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Chapter Text

The Badlands... One could argue that it is the most desolate place in all of Elysium filled with ragtag criminals and harlots. Even the few handful that do not belong to either could empty you of your pockets if you don't keep your wits about you. Well, what do you expect from a place not only filled with corruption beasts, but corrupted leaders as well?

Jurard thought it was the perfect place for him to establish himself after running away from home. A total opposite from the lavish and grand lifestyle he used to enjoy back in the homeland, but at least the filthiness is what you would expect from a place like this, unlike the capital where everything is rotting but is perfectly veiled under a fabric of gold and gems to hide its foul stench.

Of course, it wasn't easy when he first arrived here. He was almost duped out of all his money when he tried to purchase a desolate tavern to serve as his base. Fortunately, he was able to notice discrepancies in the contract before he completely signed it due to his heightened senses from being part dinosaur, which alarmed his gut feeling.

He might have been a prince and was no stranger to the wickedness of others, but he was ignorant to the ways of the world with different societal rules than he was used to in the capital.

He was also able to recruit three other people to form his now infamous bounty-hunting group called, Armis. Jurard must admit he was happier living here together with his new brothers in arms.

He remembered the first time he arrived here, he was much more reserved and quiet befitting of a royal prince who had been meticulously groomed to be a figure of elegance and restraint, but as time went on, he became truer to himself and shed off all of his bearings as royalty and has adapted perfectly to his current environment.

Today was a peaceful afternoon at the tavern, for Jurard, a boring one. Octavio invited him and Gibby to play poker which he reluctantly agreed. He didn't like playing with Octavio, that cunning snake, but there wasn't anything else to do either.

The game was becoming more intense with their booze money on the line (while Jurard just wanted to gamble), but it was soon interrupted by a loud BANG! from the tavern doors.

"Listen up, nerds. I got ourselves an extravagant commission today so you better start kissing my boots while you thank me."

Ruze stepped inside while showing the bounty poster with enough zeroes to make the other boys' eyes fully widen into a zero as well. beneath a well-sketched image of an unusual-looking corruption beast.

"We got a rare type seen hanging around the west plains terrorizing the surrounding villages in the area. They say it has an illusion ability strong enough to drive someone insane when caught with it."

"Oh... those that can mess with the mind are the most annoying to deal with." Octavio placed down his cards as he calmly said this.

"At least you're self-aware..." Jurard quipped earning a slight glare from Octavio.

"Well you losers would be perfect for this job because there are no brains inside those noggin of yours for them to mess with." Ruze loudly laughed at his joke which no one other than him found amusing. In fact, the other three were already thinking of hundreds of ways to beat him up.

"Then should we proceed with this mission?" Gibby who had been silent since the beginning finally let out a word.

"Of course, we're taking this mission! High risk, high rewards!" Jurard promptly stood up from his seat with his fist clenched up in the air.

"Do you have any other information regarding this target, Ruze?" Octavio rested his cheek on his palm waiting for an answer. Unlike the rest of Armis, he was the most meticulous one, which explains his deep interest in anatomy and puppet-making.

"I was about to get into that, and from what I've gathered, this CB can put someone into either a paralysis or unconscious state. Those who get into a paralysis state have been observed to be due to receiving hallucinations that turn them immobile or even aggressive. The other state puts the victim fully to sleep and makes them suffer nightmares throughout. This makes it easier for the CB to consume its prey, so avoid getting hit by its illusion spell or risk being its next meal. One important thing, there has only been one person rescued so far, but they still continue to be in an unconscious state refusing to wake up at all. So, we never know if you'll be able to even recover once you're inflicted."

"That sounds very challenging... No wonder it had such a high reward, you're just sending yourself to your own grave."

"Oh please, Octavio... With our strength and wits, what could a measly corruption beast do to us?" Octavio gave the arrogant ex-royalty his usual look of contempt, which Jurard also fully ignored, as usual.

Discussions regarding the mission lasted until nighttime, so the boys decided to call it a day and went back to their respective resting places.

Back in the basement underneath the tavern where he resides, Jurard stared at the flame that was burning brightly inside his single oil lamp, the only thing providing him with minimal light and comfort in this dusty and dark space.

He hated this silence most of all.

It reminded him of the days when he felt alone inside the palace walls. Everyone always assumed he had it easier than everybody else, being considered as the second-in-line to the throne. He had fewer responsibilities than his older brother who was the crown prince, but it was also precisely because of his status that he received lesser attention from his own family, from other nobles, and the servants. However, he was also expected to be the one to take the reins if ever something bad happened to the eldest, so he had to undergo the same strict training and education that a crown prince receives but without the status.

This also deteriorated his relationship with the eldest, as some of the more ambitious nobles wanted to side with the other brothers hoping to get a bigger piece of the cake if the one they supported turned out to be the next king.

Although it is to be expected that the eldest sibling should inherit the throne and should have most of the nobles on their side, the crown prince has one major weakness he is the son of the former queen, whose marriage to the current king was denounced by the king himself.

However, since divorce was considered taboo in their territory within South Elysium, the king spread false rumors about the former queen, which allowed him to annul their marriage one-sidedly and exile her. This left her only son in a vulnerable and perilous position, which only worsened when the newly appointed queen gave birth to more suitable heirs.

