The group fell into silence after the twins left.
Louis stared at his hand, his mind spiraling with Kyle's words.
His grip tightened, frustration lingering in the pit of his stomach, but deep down, he knew—Kyle wasn't wrong.
Letting out a heavy sigh, Louis turned to Mika, opening his mouth to say something—
Only to be interrupted.
"Prince Mika."
Arthur shrieked in pure terror, jumping away as if a ghost had just grabbed him.
The others whipped around, only to see—
Elain.
Standing right behind them, looking completely unfazed by the chaos he had just caused.
Louis reacted immediately, raising his sword, body tense—
"Uwaaaah~ You scared uuuuus~!"
Cyrus whined, his massive frame hiding behind Mika in exaggerated fear.
Elain simply smiled, showing zero remorse.
"My apologies," he said—though his expression didn't match his words at all.
"I'm here for the young prince."
With effortless grace, Elain walked past Arthur, leaning slightly toward Mika.
"Prince Mika, be honest with me."
His tone was calm, but there was an undeniable weight to his words.
"Do you know about the Royal Palace rules?"
Mika furrowed his eyebrows, his response direct.
"Enough to mind my manners here."
Yet—
Arthur, Elain, and Cyrus all had the same thought:
Yet you didn't use them yesterday.
Elain's smile didn't waver, but there was a flicker of amusement behind his gaze.
"Then, if you don't mind," he continued, bowing slightly, his hand resting elegantly on his chest,
"Would you spend a day with this humble head butler?"
Mika's eyes widened slightly, hesitation flickering across his face.
A sigh escaped him.
As much as he would rather spend the evening lazing around, he knew—
He didn't know enough about his coronation.
And that needed to change.
"Very well."
Elain's smile widened slightly, pleased by Mika's answer. He motioned for Mika to follow him.
Louis instinctively stepped forward, ready to walk beside Mika as his guard—
But Elain stopped him.
With a single step, the Head Butler leaned in, his voice lowered, speaking words meant only for Louis' ears.
Whatever was said—
It wasn't kind.
It wasn't encouraging.
Louis' jaw clenched, his grip tightening around his sword. His shoulders tensed, his expression darkening, the urge to strike the old man down flickering in his gaze.
Elain merely smiled, stepping away as if he hadn't just whispered something damning into the fighter's ears.
Mika ignored the entire exchange, too lazy to care.
He knew Louis too well—his competitive nature was ridiculous, and there was no changing that.
He just hoped Louis wouldn't destroy anything.
Because he was not paying for damages.
Hearing Elain's calm footsteps, Mika glanced toward him.
"So," Mika spoke, cutting straight to the point, "what's the main objective?"
"First, we need to get your measurements for the formal clothes."
Elain placed a steady hand on Mika's back, smoothly leading him down the palace hallways.
"Then, I'll explain how the coronation works—and what you'll be expected to do."
Elain stopped in front of a large wooden door, pushing it open with effortless grace.
Inside—
A bustling workspace.
Dozens of women moved swiftly, each one holding fine garments, measuring fabrics, sketching designs with practiced skill.
"This is the royal sewing crew," Elain introduced, stepping inside.
"They will be the ones making your garments—as well as those of the other royal children."
One of the seamstresses suddenly froze, her entire face lighting up the moment she saw Elain.
Then—she bolted toward them, pure excitement radiating from her presence.
"Mister Elain! You're here!"
Mika blinked, observing her carefully.
She looked like she was around Mika's age, her dark skin complementing the pale purple of her eyes. It gave her an almost ethereal presence, the contrast making her gaze sharp and mesmerizing.
Her grey-blue hair was neatly braided, the thick plait resting against her back, swaying with every movement she made. Small silver beads were woven into the strands, glinting under the palace's golden lighting.
She wore a black tube dress that flowed down below her knees, the fabric puffing elegantly around her hips. Golden accent ruffles decorated the hem, shimmering slightly as she moved.
The dress itself was unique, adorned with intricate spider web designs. The delicate silver threading wove seamlessly across the fabric, almost as if a real web had been spun into the material.
Her ensemble was completed with dark purple thigh-high stockings and polished black heels, adding an edge of regal confidence to her presence.
Mika observed her carefully, letting his gaze travel slightly beyond her figure—
And that's when he noticed something else.
Behind her, eight grey spider legs twitched and moved, subtle and controlled, reacting instinctively with her every breath.
Wait... is she an Arch—
Before Mika could finish his thought, the woman suddenly tripped, her graceful presence shattering instantly as she fell face-first onto the floor.
Mika jerked back, startled by the unexpected display.
