The new Regas, Abel, greeted him. Unlike the others, his voice carried no fear. And instead of keeping his distance, he sat directly in front of him. In the child's small hand was °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° a hidden piece of broken glass.
At so point, blood had beco the child's only ans of expression. It was the only scream he could make—he couldn’t speak, couldn’t see, couldn’t react to anything. But when red blood spread, people noticed.
It kept repeating, and soon the child began instinctively seeking weapons, tearing flesh. That way, people would look at him. It didn’t matter if their gaze was filled with horror or disgust. They always looked at him with those eyes, because he had no other way to express himself.
So this ti, he forcefully stabbed the Regas in the knee with the shard of glass. Red blood quickly flowed, and a sharp, tallic scent filled the air. The man didn’t resist, and the child easily tore the flesh, moving the glass. Then a large hand firmly seized the child’s wrist. Only then did he realize: this Regas was much bigger than the others. And his scream was different, too.
“Ah! This blood! Oh, Your Highness, your hand is injured! No, you shouldn’t hold sothing like this—it will hurt.”
The scream was for the prince. And despite the alarm in his voice, the large hand gently took the shard away from the child's grip. Then, from his pocket, he pulled out an old towel and wrapped the glass in it.
“Does it hurt badly? I’ll call soone... No, I’ll bring dicine and treat it myself right away.”
Hearing the trembling voice, the child reached out with his other hand and grabbed the man’s wrist. The nails that had torn others so many tis easily pierced Abel’s skin. Those who had suffered before would retreat, trembling. Even if they didn’t run, the fear in their voices was unmistakable—even when they spoke kindly. Except this ti.
“Oh, right! The chain! Hold on, let undo it. It must’ve been awful, being bound like this.”
Abel leaned closer and began to unfasten the chains on the child’s hands and feet. The child didn’t run. Without fear or pain, he kept digging into the man’s flesh with his nails.
“Oh no, you’re bruised. Your skin’s torn. Just a mont, Your Highness.”
He muttered concern about the child’s scratching for the thirty-second ti. Then, with a loud rip, he tore his own clothing and carefully wrapped the child’s ankle. The child fought to free his foot, clawing at the large hand.
“I promise—you’ll never be bound by anything like this again.”
Abel’s voice trembled. But it wasn’t fear. It was sothing else. Sothing the child had never heard before. This unknown feeling unsettled him.
Overwheld by his own strength, the child gasped as he kept injuring himself. Fresh blood continued to flow, thickening the air with its scent. Abel responded strangely. The child didn’t understand what he was doing.
“Please forgive , Your Highness. I will touch your body for a mont.”
Abel slipped his hands beneath the child’s armpits and lifted him swiftly, then gently held him close against his chest. The child, clinging on, used the last thod he knew. Just lift his head a little—and then, through strands of hair, he could see the other’s face.
At this distance, people always recoiled. That was how it had always been. When they turned away, things went quiet again. That was the only answer he had ever known. So he looked into the green eyes.
He expected what was always there: fear, revulsion, shock. That was all he knew. But this ti, it was different. The green eyes were smiling. Warmth filled the gaze, curved with joy.
“Wow, it’s the first ti we’ve made eye contact. Let introduce myself again. My na is Abel, Your Highness.”
Ashler was speechless when he saw the bandit who stepped through the door. His face, hands, neck—every visible part of him was covered in red wounds or blood. His knees were soaked in it, the fabric of his clothes darkened. But it wasn’t the injuries that shocked Ashler. It was the prince, clinging to the man’s neck so tightly that blood trickled down.
“Oh, the knight is still here. I’m sorry, but may I ask you a favor?”
Ashler couldn’t answer right away. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. In the light, the prince looked like a beggar—hair tangled, clothes blackened with blood. And the bandit held him as though he were sothing precious. Though the prince gasped and fought to breathe, he still clung to the man with all his might.
“Yes, Lord Regas. Please tell .”
Ashler finally answered, his voice asured. A request followed.
“First, could you guide to a place where I can bathe? And if possible, please have the room cleaned while I’m gone. All the window fras must be removed. Also, the prince is wounded—we’ll need dicine right away.”
Ashler nodded and turned toward the corridor. At the far end stood the attendants who had been secretly watching since the mont they arrived. When they made eye contact with him, they stiffened and stood in surprise. With a glance, Ashler signaled one of them to prepare the bath, then turned back and spoke as evenly as he could.
“If you follow them, they’ll take you to the bath. I’ll handle the room. The window fras will be removed as well.”
Ashler stopped and scanned the Regas’ wounded body.
“I will prepare the dicine right away, so please receive treatnt as well, Lord Regas.”
Ashler’s gaze lingered on the bleeding back of Regas’ neck. The prince seed to feign indifference, but blood was already flowing heavily from the torn skin, soaking through his clothes. It was enough to make one wince—but Regas only smiled.
“Haha, I’m fine. This is nothing compared to the ti I almost got impaled by a wild boar and had holes all over my body.”
