I stepped out of the ballroom and kept walking. I didn’t know where I was going, and honestly, I didn’t care.

My feet carried me down corridors lined with golden sconces and portraits of ancestors I didn’t recognize, past servants who bowed and stepped aside without meeting my eyes, through doors that opened before me like they were afraid to make me wait.

The whispers faded behind me, the weight of a hundred stares finally lifted from my shoulders, and I felt something in my chest loosen — not relief, exactly, but something close.

Something like the quiet after a storm.

I wandered through the palace like a ghost, turning left at random and right at random, walking until the corridors grew quieter and the sconces grew further apart and the portraits on the walls were replaced by windows that looked out over dark gardens.

Eventually, I found an open door that led outside and stepped through without hesitation.

The garden was small and secluded, hidden away from the main grounds, with a single stone bench tucked beneath the branches of an old oak tree.

The moon was high and full, casting pale silver light across the grass, and the only sounds were the distant murmur of the party and the soft rustle of leaves in the night breeze.

It was peaceful in a way that the ballroom could never be — quiet, still, untouched by the noise and the masks and the exhausting performance of being around people who expected things from you.

I sat down on the bench and leaned my head back against the tree.

The wood was cool against my neck, the grass was soft beneath my boots, and the moon was watching me from above, indifferent and eternal, like it had watched a thousand other broken people sit in a thousand other gardens and try to piece themselves back together.

For a moment, I let myself breathe.

[Do you enjoy making such a fuss?] Nova asked, his voice dry and amused. [You clearly knew it was a foolish choice. Asking for the princess’s kiss — did you really mean it?]

I groaned and ran a hand through my hair. "Are you out of your mind, Nova? You clearly know I’m not that kind of person. Hell, I’m not even sure about romance. All I want is to focus on getting stronger, somehow kill the Abyss King, secure this damn story, and live. I don’t have time for romance, and I don’t have time for games."

[Then why say it?]

"...I know it was a foolish choice, alright? I’m not stupid. I knew it the moment the words left my mouth." I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees and staring at the grass between my boots. 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

"But what could I say? That bastard Emperor already knew what he was doing. He had been planning this since the moment I walked through the doors. I knew from the start that someone was going to piss me off — it was only a matter of time."

[And you played right into his hands.]

"Maybe." My jaw tightened. "But... I also showed them that I’m not someone they can push around anymore. There’s value in that. The nobles saw me cut off those arms. They saw me refuse to kneel. They saw me look the Emperor in the eye and not flinch."

I looked up at the moon. "...That’s not nothing."

[Come on. First with Amelia, now with the Emperor. You wanted to make everyone your enemy? Or was it just to trigger him?]

I was quiet for a long moment. The distant music from the ballroom drifted through the garden, soft and muted, like a memory of something that was happening in another world.

"No...," I said finally, my voice quieter than I intended. "It’s not like that. Do you think I love playing the villain? Do you think I enjoy watching people flinch when I walk past?"

[Then why?]

"Because I... I just can’t control my damn emotions." The words came out rough, almost angry, but the anger wasn’t directed at Nova. It was directed at myself.

"It’s pissing me off, how I’m acting. I thought I had changed. I thought I had killed the old Leo in that trial, buried him in the ashes of Wayford with everyone else I couldn’t save. But then Amelia looked at me with those eyes, and the Emperor pushed me, and Marius threatened Sylvia, and I just —"

I stopped, my jaw tightening. "I lost it. I lost control. And... I’m afraid of what that means."

[...You are afraid of losing control.]

"Yes." I laughed, short and bitter. "...The great Leo von Celestial, afraid of his own emotions. What a joke."

[It is not a joke. It is honesty. There is a difference, Leo.]

I didn’t answer.

[Besides,] Nova continued, [Lucius manipulated everything. He wanted that duel to happen. He wanted you to look like the villain. He wanted the nobles to see you as a threat. You are not wrong about that.]

