Chapter 2
The glare in Siegmund’s eyes was sharp enough to cut as he pointed his sword straight at Baron Preang — as though he might strike him down at any moment.
Arnulf frowned. Siegmund was usually calm and quiet, but when it came to anyone who provoked him — especially someone who dared to be rude to Arnulf, his lord — he was merciless.
Perhaps Siegmund’s grip had tightened; a thin line of blood trickled down from Baron Preang’s neck.
“Eek!”
Baron Preang’s face turned pale as he cast a pleading look toward Arnulf for help.
It was pitiful. Only moments ago, he had strutted about, arrogant and overbearing, yet now he was begging for his life.
Still, Arnulf had no desire to witness blood being spilled in the middle of a crowded banquet.
“Siegmund!”
Arnulf’s sharp voice called him to stop. Siegmund’s eyes flickered with displeasure but, reluctantly, he withdrew his sword.
“Get lost.”
Arnulf’s cold command sent Baron Preang stumbling backward, before he turned and fled in a panic.
As the sound of disapproving clicks of the tongue rippled through the crowd, Arnulf shook his head.
He knew perfectly well who that unwelcome guest was.
Baron Preang was one of those who supported Prince Albrecht. He must have known Arnulf would attend the banquet and had deliberately come to pick a fight.
Why did they insist on provoking someone who wanted to be left alone? Such useless behavior.
To Arnulf, even their suspicion and interest were nothing but a burden.
“I really want to throw all of this away.”
That thought had been haunting him more and more lately. But he shook his head — it was impossible, at least until the matter of succession was settled.
And with the King’s mind flickering in and out of clarity as it was, that seemed farther away than ever.
As Arnulf sighed inwardly and turned his head, a plate suddenly appeared before him. Siegmund — who moments ago had been ready to slit a man’s throat — was now carefully arranging food for him.
The dishes were all suited to the season, with plenty of fruit. Siegmund had even made sure to exclude any containing peaches — which could trigger Arnulf’s allergic reaction.
“Thanks. I’ll eat well.”
Arnulf smiled faintly at Siegmund, who only gave a curt nod in response. Spotting a servant passing by, Arnulf gestured for some wine — planning to share a quiet drink with his loyal knight.
But then—
“What, did I say something wrong? Look at you — begging scraps from your master like some mangy dog! That’s exactly what you are!”
A shrill, taunting voice echoed across the hall.
“You bastard, what did you just say?!”
Another, furious voice answered. It was strangely familiar.
“Ah! You hit me?! You dare strike me?! You wretch! You’ll pay for that!”
Then came the sound of shattering glass, loud curses, and the dull thud of blows.
A fight had clearly broken out.
“Looks like Baron Preang’s started trouble again. He was rude to Prince Arnulf earlier too.”
“Indeed. If he’s drunk, he should’ve gone home quietly.”
“Bah, it’s probably just two idiots who deserve each other.”
From a nearby group of nobles, whispers drifted over to Arnulf’s ears. Hearing his name piqued his attention.
“Shouldn’t someone stop them?”
“Who would dare? That’s the Grand Duke of Pomozeyn’s youngest son. Step in and you’ll only make it worse.”
“True. The last person who tried to break up one of his brawls ended up with the guards being called.”
Arnulf turned toward the commotion. Two men were grappling near one end of the ballroom.
One was Baron Preang. The other — a young man with hair the color of flame.
Arnulf immediately recognized him.
“Josef…”
He murmured, glancing at Siegmund.
“Siegmund. Go take care of that.”
“My lord.”
This time, Siegmund didn’t move right away. His eyes clearly said, Why me?
“Go.”
Arnulf’s tone left no room for refusal.
Of everyone there, only Siegmund could deal with Josef Pomozeyn, notorious for his temper and recklessness.
The three of them had once attended the same academy, and while the relationship between Siegmund and Josef was mostly one-sided, they had been somewhat close.
It was no secret that Josef harbored more than friendly feelings toward Siegmund. Whenever Siegmund returned to the capital, Josef somehow always turned up nearby.