“A wild... boar?”
“Yes. Oh, and once, I got hit by a bear’s paw and flew through the air before crashing to the ground. That really hurt.”
Ashler’s astonishnt deflated. Looking at him with wide eyes, he heard Regas’ voice soften.
“So, do you think soone as small and delicate as him would feel pain from a few scratches?”
His voice wasn’t loud, but it sohow filled the long corridor. Ashler stared at him with sunken eyes and asked quietly:
“Wouldn’t it be uncomfortable for him to take a bath?”
He gestured to the prince, whose neck was bandaged. Regas glanced over, then smirked, the corners of his lips curling.
“Hehe. Even better—we can save water by bathing together.”
Ashler, caught off guard, let out a small smile for the first ti and motioned to the attendants. As Regas gently stroked the prince’s head with his large, rough hand, he turned and followed behind them. He still cradled the child, whose nails remained embedded in his flesh, as if holding sothing utterly precious.
Then, as if rembering sothing, he turned back toward Ashler. Their eyes t, and Ashler recalled the captain’s words: special. There was indeed sothing extraordinary about this large, seemingly simple Regas. His eyes were warm—warm enough to make one feel calm. His rough voice echoed in Ashler’s mind:
“By the way, just call Abel.”
****
“Taking a bath with the prince, huh? I heard he even cleaned the devil’s lair—the prince’s residence.”
Truyde’s tone held a note of amusent. The attendant couldn’t hide his discomfort and hesitated to respond.
“Moreover, even though the prince was scratching, biting, and lashing out at Regas like usual, he didn’t scream once—just kept laughing.”
“Ahem, it seems that Regas, who grew up in the countryside, has rather thick skin.”
Truyde chuckled when he saw the attendant’s sneer.
“That’s right. I wonder why we never had a Regas with thick skin before.”
“Well, that’s not my fault.”
“I’m not blaming you. If we’re looking to assign bla, there’s soone else more fitting.”
It was obvious, even without naming him, that Truyde was referring to Norhox. But the attendant, closely connected to Norhox—the one responsible for selecting Regas—could only cast his hesitant eyes toward the empty space. After all, he was just following orders.
“Is there anything else you wish to instruct?”
He asked cautiously, and Truyde paused for a mont before changing the subject.
“How is the king these days?”
“There’s nothing particularly wrong. As long as he has a Regas nearby and alcohol at hand, His Highness behaves obediently...”
“Watch your words.”
Truyde’s rebuke was sharp, and the attendant quickly bowed his head. Truyde studied him quietly before speaking again.
“The attendants and Marquis Norhox sotis forget—we’re not here because of the Regas. We’re here because of the king who can command the Regas directly. Without the king, even the best Regas is still just trash.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Then let ask again. How is the king these days?”
Fortunately, the attendant was quick on the uptake. He understood what Truyde wanted and replied promptly.
“He is well. The new Regas has remained in the bedroom for a full week without leaving. He should be in a good mood now—he’ll allow just about anything.”
Truyde nodded, finally reaching the real topic.
“Today, permission will be granted for the new Regas to enter the Dragon Forest.”
“The Dragon Forest! Your Highness, are you serious? That’s a place only the sacred bloodline of Regas—those with the dragons’ power—can enter. If sothing happens to Abel and the prince in there...”
“The forest protects the dragons’ power.”
Truyde cut him off, then added after a pause:
“It’s a belief held by the royal family. No matter what happens to others, the royal blood who inherit the dragons’ power always return from the forest. No matter how young.”
“...But haven’t so died?”
“Ah, yes. The king who died at the Spring of Prayer.”
Truyde twisted his lips slightly, recalling the king of legend from centuries past.
“That was likely his will. The forest is enchanted. No one denies that. That magic exists to preserve the dragons’ power. So if the prince enters, there won’t be a problem.”
“But... what if Abel, the Regas, cos back safely? If he’s recognized as the prince’s true Regas...”
“Then it’s a good thing.”
“What?”
The attendant stared in surprise, but Truyde only smiled.
“To have one true Regas in a lifeti... so kings never found theirs. If the prince does, it’s a blessing.”
“But then, later...”
“It’s still a good thing. If the prince has one Regas he rembers—just one—then no matter how insane he becos, there will be a rein to hold him back.”
Truyde let out a soft laugh at the word rein, but his eyes darkened.
“But to hold that rein, we need information. If this Regas can enter the Dragon Forest with the prince... if he’s truly qualified, we must know what happens inside.”
“How could we...”
No one could enter the forest without risking their life. Seeing the attendant falter, Truyde returned to the point.
“His Highness is in a good mood. Suggest a walk. No one can enter the Dragon Forest—but if the king takes the prince by the hand, it’s a different matter. Persuade him. Let him see the prince inside. Stoke his curiosity with the new Regas. If no one else can go in, we’ll have to use the king.”
Twisting his lips again, Truyde muttered:
“A king who spent his life being useless will finally do sothing worthwhile.”
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