Garlan, chief investigator of the Southeastern Guard Division, felt like his lungs were rotting from the inside out, lately overwhelmed by the chain-smoking habit he’d picked up, or maybe it wasn’t just the cigarettes. Maybe it was everything.

“Chief? It’s time for the committee meeting.”

“Goddammit!”

Just hearing the word committee was enough to make him spit curses.

“How the hell am I supposed to work with those rat bastards? I’m not going! I can’t go! Miserable leeches!”

He erupted, swearing at the air, until something snapped.

“Screw it. I’ll dance the blade today. Kill one of them and quit for good.”

He stormed around the office, grabbing every personal weapon he could reach, while his squad scrambled to calm him down before he actually followed through.

But later, as he sat in the committee’s designated meeting room, barely half a minute in, regret hit hard.

Should’ve brought it. Should’ve brought the damn sword.

“The evidence won’t hold in court.”

“Oh, so now it’s my fault the evidence vanished? Maybe if the committee leader actually did their job!”

“You can’t go down that road, Chief. Are you seriously trying to go after the Count’s family? You? And if it backfires, who’s going to clean it up?”

“The warrant’s been denied. I’ve ordered a stop to any further investigation.”

Everywhere he looked, he saw enemies. Nobles with glistening waxed mustaches, senior officers from the guard, and investigators alike, every last one of them was working together to bury evidence and shield the guilty. Every route was blocked: this was off-limits because of status, that was too sensitive because of family ties, that person couldn’t be touched because they were somebody’s cousin or a friend of a friend.

At first, they’d at least pretended to hear him out. Now, they just sat him there like some forgotten statue while they rambled on about nothing, turning what should’ve been an investigation into a damn social club.

He bit down on a cigarette and lit up, more to stay sane than anything else.

The flame sparked a thought….The arsonist. That bastard.

He should’ve caught him when he had the chance, or begged him to burn everything to the ground. Hell, maybe if he showed up right now and torched the place, it would be a blessing. He’d joined the committee like the bastard’s message had instructed, but all he’d gotten so far was a slow death by stress.

As he exhaled smoke through clenched teeth, 

“Chief, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Ugh, typical commoner. Where the hell do you think you are, lighting a cigarette like some street punk?”

The greasy-faced nobles sneered as they leaned in to scold him.

“You filthy sons of…”

Before he could explode again, 

“His Royal Highness, the Prince, has arrived!”

A thunderous voice rang out beyond the doors. At first, everyone looked around, confused.

Who?

“His Royal Highness, the Prince, has arrived!”

The booming announcement came again, this time snapping the room to attention like a slap to the face.

“Put out the damn cigarette, you lunatic!”

“W-Where were we? What were we saying?”

“The warrant…right, right…the warrant got denied, and further investigation was blocked.”

“Yes! That’s what we’ll say!”

They scrambled like startled dogs, adjusting collars and smoothing out their clothes, all desperate to make a good impression.

Disgusting.

Garlan snuffed out the cigarette and spit in his mind “Tch”.

Not that he expected anything better. Then came the footsteps…

“Step. Step. Step.”

And then, 

“BANG!”

The door slammed open like it had been kicked off its hinges. The Eleventh Prince, Aziel, entered.

His hair, platinum-blond and unnaturally clean, shone with the kind of luster only royal blood could carry. Crimson eyes flickered like coals under firelight, and the sharp, arrogant cut of his nose gave him a look of perpetual superiority. He wore nobility like a second skin.

“His Royal Highness, the Eleventh Prince Aziel!”

But instead of awe or reverence, the room filled with uneasy frowns.

Every person there knew the prince’s reputation. Even without having seen him before, they knew exactly what kind of disgrace he was,Aziel, the failure of the royal bloodline.

What the hell was he doing here?

A few of them even smirked.

If it was Aziel, there was nothing to fear. He was known as useless, greedy, weak,he might even help them if they played their cards right.

“Ah, Your Highness, what an unexpected honor.”

“We’ve been handling things just as you instructed.”

