Chapter Three: Ryoko, Oran, and the Castle Town Excursion

Octavian—or as Herscherik forcibly named him, Oránge, or Oran for short—looked at the prince leading their way through castle town with disbelief.

“Long time no see, little Ryoko! Why don’t you stay a while?”

“I’ll come back later!” Herscherik waved to the lady at the general store.

“We got good cuts, Ryoko. Give this a taste!”

“Oh, thank you!” He took the fried chicken from the butcher.

“Where’s your man in black, Ryoko? I keep asking him to come by, but... Ooh, who’s that handsome fellow! Won’t you introduce me?”

“No cheating, remember. Your boyfriend’s going to be upset again,” Herscherik said to the pretty woman eyeing Oran.

Oran couldn’t believe how familiar Herscherik was with everyone in town. Meanwhile, Herscherik (aka Ryoko) simply took a bite out of the fried chicken in his hand as he snaked through the crowd. It was rich and juicy, the flavorful oil hitting his tongue as he bit down on the savory meat in his mouth. The simple seasoning of salt and pepper really let the meat itself shine.

What I would do for a cold glass of beer! Herscherik imagined the beverage, gulping audibly. Herscherik was a 35-year-old spinster on the inside, after all. When she was too lazy to cook, Ryoko would gladly make dinner out of some leftover yakitori and premade dishes from the supermarket, with beer to wash it down. Her parents would have been shocked by her lack of affinity for the kitchen. The fact that such laziness was reserved for the single life contributed to Ryoko’s decision never to get married.

As Herscherik gleefully dug into the fried chicken, Oran timidly asked, “Do you come here often, Prince—?”

“I told you to call me Ryoko, Oran.” Herscherik turned back and glared up at Oran, shoving the last bite of chicken into his mouth. Then he spotted the untouched chicken in Oran’s hand and frowned. “Aren’t you going to eat that,? It’d be a waste to let it get cold.”

After a few moments of hesitation, Oran chomped on the fried meat. The simply seasoned tidbit was straightforward and delicious. While Herscherik had to take several bites to finish his piece, Oran finished his in the blink of an eye.

Seeing that Oran had finished his food, Herscherik turned back toward the crowd and kept walking. “As to your question...I don’t come here every day, but I’ve been sneaking out whenever I can for about a year now. Kuro’s been coming with me recently, but he’s often busy with his other duties... He really doesn’t like it when I leave on my own.” Herscherik sighed and glanced back. “But I’m free and clear as long you’re with me, Oran. Thanks!” He giggled in glee. “You’re a huge help, really.

Oran frowned in response. A year ago...? Since he was four? As far as he could tell, the butler had only recently started accompanying Herscherik, and he had been out on the streets alone before that. It also seemed like the people of the castle town weren’t privy to Herscherik’s identity, but they had grown to know him pretty well.

Herscherik had been going out into the castle town even though Kuro was unavailable to accompany him. Each time, Kuro had found him, brought him back, and given him an earful. Of course, it went in one ear and out the other, as he would just sneak right out again without remorse. He was overjoyed that Oran’s presence allowed him to go out as much as he wanted without being scolded by Kuro. Said butler of service, who had taken on a somewhat maternal role with Herscherik, was away on a reconnaissance mission at Herscherik’s request. Naturally, the prince had not told Kuro anything about this day’s excursion.

“Are you familiar with the area, Oran?”

“I come down here on occasion, but...” Oran shrugged. He and his classmates had partied out in the castle town a few times, but the locals had only watched the group of academy students from afar, seeing as they were all nobles. The only ones who dared to approach them were shopkeepers or restaurant owners hoping to lure in their business. They had never been called over for a friendly chat or social visit like Herscherik.

“Okay... Then I’ll show you around today!” Herscherik took Oran’s hand and started walking enthusiastically. To outside observers, they might have looked like a small boy pulling his much older and reluctant brother by the hand.

Herscherik’s sightseeing tour of the castle town was very specific.

“The skewers there are delicious.”

“The fish there is fresh and reasonable.”

“Those weapons are expensive but the best in town.”

