"Have all the knights departed?"

"Yes, Your Highness. They've already surrounded the entire area. Every major road and alley has been sealed off as a precaution."

"Good. Then all that remains is the arrest."

"At your command, everyone is standing by."

The preparations were complete. Too complete, if anything.

Even if we captured the man identified as the mastermind behind this incident, it wouldn't magically calm the public's anger. People didn't want explanations—they wanted someone to blame.

Still, this was the minimum we had to do.

If we let things drag on any longer, there was no telling what they might attempt next. People acting out of resentment and ulterior motives were the most dangerous kind.

"I'll go to the scene myself," Anna said firmly. "Make the necessary preparations."

A brief silence followed.

"Your Highness, that's dangerous," one of the knights said carefully. "Please reconsider."

"No," she replied without hesitation. "I need to show myself to the people. And I need to prove that this entire situation was built on a misunderstanding."

I frowned inwardly.

She wasn't wrong—but that didn't mean it wasn't reckless.

We had elite knights. Court mages. Layers of protection. And yet, danger never announced itself politely. Variables had a habit of slipping through even the tightest plans.

Still…

This wasn't just about safety.

Anna was aiming for the throne. The future empress of the Empire couldn't afford to appear indecisive or detached when chaos erupted under her watch.

If this incident lingered, it would become a stain—something her political opponents would drag out again and again in the future.

Resolving it swiftly, visibly, and decisively was the correct move.

Even if it meant placing herself in harm's way.

"I'll accompany you," I said quietly.

Anna glanced at me, surprised. "You don't have to—"

"I know," I interrupted. "But right now, I'm already being treated as part of this mess. If you go alone, they'll just redirect their anger toward me afterward."

That was only half the truth.

The other half was simpler: if something went wrong, I needed to be there.

She studied my face for a moment, then nodded. "Very well. Stay close."

The knights immediately began issuing orders, the room filling with crisp voices and the sound of armor shifting.

As I watched them move, a strange thought crossed my mind.

How did things spiral this far?

What should have been a contained incident had turned into a nationwide uproar. A riot. A political powder keg.

And somehow, despite being dragged into this world against my will, I was standing at the center of it all—again.

I let out a slow breath.

"…Honestly," I muttered under my breath, "I don't even understand how it escalated to this point."

But whether I understood it or not didn't matter anymore.

Anyone who watched the live broadcast with even a shred of objectivity should have known that Anna wasn't at fault.

This situation is anything but normal.

If anything, Anna and I should be classified as the victims. We were the ones trapped in the middle of the chaos, forced to make decisions under pressure. And Anna—despite everything—handled the situation with remarkable restraint. Casualties were kept to an absolute minimum.

That alone should have earned her understanding.

Unfortunately, the public doesn't see it that way.

"We need to turn the atmosphere around while we still can," Anna said quietly. "Once people learn the truth, their anger will calm down. At least a little."

She said it with a gentle certainty, as if clinging to a thin but precious thread of hope.

I admired that about her.

But reality doesn't work that way.

For people who are already consumed by anger, the truth holds little value. Facts don't matter. Context doesn't matter.

All that matters to them is this single image burned into their minds:

Imperial Princess Anna ordering the suppression of students they adored.

Everything that happened before that—the academy occupation, the riot, the danger to lives—has been conveniently erased.

They don't want explanations.

They want a trigger.

A justification to release the resentment they've been carrying for years.

Anger dulls reason.

And hatred, once it starts spreading, behaves like a disease—infecting minds, distorting memories, and eventually burying the truth so deeply that no one even wants to dig it up anymore.

What made it worse was who Anna was.

The "kind princess."

The symbol of compassion.

The one who smiled gently and reached out to the common people.

Now, in their eyes, that image had twisted into something ugly.

They claimed she had pretended to be benevolent—only to crush them the moment she had the chance. That her kindness had been nothing more than a mask.

The citizens' anger toward Anna, who had directly ordered the arrest of ordinary students, was beyond imagination.

This wasn't just outrage anymore.

It was betrayal—manufactured, exaggerated, and fueled by rumor.

