CHAPTER 107: BEFORE THE GAME!

Inside, Rin moved quickly, slipping into a side room to change. His fingers trembled slightly as he stripped off the shimmering gown, its fabric pooling at his feet like spilt moonlight. He tied his silver hair high, wincing as it caught on his fingers.

’It’s getting too long. Maybe I should cut it,’ he thought, his mind racing.

The door creaked, and Lirien entered, her pipe between her lips, her sharp eyes scanning him. Smoke curled around her like a protective veil, but her expression was tense.

"They’re both gone. The guest. And that man. Whoever they were, they’ve left."

Rin exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. "That was the crown prince,"

"What? How did he... I mean, why would he come here?"

"And the other man was Lucien Vortellion. That bastard was here. That means... I have to speed things up."

Lirien frowned, stepping closer, her voice low.

"I should have increased the security so they wouldn’t get in. It’s my fault,"

"It’s not your fault, Lirien... That bastard must have figured out that I’m here,"

"What are you planning, Rin?"

Rin’s crimson eyes slid toward the drawer in the corner, a simple wooden thing tucked beneath a mirror. It was the same drawer from his room in the academy. He raised his hand, demonic energy flowing like smoke from his fingertips, dark and fluid. The drawer clicked open with a soft snap, revealing the pieces of his double life.

Inside the drawer was a crafted ID under the name Rin Elric. It was clean and official, marking him as a citizen of the capital.

Then a bank card holding his salaries and the inheritance his mother had left him... he hadn’t realised until recently that he was a billionaire, the wealth hidden in secret accounts Elyria had set up before she vanished.

Followed by a worn photograph of his mother, her smile soft and warm, red hair glowing in the faded image. And finally... an insignia. It was heavy, gilded, the crest of the Second Duke’s household. Proof of his bloodline. Proof that he wasn’t just a courtesan or a commoner. It was proof that he was born noble even though he’s illegitimate.

Rin stared at it for a long moment, his chest tight, before closing the drawer with a soft sigh.

"Well, not yet. I’m not interested in being a noble. Not now. I still have too much to do."

He turned to Lirien, his voice sharp again.

"Prepare me a special dress for the Duke’s game. Also, double the guards. No one enters my chamber. Who knows what that bastard is up to now,"

Lirien gave a single nod, her eyes softening with a mix of pride and worry.

"Understood. No one will come close to your chamber,"

But as she turned to leave, she paused, her voice quieter. "Rin... You must be careful. Even if your target is Lucien and his father, they are both dangerous. However, Lucien is much different from his father..."

Rin’s jaw tightened, his fingers curling into fists.

"I don’t care. He’s a Vortellion. That’s enough."

Lirien sighed, puffing on her pipe.

"Maybe. But don’t let your hate blind you. You’re playing a dangerous game."

Rin smirked, though it didn’t reach his eyes. "Good. I like ’dangerous’. You don’t need to worry about me, Lirien,"

.

.

Midnight found Lucien in his quarters at the palace, the white silk fabric from Rin’s robe lying on his desk, taunting him. He couldn’t sleep, his chest aching with a mix of hope and pain. Rin was alive, here in the capital, hidden in the brothel’s shadows. But he was still out of reach, slipping through Lucien’s fingers like always.

He could break into the brothel, tear it apart, demand answers... but Rin would vanish again. He knew it. Rin was too clever, and maybe he was avoiding him on purpose. Lucien’s fingers brushed the fabric, his throat tight.

’I failed you once, Rin. I won’t again. I’ll get you back,’

His eyes fell to the letter on his desk... his request for a knighthood extension. He grabbed it immediately ripping it to shreds.

He’d written another in its place, a dismissal letter, his final farewell as the prince’s knight. The ink had bled with each stroke, heavy and final, sealing his decision. By dawn, the letter lay sealed, ready to be delivered.

Lucien stood, pacing the room, his mind racing. Leaving the palace meant returning to the Vortellion estate, stepping into his role as heir. It meant facing his father, and the brother who’d betrayed Rin pretending to be him.

But it also meant being closer to Rin, closer to the truth. He wouldn’t let Rin slip away again.

He paused by the window, staring out at the capital.

"I guess it’s time to leave the palace,"

.

Days later, Lucien walked the halls of the palace, bidding quiet farewells to the knights he’d worked beside. It wasn’t necessary, but it was strategic. Every handshake, every smile was the number of followers he’d need when he claimed the Duke’s seat.

.

In the prince’s office, Caspian sat at his desk, turning Lucien’s dismissal letter over in his hands. His jaw clenched, his golden eyes narrowing.

A few days ago, Lucien had begged for an extension, desperate to stay in the palace. Now, suddenly, he wanted to quit. Caspian’s knuckles whitened, his grip tightening on the parchment.

"Unacceptable." He gritted his teeth. "Is there any way to keep Lucien in the palace?"

His assistant bowed low, his voice nervous.

"Your Highness, it’s impossible to stop him. But the Vortellions... they are too powerful. Even the crown cannot oppose them."

Caspian’s lips twisted, a bitter smirk forming. He already knew that. His father, the king, was nothing but a puppet to Evan Vortellion, a fact that burned in Caspian’s chest. He didn’t want to be in his father’s shoes when he became the next king. He didn’t want to become a puppet.

That was why he treated Lucien as a mere knight, keeping him at arm’s length. If he acknowledged Lucien as a Vortellion, he’d lose any control over him.

But once Lucien left, he’d become the heir, beyond Caspian’s reach. The thought was intolerable.

Caspian’s eyes gleamed with a dangerous idea, his voice low.

"Aha!" He grinned as he rubbed his chin. "What about him? Julian Vortellion."

The assistant looked up, startled.

"The twin? According to the rumours, he is locked in the Vortellion estate. Punished, they say, by his father and brother."

Caspian smirked, leaning back in his chair.

"Punished? I must find a way to meet him."

"How do you plan on doing that, Sire?" the assistant asked, his voice cautious.

"When’s the next Vortellion game?" Caspian asked, his tone sharp.

The assistant checked a ledger, then bowed.

"Tomorrow."

"Good." Caspian’s smile was cruel, his eyes glinting with ambition. "Send word to Evan. Tell him I will be present to watch his game."

"Understood!" The assistant scurried off, leaving Caspian alone.

He swirled his wine, his brown eyes gleaming in the dim light.

"It’s either Julian Vortellion... or the Golden Goose. One of them will be mine."