"...I know." I leaned back against the bench and stared up at the sky. "He’s too smart, that bastard. He played me like a fiddle, and I let him."

[But you also showed them that you are not someone they can push around anymore. There is value in that, whether you want to admit it or not.]

My lips curled into a small, sharp smile. "I wanted to see how far I could push him. The Emperor, I mean. I wanted to see him lose control, just once, to watch the mask slip and see the man beneath." I shrugged.

"But he won’t dare kill me. He’s anything but a fool. He knows what would happen if he touched a Celestial — especially after what I said about my grandfather."

[Your grandfather is crazy.]

"Exactly!" My smile widened. "Everyone knows it. The Emperor knows it. He’s not going to risk a war with a Sovereign just because his pride got hurt."

[And the artifact? Did you plan it about it before?]

I reached up and touched the small earring hanging from my left ear — the Tear of the Drowned King. The dark blue gem was cool against my fingertips, and I could feel it pulsing faintly, a steady rhythm that matched my heartbeat.

"I haven’t thought about it, to be honest. It was an unexpected boon." I let my hand fall back to my side.

"I had planned to buy an artifact to help calm my emotions. There’s always a black market somewhere, and in a world like this, always someone selling something useful. But here we are, and I didn’t have to buy anything now. And it’s enough. The earring won’t fix everything, but it’ll help. It’ll give me a moment to breathe before the flames take over. And sometimes, a moment is all you need."

The distant music swelled and faded, and the garden fell quiet again.

I closed my eyes and let the moonlight wash over my face. "The main story is going to start soon. The Abyss King, the war, everything I have been preparing for. I cannot afford to look weak. That’s why I need to get stronger. Not just in rank but in everything."

[Then you should rest. Tomorrow will be—]

I felt a faint brush of air against my face.

My eyes snapped open.

Two dark crimson eyes were staring directly at me — inches away, unblinking, framed by black hair that fell like a curtain of ink. Pale skin, expressionless face, the faint scent of flowers and something sweet lingering in the air between us.

I blinked.

The eyes blinked back.

Neither of us moved.

"...What are you doing, Lady Seris?" I asked, keeping my voice flat and my expression neutral. My mind, however, was anything but calm. What is she doing? How long has she been standing there? And most of all, why is she so close?

Seris didn’t move. She tilted her head slightly, then leaned in even further, her nose twitching as she sniffed the air near my collar.

My brain completely stalled. Is she... sniffing me?

She pulled back slightly, her crimson eyes still fixed on my face, and put her chin in her hand. She tilted her head the other way, studying me like I was a puzzle she was trying to solve, her expression as unreadable as ever. "...As I thought," she murmured, her voice soft and terrifyingly serious. "I was right."

I frowned, my heart still racing from the sudden intrusion. "Um... what are you doing, Lady Seris? And what exactly were you right about?"

"You smell sweet. Like chocolate."

I stared at her. I continued staring at her. What the hell is she talking about?

Behind my eyes, Nova was laughing, not a chuckle, but full, unrestrained laughter that echoed through my skull like a mocking drum.

[She said you smell like chocolate!] Nova wheezed. [Of all the things — of all the things she could have said —]

Shut up, I thought, my face burning. Shut up, shut up, shut up.

I cleared my throat and straightened my jacket, trying to regain some semblance of composure. "What do you mean by that, Lady Seris?"

Seris’s expression didn’t change. "You smell of chocolate. I wasn’t sure of it before, but now I am. You smell like chocolate." She said it with extreme seriousness, as if she were delivering a report on the results of a scientific investigation, her crimson eyes never leaving my face.

I stared at her for another moment, searching for any sign that she was joking. There was none.

Then I sighed, lifted my arm, and sniffed my own sleeve. Nothing. I smelled like nothing — soap, maybe, or the faint scent of lavender oil from the bath I had taken earlier.

But not chocolate. "What do you mean? I don’t smell like—"

Then something clicked in my head.