And betrayal is far more dangerous than anger.

If they stopped to think for even a moment, they'd realize that wasn't the truth.

But once mob psychology takes hold, rational voices are the first to be drowned out. Reason gets buried beneath anger, fear, and resentment, spreading in every direction like wildfire.

They know the facts.

They know Anna has been pushing policies meant to improve the lives of commoners.

They know she regularly visits the slums and volunteers there without ceremony or publicity.

And yet, all of it is dismissed with a single word.

Hypocrisy.

Because no matter what she does, Anna is still the Imperial Princess—the embodiment of the nobility they despise most.

To them, that alone is reason enough to hate her.

"Then I'll relay this to the field," one of the attendants said. "Her Highness will be heading there in person."

Anna nodded without hesitation. "Yes. But we can't afford to be passive. If he makes any suspicious movements, arrest him immediately."

Her voice was steady. Calm.

Hearing those words, I felt it clearly.

This is where the story truly begins.

What started as dissatisfaction among academy students had spiraled far beyond that. It had grown into something heavier—something that now involved the Imperial family, public unrest, and the Emperor's wrath itself.

Anna rose from her seat and began preparing to leave, slipping seamlessly back into the role of a leader who had long since accepted the weight of responsibility.

Watching her, I felt a strong, almost instinctive certainty.

I shouldn't interfere.

This wasn't a place for half-baked вмешling or personal impulses. Whatever I did now could easily make things worse—not better.

I had a bad feeling about this.

The kind of feeling that told me getting involved any further would only invite more unnecessary trouble. If I just stayed quiet and kept my head down, things would probably settle on their own.

That was what I thought, anyway.

Reality, as usual, had other plans.

"What are you doing?"

Anna's voice snapped me out of my thoughts. She was standing in front of me, arms crossed, looking down at me as I sat blankly in the chair.

"You should be getting ready too."

…Ready?

"For what?" I asked, blinking.

She frowned slightly, clearly puzzled by my reaction. "What do you mean, for what? You're coming with me."

"…Me?"

"Yes, Louis. You."

Seeing the genuine confusion on my face, Anna let out a small sigh and began to explain.

"We're going to address the rumors," she said. "The misunderstanding about you discriminating against ordinary students."

Ah.

That.

The truth hit me all at once.

Right now, in the eyes of many people, I wasn't just some unlucky student caught in a riot—I was a villain. A noble who abused his authority. Someone who looked down on commoners and oppressed them without remorse.

At this rate, my reputation wouldn't just be damaged—it would be buried six feet underground and stomped on for good measure.

It felt like Anna was deliberately giving me space—an unspoken invitation to explain myself properly.

If that was the case, then there was no avoiding it.

No matter how shamelessly I wanted to live, once a misunderstanding took root, it wouldn't simply disappear on its own. If I let it fester, it would only grow worse.

For the sake of the future—my own, and the Academy's—I needed to take a more active stance.

"…Then how do you plan to explain it?" I asked, meeting her gaze.

Anna didn't hesitate.

"The same way," she said quietly.

I understood immediately.

The method used by the man named Bain.

Broadcasting everything live, to the entire Empire.

It was crude. Bold. And undeniably effective.

Clumsy media manipulation or forced suppression would only pour fuel on the fire. People hated being told what to think—especially when they were already angry.

But if we faced that anger head-on…

If we laid everything bare, without edits, without excuses, and let them judge for themselves—

Then the narrative could change.

"We confront them directly," Anna continued. "We show them everything. No cuts. No concealment."

I let out a slow breath.

"So we turn their own weapon against them," I murmured.

She nodded.

Silence settled between us for a moment, heavy but resolute. I could already imagine it—the eyes of the Empire watching, waiting for me to speak. One wrong word could seal my fate.

But running away would guarantee it.

"Let's change the atmosphere," I said at last, straightening in my seat.

Anna's lips curved into a faint, confident smile. "That's what I was hoping you'd say."

This was our chance.

Not to defend ourselves desperately—but to take control.

If they wanted a villain, we'd show them the truth instead.

---

Author Note.

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