Lucen follows the compass.
It leads him deep into the palace, far from the bright halls and warm lights—into a place forgotten by time.
Each step is colder than the last.
The servants don't come here. Even the guards seem to avoid this side of the palace. The stone beneath his feet grows damp, and the air carries a chill that seeps through skin and bone. Shadows stretch longer here, clinging to walls like silent watchers.
He finds himself in front of the palace's abandoned icehouse, a building nearly swallowed by ivy and rot. Its doors hang uneven on rusted hinges. A strange pressure fills the air, as if something inside is holding its breath.
The compass stops glowing as he enters.
Inside, the air is still. Bitterly cold. Lucen's breath fogs, his heartbeat loud in his ears. The walls are lined with metal panels, strange instruments long covered in frost and dust. The silence is unbearable.
Then he sees him.
Jang Ho.
Kneeling in the center of the room, his back to Lucen. Unmoving. His long, once-proud robes are stiff with dried blood, the color darkened by time and ice. The sight roots Lucen in place.
"...Jang Ho?" he whispers.
No answer.
He takes a cautious step closer, ice crunching beneath his feet.
Then the man turns.
And Lucen freezes.
His eyes are gone.
In their place bloom two black flowers, alive yet decaying, swaying gently in the cold.
When the voice comes, it is not his.
It is the patched monster's growl—deep, distorted, wrong:
"You… shouldn't have come."
But there's something behind that voice. A flicker. A tremble. A memory.
Lucen stares at the man who once taught him how to hold a sword, how to stand firm, how to speak with dignity. The man who smiled when Lucen struggled to read, who spoke gently even when he corrected him.
And now—
This.
Jang Ho rises.
His body is still strong. Too strong. Lucen knows if this had been the man in his prime—whole, untainted—he wouldn't have lasted a second. But now… something is wrong. Not broken, not whole. Just wrong. Twisted.
What happened to you…?
Lucen stumbles back. His hand brushes against something cold and metal on the floor.
A sword.
He picks it up, though it feels too heavy, too sharp, too real.
He doesn't want to fight. He doesn't want this to be real.
But Jang Ho—no, the thing wearing his face—rushes at him.
Lucen raises the blade. No thought. No skill. Just instinct.
He braces for impact.
But the monster doesn't strike.
It leans forward.
And throws itself onto the sword, burying it deep in its chest.
Lucen gasps.
Blood spills down the blade, warm and steaming in the cold.
Jang Ho's hands tremble. His body shudders.
Then—calm.
A breath.
And his real voice returns, faint but clear:
"Lucen… run."
He collapses into the boy's arms.
Still.
Gone.
Lucen drops the sword. Drops to his knees.
He doesn't cry at first.
Just stares.
It doesn't make sense.
Why did the emperor do this?
Wasn't Jang Ho a war hero? A respected figure? The one summoned to the palace to teach?
Do the princes know?
They all looked up to him. They feared him, yes, but with respect. They called him master.
Was it all fake?
Why would the emperor bring him here… and let this happen?
Lucen grips his arms tightly, digging his nails into his sleeves to stay grounded.
Jang Ho almost made me feel safe again…
And now he's gone. Just like the others.
The air thickens, and a crushing weight falls on his chest.
Why does this keep happening to me?
What have I done to deserve this?
Why do I always lose the people who try to help me?
He leans forward until his forehead touches the frozen floor.
It burns.
But he doesn't move.
He stays like that for what feels like hours, trapped between guilt and grief.
Eventually, something inside shifts.
The pain doesn't leave—but it sharpens.
His heart doesn't break—it hardens.
Lucen slowly rises. His breath is unsteady, but his eyes are clear now. Cold.
Focused.
A promise forms in his chest.
"I'll do anything to make them pay."
He thinks of the patched monster.
The way it laughed.
The way it tore through everything, unstoppable, grinning.
He thinks of the other creatures he fought.
He thinks of the blood.
"I've killed monsters before…"
He picks up the sword again, grip firm now.
His voice, steady:
"How hard could it be… to kill an emperor?"
...............................
Lucen walked back to his chambers, the icehouse's cold still clinging to his skin. His fingers twitched—not from fear, but from the memory of the sword's weight, the warmth of Jang Ho's blood.
he walked through the silent corridors like a shadow.
His steps were steady now—quiet, patient.
Revenge burned within him, yes… but he would not rush.
The emperor was powerful. The palace full of eyes and masks. He would wait. Watch. Learn.
And when the time came, he would strike so cleanly, so deeply, that no one could stop him.
He passed an old servant who bowed and quickly turned away. No one dared meet his gaze.
Not after tonight.
His robes were still stained with blood.
As he neared the hallway leading to his room, a hand reached out from the shadows and grabbed his wrist.
Lucen stopped.
Not startled—he was too numb for that.
He turned slowly, eyes hard.
It was the First Prince.
The same one who had looked shaken during the party. The one who had stared at Jang Ho with disbelief. He was older than the others, quiet but proud, and usually composed.
But not now.
Now, his hand trembled.
"…Lucen," he said, uncertain, "I need to ask you—"
He froze.
Because Lucen's eyes—those strange, beautiful, broken eyes—met his with such cold, raw hatred, it felt like the air itself had turned to ice.
They weren't just angry.
They were full of something deeper.
Grief. Rage. Silence screaming.
Lucen's voice was low and sharp:
"What is it?"
The prince said nothing.
"What do you want?"
The silence stretched.
Lucen didn't pull his hand away.
He didn't need to.
The First Prince slowly let go, the words dying in his throat.
Something in Lucen's gaze told him the truth:
This was not the time.
Not for questions.
Not for explanations.
Lucen turned and walked away.
The prince stood there, hand still slightly raised, watching the boy disappear into the dark.
He didn't know what had happened.
But whatever it was…
Lucen was no longer the same.