“A lot of shady people hang out in that alleyway, so you should stay away.”

“The lady at the flower shop is really pretty, but she has a boyfriend...” etc., etc.

Herscherik showed off every scrap of knowledge he had, from great shopping deals to hidden sights and even local gossip. “And that street over there... I don’t need to go down there, but maybe you or Kuro...” Herscherik whispered, pointing out a shortcut to the red-light district. There was no acceptable reason for a five-year-old to know this particular tip.

I’m going to clock whatever idiot told that to a kid, Oran swore a solemn oath to himself, in reaction to Herscherik’s misguided goodwill.

The final stop of the tour was Herscherik’s favorite fruit stand. As they were in season for the summer, the stands were filled to the brim with citrus.

“Hi, Miss Louise! I’ve come to play!” Herscherik called into the store. As a giant man loomed from behind a stack of fruit boxes, Oran reflexively reached for his sword. The man who appeared was as large as a bear, with bulging muscles and the stony expression of a cold-blooded killer. Ten out of ten knights would have immediately been on guard upon seeing him with a hand on the hilt of his sword.

“It’s written all over your face, Oran,” Herscherik grumbled and kicked Oran’s shin when the knight couldn’t seem to look away from the man at the fruit stand. While the kick was swift and accurately struck the weak point on Oran’s shin, he was able to save himself from the embarrassment of crying out in pain by holding his leg and crouching down to the ground. “Don’t insult him,” Herscherik reprimanded with his hands on his hips. The man at the fruit stand watched these interactions unfold with a concerned look on his face, even though that face might resemble a hardened criminal’s.

“Oh, Ryoko. Welcome! It’s been a while. You’re not with your man in black, today, huh? Who’s this?” A cheerful voice broke through the stalemate as a curvy woman with a healthy, tanned complexion appeared from behind her husband.

“I’m sorry it’s been so long, Miss Louise.” Herscherik smiled, turning away from Oran crouching beside him. “This is Oran. My father just assigned him to me. Papa was worried, as always, that I’m getting into trouble...”

“Oh, my. You can’t blame your father for worrying about you, Ryoko. You’re cuter than most girls around here.”

“Still a boy...” Herscherik frowned in discontent. Even that disgruntled look was adorable enough that Louise had to hold back a charmed laugh.

Oran was listening in on the conversation, having recovered from the blow. He noticed that Herscherik was not lying outright, only omitting some facts.

“Are you going to help us out, today?” Louis asked.

“Of course! You can tell Oran to do anything you want, too!” Herscherik generously offered up his knight without his permission.

As Oran helped Louise’s husband carry merchandise and deliver orders, he couldn’t help but be impressed all over again. Herscherik’s customer service was so on point that he couldn’t imagine where the prince had acquired such skills. Anyone who recognized Herscherik stopped to talk to him since they hadn’t seen him in a while, and even new customers were drawn to the fruit stand by his adorable looks and pleasant demeanor. As he indulged in small talk, Herscherik kept the line of customers moving, on top of adding up totals and calculating change.

As Herscherik kept selling throughout the day, half of the stand’s merchandise was gone by the time they took a lunch break.

“Everything just flies off the shelf when you’re here, Ryoko,” Louise cheered. Herscherik giggled in embarrassment, fanning his face with his hand. The scorching, early-summer sun made Herscherik’s body temperature rise precipitously. As someone who spent most of his life in an air-conditioned room (even though he complained about that too), working an outdoor fruit stand was quite the laborious task. “Why don’t you have this and take a break? Oran’s resting now, too.” Louise presented him with a juicy, grapefruit-like citrus fruit. Its thick peel had already been removed, revealing its plump interior.

Herscherik gladly took the fruit and went to the back of the stand to find Oran seated there with his head hung low. Apparently, Louise’s husband had put him to good use. “Are you okay, Oran?” Herscherik asked as he sat next to him, taking a section of fruit. While the knight was clearly not okay, Herscherik felt obligated as his boss to ask.

“Do you always do this... Prince?”