Fortunately, the king still regarded the crown prince in high regard due to his talents and let him keep his title. Jurard also admired his half-sibling and didn't want to take the throne for himself either, but the same couldn't be said for his brother who remains suspicious of his younger siblings.

As for the current queen, she was indeed far more superior in terms of everything than the former queen and had more political influence which even overshadows that of the king. However, this also made her busier than most leaving Jurard and his younger brother to be cared for by the servants who abused them by order of the crown prince's faction.

Jurard immediately noticed that the light had started to flicker and immediately turned it off then went to bed. He figured it was best to just forget about it and save the rest of his energy for their mission tomorrow. He had a slight bad feeling when he started to reminisce about his past, but chose to ignore it and just deal with it tomorrow.

Chapter Text

The next day…

The Armis boys gathered near the cave entrance, where the corruption beast was last seen. Reports suggest it’s a stealth-magic type that wreaked havoc half a year ago but hasn’t resurfaced since its retreat. Likely, it went into hibernation after sating its hunger.

However, new reports came in of missing persons which authorities initially suspected to be the work of a human trafficking ring, when the frequency of disappearances escalated, it led to civil unrest forcing the local government to investigate the cases.

Only when a witness testified that it had seen what looked like the corruption beast, which had previously terrorized them, and noticed similar traces now that matched those from before, did the case shift from a human-related crime to a corruption beast attack urging bounty hunters, guilds, and mercenaries to hunt it down.

Nerves fluttered among them, this rare corruption beast held minimal information which put them at a disadvantage, potentially ending their lives. Yet, their pride masked any visible apprehension.

“Do you guys remem-“

“Let’s go over the plan again. According to the intel from the locals, the corruption is currently holed up here. This cave system is a labyrinth of passages, which means there’s a chance of us getting lost or ambushed. Octavio, we’re relying on your strings to trace our previous paths and restrict the CB’s movements. Goldie, you’re at a disadvantage in this environment, so support us from outside the combat zone, targeting its likely weak spots. I’ll be on the front, weakening it and exposing blind spots to Goldie. Jurard, you’re my backup—interrupt its illusion abilities to spare me the brunt, since I’m closest. And listen up, if your bullet grazes me, I’ll personally feed you to the corruption beast. Worst-case scenario… If one of us falls for the illusion magic, we retreat. The nearest team member gets them out alive. But if you turn aggressive under the illusion, we leave you behind—no hard feelings. Clear?”

“Why are you the one acting like the leader here? I’m supposed to be the one leading!” Jurard complained, visibly irked. Not only had he been interrupted mid-speech, but he’d also lost the spotlight to showcase his leadership skills.

“Okay, why don’t you run through the plan with us again?”

“Uhh… We go inside. Octavio, make sure we don’t get lost. Gibby, you find the weak spots. Ruze, you’re the tank and-um…make sure Gibby can hit all the blind spots. I’ll be the support and make sure you don’t get hit with the illusion magic.”

Ruze scoffed, a smirk playing on their lips. “Got the main gist, I suppose. Everyone ready? Let’s roll.”

A smell of rotting flesh and musk filled the air of the cave, making Ruze wince and Octavio cough a bit.

“Many folks must’ve already met their demise, judging by this stench,” Octavio remarked. He pulled out a pristine white handkerchief, spritzed it with the perfume he had on hand, and discreetly covered his nose.

“Never faced a corruption beast with such oppressive energy before,” Goldbullet mused, his senses on high alert. “Are all rare types like this?”

“Some evidence suggests it’s intelligent too, so let’s not underestimate the enemy,” Ruze replied.

“So now not only do we have to worry about getting struck with illusion, but we also have to worry about it outsmarting us. Fantastic news,” Gibby’s voice became lower, making his statement sound even more depressing.

Jurard glanced around the cave, seeing only vague silhouettes in the dimness. His beastly genes provided a slight advantage, allowing him to adjust his eyesight to the darkness. Worried that using something brighter would alert the corruption beast to their location, their only source of light was a small glowing gemstone with a limited scope that they found during one of their previous missions. But judging from how many twists and turns they were making, Ruze was indeed right—the cave had a lot of passages leading to who knows where, and it also had a dreadful aura surrounding it.

Jurard had to admit, it worsened the feeling he had in the pit of his stomach.

He instinctively knew something was going to go wrong during the mission, but he didn’t know how he should explain it to the rest of the group without any evidence. He also didn’t want to believe in such a pessimistic outcome, and it might just be him overthinking it. And most of all, he didn’t want his teammates to worry when they were only at the start of the mission.

Ruze was busy tracing out the map, adding new routes, and marking out areas. They had purchased an old map left behind by a previous explorer who unknowingly went missing. Only their belongings remained, found by another explorer who sold most of it in the local market. The locals weren’t keen on further exploring the caves; it already had a bad reputation for claiming daring wanderers and harbored its fair share of urban legends. The fact that it was the hiding place of the corruption beast made the locals even more wary of approaching it.

As they delved deeper, unease settled upon them, yet not a single trace of the corruption beast emerged. Octavio had already warned them that his strings were nearing their limit and that it would be best to head back soon. Ruze shared the sentiment, suggesting they return tomorrow to scout the other areas.