His mind tried to process the scene—
Her spider legs continued moving, shaking slightly, adjusting as if they were reacting separately from her fall.
It was strange.
Almost unnatural.
"Are... Are you okay?"
Mika's voice was measured, hesitant, his curiosity outweighing his concern.
The woman sat up quickly, rubbing her forehead with a bright grin, completely unfazed by her fall.
"A-ahaha, I'm okay!"
Her laugh was light, full of energy, as if tripping over herself was something she was used to.
She sprung back to her feet, brushing off the dust from her dress before flashing a wide smile at Mika.
"Welcome to our workshop!!"
There was genuine excitement in her tone, as if she was proud to be standing here, introducing this space to him.
"My name is Sonya, and I'm an apprentice here!"
Without hesitation, she extended her hand toward Mika, expecting him to shake it.
Mika blinked, red eyes settling on her outstretched hand.
People didn't casually shake hands with nobility.
Certainly not royalty.
Most would bow. Lower their gaze. Show respect in silence.
But Sonya did none of that.
Instead—she waited, unfazed, confident.
Mika's lips twitched slightly, amusement flickering through his expression.
Without hesitation, he reached out, gripping her hand firmly.
"Mika," he introduced himself, shaking her hand without hesitation.
"Nice to meet you, Sonya."
Sonya's expression brightened as she shook Mika's hand with even more energy, excitement practically radiating from her.
"Mika! Oh, so you're that prince! Are you here to get measured?"
Mika nodded, his response short and direct.
Sonya's smile faltered, shifting into something more apologetic.
"Sorry, but… I don't think anyone here is willing to do it."
Elain hummed thoughtfully before speaking.
"The queen?"
Sonya nodded, glancing over her shoulder toward the other seamstresses.
Not a single one of them met Mika's gaze.
They deliberately avoided him, their hands busy with their work, refusing to acknowledge his presence.
A heavy silence settled in the room.
Sonya sighed but quickly forced a bright smile, turning back to Mika with renewed determination.
"But I don't care about her order."
Her voice was steady, unwavering.
"I'm still an apprentice here—I can risk losing the internship."
A bold statement.
A dangerous one.
"If you're willing… Won't you let me make your clothes?"
Mika's eyes widened slightly, hesitation creeping into his expression.
One hand lifted to his chin, fingers pressing lightly as he weighed the decision.
Sonya noticed his pause.
Her smile softened, dimming just a little.
"Ah… is this because of my…"
She glanced down, her fingers grazing the surface of her spider legs, touching them almost absently.
Mika blinked, confused.
"What? That's not it."
His tone was firm, dismissive of the thought.
He looked at Sonya, expression genuine, entirely unbothered by the idea.
"I'm more worried about your skill than your heritage."
His arms crossed slightly, his red eyes sharp as he spoke.
"My clothes need to be perfect."
Mika crossed his arms over his chest, lifting his chin slightly before speaking with calculated seriousness.
"So, I'll ask you again. What makes you think an apprentice can make my coronation uniform?"
Sonya stared at Mika, her cheeks turning bright red before her smile widened even more.
Slapping her hand against her chest, she proudly declared—
"I am Sonya Araneae, the proud only daughter of the Araneae family! My skill is far beyond human abilities, your highness!"
Mika's expression remained unreadable, but there was the faintest hint of a challenge in his eyes.
"Then prove it."
A slight smirk curved Mika's lips as he continued.
"Use the skills you're so proud of."
He stepped deeper inside the room, glancing at Sonya over his shoulder.
"Don't disappoint me."
Sonya's smile brightened so much it could have lit up the entire room.
"I won't!"
Sonya led Mika toward her workspace, pulling the curtains closed behind them to grant privacy.
She had grown used to the stares, the murmurs, the judgment that came with being Arachne.
But even she couldn't imagine the weight of scrutiny Mika endured for being a prince.
"Alright, let's get your measurements."
Sonya grabbed a measuring tape, motioning for him to stand on the marked spot.
Mika nodded, pulling his shirt over his head before holding it out to Elain.
The head butler took the shirt carefully, folding it with practiced precision before setting it aside.
Stepping forward, Elain lowered himself slightly, as if about to kneel to assist with Mika's remaining clothes—
But Mika stopped him without hesitation.
"I can do it myself."
Elain raised an eyebrow, his amusement barely hidden.
But instead of arguing, he simply smiled and nodded, stepping back.
Sonya barely paid attention to their exchange, already preparing her tools.
"Alright! Let's start with your upper body—"
She turned to face Mika—
And froze.
Her eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat.
Something was wrong.
Horribly wrong.
'What…what is this?'
A cold bead of sweat rolled down her temple as she took in Mika's frame.
