Beron, the Mad Bull.

A legendary brawler of the Empire’s capital underworld. To the impoverished, he was no thug, they called him a chivalrous rogue, a fighter for the people.

Amidst the city’s gangs, now rotted through with narcotics and demon-worship, he stood alone. A storm of the era, refusing to fall in line. And now, it turned out he knew Andre, the very man once branded a traitor and a flash of rebellion.

Finally, the pieces were starting to fit.

Where would a commoner like Andre have gone after losing his arm? Likely the place he knew best: the sewers. He must’ve seen how far the district had crumbled, past the point of no return… and burned with rage.

“Did meeting Andre turn Beron into the Mad Bull? Or had he already lost his mind beforehand?”

A mad bull and a traitor. What must that meeting have looked like?

Maybe Beron became what he was after seeing his wounded older brother shattered in grief. Or maybe it was the decay of the sewers that drove him over the edge. Most likely, both.

Andre, in an effort to save his younger siblings, had taken up the sword once more. And Beron, in witnessing that blinding light, had realized his own fate: to protect it.

What followed was well-known. Andre became a rebel. Beron helped him seize control of the underworld, and died before he could save him.

“They say his body bore over a hundred stab wounds.”

He had stood and died with blades and spears embedded in every part of his body.

A chance meeting, but one that had uncovered a rare gem.

“Commoner.”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“That kid we saw, go visit him. Often.”

“Often, as in…?”

“He’s sturdy, like a good stew. A bit rough around the edges, maybe a bit too seasoned in the face, but still. Keep an eye on him.” 

“Understood. So, I’m the leftover meat chunks in that stew?”

“Sometimes I think you’re the crazier one between us.”

“Thank you for the compliment.”

Garlan turned away from Andre’s nonsense with a sigh, heading toward House Royce. It was starting to feel like admitting defeat if he weren’t at least as mad as Andre.

No, he couldn’t lose in madness.

“Maybe it’s time I went truly, gloriously insane.”

Just as he began contemplating ways to out-crazy his own thoughts, 

“Your Highness, welcome.”

“We greet Your Highness.”

Aindel and Sophia were already waiting in the drawing room, faces stiff, like they’d been through a private war of words just moments before. Perfect timing. He handed them a new battlefield.

“Sophia. I’m expanding your orphanage initiative across the entire Empire.”

“…Excuse me?”

“Aindel, you’re to take note.”

“But, Your Highness …”

Aindel started to protest but faltered, expression tangled in thought as he met Garlan’s eyes.

“I understand. I will obey.”

His voice was calm, obedient, but the paleness of his face said otherwise.

“Good. Because if you’d said anything else, I’d have stripped away every chance I just gave you.”

The thinly veiled threat left Aindel visibly shaken.

“I’ve already removed the obstacles, the eunuchs who were itching to profit off House Royce. No other prince or noble could have done the same. Not even your allies.”

Their motivations might’ve been a mess, their personal bonds frayed, but Aindel wasn’t a fool. He wouldn’t have succeeded in his business ventures if he were.

“Here’s how we’ll run it: Sophia handles the planning and funding. Aindel, you take on the practical logistics.”

“…Your Highness?”

“Me?”

“Yes. Sophia, make the project as big as possible. Aindel, make sure it actually works. You’ll be fighting a lot.”

“Ah.”

“Hm.”

“Fight as much as you need. Make your points loud and clear. Just don’t bottle things up and wait for a chance to stab each other in the back. And don’t treat this like a chessboard where you’re just trying to use each other.”

It sounded like simple advice, but neither Sophia nor Aindel could meet his eyes. Their true feelings had been exposed too clearly.

Garlan gave a faint smile, then offered one last bit of advice.

“Fight now, while there’s still time. When the end comes, there are things that can’t be fixed, no matter how hard you try.”

For a moment, the collapse of the Empire from his previous life flashed across his memory. Their relationship wasn’t yet beyond repair. This time, there was still a chance.

“So go on. Have a lovely, explosive argument.”

And with that, he turned to leave.

They said nothing in return, but fate responded clearly.

[You have devoured one of the lesser schemes surrounding you! A large number of Alteration Points have been acquired!] 

[The destinies of Sophia, Aindel, and House Royce are twisting. The scent of blood has faded from one of their lesser fates!] 

[Your luck, specifically financial fortune,has begun shifting in a new direction. The influence is growing!] 

[You’ve initiated a transformation in many lives. Depending on the outcome, you will receive future rewards.]

Fate affirmed that his words had hit home.Their lives would begin to change.        And for the first time in a while, he smiled, not with madness, but with satisfaction, as he made his way back toward his room.

“Ah, but are you really going to keep carrying that sword everywhere, Your Highness?”

“Hm?”

Aindel gestured to the massive breaker sword, which had casually split a chunk of premium marble like it was tofu.

He looked visibly concerned, likely tired of seeing household furniture reduced to rubble.

“Endure it. Be patient. You’ve got money.”

“…Yes, Your Highness.”

Aindel’s shoulders slumped at the unyielding reply, and Sophia watched her father with a look that was one part pity, three parts amusement.

“Andre, let’s spar. Right out front today.”

“Yes, Your Highness!”

“Alfred. A messenger will be arriving soon. Keep the gate wide open. When he shows up, bring him straight in, I’ve got something planned.”

“As you command.”

The order was strange, but Alfred didn’t question it. Andre, on the other hand, looked visibly thrilled at the idea of a duel. Normally, they’d train behind the massive estate, far from view, but today was different.

They stood in the front garden, the most visible spot of the estate,with every servant summoned to watch, and the main gate flung open for all to see. Garlan faced Andre with full formality.

“You ready?”

“Ready to win.”

The competitiveness radiating off Andre made something burn in Garlan’s veins.

But the longer he looked at him …

“Hey, commoner. Why are you always so desperate to beat me?”

“Because it’s my duty. I need to be strong if I’m going to protect you.”

“So what, you think you can protect me by beating me?”

“Your Highness, you have everything …looks, ability, noble blood. What do I have? At the very least, I need to be strong. It’s the only way I can be someone.”

“…Fair enough. But…”

“Don’t talk crap!”

No way in hell he was falling for Andre’s psychological tactics.