At that moment, Ruze automatically paused and gestured for the others to remain quiet. “I hear something…” His tone was low, tinged with danger.

The rest snapped to high alert, assuming battle positions. Ruze’s inhuman hearing wasn’t to be taken lightly. The eerie stillness, coupled with pitch-black darkness, made it feel like something might leap out at any moment.

After a minute of silence, a change settled in. The stench of death intensified, freezing the boys in place. Their skin prickled, and cold sweat soaked through their clothes, warning them of what lay ahead.

A shadowy figure began to emerge from the darkness, revealing one of the most unsettling sights the boys had ever seen.

The picture they saw on the bounty poster would be an understatement compared to what they were seeing in front of them right now. It had the traits of a typical corruption beast, but to describe it in detail, it was far more grotesque, towering over them like a twelve-story building.

The bone mask, a defining trait of a corruption beast, wasn’t the typical animal skull. Instead, it resembled a Venetian mask, crafted entirely from bones, with an unsettling smile. Two empty holes served as its eyes, and even though it appeared vacant, it felt as if it were staring right through your soul.

The gooey black body of the corruption beast was strewn with various bones and skulls, some still bearing remnants of flesh and hair. Its two large arms supported its entire structure, and both arms looked as disgusting as the rest of its body. They were very muscular, with veins that seemed ready to burst forth. It must have already consumed more living things than when it was first sighted and reported to the government. Probably other brave hunters, just like them, seeking a quick shortcut to riches.

Ruze sprang into action, wielding his beloved great axe, Zephyr. With a powerful leap, he hurled toward the corruption beast. Most opponents would have been stunned by such a surprise attack, but the massive shadowy figure remained unfazed. It deftly blocked Ruze’s strike, effortlessly flicking him aside. Undeterred, Ruze executed a nimble flip, landing on both feet and prepared for another leap attack. The battle intensified, each move a dance between life and death.

The other three didn’t slack off either. Jurard immediately positioned himself behind Ruze, launching feint attacks to divert the corruption beast’s attention away from Ruze, who was engaged in melee combat.

Octavio waved his baton, summoning a lifelike puppet in his image and several smaller puppets, each holding a glowing stone to illuminate the cave. He positioned himself in a safer location, and the puppet hovered midair, fully controlled by Octavio. The puppet released multiple unbreakable strings, restricting some of the corruption beast’s movements. Unfortunately, because Octavio had already used most of his strings as a trail back to the exit, his abilities were now severely limited, rendering some of his restraints ineffective.

Goldbullet positioned himself and Lorraine (his sniper rifle) at the most optimal place, far away from the corruption beast’s attack range, yet still able to maintain a clear view of the entire fight. He squeezed the trigger for his first shot, signaling his position to Ruze.

Ruze immediately switched to a defensive stance, his sole goal being to endure as long as possible and reveal the corruption beast’s weak points to Goldbullet, rendering it immobile. However, the battle dragged on for more than an hour. The boys displayed visible fatigue and impatience, yet they hadn’t discovered a single weakness in the monster.

“Jurard! How many ammos do you have left?” Ruze shouted as he tried to dodge another attack from the corruption beast.

Jurard wiped the sweat off his forehead. “Do I look like someone who would count how many shots I took!?” he retorted. However, he could tell he didn’t have much ammo left. During the fight, they noticed that whenever the corruption beast’s eyes glowed purple, it was preparing to cast its illusion spells. Jurard had used most of his ammo trying to interrupt the illusion magic, which the corruption beast employed frequently. “But we’d better wrap this up as soon as possible, or we’re all gonna die!” he urged.

“Thanks for the reminder, Captain Obvious!”

Octavio rolled his eyes at the two people who were wasting their precious energy bickering like two children in the middle of a fight. He went back to trying to figure out where the CB’s weak point could be hidden.

It was too hidden.

The corruption beast indeed displayed some form of intelligence, almost as if it knew how to calculate its moves. Octavio could feel his control of the puppet waning, which meant he was also running out of energy.

Octavio thought hard. He needed to stop treating their current enemy like a common corruption beast that only followed instincts.

If I were in the corruption beast’s shoes, where would I try to hide my core?

Octavio fixed his gaze on the disgusting collection of corpses adorning the corruption beast’s body.

If I were an intelligent corruption beast, I’d probably try to hide my core in the least obvious places. Most corruption beast cores are concealed behind their bone masks, that’s the most likely target. Some beast cores are tucked away in areas where the corruption beasts have increased strength. For instance, corruption beasts that rely heavily on their limbs might have the core in one of those limbs. Now, this particular corruption beast seems to rely on its eyes a lot. Placing the core in its head area would be risky, as it’s a danger zone. But what if…

The corruption beast was preparing to cast another illusion spell. The once pitch-black eyes had started to glow purple again.

Octavio suddenly had an epiphany. He quickly began to individually scan each of the thousands of skulls. He knew he had only one chance!

Found it!