I reached into my void pocket, my hand disappearing into a fold of space, and pulled out a small bar of chocolate wrapped in silver paper. I kept them there for Mia. My little sister loved sweets, and I had learned to always carry some with me because a crying Mia was a disaster no one could handle.

Seris’s eyes lit up — just a flicker, but I caught it. I broke off a piece of the chocolate and held it out to her.

She took it without a word, examined it carefully, and then ate it. Her eyes closed for a moment, and something that looked almost like happiness flickered across her usually expressionless face. She sat down on the bench beside me — close, but not too close, and stared at the silver paper in her hands.

A comfortable silence settled between us. The moon was bright overhead, the distant music swelled and faded, and for a moment, the world felt almost peaceful.

"...Why are you here?" I asked finally, after what felt like a long time. "You could be inside. Enjoying the event."

Seris didn’t look up from the chocolate wrapper. "I hate such events. Loud noises and crowded rooms. People who smile without meaning it." She paused, her fingers tracing the edge of the silver paper. "....I am not made for events."

I nodded slowly. I understood that. The noise, the masks, the exhausting performance of being around people who expected things from you, I understood it completely.

Another silence stretched between us. It wasn’t uncomfortable, exactly, but it wasn’t entirely comfortable either. It was the kind of silence that existed between two people who didn’t know each other well enough to talk but didn’t hate each other enough to leave.

Why am I stuck here? I thought, staring at the moon. If Sylvia sees me here with her, she’ll get the wrong idea.

Seris continued eating her chocolate, methodically and peacefully, completely unconcerned with my internal crisis.

The music from the ballroom changed. It became slow and sad, a waltz that drifted through the garden walls. Seris wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, stood up so fast that I flinched. Her shadow cut through the moonlight like a piece of dark glass.

She turned to me, her movements stiff but careful, and held out her pale hand. "...Let’s dance," she said. Her voice was flat, like she was reading from a book.

I stared at her hand. Then I looked up at her face. "Huh. What...? What are you saying?"

"Dance," she said again, her crimson eyes locked on mine. "You move your body to the music. You know what dancing is, right?"

I just looked at her, my brain trying to understand why she was asking me like this. "I know what dancing is, Lady Seris. I’m just wondering why you’re asking me while looking like you’re about to kill me. It’s creepy, you know."

She didn’t pull her hand back. If anything, she pushed it closer. Her forehead wrinkled a little, like she was confused. "Is something wrong with my face? Is it... not good enough?"

"Everything," I said, sighing and waving my hand at her face. "Everything is wrong. You don’t ask someone to dance when you look like you’re planning to stab them. It’s scary. People usually smile. Or at least look like they want to be here."

Seris stayed still for a moment. Then her face twitched in a way that was probably supposed to be a smile. It looked like her muscles were fighting each other.

"...Is this better?" she asked, her voice still flat.

"That’s worse," I said, leaning back. "Now you look like a doll that’s about to come alive and kill everyone."

The almost-smile disappeared.

She slowly lowered her hand and looked down at the grass between her feet. For a moment, just a moment, she didn’t look like the Astra Union strongest weapon. In her crimson eyes, I saw something that looked like hurt. Like she was used to people pushing her away.

It was a loneliness so sharp that it hurt my chest just looking at it.

She turned away without saying anything. Her black hair swayed behind her like a curtain of ink as she started walking toward the garden path.

"Wait—" I said, but I didn’t know what I was going to say next.

She stopped, but she didn’t turn around. The moonlight painted the edges of her body in silver, making her look fragile even though she was so strong. "Think of this as payment for the chocolate," she said, her voice softer now. "An advice."

I blinked, my hand still reaching out toward her. "Advice?"

"Don’t trust the shadows that don’t move when the light changes," she said, her words strange and heavy. "And don’t trust the Crown Prince’s smile. It’s even creepier than mine."

She stopped for a moment, tilting her head a little. "Also... if you want people to dance with you, maybe don’t tell them they look like cursed dolls. It doesn’t help."

