As Garren and his men surged forward, they saw half a dozen figures clad in the same crimson armor as theirs, clashing against Tracy, trying desperately to break past her defenses. Garren quickly took note—no other guards were coming. No royal sentinels. No Red Blades stationed inside the manor. Despite the chaos raging within, the castle felt strangely empty.
Shoving those thoughts aside, Garren and his crew burst into a whirlwind of crimson steel, their blades flashing with deadly precision.
With reinforcements arriving, the pressure on Tracy eased. Though they were still outnumbered, the tide shifted in their favor. Garren and Tracy each took on two opponents at a time, forcing their enemies back with every exchange.
In mere minutes, four of the six attackers lay dead—two intentionally spared.
Tracy approached one of the survivors sprawled across the floor, his right arm severed at the elbow, a pool of blood spreading beneath him. She knelt beside him, tearing the fabric of his tunic and binding the wound tightly. Another attacker lay unconscious nearby.
Turning back toward Seraphine, Tracy rose, wiping the blood from her hands. Garren began issuing orders to his men.
Just then, the unconscious attacker stirred. With a sudden jerk, he produced a small, cube-like metallic object and hurled it toward Seraphine.
A fireball appeared in front of his face—Boom!It exploded violently, sending tremors through the entire castle. Tracy shielded Seraphine with her body while Garren and his men winced, eyes squinting from the blinding light. The man—at the center of the blast—was flung backward, slamming into the wall beside Garren. The cube clattered to the floor with a metallic ring.
A mocking teenage voice cut through the smoke and silence.
"How stupid of you, Garren. Letting your guard down, turning your back to the enemy? Is this what you call an experienced veteran?"
As the dust settled, all eyes turned toward the figure now stepping into view—his silver hair plastered to his sweat-soaked forehead, his right hand still glowing as another fireball began to take shape.
Jack's crimson eyes locked onto the attacker behind Tracy.Seraphine returned his gaze—her own eyes, strikingly similar to his, calm even amidst the storm.
Without a word, Jack flicked his wrist. The fireball streaked through the air, slamming directly into the chest of the half-dead attacker still lying by the wall. Another explosion thundered through the air.
Jack responded to their silence with an infuriating grin.
"Gotta make sure he's deader than dead. I mean, I might not be a seasoned warrior, but at least I have some common sense."His eyes gleamed with mischief as they shifted from Tracy to Garren.
Seraphine stirred.
With an elegant step forward, she gently moved Tracy aside and bent to retrieve the fallen cube.Turning it over in her palm, she spoke:
"A detonation cube. Activated by incantation. Explodes with metallic shrapnel."
She paused, studying the faintly glowing runes etched into the sides. Then, slowly, she looked up at Jack, a composed smile on her lips.
"How fortunate we had someone arrive just in time—to bravely finish off the half-dead man we left for interrogation."
Her voice remained as serene and graceful as ever, but the subtle arch of her brow and the glint in her eyes told a different story.Jack's smirk faltered, just for a moment.Garren coughed into his fist, trying not to grin.
Seraphine continued, her tone smooth as silk.
"Still… I suppose such precise timing is a talent in itself."
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle."Investigate it. I want answers. Leave no stone unturned."
Then, with a lopsided smirk creeping back across his face, he added,
"Oh, and Garren… there are some naked men lying unconscious in the main hall. I believe they might be yours."
A faint twitch danced at the corner of Garren's eye.
Jack continued, casually brushing ash from his sleeve.
"Also—your vice captain. He tried to stop me on my way here."He turned slightly, glancing toward the balcony where smoke still lingered."Might've bruised his pride a little with my words… So do be kind and console him, will you?"
His voice was light, almost innocent—yet the grin tugging at his lips made it anything but.
__
Everyone was back on their feet by the time the sun dipped below the horizon. The day had felt nothing short of bizarre and chaotic for all involved. Nearly half of the manor's lavish decor was either out of place or destroyed. The windows on the entire side where Seraphine's chambers lay had shattered, leaving shards of glass scattered across the polished floors. Expensive chandeliers had crashed down from the ceilings. It was as if the entire castle had been struck by a massive earthquake.