One of the skull’s eye sockets had a faint purple glow, similar to how the corruption beast’s eyes glowed. It was challenging to notice unless you focused intently. Octavio swiftly positioned his lifelike puppet next to Gibby, transmitting his voice through the puppet to direct Gibby where to shoot. Goldbullet grasped the situation immediately, aimed his sniper rifle at the skull, and without hesitation, pulled the trigger.

GRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

The corruption beast screeched in agony, almost piercing everyone’s ears without warning. Ruze, who was closest and had the most sensitive hearing, was affected the most. His knees gave way, and he lost consciousness.

Jurard barely held on, supporting his entire body on one knee. The corruption beast toppled down, almost in slow motion. Seeing Ruze unconscious on the ground, Jurard realized that Ruze would be squashed by the falling giant corruption beast. Despite his massive migraine, Jurard struggled to stand up. He then scooped up Ruze’s unconscious body and sprinted away from the impact zone.

Everyone stood in awe at a distance while covering their ears, as they watched the corruption beast’s bone mask that used to have an eerie smile now painted with an agonizing look of pain. When its body hit the ground, the earth shook violently, and they had to dodge multiple falling debris.

Octavio swiftly made his mini puppets form a safety net using his remaining strings to catch some of the massive debris that threatened to crush them. Everyone held their breath, hoping the net would withstand the powerful impact.

The earthquake seemed to last an eternity, but eventually, it subsided. Thankfully, their injuries were superficial and would heal with adequate rest. “We need to get out of here fast,” Octavio warned, glancing at Ruze’s unconscious form. Some of the paths they’d taken might already be blocked. They needed to find a way out as soon as possible or they might die from oxygen deprivation.

“Wait!” Jurard reminded them urgently, “We need to collect fragments from the beast mask and beast core for the bounty. Otherwise, all our effort would’ve been for nothing.”

Octavio nodded slightly, and he and Gibby hoisted Ruze’s body onto their shoulders. “Go fetch it quickly,” he instructed, “we’ll wait for you here.”

Jurard nodded in acknowledgment and sprinted back toward the corruption beast’s corpse, snatching up any fragments he could find. Despite the successful mission, an unsettling feeling gnawed at his chest. Sensing impending danger, he turned his head to face the source of his unease.

In front of him were two glowing purple orbs, staring straight at him, rendering him unable to move a muscle. The last thing he saw was a wicked smile plastered on the cracked bone mask of the enemy they had just defeated. The mouth slowly opened, ready to swallow him whole.

Octavio and Goldbullet, who had witnessed the entire event from a distance, could only stare at each other in shock. Their minds raced along the same track, grappling with the gravity of what had just occurred.

Did he just get swallowed whole!??

Chapter Text

"Your Highness-"

Jurard felt a dull headache as he groggily woke up, feeling dazed and confused. He looked up to the source of the voice and saw the head maid drawing back the curtains in his room.

"It's time for breakfast, Your Highness." 

Jurard stared at his small hands riddled with callouses from numerous sword training sessions as if he had regressed back into a child, but why would he feel that way? It's not like he came from the future.

Two maids from the line immediately handed him a bowl of warm water and towels so he could wash his face. On the table of his balcony, a carefully crafted breakfast spread awaited him. The lavish array included fresh fruits, pastries, eggs, and a selection of meats. He knew he couldn't possibly finish all of it, but his stomach had already rumbled at the sight. 

He walked towards the table, where the servants diligently served him before lining up again in a well-behaved manner, silently watching him eat his meal. Jurard felt unnerved; something felt wrong, but he couldn't pinpoint what it was.

It felt as if he had just woken up from a very long dream, but he couldn't remember what it was. Everything was hazy, and he got a throbbing headache every time he tried to recall it. All he knew was that he was the second prince of the Rexford dynasty, and that was all he had ever been.

As he was finishing his meal, the head maid approached him, leaning forward slightly so he could hear her soft voice. "Your Highness, Her Majesty has invited you to join her for lunch along with the other princes. She will be hosting it in the palace garden. Please see to it that you attend, this is Her Majesty's order."

Hearing that, Jurard felt a sense of happiness welling up inside him. He was about to meet his mother again as if he hadn't seen her in a very long time, but this made him confused.

Why would he miss his mother so much all of a sudden? Although they couldn't meet each other frequently due to their busy schedules, his mother still made efforts to bond with her children through invites such as this. 

Jurard shook off the thought and gave a slight nod to the head maid, indicating that he would attend.

There was no point in dwelling on something for which he currently had no answers. He then spent the rest of his morning attending his classes until the much-anticipated lunchtime finally arrived.

---

He arrived at the palace garden, which was just a short walk from the main building. The weather was perfect, with the sun shining brightly, adding even more color to the already vibrant surroundings.

In the center of the garden stood a charming gazebo, surrounded by a variety of flowers meticulously tended by the palace gardeners.

Three people were already seated at the table, but His Majesty the King was notably absent, likely preoccupied with entertaining his newly found mistress.

The butler escorted him to the table and assisted him with his seat beside the Queen. Jurard scanned the other three people.

At the end of the table sat his mother, the current Queen, her beauty matchless and peerless.

Across from him was his older brother, the first prince, Prince Josiah, first in line to the throne, who gave him an unfriendly look as he took his seat.

This raised alarms in Jurard's head, as his brother had never acted this way before.