“It’s ‘Ryoko,’ remember...? I guess no one can hear us now, though.” He chuckled at Oran’s stubborn refusal to address him as anything but a prince. “I don’t do any heavy lifting. Not that I could even if I tried.”

Herscherik observed their surroundings, taking another piece of fruit. A tangy sensation exploded in his mouth, the juice even quenching his thirst. Their fruit is just the best, he thought. Too bad we don’t buy these for the castle. Since the castle always bought from a contracted company, there was no room for anything from a different source. Any food eaten by royalty, in particular, had strict standards for its seller, source, breed, and quality. Naturally, fruits in the castle were much more expensive than the ones sold at this fruit stand.

Herscherik personally only cared to judge food by its taste—but alas, he was a member of the royal family, the very top of the social pyramid. In addition to food, everything from their clothes, accessories, furniture, and even down to their pens and ink were all top-shelf quality. With that kind of standard, only a few vendors in the nation could meet that demand. That situation came with its own problems, though. Kickbacks on this and bribes on that... Herscherik couldn’t help but let out a sigh. The more he investigated, the more corruption he discovered. He rubbed his temples as if he had a headache.

Oran shook his head. “I meant if you always come down to the castle town.”

“Oh. Not always. I have classes, for example. Just when I have the time.”

“May I ask why?”

Herscherik crooked his neck. Why did I come out to town...? It was true that venturing out here was the most efficient way to supplement his investigations in the castle and verify what he’d found. But at first... “Because no one in the castle actually taught me anything.” Herscherik nodded. That sounded about right.

Now it was Oran’s turn to cock his head in confusion. He knew that, as a prince, Herscherik received education from top tutors in the country. In fact, they had only headed out today because one of his classes was canceled.

Seeing the question written on the knight’s face, Herscherik let out a chuckle and picked up a fruit from a box beside him. “They teach me about important people in history, but not how much this fruit costs.” This piece of fruit was ripe with the time, care, and hard work of Louise and her husband. They’d raised these fruits like their own children. “They don’t teach me how much time and money it takes to grow it, how much it’s sold for, how much that sale is taxed, or how much profit it brings the seller. Or how much profit it needs to bring in so that the seller can make a living.” He didn’t expect his tutors to answer any of those questions. Everything that happened in this humble castle town was trivial to them. “I want to know the reality of this country. The reality of the people who live in it. Books can teach me about the past, but almost nothing about the present.”

Herscherik remembered how Ryoko had, at one time, praised the knowledge she read in books above all else and believed everything she read online. She never thought for herself or ever doubted the truth in the information she took in. Reality, however, was more complicated than some lines of text. Knowledge could aid in decision making, but she had learned the importance of judging what was right for herself. So, Herscherik had decided to visit the town, pushing aside his preconceptions, in his hunger for knowledge. He came to the town so he could be confident in doing the right thing when the time came. Herscherik was proud of that decision.

Oran stared at Herscherik. He couldn’t believe that those eyes, staring pensively into the distance, belonged to a five-year-old. “Prince—”Just as Oran opened his mouth, a piercing female scream rang out, followed by multiple voices shouting. One of the voices demanded someone to go call a constable. “What was that?” Oran rose to his feet, turning toward the source of the scream. He sensed more tension than there should have been in this peaceful town and instinctively reached for the hilt of his sword. He then turned to find that Herscherik had vanished.

“Ryoko! Don’t go!” Louise shouted from the fruit stand.

In disbelief, Oran ran out front to see a head of blond hair cutting through the crowd straight toward the center of the commotion. “You’re kidding me!” Why is the prince leading the charge?! Groaning that Herscherik kept decimating his preconceptions about a five-year-old prince, Oran ran after him.

Oblivious to Oran’s panic, Herscherik parted through the ground and arrived at the scene. There, he found a young woman being tightly held by a well-dressed man who appeared to be a noble. In the man’s hand was a longsword, which he swung to and fro to keep back the crowd. The men of the castle town, who had the scene surrounded, were paralyzed by the man’s deranged behavior. Their grips tightened on their weapons, which ranged from simple lumber to pitchforks. One of them, most likely a mercenary, was holding a sword. Each time they even tried to take a step toward the man, he screeched and thrashed his sword about.

