Chapter 53
Late at night — an abandoned mansion deep in the forest on the outskirts of the Imperial Capital.
Cedric, dressed in a black robe, was pacing the dimly lit interior with his back to the door.
Then came the sound of carriage wheels approaching from outside.
Moments later, the mansion door opened, and a man wearing a white mask stepped inside to deliver his report.
“The sacrifice has arrived.”
“Understood. I’ll be out shortly.”
The masked man bowed and exited first.
Cedric turned toward the large mirror standing before him and slowly put on his own white mask.
The cracked mirror reflected his masked face—and the vivid red eyes gleaming through it.
As his gaze met his reflection, words he’d once heard from Astaire and Count Gail surfaced in his mind.
“That day, there was someone impersonating Your Highness. Red eyes, they said—so convincing that no one suspected otherwise.”
Ever since hearing that story, Cedric couldn’t shake off something his father had once said to him.
“A useless wretch. I should have saved your brother instead of you.”
Cedric had a twin brother—one he had been told died the moment he was born.
At least, that’s what he had believed—until the age of twelve, when his father spat those words at him.
His father, the Emperor, had once longed desperately for what he could never have—the red eyes of a Grand Mage.
He had prayed that his successor would be born with those eyes—powerful enough to wield magic that would erase the Emperor’s own sense of inadequacy.
He wanted a perfect heir. Flawless. Strong. The embodiment of everything he could never be.
But the children who were born of that wish were not what he expected.
One had ashen-gray eyes like his own. The other had violet eyes, like the Empress.
Even worse—each child had been born with only half the magical power that should have belonged to one.
And so, the Emperor made his choice.
To create a strong heir, he decided to sacrifice the weaker one—to extract mana from the child with less, and transfer it to the other.
That was the day Cedric learned that he had been the “chosen heir.”
And that the boy he’d once met by chance in the Imperial laboratory—one who looked so uncannily like him—had actually been his older twin brother.
He finally understood, too, why his mother, half-mad since his childhood, had always wept whenever she looked at him.
When Cedric discovered that his power wasn’t wholly his own—that it had been taken from his brother—he was haunted by nightmares for years.
Nightmares where his brother returned to life.
Where his father abandoned him for his brother instead.
Where he was the one cast aside.
“The First Prince passed away two years ago, the very day the mana transfer was completed.”
When Cedric heard that news, the first emotion that rose in him wasn’t rage toward his father.
Nor pity for his dead brother.
It was relief.
From that day on, the nightmares ceased.
He’s dead. He’s long gone.
His brother was dead, his father bedridden with illness—
and there was no one left who could take his place or strip him of his throne.
So why now—why did a mere impostor pretending to be him dredge up all those buried memories?
Pointless thoughts.
Cedric dismissed his emotions, straightened his robe, and turned to leave the mansion.
Outside, among the men in white masks, one stood out—a nobleman wearing a more elaborate mask.
The man hurriedly bowed before Cedric, flustered.
“M-My apologies for the delay, Your Highness! One of the sacrifices tried to escape, and it caused quite the commotion… It was my negligence.”
“No matter. They arrived safely. Let’s move.”
Cedric, the nobleman, and their masked escort made their way to a clearing behind the mansion.
There, a massive black magic circle had been drawn on the ground—its core pulsing around a hovering shard of dimensional crystal.
Cedric’s crimson eyes gleamed coldly as he surveyed it.
Now that the blame for everything has been pinned on the Tower Lord, this is the perfect time to open the rift.
If he succeeded in restoring the Demon King’s power, then framed Rasiel for it, he could “heroically” execute the culprit responsible for endangering the Empire—and be hailed as its savior.
The masked men began placing the bound sacrifices at fixed points around the circle.
The black mages surrounding the ritual began chanting, activating the circle.
Black energy surged from the symbols, wrapping around the victims.
Gagged and trembling, they writhed in agony, screaming voicelessly as the corruption consumed them.
Cedric watched silently as the transparent shard grew darker—black veins spreading through it.
Then, one of the nobles, his ornate mask trembling, spoke in concern.
“Your Highness, when the rift opens, demonic beasts may emerge at once—it will be dangerous to stand so close…”
Cedric smirked.
“You’re worried for me? For one born of a great mage’s bloodline?”
The noble immediately bowed his head.
“F-Forgive me.”
“Step back, Count. It could be dangerous.”
Cedric strode forward instead, positioning himself closer to the rift.
He steadied his breath, focusing his mana—readying a spell.
Normally, he would never personally attend such a ritual.
But tonight, he had come to hunt a demon.
This unease… it’s because I’m not yet strong enough.
Overpowering and subduing a monster with his own strength—that was how he always reassured himself since childhood.
And once the Demon King’s power is restored… that power will be mine…
He was thinking that very thought when—
BOOM!
“What—!”
A massive magic sphere came flying, detonating among the black mages.
That was only the beginning.
Before they could even react, a barrage of giant magic blasts rained down on the clearing.
The black magic circle shattered, breaking the restraints and freeing the unconscious sacrifices.
Another volley struck the ground—explosions, screams, chaos.
Cedric conjured a defensive barrier just in time, but the shockwaves sent him staggering.
“Kuh… What the hell—!”
The bombardment stopped.
Through the billowing dust, a silhouette appeared.
As the haze cleared, Cedric’s eyes widened.
A man stood there—wearing a white mask identical to his own.
And behind that mask shone silver hair.
“Seize him!”
At Cedric’s command, his masked knights and the nobles’ elite guards charged.
But the silver-haired man did not flinch.
He moved swiftly, casting spells in rapid succession, striking down his attackers one by one.
Cedric fired a counterattack the moment he saw an opening—but the man effortlessly deflected it with blinding speed.
Even Cedric’s knights, trained for close combat, faltered.
That speed… impossible!
Not one of them could land a hit—not even graze him.
Could it be…
Cedric’s pupils narrowed. Only one man in the Empire—no, on the entire continent—fought with such power and precision.
Rasiel Celeste.
His jaw tightened.
Three years ago, when Luel’s party had returned after slaying the Demon King, his father had berated him for not joining the battle—
and had compared him unfavorably to Rasiel.
He would not back down here.
He refused to lose again—to that man.
“Fall back!” Cedric roared. “I’ll face him myself!”
The knights hesitated but obeyed.
Rasiel advanced calmly until he stood within speaking distance.
“You know,” his low, composed voice rang through the smoky clearing,
“I’ve never shown my face to anyone beneath this mask. You must’ve guessed it was me.”
He tilted his head slightly.
“Or did you just pick a convenient scapegoat—and happen to get lucky?”
The truth was, Cedric had never known it was Rasiel impersonating him.
He’d chosen to blame him out of personal resentment and jealousy—and because Rasiel’s reputation made him an easy target.
After all, who would doubt that the infamous Tower Lord—rumored to have murdered his own mentor and delved into forbidden dark magic—was guilty of such a crime?
Cedric sneered.
“Maybe you should’ve tried being nicer to people, Sir Celeste.”
But then—his words caught in his throat.
Through the identical white mask, he saw them—those unmistakable red eyes.
Identical to his own.
For a heartbeat, his chest went cold.
Stay calm. They’re fake. Some artifact altering his eye color.
He steadied his voice.
“I’ve heard that kind of magic tool risks blindness. Why go that far just to impersonate me?”
Rasiel chuckled softly—a sound colder than the night air.
“Do these look fake to you?”