His brother was usually very gentle and wise. Even if he viewed Jurard as a threat to his position, he had never openly shown hostility towards him, especially not in front of the Queen, who wanted all of them to get along.

It was only his brother and the former queen's supporters who would sometimes cause trouble for the two younger brothers behind his back.

He quickly left his gaze and looked towards his left, seated next to him was his younger brother, Prince Jonathan, who he calls 'Junior' who gave him a bright smile before politely bowing.

Jurard and his younger brother were close, as they were fully related by blood and had no conflicting interests, unlike him and his older brother. 

The Queen gave Jurard a sweet smile like any loving mother would, "Second Prince, I'm glad you were able to join us for lunch. How did your studies go?"

Jurard laughed awkwardly. "It went well, Mom. Don't worry about it." He didn't particularly like studying, but he still did his best because he didn't want to disappoint his mother.

"That's wonderful, dear," Queen Rexford said, her smile becoming brighter. "Third Prince, what about you?"

"I-I did okay, I guess..." Jonathan replied, scratching his head and looking a bit shy.

"That's good to hear, love," Queen Rexford said, still smiling as she sliced the meat on her plate.

Jurard thought his mother would also ask the first prince, but she didn't say anything more, making the rest of the meal silently awkward.

Jurard hated the silence. He felt confused as to why his family members, except for the youngest, had started behaving oddly.

The queen had never played favorites before and always treated them equally. She even treated the first prince as if he were her own son and regarded him as the proper heir to the throne.

Jurard quickly tried to dispel the heavy atmosphere. "Eldest brother, how did your studies go? Since you're smart and all, it was probably easy for you, right?"

This time, the First Prince acted like his former self and no longer looked hostile. "It went well as usual, thank you for the concern, Jurard," he said, then wiped his mouth with a clean cloth.

Jurard breathed a sigh of relief, but his brother continued, "In fact, I think the lessons are too easy. Queen Mother, I'd like to request that my studies be advanced and my tutor replaced with someone more capable."

Queen Rexford continued to silently eat her meal. After a few seconds of silence, she replied, "I see... As expected of the First Prince. Then I'll see to it that you get the best education deserving of your caliber."

The meal continued without any problems. When lunchtime ended, the princes were ready to head back and continue their lessons.

Jurard was also about to leave when his mother suddenly called out to him, "Second Prince, don't leave yet. I have something to discuss with you. The rest of you can go," she directed at the other princes.

This made Jurard a bit nervous. He had no idea what his mother wanted to talk about in private.

This time, it was just the two of them at the table. Even the servants stood a little further away to avoid overhearing their conversation.

"Jurard, from now on, your studies will also be advanced. I will replace your current tutor with someone else," his mother said.

Jurard was puzzled by his mother's sudden suggestion. He hadn't asked for this change like his brother had. In fact, he was content with his current lessons and didn't wish for anything more.

"Mother, may I know why this sudden change?" he asked.

"Have you heard what your brother just said?" Queen Rexford furrowed her eyebrows, "You can't be complacent, Jurard. You need to do even better than him."

"What are you saying, Mother?" This time, Jurard felt a bit panicked. There was definitely something going wrong with his mother but he chose not to say it out loud.  

"I have high hopes for you, son. So don't disappoint me." Queen Rexford gave a sweet smile, but Jurard only felt chills.

Then Queen Rexford stood up, beckoning the servants to attend to her.

"You should head back now. I hope you forgive Mother for wasting your time like this."

Jurard stood frozen as he watched his mother's figure recede into the distance. He didn't want to believe what she had just implied.

Did his mother want him to compete for the throne?

Jurard shook off the thought.

His mother had always been supportive of the first prince from the beginning, so she never pressured him or Junior to compete.

Everyone knew that his older brother was a talented and capable person, someone fitting for the crown.

Although Jurard never fell short in his studies and showed good athleticism, it was never because he was naturally good at it. He just put in twice the effort, whereas the first prince could do everything better with less effort.

Jurard knew his shortcomings and was also supportive of his eldest brother. Everyone was. 

---

His sword training session had just ended, and it was getting late.

Jurard returned to his chambers to clean up and prepare for bed. He lay down on the soft quilts, but even then, he struggled to sleep.

He couldn't stop thinking about what had happened since that morning.

First, he felt something was off like there was a big hole in his memory.

Every time he tried to recall, it gave him a massive headache.

Second, his family members, whom he had known for so long, were behaving too oddly. It was as if they had become different people wearing the same skin.

The thought frightened Jurard, but it seemed too far-fetched. Yet, his instincts were definitely telling him that something was wrong.

Jurard continued to toss and turn, by the time morning came, two dark eyebags were apparent on his face making him look like a panda together with his pale-white skin. The servants tried to contain their laughter but maintained their professionalism while serving him.  

Fortunately, his good looks had saved him from his disheveled state. 

Jurard continued with his routine, even meeting the new tutor his mother had arranged to replace the old one.

He was a bit amazed at how quickly his mother had managed everything, but he struggled more than usual with the newly fast-paced learning.

By the time afternoon came, he already felt as if his energy was being drained, so much so that he didn't even notice the third prince approaching him.

