In a narrow back alley where no one ever passed, a lone figure slipped through the door of a rundown building.

A faded sign creaked softly above the entrance as it closed behind him.

Ding!

"Welcome!"

The cheerful voice of the clerk rang out the moment the bell chimed.

The man, his face hidden beneath a deep hood, didn't respond. Without a word, he walked toward the far corner of the tavern and took a seat.

Someone was already there.

Another cloaked figure, dressed much the same as he was. From the faint silhouette beneath the fabric, it was clear this one was a woman. She sat still, hands folded on the table, as if she'd been waiting for a long time.

The tavern itself was quiet. It was late evening, and only a handful of patrons occupied the dimly lit room. The smell of cheap alcohol lingered in the air, mixing with the scent of old wood and smoke.

"Would you like to order?"

The clerk approached their table, still wearing a practiced smile.

"…."

Neither of them answered.

The silence stretched just long enough to make the clerk uncomfortable. He glanced between the two hooded figures, sensing something was off.

"Ah—haha…! I'll come back in a moment, then," he said hastily, forcing a laugh as he began to step away.

"…Two beers."

The man finally spoke, his voice low and rough, as if unused to conversation.

"Ah, yes! Please wait just a moment!"

Relief flashed across the clerk's face. He quickly jotted down the order and hurried back behind the counter, clearly eager to put distance between himself and the unsettling pair.

Once they were alone again, the tavern's quiet pressed in even heavier than before.

"You're late," the woman said softly, her voice calm but edged with irritation.

"I had to make sure I wasn't followed," the man replied. He loosened his cloak slightly but kept his face hidden. "Things are getting noisy outside."

"Is there any hitch in the plan?"

"No. Everything is proceeding without any issues—exactly as we outlined from the beginning."

"That's good."

The speaker leaned back slowly, fingers tapping against the armrest in a steady rhythm. This plan hadn't been thrown together on a whim. It was something they had nurtured for years, carefully pruning away risks, enduring countless sacrifices just to reach this point.

Lives. Resources. Time.

Too much had been invested for failure to be an option.

And now—now that the first step had finally been taken—there was no turning back.

"The situation is flowing smoothly," the subordinate continued. "Almost… too smoothly."

A brief silence followed.

"…To the point where it makes you uneasy?"

"Yes."

The man chuckled softly. "That's only because you're finally seeing preparation pay off. Chaos always looks suspicious when you're used to resistance."

Still, even he couldn't deny it. Things were unfolding with frightening precision. No unexpected variables. No sudden interference. Everything moving along the rails they'd laid out long ago.

"Then what about the Imperial Palace?" the man asked. "Any movement?"

"None worth mentioning. The Imperial Knights haven't been mobilized, and the court remains quiet. They appear to be… observing."

"As expected."

A faint, contemptuous smile tugged at his lips.

"They're confused. Unsure whether this is worth responding to."

After all—

"The Emperor is weak," he continued flatly. "Incompetent. A man who mistakes hesitation for caution."

He rose from his seat and turned toward the window, gazing out at the distant skyline of the capital.

"He won't act yet. Not until the situation grows beyond his control."

To him, this was nothing more than a minor disturbance. A ripple. Something that could be ignored, brushed aside, or left to resolve itself.

Just like he always does.

He'll wait for the noise to die down. He always believes that time will smooth everything over, that silence is the same as resolution.

And that's exactly what they're counting on.

They know him well enough to exploit that weakness. By pretending nothing is wrong for long enough, he'll end up taking the full blow head-on—unprepared and isolated.

Surrounded by honeyed words and false reassurances, he'll fail to see reality for what it is. By the time he realizes he's been cornered, it'll already be too late.

The only variable they can't completely account for is the Imperial Princess.

"Then… what about the Imperial Princess?" I asked quietly.

Anna's expression hardened. "She's too thoroughly veiled. We couldn't uncover her exact movements or intentions."

That figures.

The Imperial Princess is dangerously competent—far more so than the Emperor himself. Where he hesitates, she acts. Where he believes, she verifies.

That's precisely why they targeted the Academy.

Using students as tools, stirring unrest, framing the conflict as a failure of leadership—it was all meant to stain her reputation indirectly. If chaos could be tied to her domain, even slightly, it would weaken her standing.

But they miscalculated.

Her response was faster than expected. Cleaner. Decisive enough to prevent the situation from spiraling completely out of control.

They didn't get the outcome they wanted—but that doesn't mean they failed.

They still succeeded in planting doubt. In inciting anger. In shaping an atmosphere thick with suspicion and resentment.

That alone was dangerous enough.

Ding.

"W–Welcome…?"

The confused voice of the clerk echoed from the entrance, followed by a startled, "Oh—oh?"

Heavy footsteps rang out against the wooden floor. One by one, figures clad in full armor squeezed through the narrow doorway, the metal of their gear gleaming under the lights.