“Money! Give me your money!”

“Please! Help!”

The scene intensified as the man growled and the woman screamed for help. The man was clearly out of his mind, with bloodshot eyes and emaciated cheeks. He was frothing at the mouth, and his every step was faltering. Even as he held onto the woman tightly, he was almost leaning into her like a walking stick.

“I need that drug! Bring it now!” the man howled, swinging his longsword in the air, which only struck the empty space between him and the crowd.

“Where’s that constable!?” a man yelled from behind Herscherik.

“Someone just left to get one!” another answered.

Keeping his eyes on the deranged man, Herscherik eavesdropped on the conversations around him.

“Drug? The one that all the nobles are pushing nowadays?! Didn’t think anyone was stupid enough to actually try it!”

“Bet this idiot thought it was an aphrodisiac!”

Drug? As Herscherik focused on the neighboring conversations, he was pulled back by his shoulder.

“Don’t run off alone!”

“Oran!” Herscherik grasped Oran’s hand on his shoulder and pointed to the commotion, where the man was still slashing his sword about and using the woman as a shield. “We have to help her! Can you do something?!”

Oran gave the scene a quick glance. The madman with a longsword keeping the woman in a tight grip, surrounded by well-built men holding weapons. “She’s in danger,” he muttered, in agreement with the townsmen. The deranged man was keeping his hostage too close for any of them to recklessly attack. “If that guy would show even the slightest opening—”

“Okay,” Herscherik interjected. Before Oran could ask the prince what he meant, he slipped out of the crowd. Herscherik stood before the deranged noble, placed a hand on his chest, and gave a beaming smile. “Good day, sir. A wonderful afternoon we’re having, isn’t it?” The man, along with everyone surrounding him, was struck utterly speechless at this completely out-of-place greeting. Some in the crowd seemed to recognize Herscherik and called out “Ryoko!” but the prince maintained his smile and eye contact with the deranged man. “Nice to meet you, sir. My name’s Ryoko. What’s yours? How old are you? What do you do for a living?” Herscherik rapidly fired these questions without giving the man enough time to answer. Before he could get a word in edgewise, Herscherik rattled on about the season, the price of groceries, and even went on about someone’s dog.

“Shut up, you brat!” The man finally interrupted the polite barrage with audible irritation. He began to swing his longsword to and fro. Although a sharp whish rang through the street, the sword had only cut through the plentiful space between him and Herscherik. Still, it drew screams from his hostage and the people in the crowd. The adults looking on went pale.

Even so, Herscherik maintained the same smile while he silently grumbled. I wish you would have left your jaw on the floor for a little longer. You can’t always get what you want, I guess. He looked around through the area to find that Oran was skulking into the man’s blind spot. Herscherik was reassured that he had made the right decision to appoint Oran as his knight, after seeing how he jumped into action without even a word from Herscherik. However, Oran still wasn’t ready. In order to buy more time and to keep the man’s attention on him, Herscherik implemented his next tactic.

“Sir, as you might have noticed, my father’s a noble. I’m richer than that lady, and easier to carry. So...” Herscherik innocently cocked his head.

The crowd was astonished. No one had expected him to offer himself up in exchange for the woman.

The deranged man considered the boy’s offer for just a moment. It would be easier for him to take a child hostage than an adult, and he could expect more ransom money for someone of noble birth. Judging by Herscherik’s well-made clothes and refined mannerisms, the man pinned him to be the son of a respectable family. As deranged as was, even he could see that much. On the other hand, the fact that his thoughts couldn’t calculate his inevitable arrest and imprisonment for this just proved the depth of his madness.

“Come here!” the man demanded.

Herscherik obediently approached him, although at a snail’s pace. The man stood there frustrated by Herscherik’s slow walk, and once he was close enough, he shoved the woman he had been holding hostage aside and reached for the child before him. In that instant, Oran leaped between them. As the knight dove in from the man’s blind spot, he might as well have teleported there. Before the man could understand what was happening, Oran drew the sword from his belt and bashed away the man’s longsword, knocking it high into the air. The man, who watched his sword fly into the sky, was blown back by Oran’s roundhouse kick. He collapsed in front of the crowd, groaning in pain.