Her fingers tensed, her body instinctively stiffening.
She shivered slightly, a sensation of unease crawling up her spine.
'His body is… too fragile.'
She stared hard, trying to process what she was seeing.
Mika looked nothing like a nineteen-year-old man.
His skin was unnaturally pale, almost lifeless, like a corpse left out in the cold.
His chest, his arms, his legs—too thin, too delicate, like they couldn't possibly withstand a single proper hit.
He didn't look like a warrior.
He barely looked alive.
Sonya felt her throat tighten, a sudden wave of discomfort settling in her stomach.
'He looks like he could break just from a touch.'
She forced herself forward, her fingers trembling as she wrapped the measuring tape around his chest.
But the moment her skin brushed against his—
A violent shudder ran through her.
She flinched hard, pulling her hand back instantly.
"Cold!"
She barely had time to register the reaction before the words escaped her mouth.
Her voice rose, louder than intended.
"What the hell?! Your skin is so cold! Colder than a Night Walker!"
Mika and Elain turned to her, their expressions unreadable.
Mika sighed, looking slightly unamused.
"Well, that's hurtful."
His tone was dry.
"Being compared to a Night Walker."
Sonya's eyes snapped wide, realizing her mistake.
She waved her hands frantically, her face flushing in panic.
"I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean to say that out loud!"
Her voice rushed, apologetic, but her shock still hadn't faded.
"It's just… Mika, your body is so cold!"
She hesitated before pressing her fingers against his muscle, testing the sensation curiously.
"You're so skinny, too!"
Her hands hovered slightly over his ribs, disbelief flickering across her face.
"You could be mistaken for a Midnight Walker if you went out naked at night!"
Mika's expression remained flat, completely unamused.
"No," he said, his tone completely deadpan.
"I won't do that."
A stray thought flickered through Mika's mind.
'Walker… huh?'
He had read about them before.
Crimson Revenge's side story: Adventure Guild Notes for Monsters.
Page 29…Walkers Guide. [1]
Sun Walkers.[2]Death Walkers.[3]Night and Midnight Walkers.[4]
The author had a tendency to twist existing fantasy creatures, changing their lore, adding depth where none had originally existed.
Even if the writing was slow, their world-building was remarkable.
'Crimson Revenge could've been great if it focused on adventure instead of that toxic romance.'
Mika raised his arms, letting Sonya take his measurements now that she had finally shaken off her shock.
Sonya finished writing down the numbers, her eyes flicking between them before her expression crumbled dramatically.
Her body shook, clutching her notebook as if it contained devastating news.
"Uweeeh… This is so sad…"
Mika blinked, watching her reaction with mild confusion.
"What?"
Sonya sniffled, eyes glistening like she was on the verge of tears.
"Mika, you're so thin!"
She gripped his wrist like he was a starving orphan in need of immediate nourishment.
"Do you want a snack?! I can buy you ALL the sweets in the city!"
Her comical outburst felt almost exaggerated, her voice carrying the dramatic weight of a stage monologue rather than a simple observation.
Mika stared blankly, processing her words before responding in the most deadpan tone imaginable.
"Huh?"
His expression remained neutral, but one eyebrow lifted slightly.
"What do you mean?"
[1] Archivist’s Record: The Walkers
"They are neither truly undead nor mere wraiths, but something beyond comprehension. Walkers do not obey the cycle of life and death, for they were never meant to exist. They are the creation of the God of Nothingness, born out of sheer boredom—a mockery of the monsters crafted by other gods."
[2] ☀ Sun Walkers
"They rise with the sun, blooming in fields of flowers, their bodies adorned with petals. They fear the shadow, for it is their undoing. At night, they vanish beneath the earth, hiding from the darkness that can undo them. Should one stumble upon a patch of flowers that reeks of decay, beware—beneath them lies a Sun Walker's grave."
[3] 💀 Death Walkers
"Unlike their brethren, they do not seek the warmth of living flesh but instead hunger for the dead. They lurk in graveyards, creeping through burial sites and consuming those freshly laid to rest. They do not bring death—they only steal it. Holy magic alone repels them, for they are a plague upon the honored dead."
[4] 🌙 Night & Midnight Walkers
"Night Walkers emerge at dusk, slipping between the trees, their forms like specters hunting those who wander too far. They vanish as the clock strikes midnight, only to birth something far worse…"
"Midnight Walkers do not kill. Instead, they take the forms of souls stolen by Night Walkers, weaving illusions that unravel the mind. They do not hunger for flesh, nor crave blood—they feed upon despair itself. Only when dawn breaks do they retreat, leaving nothing but broken men and shattered minds."