Imperial Knights.

The room's air shifted instantly. Conversations died mid-sentence. Even the walls seemed to tense under their presence.

Then—

From between them, a familiar figure stepped forward.

Anna.

But not the Anna who had been calmly briefing me just moments ago.

This Anna wore her authority openly, her posture straight, her gaze sharp and unwavering. The crest she bore left no room for doubt.

The Imperial Princess had arrived.

And judging by the way the knights fanned out behind her—

This wasn't a visit.

It was a declaration.

"…Imperial Princess."

The low voice echoed through the dim space.

Anna's eyes sharpened instantly. "Are you Mr. Bain?"

"…Do you have business with me?"

"I came here knowing everything," Anna replied calmly. "So don't bother pretending. I wanted to speak with you directly."

For a brief moment, Bain remained silent. Then, with a dry chuckle, he reached up and tore away the cloak that had been shadowing his face.

The man revealed beneath it looked nothing like a righteous revolutionary.

Scars crisscrossed his face—old blade marks, burns, wounds that had healed crookedly. Each one told a story of violence, resentment, and survival.

"…What," Bain sneered, "are you here to insist you're clean? To claim you're some noble, untouchable being?"

Anna didn't flinch. "No. I came to clear up a misunderstanding you seem to have."

Bain's eyes narrowed. "A misunderstanding?" He let out a harsh laugh. "Everyone knows the truth. In the end, you—an Imperial Princess—allowed discrimination to continue."

"That's not true," Anna said evenly. "And I can explain that, if you'll listen."

"I don't understand how someone like you could," Bain snapped back. "Do you have any idea how much discrimination common citizens have suffered under nobles? How many lives were crushed? How many people were stepped on and forgotten?"

His voice trembled—not with fear, but with rage that had fermented for years.

Standing slightly behind Anna, I could understand his anger.

Coming from a world shaped by democracy, his resentment wasn't unfamiliar to me. Inequality, abuse of power, inherited privilege—I understood why people would want to tear it all down.

But this wasn't that world.

This Empire was built on a rigid class system. Like it or not, overturning it through violence wasn't reform.

It was treason—an act that shook the very foundation of society.

And treason always demanded blood in return.

Anna took a step forward, her gaze unwavering. "I won't deny that discrimination exists. Nor will I pretend it can disappear overnight."

Bain scoffed. "Then what are you here for?"

"To offer another path," she answered. "Change the world with me. Not through chaos, not through riots—but by changing things one step at a time."

Bain stared at her, incredulous. "You think gradual change can fix generations of suffering?"

"I know it can," Anna replied softly. "Because reckless destruction only replaces one kind of oppression with another."

Silence fell between them.

Bain's fists trembled at his sides, his jaw clenched as conflicting emotions warred across his scarred face.

"…Pretty words," he muttered. "But words don't feed starving families."

"No," Anna said. "But power, responsibility, and resolve do. And I have all three."

Anna tried to soften the atmosphere, her voice calm, measured—an earnest attempt at reconciliation.

But Bain only answered with a crooked smile, the deep scar on his face twisting as he did.

"Ha… as expected of an Imperial Princess," he scoffed. "You really don't understand reality. The world doesn't change so easily. It only looks like it does—for a moment."

Anna frowned. "What are you talking about…?"

"That's why," Bain continued, his eyes darkening, "we need something bigger."

"…Bigger?"

"An explosion big enough to overturn the world itself."

Just as Anna stepped forward, extending her hand toward him—

Swoosh.

Something cut through the air.

"Kya—!"

"Your Highness!"

An arrow came flying from somewhere unseen, slicing past Anna's face. It missed her eye by a hair's breadth and struck the wall behind her with a dull thud.

For a split second, there was silence.

Then a thin line of red appeared on Anna's cheek. Blood slowly trickled down, staining her skin.

The moment I saw it, my blood ran cold.

We'd crossed a line.

There was no going back now.

"How dare they—!" one of the knights roared, his voice shaking with rage. "They wounded Her Highness's face!"

"I—I'm fine!" Anna hurriedly said. "Please, wait—"

"Execute them immediately!"

The shout rang out before Anna could finish.

The knights' faces were flushed, their hands gripping their weapons tightly. Reason had already slipped away, replaced by fury and instinct.

Anna tried to step forward again, panic creeping into her voice. "Stop! I said stop—!"

But it was useless.

They weren't listening anymore.

At this rate, blood would spill—whether Anna wanted it or not.

A clash was inevitable.

And if that happened… everything would truly be over.

There was only one thing I could do.

I tightened my grip on my sword, feeling the familiar weight settle into my palm.

No hesitation. No time to think.

I surged forward.

If someone had to stand between them—

If someone had to stop this from becoming a massacre—

Then it would be me.

----

Author Note.

I sincerely thanks you for following the novel to this point. I hope you will continue to love the novel as you always have.

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