The Shadow of the Sun and the Gilded Cage

I was deeply unsettled. I felt as though I had been sucked into a massive vortex; as my body swayed violently within the storm, I could no longer tell where I was standing. I couldn’t understand why the Crown Prince was roaming the capital wearing a mask that was a literal relic of the Mythic Era, nor could I guess why he was here. I didn’t even know why he had killed all of them.

It felt as if I were indoors but searching for an exit with my eyes covered. As my anxiety grew and I remained silent, merely scanning his face, the Crown Prince tilted his head and waved the mask in front of me.

“This mask is called the ‘Shadow’s Left Foot.’ It erases the user’s very existence from the perception of others.”

His voice was melodic now, a sharp contrast to a moment ago. It was a different name from the one I knew. When I continued to gasp for air without answering, he tapped my cheek—right where I was wounded. Unlike his delicate features, his fingertips were firm as they brushed my aching cheek and moved toward my throat.

“Yet you recognized me from the very beginning, didn’t you? I was actually quite surprised.”

I trembled as his fingers slid beneath the collar of my shirt. How much should I push back without offending him? His mouth was curved into a smile, but as always, there was no warmth in his eyes. Those eyes, as beautiful as finely cut jewels, scanned me with utter indifference.

I lowered my gaze. I could feel a murderous intent even through those cold, firm fingertips. Looking into those shimmering eyes would only make me more terrified; it wouldn’t help.

“I pondered it for a long time. I looked into the possibility of you having exceptional innate magical talent, but your aptitude turned out to be miserable.”

Thinking I couldn’t stay like this, I tried to push myself up, but the Crown Prince restrained me with a light touch. His fingers, which had been sliding down, moved back up to slowly wrap around my neck.

A sudden terror gripped me. The hand, though currently just resting there, felt like it could tighten at any second. I called out to him in desperation.

“You’ve been making that face for a while now. Terrified… as if you’re suffocating.”

“Your Highness.”

My chest heaved. Even at the title ‘Your Highness,’ which escaped through my ragged breaths, he didn’t react. He was right. I was shaking like prey caught in a hunter’s sights. And the Crown Prince simply furrowed his brows while watching me. Judging by his face alone, he looked deeply regretful.

“It’s more… bothersome than I thought.”

Only then did I shout out in a panic, as if a dam had burst.

“I’ll for—I’ll forget it!”

The Crown Prince asked back as if he didn’t understand. His refined face, illuminated by the moonlight, tilted to the side.

“Forget what?”

“Everything. All of it.”

“Hmm…”

“Seeing Your Highness here, and those… people. Everything that happened here.”

I rambled on, trying my best not to look at the corpses and blood strewn across the ground. The moment I stopped speaking, his grip tightened. I tried to pry his hand away, but with his weight pressing down on me, I could hardly move. The strength gradually drained from my legs, which had been kicking at the ground.

You crazy bastard. I mouthed curses silently.

To think this face was the last thing I’d ever see. Tears of indignation welled up. My dream—since everyone dies eventually—was to close my eyes peacefully and quietly surrounded by my family. I dreamed of an end that suited the word ‘rest.’

Even if things went wrong and I couldn’t twist the original plot, I never imagined I’d die like this. This bastard is supposed to fall in love with Llewellyn. He’s supposed to hide his true nature and be kind because she’s his first love. Kind, my foot. Is having a soft voice the same thing as being kind? By that logic, Annette is a saint and the Crown Prince is a hero.

He didn’t seem intent on breaking my neck, but my consciousness began to fade as his hand blocked my airway. It was too sad that my final memory would be those heartless red eyes. I pushed off my toes and looked up. The full moon was shining directly over the empty lot.

“Cough, hack, gack!”

Just before I lost consciousness, his hand fell away. I twisted my body, gasping for air. My cheeks were wet with a mixture of tears and fluid I couldn’t identify.

The man who was about to kill me because I was “bothersome” had released my throat and was now sitting upright. I moved away from him, covering my uncontrollable coughing. He sat motionless, eyes wide, as if he had seen something impossible. Not being able to understand his thought process made me even more terrified.

“You are…”

The Crown Prince muttered something, his eyes fixed on my ruined face, before slowly standing up. Behind him appeared the tall, lanky Kisyar Tesa. Kisyar seemed to have injured his leg, as he was dragging it slightly.