With that final jab , she stepped into the darkness between the tall bushes. Her footsteps made no sound, and within seconds, the garden felt empty, like she had taken all the air with her. I sat alone on the bench, staring at the spot where she had been.

The moonlight was still bright. The music was still playing. The garden was still quiet.

"What was that...?" I muttered, running my hand through my hair "What is wrong with her? What a strange girl."

[Tsk! Tsk! Tsk! You’re really a disaster, Leo,] Nova said, his voice full of fake pity. [You survived a Sovereign trying to crush you, but you couldn’t talk to a girl who just wanted to dance and eat chocolate.]

"Shut up, Nova!" I hissed, even though my face was hot. "I don’t know how to dance anyway."

[You could have stepped on her feet. That would have been more romantic than telling her she looks like a horror movie.]

I didn’t answer. I just sat there, staring at the empty path, wondering if the shadows that didn’t move were already watching me Then she was gone, disappearing into the darkness between the hedges, her footsteps fading into the distant sound of the music.

Then I stood up, brushed off my jacket, and walked back toward the ballroom.

The night was not over yet.

But something told me that the strangest part was already behind me.

_

While the capital celebrated, the nobles danced and the Emperor fumed and the white-haired boy sat alone in the garden with a girl who smelled of chocolate, something else was happening in the shadows.

Something that no one in the ballroom could sense, no one in the palace could see, and no one in the empire would believe if they were told.

Miles away from the Imperial Palace, in an old district that had long since fallen into ruin and neglect, there was a courtyard hidden behind crumbling walls and overgrown vines. The buildings around it had been abandoned for decades, their windows shattered, their doors hanging crooked on rusted hinges, their roofs caved in from years of rain and neglect.

No one came here.

No one had any reason to come here.

The city had forgotten this place, and the people who lived nearby had learned to avoid it without knowing why.

The courtyard was overgrown with weeds and thorns, the stones cracked and uneven, the fountain in its center long since dry and choked with dead leaves. There were no flowers here. No trees. Nothing that could bloom.

The only life was the shadows — thick and dark and hungry, pooling in every corner, reaching out like fingers toward anything that came too close.

...And in the center of that courtyard, standing beneath a dead oak tree that had been struck by lightning decades ago and had never been removed.

A man stood there, alone, his back to the world.

He was tending to a dying tree. His hands were bare, and he moved with the care of a surgeon performing a delicate operation on something precious and fragile, something that should have died long ago but was kept alive by sheer will and something darker.

The tree was old — centuries old, its bark cracked and scarred by time and weather like the skin of a man who had seen too much and forgotten too little. Its branches sagged under the weight of neglect, and its leaves had long since turned brown and brittle and dead.

It should have been cut down years ago.

It should have been replaced with something younger and healthier, that could still bloom and grow and reach for the sun.

But the man did not give up on it.

He had been tending to this tree for longer than most of the nobles in that ballroom had been alive. He had watered it with tears that were not his own. He had fed it with secrets and whispers and the bones of things that should never have been named.

He trimmed the dead branches with a pair of silver shears that gleamed faintly in the darkness, each cut precise, each movement deliberate, each fallen twig placed carefully on the ground beside him in patterns that only he could understand.

He removed the rot from the trunk, scraping away the decay with a small curved knife until only healthy wood remained — what little there was of it. He loosened the soil around its roots with his fingers, working in the dark, working in the cold, working with a patience that spoke of years, decades, centuries of practice.

He was humming, softly and gently.

A tune that didn’t belong to this world — something old, something forgotten, that made the shadows around him shift and sway like they were listening, they were remembering, and they were waiting for the chorus that would never come.

He continued trimming the tree.

"...Why are you here?" he asked, his voice soft, almost gentle

The shadows behind him shifted.

A figure emerged — tall, cloaked, hooded, its face hidden in darkness, its body wrapped in fabric that seemed to drink the light rather than reflect it. It walked without sound, its feet making no imprint on the grass, leaving no trace of its passage behind it.