He had probably come to this very gathering just to see him.
Thus, the only person capable of calming him down was Siegmund.
Arnulf gave him another pointed look, silently urging him to go.
“…Understood.”
Reluctantly, Siegmund obeyed and headed toward the brawl.
The sounds of fighting only grew louder — curses, crashes, and the thud of fists striking flesh.
Arnulf watched for a moment, indifferent, then looked around. Most of the guests had rushed over to watch the commotion, leaving his surroundings relatively quiet.
As he turned his head, he noticed a slightly open balcony door — the curtain fluttering gently in the breeze.
“…I could use some air.”
He decided to wait for Siegmund somewhere quiet — he would find him easily enough later. Perhaps Arnulf could even slip away unnoticed once things settled down.
He stepped out onto the balcony.
Night had fallen, and the post-summer air felt pleasantly cool against his skin.
He didn’t know how much time had passed when the door behind him creaked open.
Arnulf turned at the sound — and his eyes widened.
The person who entered was none other than Josef Pomozeyn, his red hair tousled and his expression disheveled.
He didn’t even seem to care about straightening himself up.
With two glasses of wine in hand and a heavy-lidded, drunken gaze, Josef spotted Arnulf — and smiled lazily.
“Well, well… Looks like someone got here first.”
His voice slurred with intoxication, and the faint, strange scent that accompanied him hinted that he had taken something stronger than just alcohol.
“The ever-dignified, noble Prince Arnulf. It’s been a while. Care for a drink with me?”
He staggered closer, his smile loose and unfocused.
Even knowing exactly who Arnulf was, Josef behaved with brazen casualness — clearly too drunk to care.
Normally, he glared daggers at Arnulf whenever they met, fueled by an obvious sense of rivalry — probably because both their hearts revolved around Siegmund.
Even someone as oblivious as Arnulf understood that much.
“…Sure.”
Arnulf accepted the cup Josef offered. The liquid inside shimmered a deep crimson, thick and rich.
He couldn’t tell what kind of drink it was just by looking.
“Cheers.”
Josef lifted his glass and downed it in one go. Arnulf followed suit.
The wine had a harsh, heavy flavor, carrying a cheap, synthetic rose scent — unbefitting of such a refined party.
He was just thinking that when—
“Kh—!”
The moment the wine hit his throat, it constricted painfully. His breath caught; his vision darkened.
Arnulf staggered backward, choking.
The glass slipped from his hand and fell beyond the balcony rail with a faint plop.
He didn’t even notice. Both hands flew to his neck as his body convulsed.
“W-what…?”
Josef’s face twisted in shock. He looked utterly lost, staring at Arnulf’s suffering.
“Wh-what’s wrong?!”
He dropped his own glass and stepped forward — just as Arnulf’s knees buckled.
Arnulf’s thigh hit the balcony railing with a dull thud, and his body tilted backward.
Instinctively, he reached out — and caught Josef’s arm.
“Ah—!”
Josef was yanked forward by the sudden weight.
In the next instant, both men toppled over the railing together.
“AAAHHH!”
Josef’s scream tore through the air as their bodies plummeted toward the darkness below — into a deep, shadowed pond.
Splash!
The sound echoed through the night.
No…
The icy water jolted Arnulf’s fading mind back to awareness.
He struggled toward the surface, but something was dragging him down.
His throat was swollen; breathing was agony.
He tried to shake the other man off, but Josef clung desperately to him, thrashing, panicked, and uncooperative.
They sank deeper. His lungs burned.
He knew he shouldn’t — but instinct took over. Arnulf gasped.
Water flooded his lungs, heavy and cold, wrapping around him like chains.
Darkness swallowed his consciousness whole.
When Arnulf opened his eyes again, he found himself staring dumbly into a mirror.
What… is this…?
He couldn’t believe it.
When he regained consciousness, he wasn’t in his own body anymore.
He was inside the body of Josef Pomozeyn — the very man who had killed him.
