Rhode opened his eyes and gazed at the lamp before him.

He lay on a wooden plank bed, his wounds carefully tended—no bandages used, so movement felt only slightly stiff.

Spotting crows darting about the room, Rhode instantly knew where he was.

"Master Hagart," he called softly.

The old man had never left his side.

"Hmm, awake at last?" Hagart asked, legs crossed as he sat beside the bed, monocle perched on his nose while reading a book resting on his knee.

"Thank you." Even Rhode, in his dazed state, knew Hagart had pulled him from the sewers.

"No need. You're my student, after all," Hagart replied with a casual shake of his head.

He’d found Rhode unconscious deep in the sewers—minutes ahead of the guards closing in.

"Did you find your mother?"

"I did… but she refused to come with me."

"I see. Normal. She fears for your safety," the old man sighed deeply.

To Rhode, this was a world-shattering blow. To Hagart? Just another tragedy witnessed across decades. Countless souls ensnared in conspiracies, families torn apart. Rhode was merely one—unremarkable. Even royalty crumbled before such schemes. When humans turned on each other, darkness swallowed every flicker of light.

"Master… is my diary still here?"

"On the table, with your coat," Hagart said, nodding toward it.

"You didn’t fire a single shot," Hagart added suddenly.

"Mm…"

"It means you weren’t pushed to kill. Lucky." Hagart gave a slight nod and fell silent.

He didn’t stop Rhode as the boy struggled upright.

Not firing also meant Rhode still refused to take a life. To stay calm enough not to kill when cornered… a truly gentle heart.

Unaware of Hagart’s thoughts, Rhode quietly opened the diary.

Though soaked briefly in sewage, the thick paper held up well—the ink remained clear.

His mother had left a note explaining what she knew.

Sadly, arrested mysteriously at home, she’d seen none of the full picture.

All Rhode had were fragments:

Doraf was framed for colluding with the empire of Itruria and leaking vital intelligence. Witnesses included respected clergy of the Church of Lightsen Gate—even a Cardinal Bishop had testified. A figure like that? Every word carried weight. That’s why Shilo and the others were seized.

And the one who led the arrest? None other than the Crown Prince—the very man who’d invited them.

Rhode believed his father incapable of treason. Doraf had never been warm to him, yet remained an upright country gentleman. As for Shilo? Utterly innocent.

*Crown Prince…* For Rhode, trapped in this whirlpool, the Crown Prince was the obvious mastermind. Whether it was truly that simple? He couldn’t say.

"Worried about your father and brother?" Hagart asked, as if reading his mind.

"After I rescue Mother, I’ll go to the Imperial Capital for them," Rhode said.

Slim hope didn’t mean no hope.

Hagart studied him—a long, quiet look. Nothing about this boy surprised him.

"I know a few things. I’ll share what I can," Hagart said. Even "retired," his ears still reached far. Perhaps farther than those directly involved.

"This was a conspiracy between the Church of Lightsen Gate and the Crown Prince to frame your family."

"But no evidence remains to prove your innocence," he added somberly.

No speculation. Just truth, laid bare.

Rhode fell into heavy silence.

"Everyone captured from your family will be sentenced to death," Hagart continued, voice cold.

"Yet the Emperor will likely delay execution—your brother is a highly regarded candidate. For a month or two, they’re safe."

Hagart closed his book, watching Rhode’s back.

"Unless more 'evidence' surfaces linking your family to Itruria… then even the Emperor cannot defy public opinion to save you. He reigns *because* the people bear him up. Sentiment matters."

"A month or two…" Rhode murmured, fists tightening. *Time remains.*

"Mother will be transported to the Imperial Capital in days. I can rescue her then."

"May I leave her here with you afterward?"

Hagart caught the fragile hope in the boy’s eyes and shrugged helplessly.

"If you bring her back, she may stay," he grumbled.

He’d meant to stay clear—his instincts screamed this plot ran deep. Framing Rhode’s family was likely just the tip of the iceberg. To dive deeper meant sinking, swallowed by shadows.

But… abandoning this child? Impossible.

*The older you get… the softer the heart.* A flaw. A fatal one—for an assassin.