Cyn stopped—but he did not turn around. In a calm voice, he said,

"It's difficult to atone for sins inside the palace, Lord Burgvall. You know that. And by the nature of my work, that makes me a sinner in need of daily sessions. Neither you nor I would want to trouble one another with those holy-water sprinklings."

Burgvall could not tell whether Cyn was merely rambling or speaking nonsense. As for Cyn, he believed that babbling and absurdity might keep him at bay.

What Cyn did not expect, however, was for Burgvall to make such a strange request.

"Strip."

Cyn froze, staring at the door in disbelief. What did he mean by that? Was Burgvall suspecting him?

Cyn pretended he had not heard, but Burgvall repeated firmly,

"Remove your upper garments."

Burgvall stared at the man's back. He had encountered Cyn many times before, and every time he sensed something around him—something like a heap of negative emotions, deeply unsettling. Perhaps that was the reason for Cyn's earlier rambling. In truth, Burgvall had once recommended that Cyn be baptized in the Church.

Especially after learning that he came from beyond the mountains—one of the barbarians who worshipped nature and other things, living a savage life. Even among them, true believers were few. Most believed in nothing at all, living without reliance on any higher power.

As Burgvall looked at Cyn, he saw something in him—he saw his younger self, back when his only fear was what awaited him after death. He felt that the man before him might be afraid, carrying many unanswered questions, his faith wavering just as Burgvall's once had. His work within the palace—everything about it was chaotic, absurd. He needed to find meaning in his life.

These were Burgvall's thoughts as he regarded Cyn this way. He sensed strength in him—determination and willpower, regardless of all else. And there was another reason as well.

Pity.

He pitied him. He seemed exceptionally gifted—if only he possessed aura. Burgvall would have fought to free him from Xyrene's grasp and bring him into the ranks of the Halo Knights.

But unfortunately, Cyn did not possess the level of talent required to wield Halo.

Yet all of that was cast aside when a terrifying possibility began to take shape.

That the man before him might be a Scar-bearer.

Everything about him screamed it.

Impossible.

Impossible—this was Burgvall's conclusion, echoing in his mind.

'Impossible! Yes, impossible. Someone like this—this cold, these indifferent actions, this overwhelming presence. The way he carries himself. His movements. His physical strength. His beauty. His intelligence in choosing his words. He feels… complete. As though he were created for something greater. Far greater than being merely a consort to the king's wives within the palace. A man meant to play a role on the world stage—meant to be known in all circles.'

'It's impossible for him to be ordinary. And if he is… then it's unjust for someone so untalented to possess all of this.'

Burgvall thought deeply. Now, he wanted confirmation. Yes—the possibility that Cyn might be a Scar-bearer. He could not accept that someone like him was merely ordinary, especially after witnessing how Xyrene treated him—and how he, in turn, defied her.

Cyn feigned a smile, still not turning around, and said mockingly,

"Lord Burgvall, do you truly think I would steal something from Lady Xyrene and hide it beneath my clothes?"

Burgvall knew Cyn was stalling. He did not bother responding.

But someone else did.

Cyn sensed movement—someone approaching him. He spun around instantly.

Whoosh!

His right hand clenched around something.

A punch.

The other person was stunned. He had not expected Cyn to perceive him—nor to sense his presence. Cyn did not stop there. He tightened his grip, yanked the man closer, and finished by smashing his fist into the man's head.

"Ow! That hurts!"

A young man emerged from concealment, clutching his head—specifically the spot Cyn had struck.

He was wearing the embroidered black robe of the Halo Knights Academy, a decorated sword at his waist. What drew the eye, however, was his violet hair and silver eyes, giving him both a handsome and peculiar appearance.

He looked like a masculine version of Xyrene herself.

Because he was.

He was her younger brother—Thalen.

He complained bitterly,

"Really! You didn't have to do it like that, Lord Cyn! You didn't—"

Cyn grabbed him and pulled him close, almost like an embrace. Thalen grimaced.

"Ugh! Lord Cyn, you need a bath! Your smell is disgusting!"

