Regas Vol 1. Chapter 22

“Where could it be?”

Were the records of the senior students who ca first still hidden sowhere in this library?

lmond hadn’t been ho in days, spending night after night among the stacks. Abel, who had just been reported on, looked as if he were rely asleep and breathing—but his complexion was pale, like a corpse.

Rumor had it the record keeper followed him like a shadow, but lately he hadn’t been by Abel’s bedside. Even Ashler had occasionally checked in, only to find Serene—the maid who had been banished to the kitchen—caring for him through the night.

Security in the palace had grown so strict that lmond was lucky if he could catch even a glimpse of Abel once a day.

It felt as if they had thrown Abel aside like trash. Used him when needed, then discarded him once the prince’s condition improved.

lmond had known Abel would always be a thorn in the King’s heart—but to see him pushed this far? Abel, sick? Nonsense. That man was too strong to fall ill.

And yet, seeing Abel lying there like a corpse had shattered everything. The only thought left was: why? A heavy, black fog seed to be closing in around him. Whatever answer there was—it had to be in this library.

lmond moved slowly through the dark shelves, lantern in hand. If he found nothing, Abel would die—just like that. Obsession gripped him. He combed over rows of shelves he’d passed dozens, maybe hundreds of tis before. Yes—maybe sothing would erge if he really looked, just like Abel had said. What he had dismissed before might hold a clue.

Then—suddenly.

lmond froze and stared at a single spot. On the spines of every book, there were two sets of numbers: freshly written ones above old, faded ones. The new numbers had been assigned during recent reclassification. The numbers below were the original classification codes.

Until now, he had only paid attention to the new ones. But now, two books caught his eye: one looked new, the other old and worn.

Strangely, the new book had the old classification number written on it—while the old book had none at all. lmond brought his lantern closer and examined it carefully. He had always assud such books had simply lost their labels, but this ti he noticed sothing.

There had never been a number on this book to begin with.

Could there be sothing special about that?

lmond’s heart pounded, but he tried to suppress the excitent. He pulled out the book with the visible number and inspected it:

115-17-4

115? Could it be a page number? Then the 17th line on page 115, 4th word...

[I found it.]

lmond held his breath. Maybe it was reckless, maybe even delusional—but his racing heart didn’t care. He quickly began checking the nearby books and soon noticed a pattern.

The second number never exceeded 30. The last never went over 10. The format suggested that the second number marked the line, and the third the word in that line. He rembered the warning he’d once received upon arriving here:

“Never change the position of the book.”

He placed the lantern on the floor and began digging through the previously numbered books, examining their pages.

[I am]

[I]

I found it.

A chill crept down lmond’s spine. Slowly, he lifted his gaze to the shelves towering above him.

This whole place was a single docunt.

****

“Lord Abel will be disappointed.”

“Lord Abel is fighting illness every day to recover. If the prince does nothing, how can he find the strength?”

Lord Abel, Lord Abel.

The prince’s magical horse had lost its strength after three days. Though even without Abel, the prince still struck fear into the hearts of others, they had grown complacent. He had followed their orders without resistance. Just days ago, his hands had been stained with blood.

On the fourth day of °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° Abel’s absence, the prince revealed his yellow eyes for the first ti.

The child who always kept his head slightly bowed, face hidden beneath black hair, slowly looked up and brushed it back.

“Oh...”

The administrator inhaled sharply and stepped back. The record keeper turned his eyes away. For the first ti, they truly saw the prince’s face—resembling the beautiful queen.

But all they could focus on were the eyes.

The idea that they were rely the eyes of a snake vanished instantly. The terror they evoked was real and overwhelming. It was not just the color—it was the cruelty reflected in his gaze. An eerie, inhuman blankness, punctuated only by those golden eyes, like a beast’s.

He had shown no abilities. And yet, it was clear—he had inherited the power of the dragon.

Everyone who had tried to approach him by using Abel as an excuse retreated after eting those eyes. The prince watched them back away—then rose from his seat.

As he took a step forward, the people parted.

By the ti he stepped into the corridor, only one figure remained: Marquis Norhox, who had co after hearing the prince had not moved all morning. He saw the prince’s eyes, furrowed his brow, then knelt.

“Please forgive for blocking your way, Your Highness. I ca after hearing concerns from those worried for you. If there’s anything you wish, please tell —I will see it done.”