When it reached the man, it knelt on one knee and bowed its head so low that its forehead nearly touched the ground.

"...My lord," the shadow said, its voice low and rough, like stones grinding together in the dark. "The capital is in chaos tonight."

The man did not turn. His hand remained on the tree. "...Tell me."

"The Goddess’s Chosen One has been revealed to the world. Arthur Vale. The hero from Oakhaven. The boy who survived the incursion when his family did not. The Church has declared him the savior of humanity, the sword of divine justice, the light that will drive back the darkness."

The shadow’s voice carried a note of something amusement, perhaps, or contempt. "The nobles are scrambling to align themselves with him. The common people are already whispering his name like a prayer. The Emperor turned the gala into a circus for him. He wants to bind the boy to the throne through the Princess’s hand."

The man’s lips curved into a faint, humorless smile. "...Of course he did. The Emperor loves his spectacles. He always has. The man would announce his own death if he thought it would get him a standing ovation."

"The political situation is on the edge of collapse. The borders are unstable. The gates are opening more frequently, Grade Four, Grade Five, even a Grade Six reported near the northern territories last week. The Astra Union is watching every move the Empire makes, waiting for them to stumble, and for them to fall. The other races, the elves, the vampires, the beastkin they are waiting to see how the Human Domain tears itself apart before they decide which pieces to claim for themselves."

The man nodded slowly and if he was telling the shadow to continue.

"But there was... an incident."

The man’s hand paused on the tree. The shadows in the corners of the courtyard seemed to lean in, hungry for the words. "An incident?"

"Leo von Celestial. The boy who was supposed to be dead. The failure. The scum. The one who entered his Path Trial and never came out." The shadow’s voice dropped lower, as if speaking the name itself was dangerous, or maybe he was scared of the person in front of him.

"He appeared at the gala tonight. Alive."

The man turned from the tree for the first time. He set down his shears and examined his work. The tree was still dying. It would always be dying. But it was not dead yet.

And that, to him, was enough.

He reached out and touched the trunk, his long fingers pressing against the rough bark, and something passed between them — a spark of energy, a whisper of life, a promise that went unheard by any other ear.

"...Not yet," he murmured.

The man turned to look at the shadow. His face caught the faint light of moon.

The man was tall and lean, dressed in simple dark clothes, a black coat with no embroidery. His hair was as dark as a moonless night, falling in loose waves over a face that was sharp, pale, and hauntingly beautiful — a face carved from marble by a sculptor who hated the world.

His hands were long and slender, the hands of an artist or a surgeon or a killer.

There were no rings on his fingers, no bracelets on his wrists, no jewelry of any kind. The only decoration on his body was the mark, the symbol that burned in his right eye, pulsing faintly with a pale silver light.

The symbol was intricate, ancient, it was the kind of mark that had been carved into stone tablets and forgotten temples and the very fabric of reality itself before the first human drew breath.

It looked like an eye — but not a human eye.

The iris was a spiral that seemed to turn when you looked at it, pulling your gaze deeper and deeper into its depths like a whirlpool pulling a ship toward the bottom of the sea. Around the spiral, jagged lines radiated outward like cracks in glass, like the world was breaking from the inside out, something was trying to claw its way through reality itself.

At the very center, a single point of darkness that absorbed all light, that seemed to lead somewhere else entirely — somewhere cold, hungry, somewhere that should never be visited.

It was beautiful.

It was terrifying

It was the mark of... The Fallen.

Every member of The Fallen bore a symbol somewhere on their body — on their hand, their chest, their back, their throat. The placement was never chosen by the bearer. It appeared where it would appear, marking them in ways that could be hidden or revealed as they chose.

But the man — their leader — bore his in his right eye.

A constant reminder that he saw what others could not. That he knew what others refused to learn. He had made a bargain with something that should never have been bargained with, and he had no intention of paying the price.

