The Hope.

"As His Majesty said," the spokesman begins, his voice steady yet solemn, "the events that unfolded within a single day have been deeply unfortunate for all of us."

"And the reasoning provided by His Majesty is… the only possible conclusion we can draw for why Lord Miguel did what he did—especially after he confessed it himself… to the Emperor privately." pausing briefly, letting the weight of his words settle.

A window of doubt lingers throughout the room—subtle, but present in every glance.

Yet no one steps forward. No voice dares to rise in protest.

They all understand the gravity of the situation… and the weight the Emperor's word carries.

After all, it was he who witnessed it firsthand.

So, there was no denying his words.

Even though the Commander tried to argue—tried to find a crack in the explanation—he couldn't refuse the one unshakable truth:

In this specific case, the Emperor's words were absolute.

"And that's not even the worst part," the spokesman continues, his tone growing heavier.

"We now know that the young prince hasn't inherited the power… which means—if word of this escapes beyond the kingdom walls—what follows could be far worse than the civil war we faced nine years ago. 

"That's why this meeting was called in secret—so only a few officials, those who were closest to the Emperor and Lord Miguel, would be informed. Over these fifteen years, we've all developed a sense of hope… a trust in the Empire that we never truly had before.

And until then, we followed orders not out of loyalty, but because we had no other choice."

Taking a pause, he continues, his tone more resolute:

"And now… is our time to show our loyalty to Emperor Veer.

Because if war does break out in the future, as we all fear it may if the truth comes out about the boy… the remaining population within the kingdom won't survive it. There will be no chance for us humans to witness another day of Haze-Light. Only ruin will remain."

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Lord Damon," Lord Marcus speaks up, his voice steady but curious. "But how exactly did Miss Gina identify the boy's patterns? And more importantly… where is the Fruit now? If it hasn't been inherited, doesn't that mean it may have reverted to its original form somewhere in the Nightfall Forest?"

Lord Damon nods slowly, as if expecting the question. "I was about to address that... but since your query falls more precisely under Miss Gina's field, I'll let her explain. Miss Gina?"

"Yes… of course, Lord Damon," she replies, a bit startled by the sudden spotlight. But she quickly regains her composure, straightens her posture, and begins to explain.

"For your first question, Lord Marcus…" Gina begins, her voice more confident now, "If we go by His Majesty's exact words, then yes—it does appear that Lord Miguel might have performed a Black Ritual during Queen Alice's pregnancy.

A particular one which is designed to alter or sever the spiritual link between the fruit bearer and their unborn child. And that's critical, because during the early stages of that fifteen-year fruit transfer cycle, the power is at its weakest and most vulnerable to disruption.

However…" she pauses, drawing a breath, "the success rate of such a ritual is said to be one in a million. Not just because of the complexity of the spell—but because the infant's body at that stage is extremely fragile. Any miscalculation… could have easily killed both the child and the mother."

"And you may ask—how could he have even managed to do it?" she continues, the weight of her words settling over the room. "Well… we are talking about Lord Miguel. His mind doesn't operate like ours. His cognitive speed is unmatched. It's said he can create new spells and rituals within hours—sometimes even less. And that's because of the transfusion he underwent at a very young age. He linked his mana flow directly to his brain. That made him something else entirely."

She hesitates for a moment, then adds with a more subdued tone, "And there's something else I haven't spoken about until now… When Queen Alice was pregnant—especially during the first to seventh months—I often noticed her sneaking into Lord Miguel's laboratory. It wasn't just once or twice. It was frequent. And each time, I sensed a sharp spike in mana concentration from that area.

I couldn't confirm what was happening because his lab is lined with mana blockers… but it's clear now that he was performing something—likely experimental magic—on her."

The room grows colder with the implication.

"And now, if we think about everything… what His Majesty told us aligns far more than we initially assumed," Gina says, her voice more resolute. "The corrupted Mana flowing through Lord Miguel—yes, I believe now it truly clouded his judgment. That alone could explain why he committed such a tragic act. In my opinion… it stands as the absolute truth."

Without pausing, she presses forward, "And to answer your second question—about the Fruit's power—I strongly believe that His Majesty, the Emperor, hasn't lost even a fraction of it. I confirmed it myself. If the Fruit's power had begun transferring, there would have been a spiritual connection between the Emperor and the child. That link would've been detectable, even in the subtlest patterns."

Her gaze grows heavy with certainty.

"But there was nothing. No bond. No exchange. No trace of the Fruit's transformation beginning at all."

"Well done Miss Gina your explanation skills are exceptional." says, Lord Doman proudly.

After such an elaborate explanation, a heavy silence falls over the chamber. The commander, who stands tall through battles and storms, now feels a weight pressing hard on his chest. His expression dims—his features growing dull and drawn, as if the life is slowly draining from his face. The truth, laid bare before him, begins to bury every last shred of doubt he held.

He clenches his fists, not out of rage, but out of the helplessness that rises within him like a tide.

All the moments from the past nine years come rushing back—moments he once brushed off without question. The way Miguel would avoid eye contact whenever the war was brought up… the long hours spent in isolation… the sudden and unexplained shifts in his mood.

Back then, he didn't see it—didn't want to see it.

But now… it all makes sense.

[Those weren't signs of grief. They were symptoms of corruption.]

His eyes fall to the floor, filled with disbelief and pain.

And in that hollow realization, a single, devastating truth lingers in his heart:

"Miguel… is truly lost. He sold himself to the Mana." says in a quiet whispering voice.

Looking at his expression, Marcus realizes the depth of sadness the commander is carrying. It's not just grief over the loss of those he once called family—he has lost his happiness with them too. The weight in his eyes says it all.

Immediately after, an unfamiliar voice echoes through the chamber—from the other side of Marcus, the same side where Commander and Gina are standing.

"So… what are we supposed to do now?"

A young boy steps forward, his expression calm, unfazed, and carrying a tender look in his eyes as he directs the question to the Emperor.

[So that's him...] the thought flashes through Marcus's mind, locking his eyes on the young boy who had spoken. There's something about his presence—calm, unreadable, yet oddly familiar.

"Well, first of all—" Lord Damon begins, voice measured but tense, only to be cut off by the Emperor.

"Let me," the Emperor interjects, his voice carrying the weight of finality.

He pauses—perhaps to collect his own swirling emotions, or perhaps to command silence with the gravity of what's to come.

"Miguel will be secretly transferred to Black Water Prison. There will be no execution."

The room stills. No one breathes. The air itself seems to tighten.

"This will happen during the Corridor Gathering," the Emperor continues, his voice even and unshaken, "when the entire palace is assembled in the Central Corridor."