CHAPTER 535: UNNECESSARY TROUBLES

"So, my life is basically hanging on a thread more than it already was, right?" Liam asked, his tone calm and level, though none of that steadiness touched the irritation burning quietly beneath it.

"Yes," Lucy answered with the same composure she always carried. "But I truly doubt anyone would be foolish enough to attempt an assassination. Not while Galen is still alive."

"Exactly," Mystica added, her voice light but certain. "As powerful as King Valemir may be, even he knows better than to test your uncle’s patience."

Liam mulled over their words for a moment before speaking again. "Can you please not refer to him as my uncle? I know he is, but... hearing it is uncomfortable."

Mystica let out a soft chuckle and offered a sly smirk. "I’ll try."

He gave her a suspicious stare, already convinced she had absolutely no intention of stopping.

The room slipped into a brief silence until Lucy’s voice cut through it once more. "I know all of this may be frustrating for you, but there’s truly no reason to worry. No one even knows where you are. You’re safe."

"I suppose I am, for now," Liam admitted. "But what about when the academies reopen? The Crescent Kingdom could use that opportunity to reach me. And Sheila is still King Valemir’s daughter, attending the Dark Knight Academy. There are probably others from the Crescent Kingdom there too."

"You’re right to consider that," Lucy said, her tone firm but reassuring. "But trust me—nothing will happen to you. You have my word. And besides, Mabel will be watching over you from afar, just as we agreed."

At the mention of her name, Liam’s gaze drifted to Mabel. He held her eyes for a moment before quietly exhaling.

’She’s not wrong. Mabel is more than capable,’ he thought. ’But that doesn’t matter to me. If things go wrong even slightly, I will take care of it myself.’

"Well, if you say so, then I have no choice but to trust you, Your Majesty," he said, giving her a respectful nod.

Lucy’s lips curved into a faint smile. "Glad to hear it." She rose from her chair with a graceful motion. "Now, go wash up and get some rest. You’re free to resume training tomorrow, if you choose."

She moved toward the door, and Mystica stood to follow her. "See you soon, Liam," Mystica said softly.

"Make sure he doesn’t overexert himself," Lucy murmured as she passed Mabel, then stepped out with Mystica beside her.

Once they were gone, Liam dragged a hand down his face, the weight of everything pressing hard on him. His secret being exposed to the entire world gnawed at him like a fresh wound. He released a quiet sigh and let his eyes roam the room until they settled on Mabel, who was watching him with a faint, unreadable tension in her posture.

’Looks like she wants to say something,’ he noted, catching the subtle twitch of her fingers. ’But as much as I’d like to talk to her, I need that bath more.’

"Is the bathroom that way?" he asked, pointing toward the corner of the chamber.

Mabel blinked, caught off guard, before answering, "No, it’s that one." She pointed toward a door on the far side.

Liam set his eyes on it and strode past her. "Thanks." Then he slipped inside without another word.

The moment the door fell shut, Mabel let out a small sigh. ’Why did I freeze up when all I wanted was to thank him?’ she scolded herself, rubbing her forehead lightly.

"Come on, Mabel. Don’t let a sixteen-year-old get the better of you," she muttered under her breath.

Meanwhile, inside the bathroom, Liam stood beneath the steady cascade of warm water as it streamed over his skin. He tilted his head back and let the falling water wash over his face, eyes closed, breath slow, his fingers sliding through his overgrown hair to push it away from his forehead. For a brief moment, the heat loosening the stiffness in his muscles offered him a sense of quiet he hadn’t felt since he woke up.

Once he had rinsed himself thoroughly, he stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel. As he dried his body, he drifted toward the mirror, stopping in front of it as beads of water still clung to his shoulders. His gaze settled on his reflection, taking in the faint but noticeable changes that had settled into him over the past six months. The weight he had lost wasn’t drastic, but it was enough that his ribs pressed almost too visibly beneath his skin.

"Hm... guess I really need to get my body back in shape like he said," he murmured under his breath, recalling Galen’s last words before he departed.

’Speaking of Galen... did he really leave just because he needed to be alone? Or did he go to the Land of Ruins to find the exact place my father died?’

