TSFA l Part 2 CH 68

Part 2 Chapter 68

Imperial Capital, Royal Academy.

In Professor Rivan Belzer’s office, only a deep silence lingered.

Rivan, with his guards Kali and Max by his side, had been watching Ryan nervously for over thirty minutes.

Today had been the first retrial hearing of the tragedy sixteen years ago: the Conrad Massacre.

“…What kind of law is this? It’s total bullshit.”

Ryan, sprawled on the sofa with his arm draped over his forehead, muttered in frustration.

“They’re telling me I have to prove I was powerless back then. Hell, if it was about showing power, fine—but how the hell do you prove something you didn’t have…?”

Sixteen years ago, Ryan could not have committed mass slaughter.

Because at the time, he was a non-gifted.

But no one believed just saying that.

“Think about it. It’s obvious I had no gift. Until I was twelve, I was raised by my old man, and then suddenly got dumped on me as his son. Anyone could see why—he tossed me out because I was powerless.”

“A judge does not deliver a verdict on mere circumstances,” Kali replied coldly.

At that, Rivan and Max both glared at her.
(Who didn’t know that already? Way to state the obvious…)

“Then why accept the retrial at all? Wasn’t it because I didn’t seem like the arsonist, so they decided to reopen the case?”

The Bassenberg family’s gifted-ability research data—which Krista had secretly passed to Alexander—had been the decisive factor in reopening the retrial.

Among its findings was the conclusion: “Abilities do not overlap.”
This left room to argue Ryan’s innocence, since another with the fire ability already existed.

“Everyone knows the second son had fire powers. There’s even proof no one else could be the arsonist. What more do I have to do? I thought I just had to show up in court and they’d say: ‘Not guilty, case closed.’”

“Court is not a children’s playground. The retrial only means: ‘We’ll at least listen to you, but you must prove your innocence yourself.’ That is the meaning.”

“I didn’t do it, so why the hell do I have to prove that?”

“Because you once admitted guilt and went to prison.”

“Damn it!”

Ryan hadn’t felt this wronged in a long time. He hadn’t realized the law and its procedures were this demanding.

“What really pisses me off is that I’m not actually powerless. Alexander says once my Instant Death ability becomes widely known, it’ll be even harder to clear my name.”

“Of course. Instant Death is an ability specialized in mass killing.”

“But I swear I couldn’t use it back then! I didn’t even know I had it during the Conrad Massacre!”

“That is why you must prove the unique nature of your ability. Not all gifts manifest before age twelve.”

“……”

“And if you can also fabricate circumstantial evidence that the true culprit approached and attempted to murder the defense attorney to cover up the case, that would be perfect.”

“Hey!”

Ryan shot up, glaring at Kali.

“Do I look like I don’t already know that? Instead of spouting crap, why don’t you just say something comforting, like ‘It must be hard on you, my lord.’”

“…It must be hard on you, my lord.”

“…Phew.”

Ryan dropped his head into his hands, fingers clutching his hair. Across from him, Rivan’s eyes went wide.

“Big bro… are you crying?”

“I’m not.”

The room fell solemn.

They all knew the real reason behind Ryan’s torment.

He was the kind of man who didn’t mind carrying the label of “criminal” forever. He’d already paid his dues. As long as his people knew he was innocent, that was enough.

So the reason Ryan was hurting so much now wasn’t because he felt wronged.

“…Goddammit… Who the hell am I, that he’d go this far for me…”

It was because of Alexander—who had gone off to “die” just to gather evidence.

To present in court the very proof of his official death and resurrection.

Alexander intended to demonstrate his ability right there, before the judges.

***

Right now, Father must be furious.

Ryan had surely revealed the truth in court: that sixteen years ago, he’d gone to prison under his biological father’s orders.

A son who should have lived quietly like a dead mouse had bared his claws.

Father would be angry—and also baffled about what gave us the nerve to defy him.

He must have countless questions swirling in his mind:

• A son he had discarded, now bold enough to file a retrial.

• A daughter who suddenly secured a political marriage with the Imperial family.

No doubt his head was spinning with question marks.

Which is why Alexander had become a target.

Father would both seek answers—and issue a “warning” after this reckless retrial.

“Bania, are you alright?”

The Prince, eating silently with me, asked with concern.

Ah, right. I was in Belzer at the moment.

It was the day we had escorted Märchen back to Belzer after finishing our duties.

And I had learned that Alexander had already departed for the capital to carry out his plan.

Since I’d have to return to Belzer soon anyway, I chose to remain here with Märchen.

“…Your expression doesn’t look good.”

“How could it?”

Because today, my brother was going to die.

When his corpse returned, I would be the one to hold his funeral here.

***

Central Continent, Bünster.

A fief along the middle reaches of the River Rond, cutting across the heart of the land.

With its natural beauty on the outskirts of the capital, many nobles owned villas there.

Nike stood in the city center of Bünster, gazing quietly at the villa estates scattered across the hillsides.

Among them, a large white mansion.

That one belonged to the Bassenberg family.

And it was where Alexander was right now.

“Your Highness!”

A familiar face came running—Zeff, Alexander’s close guard.

“Have everyone hold position.”

Nike gestured to the ten imperial knights standing behind him to stay back, then walked toward Zeff.

Zeff’s eyes widened.

Nike was wearing a red uniform.

All around, townsfolk cast nervous, fearful glances as they passed.

“Y-Your Highness, this… is excessive.” Zeff whispered anxiously.

The Imperial Knights wore different uniforms depending on duty.

The red uniform was only for incidents deemed grave enough for the Empire to dispatch knights as direct investigators.

“…Are you sure this is alright?”

Zeff asked nervously. This was basically abuse of power.

No crime had been reported, nothing official had happened—yet Nike was using his knights like a city guard.

“The more people who witness what’s about to happen today, the better. And if we want the corpse retrieved first and the autopsy finished quickly, mobilizing knights this way is the most efficient.”

Nike explained in a low voice.

“…Ahem. I understand, but still…”

“More importantly—who came?”

“No one yet. Young master is waiting inside.”

They didn’t know which Bassenberg gifted would come to meet Alexander today.

“But our young master’s predictions have never been wrong. Whoever he said would come—will come.”

Just then—

Kugugung—

The ground trembled.

A mild quake.

Citizens panicked, stumbling about in confusion.

“See?” Zeff shrugged, as if to say: told you so.

***

Kugugung.

The faint vibration rippled across the land.

In the front garden of the villa, tapping idly on the railings as he reviewed his death-trap plan, Alexander smirked.

A sudden little tremor.

No doubt a carefully crafted trick—prelude to a landslide.

‘As expected. They aren’t so stupid after all.’

Bassenberg had openly used Krista’s name to summon him. That meant they intended this meeting to leave evidence behind.

And indeed, even the Third Prince—his sister’s husband—was here in Bünster, worried about the encounter.

So they wouldn’t dare assassinate him outright.

Instead, they’d secretly intimidate or torture him, pry out what they wanted, then use their abilities to disguise it all as an “accident.”

His death would be Bassenberg’s “warning.”

A message only Ryan—the fellow gifted—would truly understand.

When Alexander had heard of the landslide in the east targeting Ratan, he’d guessed who would be sent after him this time.

‘But really… this is rotten.’

How many people lived in this land? And they’d collapse a mountain just to bury him without evidence?

‘Demons. Absolute demons.’

Grinding his teeth at the rising disgust, Alexander forced his face calm as he turned toward the presence behind him.

A head of bright crimson hair, eyes like blood, a golden earring glittering on his ear.

The sixth son of House Bassenberg—

Mario Bassenberg.