"Brother!" Jonathan waved their hand frenetically as he was running towards Jurard.

The loud volume had woken Jurard from his stupor, he groggily looked up and saw his younger brother's face shining brightly.

"Good afternoon, Junior. Did something good happen?" Jurard gave a slight smile.  

"Your Highness! I've told you many times already to lower your voice and to never run in the halls!" Jonathan's nanny tried to reprimand him but still tried to keep their volume as low as possible.  

Jurard felt a sudden headache again, he felt as if he was experiencing some sort of deja vu but those words were directed towards him instead of his brother: Have I ever been this loud?

Jonathan gave a small pout and chose to ignore his nanny, "Brother, are you done studying? Can we play together, pleaseeeee?" Jonathan folded his hands together, giving Jurard his best puppy eyes.

Jurard was about to refuse because of how tired he was, but then he remembered something.

"I'm sorry, Junior, but I can't play with you right now. How about we just chat for a little bit? We can have cookies and tea in my room." Joonathan looked a bit disappointed that he couldn't play with his older brother, but still accepted his suggestion. 

---

Inside Jurard's room, the servants carefully arranged their snacks and tea.

A three-tier plate was filled with an assortment of sweets, and two cups of Earl Grey tea were served to wash away the sweetness.

Jonathan happily took a sip of the tea, his legs swinging with delight. However, Jurard couldn't enjoy it as much as his brother did, as something had been weighing on his mind.

He wanted to ask his brother if he had also noticed anything strange between their mother and eldest brother.

"Junior, have you ever felt like something is going on with Mother and Eldest Brother?"

Jurard tried to gauge whether the situation was truly strange or if his mind was just playing tricks on him.

Jonathan might look like an airhead to outsiders sometimes, but Jurard knew his younger brother was actually quite clever.

So far, Jonathan was the only one who seemed to act normal, aside from their father, whom Jurard hadn't seen for the past few days and couldn't judge yet.

Jonathan gave a puzzled look, "Mother and Eldest Brother? They've been acting normal like usual. Why? Is there something wrong with them?"

Jurard's chest tightened.

So, did I just hallucinate everything after all? 

"No, nothing's wrong. It must've been just my imagination," Jurard said with a weak smile, trying to hide his feelings. The two continued to chat until it was finally time for Jurard's favorite lesson—etiquette lessons.

Chapter Text

Jurard's etiquette lessons differed slightly from his other classes. While he usually undertook his studies alone with his mentors, etiquette lessons were held alongside other high-nobility children. The youngest prince, still far from debuting in high society, was exempt from these lessons. However, both the first and second princes were required to attend, ensuring they would not become a laughingstock before the masses.

Their lessons encompassed the art of proper speech, decorum, posture correction, and dance. The instructor, a stern-looking middle-aged woman, stood prim and proper, not a strand out of place. She held a baton in her right hand, tapping it rhythmically in her left as she counted. Both the children and young adults cast their nervous glances at the stick she wielded, yet still diligently followed the rhythm, moving gracefully across the dance hall.

Jurard stood out as the most clumsy among the group, frequently stepping in the wrong direction. Each misstep drew a sharp, disapproving glare from the instructor, which he returned with a feigned smile.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the hall, Prince Josiah exuded grace, his movements executed perfectly from start to finish. His flawless performance garnered admiration from everyone. His dancing partner was visibly the most smitten, while the other ladies could only swallow in their jealousy.

Jurard could only scoff at him, his pride wounded. Despite having attended these lessons numerous times, his body felt uncharacteristically stiff, as if it were his first time dancing. Though he was normally flexible, something within him made it feel as though he hadn't graced a dance floor in ages.

Why does this feel so unnatural? he thought, frustration simmering beneath his practiced calm. I’ve done this a hundred times. Why can’t I—

While lost in thought, his foot suddenly faltered, causing him to stumble and his partner to lose balance as well. This time, the instructor’s voice cut through the stillness like a whip. "Your Highness, Jurard! Pardon my rudeness, but have you suddenly lost your manners? Do you find such displeasure in my class that you must cause such a disruption?

Startled by the instructor's furious tone, Jurard jolted. He immediately apologized to his dancing partner, offering a hand before turning to face the angry woman with an apologetic bow.

"Apologies, madame. I believe I have caught an illness and have not been feeling well. I hope you will forgive my poor display today."

The baton tapped once against her palm. "Your Highness, though you are a prince of this kingdom, in this class, you are no different from the rest of the students. His Royal Majesty has granted me the authority to enforce discipline as I see fit."

Jurard glanced fearfully at the baton. He knew what was coming.

"Understood, madame."

"Reach out both of your arms." Jurard hesitantly reached his arms out.

The other nobles remained silent, their faces etched with fear as they watched the scene unfold.

"Your Highness, for your unsightly performance, you will receive 20 strikes. Count each one carefully, or you will have to start from the very beginning. And... I hope this serves as a lesson for everyone to study well and maintain proper decorum at all times and places. Do you all understand?"

"Yes, madame." Everyone said in slow unison.

The strikes were swift, precise, each one biting deeper than the last. He counted through gritted teeth, voice steady even as his skin burned. "One!"

And another strike... "Two!"