"...Leo von Celestial," the man said, tasting the name, rolling it around on his tongue like a wine he had not expected to enjoy. "Everyone whispered he was a victim of his own weakness. And yet, he returns. How amusing."

"He fought like something that had crawled out of a grave, my lord," the shadow reported.

"Six opponents. He dismantled them with a clinical, predatory grace. He insulted the Emperor, mocked the Crown Prince, and stood unyielding even under Sovereign pressure. He told the Emperor that House Celestial could secede, and the world would simply have to watch it happen."

The man let out a soft, chilling laugh. "That boy is either a prophet of madness or the only sane man in a room full of corpses."

"What are your orders, my lord? Shall we eliminate this variable?"

The man looked back at the dying tree. He reached out, his long, slender fingers pressing against the bark, and a faint, silver spark passed between them. There was some interest in his voice when he said. "Nothing. We do nothing."

The shadow looked up, confused and did not understand, but it did not question. It simply bowed again.

"The other members are gathering, my lord. They await your command. The Fallen stands ready. We have waited for so long — decades, centuries, lifetimes. The pieces are in place. The board is set. The players are making their moves, and they do not even know we are watching."

The man was silent for a long moment. He stood in the garden, surrounded by dying trees and shadows and the silent promise of destruction.

He looked up at the moon — the same moon that had watched over Aetheris for millennia, the same moon that would watch as empires burned and gods fell and the world was remade in darkness and blood and forgotten prayers.

The symbol in his right eye pulsed slowly, casting strange silver patterns across his sharp features, and when he spoke, his voice was soft almost gentle but there was something beneath it. Something old.

Something hungry that had been waiting for a very long time.

He stepped closer to the kneeling shadow, his presence expanding until the courtyard felt smaller, colder, and suffocating.

"...Listen well," he said, his voice dropping to a cryptic, echoing bass. "When the moon bleeds silver and the stars forget their names, when the shadows stretch longer than they should and the darkness begins to whisper — listen. The Abyss does not sleep. It only waits."

He raised his hand to the moonlight, and the shadows around him seemed to lean closer, as if they were listening.

"When the clock strikes thirteen and the bells ring backward, when the dead walk the streets with hollow eyes and empty smiles, when the rivers run black and the crops wither in the fields — do not pray. The gods are not listening. They have never been listening. They are merely the first to hide when the Abyss calls."

A cold wind swept through the courtyard, rattling the dead branches of the oak tree.

"The seals are cracking. The chains are rusting. The old prison that held Him for millennia is crumbling like sand between fingers."

He lowered his hand and looked at the symbol burning in his eye. "And when he breaks free — when the Abyss King opens his eyes for the first time in millennia years, the world will remember why it feared the dark."

He smiled.

"They call him a monster. A demon. A thing of nightmare and shadow. But he is not a monster." The man’s voice dropped to a whisper. "He is a god. The god that the other gods buried and forgot because they were afraid of what he would do when he woke."

The man turned his gaze back to the shadow, his expression shifting into something ancient and hungry.

"The Fallen have waited for this moment. We have waited through empires and ages, through wars and famines, through the birth and death of stars. We have watched the world forget. We have watched the world grow soft and fat and complacent, believing that the darkness was a story, the Abyss was a myth, and the King was a legend told to frighten children."

He laughed, a soft, cold sound. "They were wrong."

He leaned down, his face inches from the shadow figure.

"Tell the others to prepare. The time is coming. The Abyss King stirs in his prison, and soon — very soon — he will break free. And when he does, The Fallen will rise with him. As the ones who remembered when the world forgot stand with him."

He looked back at the moon.

"When the sky tears open and the darkness pours through, when the first scream echoes across the land and the last light flickers and dies, remember this moment. Remember that you were warned." His voice grew softer, softer, until it was barely a breath.

"...And when you see the shadows move — do not run. There is nowhere to hide."

The man stepped into the darkness beneath the dying tree. The shadows didn’t just cover him; they reached up to pull him in, swallowing him whole until the courtyard was empty once more.

