TSFA l CH 95

Chapter 95

I quickly turned to look at Ryan.

“What is it, Dad?”

“No idea?!”

Ryan’s eyes were wide in surprise as he looked back at me.
It was clear he had no idea why a royal carriage would suddenly show up.

Which meant only one thing—
‘I need to go outside and see for myself!’

I dashed out of the room.

“Hey! There’s an order to these things—where do you think you’re running, little rabbit?”

“Ow?!”

The rude lion shoved me aside and ran ahead. I chased after him, refusing to lose.

When we got outside, there it was—
a luxurious four-horse carriage pulled by four muscular black horses, gleaming with the imperial crest.

And behind it… rows of shiny black warhorses lined up in perfect formation.

‘What is going on?!’

As I approached nervously, the carriage door opened. With the help of imperial knights, a man stepped out.

He wore fine silk clothes, had a neat gray mustache, white half-stockings, and a stern expression.

‘That’s… an imperial messenger.’

I recognized him the moment I saw him. And in his hand—

A bright red, ornate scroll.

‘No way… is that what I think it is?!’

***

Cut to the imperial palace.

Crown Prince Vane sat alone in his office, deep in thought, a chessboard in front of him.

“Nike told me… ‘The Conrad massacre was not Ryan’s doing.’”

Ryan Bassenberg—the man labeled as the mastermind of the Conrad Massacre.

Vane had considered before that Ryan might simply have been a scapegoat, thrown away by the Duke of Bassenberg.
The perfect “useless piece” to dump the family’s crimes on.

But superhuman abilities were dangerous—
even a “useless” piece might have the power to commit a massacre. And if Ryan had killed under the Duke’s orders, guilt was still guilt. Vane had never cared to know the excuses of a filthy Bassenberg.

‘…Until now.’

Vane placed a pawn at the edge of the chessboard.

‘Nike says he wasn’t even in Conrad that day?’

The claim came entirely from Ryan’s mouth—so naturally Vane didn’t trust Ryan.
But he trusted Nike.

“What exactly do you want from me, Nike?”

“I only want Your Highness to know that Ryan is innocent,” Nike said.

“That’s all?”

“Yes. That’s all I can say. Will you believe me?”

Nike clearly knew more, but didn’t share it. Still, thinking of his honest younger brother, Vane smiled.

“…Even if you lied, I would believe it was the truth.”

Nike wasn’t foolish—he must have had solid reasons for believing Ryan’s innocence. So Vane believed him too.

And then he guessed Ryan’s real motive—
Ryan had volunteered for dangerous hunts, fought well, saved a royal life, and now asked for only one thing: “Let the Crown Prince know I’m innocent.”

It was obvious—Ryan wanted a noble title.

Vane tapped the pawn on the chessboard.

There had never been a case where the Empire gave a title to a criminal, no matter how great his achievements.
But if the Crown Prince broke that tradition… everyone would be shocked.

A noble title for a “mass murderer”?
It would stir outrage, yes—but more importantly, it would spark questions.

‘Thirteen years ago… What really happened in the Conrad Massacre?’

If Ryan were truly guilty, why would the Crown Prince reward him? The incident would inevitably resurface.
It would be a perfect way to provoke the Duke of Bassenberg.

“Interesting,” Vane murmured.

The Empire was too weak to face Bassenberg head-on, but if they never resisted, the Crown would always look powerless. Vane’s constant small acts of defiance were his way of hoping that one day, they would form the blade that could strike Bassenberg down.

This would be one of those acts.

“Ryan Bassenberg.”

Vane began moving the pawn forward—one square, then another—until it reached the far end of the board.

A pawn could become anything.

Vane replaced it with a knight, placing it right in front of the king piece—the true ruler of the Empire, Edgar Bassenberg.

‘Let’s see if your reign lasts forever.’

With a smirk, Vane knocked the king off the board.

The prince rose sharply from his chair and strode out of the office.

***

Back home, I was talking to Ryan.

“So all you asked was for Prince Vane to clear your name? That’s it? How is that an unreasonable request?”

“Hey, you can’t eat everything in one bite. You’ll get a stomachache. Take it slow,” Ryan said.

Honestly, that request wasn’t much at all. Nike would’ve told his brother about Ryan’s situation without being asked—he was just that kind of person.

“I thought you asked to meet the Crown Prince yourself. Now that would have been a big ask.”

“Easy for you to say! You’ve been all chummy with the Third Prince before, but I only ever talked to him during the hunt!” Ryan huffed, clearly annoyed that I was criticizing him for accomplishing nothing.

“And you made sure to tell him you’re powerless, right? Otherwise, just saying you didn’t do it wouldn’t convince him.”

“Uh… no? I didn’t say that. But if I tell him I’m not guilty, isn’t it obvious I’d also mention that?”

“…Nope. Not obvious at all!”

So he really had achieved nothing.

“The Third Prince promised to keep that a secret!” Ryan protested.

“Yeah, but that means not telling the wrong people—not that he wouldn’t tell the Crown Prince.”

“No! If he promised, he’ll never tell—no matter what. Even under torture!”

“Wow. That’s… not very flexible.”

“Not flexible? It’s called being honest!”

Nike was that kind of man—if he promised to keep a secret, he would, even if it meant losing a chance to clear Ryan’s name.

Which meant Vane would hear only, “The Conrad massacre wasn’t Ryan’s doing,” with no proof.

I knew my boyfriend well enough to picture the scene exactly.

“Wow! You really achieved nothing, you foolish lion!”

“I’m not the fool—your boyfriend is!”

Vane was clever and hated the Bassenbergs with a passion.
Would he believe Ryan was innocent just because Nike said so, without any proof?

No way. Zero percent chance.

‘…Or so I thought.’

I stared in shock at the scene before me.

Ryan, kneeling on one knee.
In front of him, the imperial messenger, unrolling the scroll.

“In recognition of his distinguished service on the front lines, his contributions to the peace of the Empire, and for saving the life of a royal of Valencia, it is my great honor to reward his achievements…”

Was Vane a fool?

“…with 100 gold bars, 50 bolts of silk, 20 fine horses, and the noble title of Baron, one of the highest honors for knights.”

Maybe he was a fool.

“From this moment forward, Sir Ryan Belzer of Valencia shall live as a noble of the Empire, caring for its people and setting an example for all. This decree bears the seal of Crown Prince Vane Valencia.”

I couldn’t believe it.

My plan had been:
Meet the Crown Prince → Ryan proves his innocence → Continue earning merit in battle → Receive a title.

But all the middle steps had just been skipped. We’d jumped straight to “receive a title.”

‘Wow. I really don’t get the Crown Prince.’

Still, the messenger rolled up the scroll and handed it to Ryan, who accepted it in a daze.

“…Thank you.”

Our peaceful lunchtime had turned into a surreal scene where Ryan was suddenly made a noble in our front yard.

The messenger left as quickly as he came, but the proof that this was real remained—20 horses lined up on the path, 50 bolts of silk stacked like a mountain, and 100 gleaming gold bars.

Ryan slowly turned to look at the family, all of us still frozen in shock.

‘…That smug face.’

His chin lifted, eyes half-lidded in arrogance—ready to look down on everyone except me.

Exactly as expected—one title and he was already acting high and mighty.

“Hear me, my household!”

I almost burst out laughing.

Ryan closed his eyes, spread his arms wide, and, with as much dignity as he could muster, declared:

“From this day forth… you shall all address me as the Great Baron!!!”