Jurard tried to stifle out his cry, "T-three!"

By the twentieth, his arms trembled, but he refused to let his voice waver. The nobles around him were statues—frozen, wide-eyed. Even Josiah, ever the perfect prince, watched with an unreadable expression.

The entire ordeal lasted only a few minutes, but to Jurard, it felt much longer. The instructor had already dismissed everyone, summoning the servants and palace doctor to tend to the second prince's wound.

Jurard obediently let the servants tend to his wounded arms before the doctor arrived. As the servants cleaned his wounds, the first prince slowly approached, a look of condescension on his face.

"How pitiful, dear brother... You should have begged Her Majesty the Queen for a private tutor in dancing. Perhaps then, you wouldn't have embarrassed yourself before everyone."

"What are you implying?" Jurard looked up slowly, a frown etched on his face.

"You think I don't know how you suddenly changed tutors after I asked the Queen for mine? How pathetic... Remember, Jurard, you will never surpass me."

"So, you finally revealed your true colors, huh?" Jurard sneered.

"I'm simply warning you not to take what is rightfully mine." The eldest prince quickly cast a sharp look toward the witnessing servants, causing them to cower and pretend they hadn't heard a thing.

"Farewell, brother. I hope you'll recover soon." With that, he briskly walked away.

---

Jurard remained bedridden for several days. The toll it took on his body made it clear that the discipline he endured had been excessively harsh.

After hearing what happened to his son, Queen Rexford was overcome with fury and immediately dismissed the instructor. As usual, the King did not interfere with the Queen's decision, despite allowing such a thing to happen in the first place.

Junior also visited him a few times before the Queen barred him from doing so, fearing her youngest son would also catch the sickness. Still, Jurard was glad when his mother and younger brother visited him while being worried, but he did feel a bit stifled just being trapped in his room for a week.

Once he had finally recovered, he went for a walk in the palace gardens, hoping to finally get some fresh air.

He sat down by one of the benches and let the soft breeze engulf his whole being. Such peace didn't last long as someone he was not familiar with was slowly approaching him.

The small petite figure with blue ponytails and wearing a simple white dress. She curtsied gracefully, her elegant dress swaying gently before him. Jurard thought the girl looked a bit familiar.

"Your Highness, it is an honor to meet you once more. I am Natalie, daughter of Count Asteron. I heard of your recovery and wished to visit you sooner. I apologize for disturbing your rest, but I wanted to express my gratitude for your previous help. I hope you won't mind my presence."

"A pleasure to meet you, Lady Natalie. Though I must admit, I’m embarrassed to be seen in such an… undignified state."

Natalie’s cheerful demeanor faltered ever so slightly as her gaze caught the faint scars on his arms, but she quickly composed herself. “Your Highness,” she began with a touch of levity, “if we’re speaking of embarrassment, I believe I still owe you thanks for our last encounter in the dance hall.”

Jurard blinked, confusion knitting his brow. Then, as the memory surfaced, he winced. “Wait… you’re the lady I… oh. That was you?” His ears turned a deep shade of pink. “I owe you an apology. My clumsiness that day was—”

“Unforgettable?” Natalie interrupted with a light laugh, waving off his apology with an elegant flick of her hand. “Yes, I quite agree. Though I must admit, being sent sprawling across the floor by a prince is a rare distinction. It’s done wonders for my social standing.”

Jurard groaned, burying his face in his palm. “Please, I beg you—don’t remind me. Between that disaster and…” He gestured vaguely toward the scars that marred his forearms. “…this.”

Natalie sobered slightly, though her tone retained its brightness. “Ah, yes, the infamous ‘twenty strikes of shame.’ The court’s been buzzing with the story for days. Though, between us?” She leaned in, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “I think you endured your punishment with far more grace than I managed to muster during my fall.”

Jurard snorted despite himself, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “That’s not exactly a fair comparison. You, at least, had the dignity of surprise. I had to count mine.”

“True,” Natalie conceded with a playful glint in her eye. “But tell me, Your Highness—was my expression truly as horrified as everyone claims when I went tumbling?”

Jurard feigned a thoughtful look, then smirked. “My lady, your face was the very picture of betrayal. Like a kitten shoved into a bath against its will.”

Natalie gasped dramatically, clutching her chest as though mortally offended. “Wounded! And here I came to thank you for your… remarkable contribution to my newfound notoriety.”

Jurard raised an eyebrow, his amusement clearly visible now. “Thank me? For making you the talk of the court?”

Natalie smoothed her skirt with a distracted air, her gaze drifting somewhere. "How peculiar it is, Your Highness," she began softly, her voice tinged with wonder, "how... incidents can so quickly alter one's standing at court." She let the words linger, glancing at him briefly before lowering her gaze again. "Not long ago, I might have spent an entire evening as little more than a shadow in the room. But now?" She paused, her lips curving into a faint, enigmatic smile as her shoulders rose in an elegant shrug. "Even the Marchioness deigns to ask after my wellbeing. Curious, isn’t it?"

Jurard's gaze lingered on her, searching for the layers beneath her poised exterior. "And what does Her Ladyship inquire about, exactly?"