“Arrest him!” Oran called, and the dumbfounded men who had been surrounding the scene rushed into action. Just as the deranged man was completely pinned down, Oran caught the longsword as it fell from the sky. He had had no choice but to fling the sword upward, since he wanted to avoid the risk of hurting anyone in the crowd.

“Dammit! Dammit!” The man snapped out of his trance and began to struggle, before the townsmen bound him with rope and gagged him with a piece of cloth.

Seeing that the man had finally fallen silent, Oran turned to Herscherik.

“Thank you, Ora-ngh!?” A fist struck down onto Herscherik’s head, just as he was going to thank his knight of service. Herscherik groaned at the surprise attack and crouched on the spot, holding his head with his hands.

“What do you think you’re doing, putting yourself in danger like that?!”

“But...” Herscherik gazed up at Oran, ready to protest. When he saw Oran’s blue eyes lit with genuine concern, though, he had to rescind any excuse he had prepared. “I’m sorry.”

Oran let out a big sigh. “Good thing I got there in time...”

“Of course you did,” Herscherik said with confidence. “I believe in you, Oran.”

Oran nearly said something in response but was unable to follow through and closed his mouth.

After the incident, they handed the man’s longsword over to the townsmen and left the scene, lest Herscherik be discovered by any governmental representatives. They returned to the fruit stand and said their goodbyes to Louise and her husband before returning to the palace.

The sun, burning as brightly as Oran’s hair, illuminated the both of them.

“Hey, Oran.” Herscherik looked up at Oran beside him, who was in the middle of a full-fledged yawn. “You didn’t want to be a knight, right? I think you even dislike royalty.”

Oran halted in his tracks; his eyes widened. “Why would you say that...?”

“You gave those answers at the interview because you didn’t want to be there. It’s too obvious.” Herscherik chuckled.

Oran didn’t know how to feel now that Herscherik knew how he felt about the royal family and yet still could point it out with a gentle smile.

“Even your grades were just barely enough to graduate. No one would blame you for not trying out for the Knights’ Order with grades like that. I could see in your eyes that you didn’t like me. In fact, you were mocking me.”

Even Oran’s line about the proverb his whole household lived by was actually a rather sarcastic thing to say to a member of royalty. The royal family, perhaps with the exception of the king himself, ate on the taxpayers’ dime. Herscherik in particular had already been appointed a butler and was now in search of a knight; neither of them were a necessity for the young prince, however. He couldn’t blame Oran for thinking that he was wasting tax money.

“Then why’d you make me your knight of service...? Just because I beat your butler?” Oran asked, recalling what the prince had said during the tryout.

Herscherik answered without hesitating. “Well, beating Kuro was a prerequisite...” Then, he stopped and turned around. Since Oran had already stopped in his tracks, there was now a space between them that could fit two adults. “But I’ll tell you the real reason when you truly decide to be my knight, Oran.” Herscherik smiled and started walking again.

Oran followed along, not wanting the prince to get too far ahead of him. He almost called to Herscherik on several occasions, but instead he only opened and closed his mouth in silence, unable to articulate his thoughts.

“I’m home...” Oran returned to his own home two hours after accompanying Herscherik back to the castle. He had a good reason for this, though.

When they’d returned through the hidden passage from the castle town back to Herscherik’s room, Oran had only opened the door and then closed it without entering. Feeling a sense of déjà vu, he asked Herscherik to open the door instead.

The prince gazed out into the distance. “Maybe we’ll only be scolded half as long, since there are two of us...” With that optimistic projection, Herscherik opened the door.

Inside the room was Kuro the butler, standing with his arms crossed and wearing a brilliant smile that would have made any woman swoon.

I never knew a smile could be so terrifying... Oran shuddered as he recalled Kuro’s expression.