Deep down, he found himself choosing the latter without hesitation. He couldn’t imagine Galen sitting alone somewhere simply to mourn or brood. It felt far more likely that he had gone straight to the Land of Ruins, compelled to seek out the exact place Marcus had fallen. Why Liam believed that so strongly, he couldn’t explain, but the certainty tugged at him all the same.

"If he really went there, it’s going to be difficult to find the exact spot," he muttered. "But... it’s Galen we’re talking about. His myst perception is sharp enough to sense even the faintest traces left behind after battle fought nearly two decades ago."

Accepting that possibility, Liam’s thoughts shifted once more to the new problem he now had to face—his secret being out in the open for the world to latch onto.

Queen Lucy’s reassurance had been comforting to a degree, but he wasn’t ready to fully trust those words. She might have been a queen, but even she didn’t possess any power over the minds and decisions of every single person who might want him dead.

His real concern wasn’t that his secret was known—it was about the trouble that would inevitably follow because of it. There was little doubt people would eventually be sent after him. If it wasn’t now, it would be later. That didn’t frighten him; it irritated him. He wanted time—time to grow stronger, time to pursue what he needed to do without interruptions. Assassins coming after him would only suffocate that.

What bothered him even more was the likelihood of secret agents infiltrating the academy once everything returned to normal. Even though the Tempest Kingdom held the strongest magical security among the three kingdoms, there was always a chance someone could slip through, especially if they came in through the guise of students.

Students were the easiest path. Hidden agents trained from the Crescent Kingdom, Solara Kingdom, or possibly even his own could be planted within the academy walls to target him.

"Ugh..." he groaned, rubbing his forehead as annoyance crept into his voice. "To think all of this is something I need to worry about now..."

Then there was his circle of friends—another concern entirely. Sheila, most of all. Even though she’d undergone a shift in perspective after the harsh reality check he’d given her, her position as King Valemir’s daughter lingered in the back of his mind like a flashing warning.

Whether she wanted to or not, Sheila was tied to the very man who wanted Liam dead the most. Liam didn’t know whether she would truly turn her back on her father, because that path would demand the same sacrifice his mother once made—abandoning her royalty and everything attached to it. Liam doubted Sheila would ever make that choice. There was no romantic bond between them like his mother once had, no reason for Sheila to abandon her crown for him.

Which meant she would either follow her father’s wishes half-heartedly or obey him completely. Either way, he would have to keep an eye on her.

As for Asher and Dylan, they weren’t from the Tempest Kingdom either—Asher being a noble from Solara and Dylan just an average citizen of the Crescent Kingdom. They could also theoretically be used against him, but something inside Liam resisted that idea. He couldn’t explain the reason, but some instinct told him those two wouldn’t be the ones sent to kill him. Even so, that wasn’t enough to make him let his guard down.

After living through the memories of his parents and even Aesmirius, he had learned something important—people were like a river. You could stand in the same place, but the water passing you would never be the same.

Even when you believed you understood someone, they were always shifting, always reshaping themselves into something new while you weren’t looking.

"Well, as of right now, all that I can really do is wait for the inevitable to come crashing down, and pretend my overthinking won’t somehow claw its way into reality," Liam muttered at last, the words falling out flat and unconvincing even to his own ears. He didn’t bother trying to believe them. There was no point.

He finished drying his hair with the towel, draping it loosely around his neck before letting his gaze drift back to the mirror. His eye twitched the moment he took in the sight staring back at him. The mess of overgrown strands hung over his face again, clinging, falling, and sliding into his line of vision no matter how many times he tried brushing them aside. It was getting under his skin more than any demon he’d fought.

Dragging a hand through the unruly length, he slicked it back with a rough, irritated motion. "How the hell do women put up with this nuisance? And how did my old man even manage to keep his for that long?" he grumbled, recalling the way his father’s hair had once flowed past his shoulders—longer than Liam’s current mop, but somehow dignified instead of infuriating.

He turned to leave the bathroom with slow, heavy steps, wearing nothing but a simple dark pair of pants he had grabbed beforehand. The towel hung lazily around his neck as he headed for the door, still annoyed, still brushing stray strands from his face. "Tch. This isn’t for me," he muttered under his breath, already imagining himself ripping the hair out by the fistful. "I should probably ask the queen to get me a damn barber."