The tree stood alone.

The moon watched, indifferent and eternal.

And somewhere in the distance — in the heart of the palace, where the nobles still danced and the Emperor still fumed and the white-haired boy still sat alone with his thoughts — a clock began to chime.

Midnight.

Something was coming, and it had been waiting for years.

_

Author’s Note

Hey hey, wait. Read this note first.

And hey, I rarely drop an AN and most of the time it’s just about ranks or some info, but today I just want to yap for a moment.

Ahem. So you see, first of all, I am sorry.

I know this Chapter feels a bit awkward and also rushed.

Well, you see, I do know it’s kinda rushed, but I wanted to set things up and also because I had enough. And from the next Chapter, the academy is starting. Yes, the academy arc is starting from the next Chapter — the arc you all waited for too long, and some of you readers cursed me for it.

Anyway, the thing is that the next few Chapters will be a bit rushed — not that much, I mean, you all will still feel the characters and also enjoy.

And hey, they also have almost 3k to 5k words, and that’s a lot.

Also, since the main cast is starting, I will give you a warning. I know many — and I mean many — readers do not enjoy the other characters’ POV, but there will be POVs coming. They will be brief, and you will still see Leo in between or something like that, but there will be some other main cast POVs.

And I know, don’t worry, there will be no backstory coming out of nowhere — it will be their monologue, and it will be enough that you all at least get to know about them a little. Besides, you will not see the POV of every single main cast member, only a few, and I hope it’s not bad.

Now let’s talk about the second thing, and that is Amelia slapping Leo and him being a scum.

I do know some fans defend Leo and some defend Amelia, and I want you all to know that both sides are correct with their valid points, and I love it. I was so glad, and it means the readers are engaging in the story and enjoying it.

And I think there’s nothing more satisfying for an author than to see his readers invested in the story, and I am glad.

Let’s talk about it a little.

The next Chapter, I hope, will help you all a little.

You see, after the trial, Leo is a bit unstable — mentally unstable after his trial. The trial did affect him in some sense. Not only did it make him mature, but it also disturbed his emotions a little, so he could see his mistakes.

And I don’t know if you all noticed, but after the trial, since the new volume started, do you all see a change in Leo?

In his writing, or did you find something strange?

Some of it was intentional and some demanding. In the trial, Leo couldn’t fully bloom, so the writing had to change a little, and it was needed. His fight with Sylvia, his crash out, the Emperor incident, and many others — it shows he was affected by it a little, and it was a bit worse when he came back. You all remember how he was crying when he came back from the trial without knowing it?

So yeah, it’s a bit better than before.

Okay, let’s not only talk about Leo but also Amelia.

She is a kind and strange girl. In the auxiliary Chapter, I have told you all a bit about her nature. She is a bit hypocritical, but also she wanted Leo to become good, and she doesn’t want any harm for him. After all, he was her friend, and she knows that.

And even if she said such things to Leo, she will still help him if he asks.

Emotions and relationships.

Both are strange, and that’s what I wanted to try a little — or at least try to convey through my writing. And I don’t know how I am doing this, but I wanted to do that. It’s like a twisted relationship.

Conflicts happen between everyone, and I want Leo to become mature from this.

Anyway, that’s enough of the yap. You all will see these things in the Chapters.

And one good news — well, you all see last week, our book was ranked 17 and then 18 in the bestseller list, and damn, it’s a big achievement, and I have no words.

It’s all thanks to you all who pay to read my books.

Thank you, everyone — everyone who read, who gave me power stones, golden tickets, and also some of you gave me gifts, and thank you. Also your comments and reviews. There are so many of you, but remember, even if I said no names, I know you all. Your names appear to me, and thank you.

Also, I have uploaded the character profiles on the web novel.

You all can check them out. I also have the art of other main cast members. Wait a few Chapters, and I will release them too. Also, you can join Discord if you want to. I have uploaded the art there too, though a bit changed.

Anyway, thanks for your time if you read this.

Good bye!