Though his words were polite, a smirk tugged at the marquis’s lips as he bowed his head.

The prince did not notice the expression. He only whispered:

“...Abel.”

“Ah, Abel. You wish to go to your Regas, Your Highness?”

Norhox looked up carefully, avoiding the prince’s eyes, and glanced at the others around them. A sigh escaped his lips.

“What are you doing? None of you knows what the prince wants? Hurry—go check the condition of the prince’s Regas and tell him the prince is coming. Move!”

The people around them scrambled into motion.

“Now, Your Highness—let us go see Abel, just as you wish. Haha, from now on, simply tell us what you want.”

He laughed as he cleared the path.

But the prince did not move.

The silence lingered. Norhox eventually stopped laughing. Then, as if waiting for that mont, the prince slowly looked up.

Their eyes t. The marquis flinched—but forced a smile.

“Do you have sothing to say?”

“To the forest... I will go.”

The prince’s pronunciation was slightly unclear, yet those who heard him felt an indescribable pressure. It was as if the very air had vanished, making it hard to breathe. However, the reason the smile disappeared from Marquis Norhox’s face lay elsewhere.

“Are you referring to the Dragon Forest? But... didn’t you say you wanted to see Abel?”

At the question, which revealed his confusion, the prince looked up with his yellow eyes and briefly glanced ahead before continuing forward. Marquis Norhox quickly stepped in to block his path.

“No, Your Highness. You cannot go there. Entering the forest alone—”

“What you want.”

“...”

“Just say the word.”

“...”

“It will be done.”

The prince spoke slowly, carefully forming each word. It was the longest sentence he had ever uttered in front of others—but no one found it fascinating. They were simply the prince’s words. Norhox, staring down at him, couldn’t fully hide the tension twisting his expression.

The prince stepped forward again, leaving him behind. This ti, no one stopped him.

When the prince arrived at the fog-covered forest on his own, Norhox snapped out of his daze and hurried to stop him once more.

“Your Highness, you must not go in alone. Hold soone else’s hand—”

He stopped and quickly scanned the people around him. Everyone was startled, turning away from the prince’s gaze. Only one person t his eyes.

“You. Step forward.”

The one he pointed to was Ashler. He bowed halfway, as if understanding his role, but a faint smile curled at his lips.

The reason beca clear in the next mont.

A murmur of alarm spread among the crowd. Norhox turned his head toward the source of the commotion—but he was already too late.

The prince had leapt into the mist. And in an instant, his figure vanished into the fog.

Norhox finally realized how foolish he had been. Only one person could now bring back the prince who had disappeared into the forest. Grinding his teeth, Norhox scanned the crowd for the record keeper.

“Bring Abel. Wake him up properly—make sure he can walk.”

After three days of consciousness, Abel lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. If his master saw him now, he would scold him for brooding again. But Abel couldn’t help it. Right now, thinking was all he could do.

Even the ever-optimistic Abel couldn’t brush this aside with a “whatever.” This ti, he needed an answer. If this was reality—he had to accept it, like he’d told the prince, and find a solution within it.

What can I do? His mind was tangled in knots.

“Damn it.”

But no answer ca. Only a frustrated whisper escaped his lips. He wanted to run a hand through his hair, but lacked the strength. All he could do was blink.

Is the prince all right? Just as that thought ca to him, as if in response, the door swung open.

“Please wake up, Lord Regas.”

A familiar cold voice. The record keeper’s stern face ca into view.

“This... Ahem. If you eat this, you’ll feel a little better.”

In his hand was a bowl of steaming soup. Oddly enough, this soup always did make Abel feel better. It was like a detoxifier.

Norhox, growing impatient, sent multiple ssengers before Abel finally reached the forest’s edge. His pale face and unsteady legs made his steps falter, but he ran, gasping for breath.

Seeing him, Norhox frowned and scanned the crowd. He couldn’t send Abel into the forest alone. As he considered who to accompany him, his eyes locked with a knight from earlier.

“You.”

Ashler was chosen again. He stepped forward, expressionless, and stood beside Abel, who was still panting heavily.

“Take the Regas inside and bring the prince back.”

Norhox didn’t even glance at Abel as he barked the command at Ashler.

“Do not delay—not even a mont. The instant you see him, you must return. Do you understand?!”