That this son carried such deep guilt — And that guilt flowed into Sirius as a vast wave. "Sirius." A hand was placed on Sirius's shoulder. He turned to find an older man standing there. Silver-gray short hair. His right eye slightly weak, narrowed gray pupils. A scar running from his left cheek to his jaw. A red glove on his right hand only — the mark of a knight commander. Bernarde Zels. Sirius's former superior officer and current acting commander of the Boundary Knights. Bernarde gave Sirius an almost imperceptible shake of his head. His gaze held both warning and complex emotion. "From now on, you will undertake a journey with the prince." Chairman Edmond continued. "Eight years ago, during the Ashfall Rebellion, Queen Isabella cast a final curse. The 'Soul Chain Covenant.' This curse forcibly binds two souls together, making them share their emotions. You are both under this curse." Sirius slowly looked at the prince. The prince gazed back at him. "The condition for breaking the curse is to reach the Heart of the Otherworld. It is believed that place, deep within the Otherworld, holds the power to undo this curse." Sirius said nothing. But the unease in his chest — now it had meaning. That wave of emotion. That strange sadness. It had been the prince's all along. "Bernarde will accompany you both. To observe you." The hidden meaning in Chairman Edmond's words was clear to Sirius. Observation. In other words, remote surveillance. And — perhaps an assassination plan. Bernarde stepped forward. "I will travel with you both. To monitor the relationship between —" Bernarde's words conveyed another meaning to Sirius. Beneath that stern expression lay deep anguish. Bernarde was hiding something. He knew something about this curse. The prince nodded quietly. "I understand. I will undertake this journey as atonement." His words were pure. Without hesitation, utterly pure. After leaving the audience chamber, Sirius and the prince found themselves alone in the corridor. Bernarde had departed to make preparations elsewhere. Sirius glared at the prince. "I don't trust you. You're the son of an enemy." Sirius's words were cold, direct. The prince didn't flinch. Those azure eyes met Sirius's gaze, and there was not a trace of cloudiness in them. "That's acceptable." He answered slowly, carefully. "I will accept your hatred. That is my —" Sirius cut off his words. "I have no obligation to protect you." Sirius spoke and walked away down the corridor. Yet his back carried a tangle of complex emotions. *(There is no lie in those eyes.)* What Sirius felt through the soul chain was — the prince's pure will to apologize. And a desperate desire to atone for his sins. But Sirius didn't yet realize — that something else was beginning to take root in his heart. Not hatred alone. Something different.