Natalie toyed with the lace trim of her sleeve, her expression vacant. "Oh, the usual pleasantries—whether my nerves have steadied, if I had any bruises..." She glanced up briefly, catching his eyes with a hint of mischief. "...and whether Your Highness has deigned to express any measure of regret."

Jurard snorted. "Charming."

"Isn't it?" She sighed, tilting her head. "Though I must say, the nature of attention at court does fascinate me. Before our little mishap, I was simply another face in the crowd." A delicate pause. "Though," she continued thoughtfully, "it was rather... unexpected when your brother inquired about me a few days after that incident."

Why would he suddenly approach my dance partner? Jurard’s fingers twitched against his knee.

Natalie, oblivious, plucked a petal from a nearby rose and twirled it between her fingers. "Though I suppose it makes sense. He is the Crown Prince. It’s his duty to be attentive, isn’t it?"

Attentive. The word slithered into Jurard’s thoughts, barbed and unwelcome. Josiah wasn’t attentive—he was more... calculating. Every word, every glance, was measured. So why—

"Did he mention me?" The question escaped before he could stop it.

Natalie’s eyes widened. "Oh! Not—not directly. But..." She hesitated, biting her lip. "He did ask if I’d seen you since your... recovery. He seemed concerned."

Concerned. Jurard nearly laughed. Josiah’s concern was as genuine as a fox’s sympathy for a rabbit.

"How thoughtful of him," he said, voice flat.

Natalie nodded, earnest. "I thought so too! Though..." A faint frown. "He did seem rather... insistent about it. Almost as if he expected me to say something... unflattering?" She shook her head, dismissing the thought with a wave. "But that’s silly. Why would I ever speak ill of you?"

Jurard’s jaw tightened. Because he wanted you to.

The pieces clicked together with cold clarity. Josiah had sought her out, probed for weakness—hoping to spin Jurard’s humiliation into something worse. A scandal, perhaps. Or proof of his instability.

He studied the girl in front of him. Natalie was now humming softly, arranging fallen petals into a neat circle on the bench between them. No hint of cunning. No sly glances. Just... innocence.

"Lady Natalie," he said slowly, "tell me—do you often chat with my brother?"

"Oh, goodness, no!" She laughed, as if the idea were absurd. "I’m hardly important enough for that. This was just a passing remark. Though..." She tapped her chin. "He did say he hoped to see me at the next ball. To ‘ensure I wasn’t traumatized by your feet,’ I believe were his words."

Jurard’s smile was razor-thin. "How generous."

Natalie hesitated, her fingers knotting in the fabric of her skirt before she finally spoke again.

"Your Highness… might I ask a favor of you?"

Jurard raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "A favor?"

She nodded, her usual playful demeanor softening into something more vulnerable. "I know it’s foolish, but… I’d like to replace the memory of our last dance with something better. Would you… indulge me? Just once more, here in the garden, where no one can judge?"

For a moment, Jurard simply stared at her. The request was absurd—after everything, why would she want to dance with him again? But the earnestness in her gaze gave him pause.

"You can’t be serious," he said, though his voice lacked its usual edge.

"I am." She held out her hand, palm up, an offering. "No instructors. No audience. Just us."

The breeze rustled the roses around them, carrying the faintest hint of perfume. Jurard exhaled, then—against his better judgment—placed his hand in hers.

"One dance," he conceded. "But if you end up in the dirt again, don’t say I didn’t warn you."

Natalie’s answering smile was small but radiant. "I’ll take my chances."

There was no music, only the whisper of leaves and the distant murmur of the palace. Natalie guided his hand to her waist, her other hand resting lightly on his shoulder.

"You’re leading this time," she murmured.

Jurard swallowed, suddenly hyperaware of every point of contact. He had spent years learning the steps, the angles, the precise pressure of a partner’s touch—yet now, it all felt foreign.

But Natalie moved with him effortlessly, as if she could anticipate every shift of his weight. Slowly, the stiffness in his limbs eased.

"See?" she said softly. "No disasters."

Jurard didn’t answer. He was too busy memorizing the way the sunlight caught in her hair, the way her fingers curled just slightly against his sleeve.

For the first time in years, dancing didn’t feel like a performance.

---

When they finally stilled, neither of them pulled away immediately. Natalie’s breath was warm against his collar, her lashes casting delicate shadows on her cheeks.

Then, she quietly whispered. "Thank you."

Jurard released her, stepping back to put distance between them. "Don’t thank me yet. I’m fairly certain we just committed a dozen etiquette violations."

Natalie laughed, but it was softer now, almost wistful. "Perhaps. But it was worth it."

A silence settled between them, heavier than before. The garden, once a refuge, now felt too intimate, too real.

Jurard cleared his throat. "You should go before someone sees us."

She nodded, but her usual poise was absent. Instead, she lingered, her gaze tracing the scars on his arms before meeting his eyes.

"You’re not what they say you are," she said finally.

Jurard’s breath caught. "And what do they say I am?"

Natalie didn’t answer. Instead, she reached out—just for a moment—and brushed her fingertips over his wrist, where the worst of the welts had finally faded.

Then, with a curtsy so deep it felt like a farewell, she turned and walked away.

Jurard stood frozen, the ghost of her touch still burning on his skin.