Their sickening displays of respect made Garlan’s fists tremble.

It wasn’t enough they had sabotaged the investigation, they had to drag in a prince to bury it completely?

But then…

“Shut it.”

The prince’s voice cut across the room like a blade.

“Where do you think you’re lifting those slick, filthy faces? Show some proper respect.”

Only then did they realize something was wrong. As Aziel stepped into the room, a screeching, bone-deep sound followed him.

It was the massive sword dragging behind him, a jagged, rust-covered blade unlike any conventional weapon. It scraped against the floor with every step, gouging it with a horrible metallic cry.

Everyone heard it. Everyone hated it. But they held still, heads bowed, forced to listen.

“Whoosh.”  A breeze sliced overhead.

“You’re lucky. None of you looked up. If even one had dared, they’d be dead.”

Everyone held their breath. Silence fell like a guillotine. They all felt it, that sword had passed inches above their heads. The realization chilled them, but they could only swallow their fear in silence.

“I, Aziel, have been granted full authority over the investigation into the demon-worshipping cult.”

“!”

The statement landed like a hammer.

Full authority? But wasn’t the Empress supposed to intervene personally?

“The Emperor approved it himself. If you’re imagining anyone else, erase the thought.”

Even that last sliver of hope dissolved beneath the prince’s cold voice. He raised the decree and read it aloud. The seal was real. The words, final. The Emperor had named Aziel the lead investigator.

And without wasting a moment, Aziel had come here.

“Chief Garlan, raise your head. I have questions.”

“I am Garlan, Chief Investigator. Ask, and I will answer.”

Aziel’s lips curled as his eyes settled on Garlan.

“Explain. In exact detail, how these mongrels interfered with the investigation and whom they tried to protect. Every. Last. Detail.”

“!”

“Start now.”

“Y-Your Highness?”

“Interference? No, surely not, we’re part of the same committee…”

“Silence. Did I speak to you? Who told you to lift your head?”

One man tried to speak, lifting his eyes, but the moment Aziel so much as shifted his sword, they all ducked like whipped dogs.

“Remember this. My authority includes judgment over life and death. Garlan! Don’t hesitate, spill everything!”

“Then allow me.”

Garlan did as ordered, unloading every memory, every obstruction, every underhanded deal and buried lead. Even as he spoke, part of him reeled. Just like the arsonist had predicted, opportunity had come once he stood in the enemy’s shadow. It was almost unbelievable. When he finished his report, he exhaled for what felt like the first time in weeks, and then… Aziel laughed.

A bright, clear laugh that somehow sent a shiver up Garlan’s spine. He knew that sound. He looked up, catching those red eyes again, eyes blazing like wildfire.

Aziel raised a single finger. “Silence”.

Garlan nodded, palms sweating, back drenched, body trembling. He was in deep. In way too deep. And yet… his mouth betrayed him with a small, upward twitch.          For some reason, it felt good.

The rest happened fast.

Every corrupt official who’d operated freely until now was fired on the spot. Using Garlan’s report, charges were stacked high and handed to the Guard. There’d be no leniency. Not this time. But that was just the beginning.

“Chief, I’ll assign you support. Lead the strike team and the Guard. Arrest every last person those pigs tried to protect.”

“All of them, sir?”

“Not a single one gets away. Wipe them out. Completely. Now.”

“Understood!”

“André, go with him.”

“Yes, Your Highness!”

Just as ordered, they moved like a hammer strike, sudden and overwhelming. Every rat who had hidden behind their wealth or connections was dragged into the light.   Of course, some fought back.

“SCREECH.”

“What? You scum got a problem? We’re here to cut the rot out of the Empire. Want me to invoke my authority for on-the-spot execution?”

Aziel led the charge himself, dragging that monstrous sword, cutting through resistance like a farmer clearing weeds. Where others might have hesitated, worried about politics, power, money …he didn’t even blink, because he had nothing to lose.

The mad prince …The abandoned prince … The prince with no allies, no future.

And that was exactly what made him dangerous.