But when the dust finally settled and the full reality of what had transpired sank in—An assassination attempt on the Princess—It became clear that this was no small matter. Word had already reached the Duke.
By the following day, a formal announcement declared that a massive reinforcement of 500 Red Blades would be deployed to Greenriver Manor. They would be under the command of Commander Jonathan, a man known for his strict discipline and sharp judgment. His orders were clear: to secure the castle, tighten the perimeter, and lead a full-scale investigation into the incident.
An entire investigative team would accompany him.All current staff of Greenriver Manor would be dismissed and placed under strict supervision until the investigation concluded.
As for the guards and Red Blades who had mysteriously fallen unconscious during the attack—they would face punishment according to the Red Blades' Code of Conduct. Overseeing their punishment would be none other than Commander Jonathan himself.
Effective immediately, Jonathan would also assume command of all Red Blades stationed at Greenriver.Garren, though allowed to remain as Jack's personal knight captain, would now only be in charge of a limited unit—just 30 Red Blades.
Garren's once-flawless reputation had taken a massive hit.Questions flooded in from all directions—how could such a breach happen under his watch?
As the man responsible for Greenriver Manor's security, Garren had to bear the weight of accountability.Jack tried to defend him, even stepping into meetings and raising objections—but his protests were met with strong opposition from the senior command of the Red Blades.
Garren was officially stripped of his title as Knight Captain and demoted to the rank of a regular knight.The only reason he was allowed to remain as Jack's personal knight…was Jack's unwavering insistence.
But the worst was yet to come.
No one knew how, but within a month of the attack, rumors spread like wildfire—not just within the Ignis Duchy, but far beyond its borders. Whispers crossed rivers, traversed merchant routes, and slipped into the courts of distant kingdoms. And at the heart of it all was a single, shocking claim:
The eldest princess of the kingdom, Seraphine, was dead.
No official statement came from the capital. The royal family, ever silent and calculating, gave no clarification, no denial. The people waited for a royal appearance, a speech, even a parade to quell the panic—but none came.
The silence fed the fire.
And oddly enough, the person most affected by the rumor—Seraphine herself—remained curiously unmoved.
She made no effort to stop it.
No decrees. No public appearances. No written words. Nothing.
It was as though she had allowed herself to die—at least in the eyes of the world.
And today, Jack found himself sitting in front of that supposedly dead woman.
The room was quiet but heavy. Rows of Red Blades lined the walls like stone statues, crimson cloaks draped over their polished armor.
Seraphine sat at the head of the long mahogany table, her poise as calm as always. Her hair was braided intricately today, not a strand out of place, her expression unreadable. She wore no crown. No jewels. Just a simple black gown with silver embroidery.
Tracy stood silently at her right, eyes scanning the room, never truly resting. She was Seraphine's shadow as always—bruised but unyielding after the attack.
Jack leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. He studied the woman before him like one might study a ghost.
"You know," he said finally, his voice dry, "most people don't just let the world believe they're dead."
Seraphine didn't flinch."Most people are not me."
Jack gave a small laugh, shaking his head."So your claim about dying within a month… it was true after all."He paused, his eyes narrowing as they searched hers.
"Maybe I'll believe you," he added. "If you care to elaborate on your reason for coming here. Who knows—we might even find some common ground."
As he spoke, Jack scribbled something on a folded piece of parchment and slid it across the table toward her.
Seraphine picked it up with practiced ease, unfolding it casually. Her eyes scanned the words, unreadable as ever. Then, with a graceful motion, she reached for a quill, jotted something beneath the lines, and passed it back to him.
Their conversation continued in a lighter, almost casual tone, but Jack's attention drifted to the note. Opening it, he saw his own handwriting:
"Six royal guards are missing—and six men attacked you."
Below that, in Seraphine's refined, beautiful script, just two words:
"I know."