Shilo and Leona were both using wooden swords, so their clashes made no crisp ringing sound.

But that was actually better—less chance of anyone noticing two kids “dueling.”

Rhode could watch to his heart’s content.

“Hah… hah…!” Leona panted heavily, shooting Shilo a defiant glare.

“Want to keep going?” Shilo asked. His breathing was slightly ragged, but far steadier than Leona’s.

Puffing out her cheeks, Leona shouted, “Of course we continue!!!!”

Their sword skills were nearly matched, but her stamina was a full tier behind.

If not for that, she wouldn’t have ended up so disheveled.

*It’s not fair!*

“Hyah!!!” Leona mustered her last ounce of strength and swung toward Shilo’s opening.

“Too slow,” Shilo said. With a quicker motion, his sword tapped her arm.

“Hmph…” Leona let out a muffled groan. Her wooden sword slipped free and flew—

*Thwack!* It smacked Rhode right on the head.

“Huh?!” Startled, he lost balance and tumbled straight down from the tree.

Rubbing his head, he finally stood—only to find Leona already gone.

“Huh? Is that it?”

“Looks like it,” Shilo nodded.

Watching her retreating figure, Rhode crossed his arms with a sigh. “I’d call that fleeing in disgrace, wouldn’t you?”

“Oh, by the way, Rhode,” Shilo said with a triumphant grin. “I won.”

“Impressive. No wonder you’re my twin brother,” Rhode replied, tilting his chin up with sudden pride.

“Who cares about Leona or the Carascos? *We’re* the strong ones!” He boldly lumped himself with Shilo.

*Right—if my little brother’s strong, I’m strong too.*

After all, a little brother like that was practically protagonist material. Sticking close? Brilliant.

*Yes. Stick close.*

“WE’RE THE STRONGEST!” the brothers declared in unison.

The usually composed Shilo was instantly swept along.

Meanwhile, Leona had fled early to avoid being seen as the loser—fleeing in defeat while quietly deluding herself.

As she ran, tears welled up. “Wah… wah…! Why did I lose?!”

Feeling utterly wronged, she plopped onto the ground and sobbed.

*She’d never lost to someone her age before.*

*Maybe… someone will come comfort me?*

But no one came. The twins hadn’t chased her. Forgotten completely.

“At least show *some* concern!!!” she muttered resentfully, wiping tears.

*Those awful twins… the rumored prodigy, so cold.*

“Your Highness… we’ve finally found you!” A flustered maid scooped up the tearful girl.

“What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” Seeing Leona’s red-rimmed eyes, the maid panicked.

*If they find out I lost the princess and she cried…*

“It’s not your fault,” Leona said, wriggling free. She sniffled, composed herself—but her reddened eyes gave her away.

Pushing the incident aside, she frowned. “What exactly is Father discussing with Lord Doraf?”

*Why at Doraf’s house? Shouldn’t the palace be safer?*

She stomped her little foot. Today had been utterly frustrating.

---

“Hilo Carasco—that’s our target,” a shadowy figure murmured from a distant clock tower.

“Mm…” his companion replied softly. “No wonder he’s called a prodigy. Only ten?”

“Which is why someone doesn’t want him growing up.”

“Bold. He’s a succession candidate—aren’t they afraid of being traced?”

“*Because* they’re afraid. That’s why they hired us. Understand?” The figure spoke slowly.

Their goal was clear: kill Hilo Carasco.

But not now. It had to be a “silent assassination.” Striking openly would be outright murder.

Their secluded spot? Impossible to overhear.

*Or so they thought.*

Unseen, another figure listened.

“Huh. So everyone’s obsessed with that kid Shilo?” A man sat cross-legged on a rooftop, chin in palm.

He caught every whispered word—the assassins noticed nothing.

“Typical. Big shots love playing the ‘mantis stalks the cicada, sparrow waits behind’ game,” he sighed.

“Personally? I prefer the twin brother. Wait—what’s Hilo Carasco’s brother’s name again?”

The empire knew Doraf’s ten-year-old prodigy… but ignored his older brother.

*This Rhode? Far more interesting.*

Lively. Unpredictable. Entertaining.

Prodigies? He’d seen too many.

“I really hope that kid doesn’t end up dead,” he murmured—then vanished like a ghost.

Only a crushed cigarette butt remained.