Cyn released him.

"You still haven't matured, Thalen. If you can't endure an ordinary smell like this, how will you endure the dangers outside—and the responsibilities that will soon fall upon you?"

Thalen steadied himself and looked at Cyn with a confident smile.

"I may not look it, but I've grown stronger, Lord Cyn. I'm afraid you may no longer be able to keep up with me—especially right now. My Halo has grown, and I've learned to control it."

While Cyn was lecturing Thalen on proper respect, the others stood in utter shock.

How he predicted the strike.

How he saw Thalen while he was hidden.

His reaction—everything about it screamed that he was no ordinary man.

He moved like someone well-trained. His strength, his grip, his calm handling of the situation—this was not the behavior of a commoner.

Since most of them did not know him, they assumed he held an important position within the palace. Everything about him proclaimed it—this man was exceptional.

The most shocked of all was Astrida.

Although she had witnessed the bloody act Cyn committed in her private wing before, she had never imagined he could contend with a Halo Knight—no, more than that.

Thalen had been there from the beginning, hidden. She had neither sensed nor seen him. He had not even flickered into her awareness until he revealed himself.

Yet Cyn had been watching him all along.

As though he had eyes behind his head—eyes that saw everything hidden within the room.

Cyn mocked Thalen,

"Still sneaking into the women's baths using that Halo skill of yours?"

Thalen felt humiliated and embarrassed.

"Damn it—" he whispered urgently into Cyn's ear. "Not in front of the old man. Stay quiet, and I'll tell you something good later, yeah? Hah?"

Cyn merely looked at Thalen with a faint smile. He was foolish, despite his claims of intelligence—but amusing enough to keep around.

Thalen was two years younger than Cyn. At one point in his life, Cyn had taught him a thing or two—especially when he visited his sister at the palace and trained with Cyn.

The Scar's voice mocked him.

'Oh? He's not the one who'll entertain you—will the old man do that instead?'

Burgvall cleared his throat.

"Ahem. Lord Cyn—did you not hear me?"

Cyn met Burgvall's gaze with a smile, never looking away. There was a hint of challenge in it—though he meant it as teasing more than anything.

"Very well, Lord Burgvall. As you wish."

Cyn began removing his upper garments.

His muscles, chest, and flesh were laid bare before Burgvall. A powerful, aesthetic physique—as if carved by divine hands. Green veins traced from his narrow, strong waist down toward his lower abdomen. Dried blood stained his skin like paint.

The brown-haired woman with healed wounds stared at him as though at a masterpiece.

"Oh! He's packed. I've never seen anything like this in my life—!"

She immediately felt two Halos press down on her.

One belonged to Burgvall, who would not tolerate such remarks—especially among Halo Knights. Respect, honor, and purity were paramount, even if she knew they were often superficial.

The second Halo unexpectedly belonged to none other than Xyrene.

It felt as though she had trespassed with those words—like she had admired a work of art that did not belong to her, one she had no right to look upon.

Burgvall examined Cyn closely.

There was no Scar.

His body was clean—at least, his upper body.

The Scar of Pride chuckled within Cyn.

"See? What do you think about reappearing back now? Imagine their faces when it appears out of nowhere on your body. Hahahaha… you're so fucked."

Cyn wondered where this insufferable thing had come from—of all times.

He picked up his clothes.

"So? Lord Burgvall—are you satisfied now?"

Burgvall turned his gaze away.

"You may go. But I expect you to visit soon—for your baptism."

Cyn merely smiled. Then he glanced at Xyrene.

She did not seem surprised by the absence of the Scar—as if she had known it would not be there once he removed his clothes.

Or rather—

Why would he even do that in the first place?

But Burgvall's voice stopped him again.

"Wait."

Cyn turned back.

Burgvall pointed at what Cyn was holding.

"The book. You forgot to leave it here."

Cyn looked down at his hand—the book he had picked up from the floor earlier. He smiled, bent down, and placed it back on the ground.

Then he turned around—

And left.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.