“Did you catch them?”

“I missed. But I severed an arm, so they will be easy to find.”

The Crown Prince gave a curt nod and turned away. First he slashes my throat and sends a tutor as a pathetic apology; now, there isn’t even that much window-dressing. I thought Kim Min-ji’s use of the word ‘trash’ was just a metaphor. I didn’t realize it meant he was literal garbage.

Even though my coughing had stopped, I couldn’t stand, so I crawled across the ground. I grabbed onto something to steady myself, but realized with a jolt of horror that it was the Crown Prince’s cloak and shoved it away.

“Take him to a safe place.”

Was he playing the “wound and then heal” game? To try to kill me and then order a knight to take me somewhere safe. I wanted to scream every curse word I knew. If I had been in any better condition, I would have summoned every slur in existence and hurled them at him.

I don’t even remember how I got back. I felt Kisyar Tesa hoist me onto his back, and then we were moving toward a bright, open space. It was the familiar festival grounds. The knight commander vanished in an instant, and before I could take more than a few steps, I was spotted by the Swarton knights.

Helena ran to me the moment she saw my face. She was crying so hard she was hyperventilating, and I couldn’t understand a word she said. Elliot and Aiden’s expressions were equally grim. Daniel was shouting at his knights, ordering them to find those bastards immediately.

I didn’t tell them they were already dead. If you’re found at a murder scene, you have to testify about who killed them, and I simply didn’t have the strength for that right then.

09. Gredor’s Letter

Daniel, who had been our guardian at the time, took me to the Swarton mansion first.

He was drowning in guilt and begged for my forgiveness. It wasn’t his fault. The security provided by Daniel and the Swarton knights had been strict. It was enough for anyone to feel confident walking through a crowded festival.

I hadn’t realized it at the time because I was so disoriented, but looking back, the way Helena was snatched away was strange. No matter how crowded a street is, people don’t just ram into a carriage—and the gleaming Swarton armor was more intimidating than any carriage.

In the meantime, Leo arrived. I wondered if it was okay for the Deputy Commander of the Imperial Knights to go AWOL like this, but seeing my second brother’s face frozen in a cold, sharp mask of fury, his job security seemed like the least of our worries. Fortunately, the physician summoned by the Marquis treated the wounds on my neck. If Leo had discovered those, I doubted the sword at his hip would have stayed in its scabbard.

Leo sat in silence by my bed before requesting help from the Swarton family, stating that the Imperial Knights couldn’t move immediately. It was called a “request,” but he looked ready to start a riot if they refused.

Marquis Swarton, whose only daughter had nearly been kidnapped in the heart of the capital, was just as livid as Leo and roared his agreement. I didn’t see it myself, but Elliot told me about it. The Marquis had been a famous battlefield commander before his forced retirement due to injury—known less for his achievements and more for his fiery, explosive temper.

Even news that the bodies had been found didn’t satisfy them; they ordered the gang to be uprooted entirely. I thought it was a mercy they didn’t decide to behead the corpses a second time.

Leo, and Cale who arrived shortly after, wanted to move me immediately, but my condition wouldn’t allow it.

Whether from stress or the beating, my fever kept spiking and dropping. I’d feel better after a potion, but as soon as the effects wore off, I’d be bedridden again. Since there were no visible internal injuries but I remained utterly drained, the physician was the one suffering the most.

Finally, after the Count threw a fit and even summoned a priest, I was in a condition to be moved by carriage.

My family was so shaken that we didn’t go to the townhouse, but straight to Edwill Castle. With the exception of Leo, who couldn’t ignore the constant summons from the palace, the Count, Cale, and even Abel hovered over me so much that I didn’t even have to lift a spoon.

At some point, the servants began acting as if the world would end if I so much as stepped off the bed, let alone left the room. Thanks to the maids who sobbed about how disastrous it would be if the youngest master were to trip in the hallway, I just stayed quietly in bed.

They say sleep begets sleep. Because I was hungry, because I was full, because it was night, because the blankets were soft—I made every excuse to lie down until I was spending more time asleep than awake. When I forced myself to wake up, it was sometimes morning, sometimes sunset, and sometimes the middle of the night.

But that only lasted a few days. Today marked exactly three weeks. I was forced to spend my time watching my muscles waste away in real-time, permitted no labor other than twitching my fingers, chewing food, and breathing.