The once-glorious main castle, the heart of the kingdom, now lay in ruins, a broken shadow of its former self. Its towering spires had crumbled, its grand halls turned to shattered stone and embers. Smoke coiled into the sky, thick and bitter with the scent of scorched fabric, burnt wood, and blood.
Among the wreckage, soldiers moved with urgent precision, digging through the debris, searching for survivors. Some pulled away chunks of fallen pillars, their hands bloodied and bruised. Others carried the wounded, their armor dented, their faces smudged with soot. The healers rushed between them, pressing their hands over burns and broken limbs, their magic glowing faintly as they mended torn flesh and stabilized the dying.
Above them, the commander stood, barking orders with sharp efficiency.
"Move quickly! Clear the northern wing before sundown—we need space for the wounded! Bring all able-bodied men to reinforce the walls! Any looters—execute them on sight! If anyone finds an insignia among the dead, report it immediately!"
His voice cut through the chaos, his commands obeyed without hesitation.
In the castle courtyard—one of the few areas still intact—Seo-Hwan stood atop a raised platform, his presence commanding. The remnants of nobility, soldiers, and common folk had gathered below, their expressions a mix of exhaustion and desperate hope.
He spread his arms wide, his voice rich and strong as it echoed through the broken kingdom.
"People of this land! Today, we mourn what was lost—but we must not despair! I, Seo-Hwan, will restore order! I will rebuild what was destroyed and ensure that no man, woman, or child is left to suffer in the streets!
The homeless will be given shelter. The hungry will be fed. The weak will be protected. This kingdom will not die in ruin—it will rise stronger than before!"
A wave of murmurs rippled through the crowd before it exploded into cheers.
Some wept in relief. Others shouted his name, chanting it like a prayer, their voices raw with belief.
Seo-Hwan smiled, but his eyes remained sharp—calculating.
Then, with a simple raise of his hand, the noise died.
"But before we build, we must understand." His expression hardened. "This destruction was not an accident. It was treachery."
He turned to his assembled knights.
"A meeting. Immediately."
The war table stood in the center of the chamber, a heavy, scarred piece of oak that had seen years of battle plans. Around it, Seo-Hwan's knights and advisors gathered, their faces grim.
One of his knights, Sir Renji, stepped forward. "The attack was premeditated." His voice was steady, but his jaw was tight.
Seo-Hwan leaned back, arms crossed. "Explain."
Renji threw a tattered scrap of fabric onto the table. "Golden silk."
The knights exchanged glances.
"The balloons." Renji's voice sharpened. "They were filled with gas. The first one popped, and within seconds, the air was alight. It wasn't just an explosion—it was a chain reaction."
A slow realization crept across the room.
"A firebomb in plain sight…" another knight murmured. "Disguised as mere decorations."
Seo-Hwan's expression darkened. "Find me the hands that prepared those balloons. I want names. I want faces. And I want their heads."
Across the city, deep within the throne room of House Gwan, Lord Baek, Gwan-Ri's father, sat upon his towering throne, his knuckles white as they gripped the gilded arms.
His voice thundered through the chamber.
"WHERE IS HE?!"
His guards flinched but did not dare look away.
"Search every district, every ruin, every sewer if you must! I don't care what it takes—bring me my son!"
The guards bowed swiftly and rushed out like hounds released from a cage.
Lord Baek exhaled through gritted teeth.
"…That fool better not be dead."
Arthur entered his chambers without a word. The room was sparse, furnished with only the necessities. Against the far corner, a simple wooden table stood, its surface occupied by a single, worn leather-bound book.
He approached, his fingers ghosting over the aged pages before opening it.
Inside—sketches.
Not of landscapes. Not of portraits.
But of swollen body parts.
Lymphatic engorgement. Tissue inflammation. The unnatural expansion of human flesh, grotesque and fascinating in its distortion.
Arthur's eyes gleamed with violet light as he traced the inked lines.
Then, he shut the book.
Seo-Hwan sat at the head of the long table, staring at the feast in front of him with little interest. A roasted pig, golden brown and glistening with oil. A platter of fruits so fresh they looked stolen from the gods. Goblets of the finest wine, waiting to be savored.
And yet, he barely touched his food.
Arthur entered the room, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he had nowhere better to be. He took the seat across from Seo-Hwan, grabbed a loaf of bread, and stared at it like it had personally offended him.
Then he smirked. "Politics is stupid."
Seo-Hwan, exhausted, ran a hand over his face. "I'm too tired for this, Arthur."
Arthur didn't care. He tore a chunk from the bread and pointed it at Seo-Hwan like it was a royal decree. "Think about it. If you just kill everyone who disagrees with you, there's no politics left. Problem solved."
Seo-Hwan blinked. "...That's called tyranny."
Arthur shrugged. "Big words. Same result."
Seo-Hwan sighed and leaned back in his chair. "You know, most rulers try to earn their people's trust."
Arthur rolled his eyes. "Trust is for idiots. You don't need people to like you. You just need them to be too scared to do anything about it."
Seo-Hwan picked up his goblet and took a long drink. "You are absolutely not allowed to rule anything."
Arthur grinned. "That's what makes me perfect for it."
Arthur leaned back in his chair, idly twirling a silver fork between his fingers. His violet eyes, half-lidded with disinterest, suddenly flickered with something sharper.
"What about Quinn?" he asked, his voice almost lazy, but there was an edge beneath it.
Seo-Hwan paused mid-drink, his goblet hovering near his lips. He lowered it slowly, clicking his tongue. "Quinn? Tch. I doubt it."
Arthur raised a brow. "Do you?"
Seo-Hwan exhaled, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Look, Quinn is... dangerous, sure. One of the most powerful people in the kingdom, no question. But he doesn't do anything unless there's a bag of gold involved. And blowing up a ballroom? That's too much chaos, too much risk. He's about control, not destruction."
Arthur hummed, tilting his head. "Unless someone paid him well enough."
Seo-Hwan's fingers tapped against the table. He hated that Arthur had a point. Quinn wasn't just powerful—he was calculated, surgical, precise. If he had been behind the explosion, then it wasn't an act of war.
It was business.
And that? That was worse.
Seo-Hwan scoffed, shaking his head. "If Quinn wanted me dead, he wouldn't have used balloons."
Arthur smirked. "Maybe he thought you'd enjoy the fireworks."