The Meeting.

In the Eastern Wing of the palace,

Tension hangs in the air like a thick fog.

"Did you hear about the incident?" one man says in a hushed voice, leaning in slightly.

"I was truly devastated when I heard," the other replies, shaking his head slowly, eyes cast in front.

"What kind of reason do you think he would have… to commit such a crime?" the first man asks again, his voice lower now, tinged with genuine concern.

"For that," the other man says, his voice rising slightly, firm and authoritative, "we'll have to wait for the Council of Court to know the truth."

He pauses, lowering his tone, the weight of his words sinking in.

"Still… I can't believe it was The Emperor who caught him—just as he was going to visit his newborn son."

He exhales slowly, eyes narrowing.

"It must've been a devastating sight to witness…"

"Indeed, Lord Marcus… anyone would've gone berserk after seeing their wife and adopted sister brutally murdered right in front of them," the other man replies, his voice laced with concern and disbelief.

Hearing that made Marcus pause, a shadow of doubt crossing his face.

"Yeah… in any situation, that would've been the case," he mutters. "But I still don't understand why he would spare him from death."

He leans in slightly, voice lowering.

"I also heard… he had a private conversation with him—before bringing him to the court. What do you think they would've talked about, Commander?"

A long pause follows before he responds, his tone quiet but firm.

"From what I know of them… the Emperor believed and trusted in him more than anyone else. It wasn't just trust—it was something deeper."

He exhales slowly, gaze distant.

"And that… is exactly what makes this so hard to understand."

The commander's jaw tightens and a flicker of conflict in his eyes.

"And before we all start jumping to conclusions," he says quietly, but firmly, "we need to stop making assumptions."

His voice wavers slightly—just enough to betray the doubt he's trying to suppress.

"You really don't want to believe he could've done something like that… do you?"

Marcus sighs, a faint sadness in his tone. 

The commander lowers his eyes, the disappointment heavy in his voice.

"Their belief… their trust in each other—it changed the way we thought," he says quietly, almost to himself.

"It made us believe that even in a world as cruel as this… there could still be hope."

A bitter pause follows, the silence louder than words. "And now…it feels like such hope never even existed in the first place."

"Well… you aren't the only who believed in it," he says quietly. 

After their heavy exchange, a silence settled between them—thick, uncomfortable.

Sensing the weight in the air, Marcus cleared his throat and tried to shift the mood.

"It's gonna take us ages just to reach the Council," he muttered, half-smirking.

"Who thought it was a good idea to build a palace this massive?"

He gestured around them, shaking his head.

"And this is just the East Wing. There are still three more wings—not to mention the central corridor, the royal gardens, the training grounds, the Magica Academy, the academic schools…and much more."

He let out a short breath, almost a laugh.

"At this point, the palace itself could be its own nation."

The commander gives a faint nod, his expression unreadable.

"Yes… maybe you're right," he says quietly, offering no real reaction.

[Well, that didn't work,] Marcus thinks, the awkwardness lingering.

After a brief silence, the commander speaks again, his voice low and sincere.

"I'm sorry, Lord Marcus… I didn't mean to disappoint you like that."

"Disappoint me? No, you didn't," Marcus replies, his tone softening. "I should've been more mindful of your feelings."

[How could I forget…He's the one most affected by all of this—because of the relation he shares with Lord Miguel.]

"You are kind, Lord Marcus…" the commander says, his voice quiet but genuine.

Hearing the words, Marcus looks up at him, a soft smile forming on his face.

"All right, if you say so…"

He lets out a light sigh, then lifts his gaze through the open corridor above them. His eyes settle], where the haze hangs heavier—darker than it had been in the days before.

[Is it coming to an end…?The end of the One Haze Year Cycle…]

After walking past multiple blocks of the Eastern Wing, the two moved in silence, their footsteps echoing softly against the polished stone floors.

The Eastern Wing is as grand as it is vast—lined with towering archways and intricate carvings of past rulers and legendary battles. Glowing mana lanterns float gently above their heads, casting a soft yellowish hue along the golden-trimmed corridors. The hum of protective enchantments pulsed faintly through the walls, a reminder of the power that resided within this part of the palace.

Despite the beauty around them, the air feels heavy—unnaturally still.

Eventually, they arrive at the entrance of the Council Chambers, a tall, double-door structure engraved with the marks of every high council house. The atmosphere shifts immediately—denser, charged.

They pause for a moment.

A silent nod pass between them.

Then, without a word, they push the doors open.

The moment they step inside, a surge of intense mana crashes into them—thick and electric—forcing both men to instinctively raise their guard.

To their surprise, The Emperor is already present—sitting at the far end of the chamber. Alongside him standing, a few individuals… people who are not the members of the formal Council.

[Well, that's odd…There are no other Council members here besides me and the Commander.]

Confusion swirls in their minds as they step forward, uncertain but composed.

Both men move slowly toward the Emperor, lowering their heads in a respectful bow before taking their places on opposite sides of the chamber.

As Marcus settles into position, his eyes scan the room more carefully. Only now does he notice the weight in the air—the tension that clings to every face, the sorrow quietly etched into the eyes of those present.

"All right, everyone is here with us," says the man standing beside the Emperor, his voice calm but firm, echoing through the heavy silence of the chamber.

The weight behind his words feels deliberate—measured.

[What...

What is going on here...]

Marcus's thoughts begin to race, unease creeping into every corner of his mind.

"What do you mean 'everyone is here'?"

The commander glances around again, eyes narrowing.

"Where's the rest of the Council? Why are they not here?"

His chest tightens as a deeper question rises to the surface.

"What's going on…?"

And then, the one thought that strikes the hardest—

"Where is Miguel?"

"I know, Commander Gerardo… you and I haven't always seen eye to eye," the man begins, his voice steady but edged with tension. "But this isn't about us. This is about the future—of the kingdom, and of our world."

He pauses, letting the weight of his words settle before glancing at the others in the room.

"And I understand your concerns about Lord Miguel…"

He straightens his posture, his gaze sweeping across every individual present.

"I know you're all confused—bewildered by the reason you've been summoned here like this. But rest assured, your questions will be answered."

A heavy silence falls for a moment before he speaks again, his tone sharpening.

"In the meantime, there's something far more pressing—something the Emperor himself wishes to address."

He turns slightly, gesturing toward the figure beside him.

"And it is directly tied to the incident that occurred last night."

"Before I tell you about it…" the Emperor begins, his voice lower than usual—strained, as if pulled between duty and doubt. "I must admit… I am confused. And conflicted."

He pauses, eyes cast downward for a moment before lifting them again, meeting the gaze of those before him.

"I don't even know anymore if what I'm about to say is the right thing to do... but I have no other choice."

A silence sweeps the room, heavy and unblinking.

Then, after a long breath, he speaks again—slower, each word laced with the weight of what's to come.

"The truth is... my son…"