From the moment Oran entered the room with Herscherik, Kuro grilled him for what seemed like an eternity. Having gained detailed intel on the incident in the castle town somehow, Kuro began by scolding the prince for his reckless behavior. Then he switched to scolding Oran for not stopping the prince, and even launched into a rant about Herscherik’s day-to-day routines and Oran’s street clothes for the day. Kuro’s scolding gradually veered off from its original topic, and he just kept droning on, as though using this opportunity to spill his guts on every grievance he’d ever felt.

Herscherik and Oran sat with straightened backs as Kuro scolded them, making them look like a pair of brothers whose mother had discovered their mischief.

“No good. Scolding isn’t halved with two people. It’s actually doubled. Bonus hour,” Herscherik mumbled.

Oran couldn’t help but let out a guffaw, to which Kuro responded with a smile and a sharp, “Looks like you haven’t learned your lesson yet.” Naturally, this only prolonged his scolding.

When they were finally released, Oran’s legs had fallen asleep after sitting on them for so long. Even so, he dragged himself out of the castle and back to his home.

“You’re back.” Roland, his father, was the first to greet Oran in the manner. “How did it go with Prince Herscherik?” he asked, concerned about his son for once.

Oran thought for a moment about the prince who blended right into the castle town and took initiative to discover the real world. The Seventh Prince had willingly risked his life to save a stranger and never showed any sign of anger as he was scolded by his subordinate, only apologizing and thanking him. Oran had always held a disdain for royalty since that fateful day—until he met Herscherik, whom he just couldn’t bring himself to hate in that same way. Through it all, he couldn’t help but see an unfathomable depth in the prince’s green eyes that seemed to see straight through you.

“I don’t know...” Oran couldn’t muster any better answer. I hate the royal family. But do I hate that little prince...? Unsure of his own feelings, he sank deep into thought.

Roland gave up on actually getting an answer and shook his head. “I see. I heard there was some kind of commotion in the castle town today.” His remark startled Oran, but he kept a cool facade. “Apparently a blond noble child and an orange-haired swordsman arrested the man who caused the commotion. Do you know anything about it?”

“O-Oh yeah? Nah, haven’t heard anything about it.”

What am I supposed to say? “Hey, that was me and the prince!?” Beads of sweat started to form on Oran’s forehead.

His father merely shrugged and muttered, “The prince is just like him...” too quietly for Oran to hear. “Now finish your dinner. Everyone’s waiting to take your plate.”

“All right,” Oran muttered and turned away.

Just then, Roland called to his son, as if he was just reminded of something. “Oh— The man they arrested had a small amount of some kind of drug on him. His symptoms were very similar to hers, two years ago.”

Oran turned to his father, his eyes widening. Roland, however, said nothing and retired to his room without another word.

“What...?” Oran started walking with faltering steps out of the dining room and toward his own.

Once inside his room, he walked up to his desk without even turning on a light. The moonlight pouring in from the window shed just barely enough light for him to see. Then, Oran took up the wooden box from his desk. He gave the lid a few hesitant strokes and slowly opened it.

Inside the box was a silk ribbon. Under brighter light, the ribbon would have revealed its orange fabric and intricate embroidery of gold thread. It was a handmade work of art that had cost Oran most of his reward from a training mission, on top of the money he’d earned from selling the horn of an enraged magical beast, which had taken a lot of luck to acquire. The ribbon wasn’t flashy and actually appeared to be one solid color at first glance, but the golden thread shimmered in the light. The ribbon itself was the color of a sunset, just like his hair. It was the last gift he had planned to give his fiancée, but he never got the chance.

Oran took the ribbon in his hand. Then he stumbled backward until he tripped on his bed and plopped down onto it. “Drug...?” he muttered and pressed his fist against his forehead, still grasping the ribbon. Even as Oran remained still, his grip on the ribbon never loosened. He didn’t move a muscle until his worried younger sister came knocking at the door half an hour later.

The room was illuminated with just enough light. No one else occupied Herscherik’s room but the prince himself and his butler of service.

“...and that’s everything.”

“All right. Thank you, Kuro,” Herscherik said, having listened to Kuro’s entire report. He held the antique silver watch in his hand. It had become a habit of his to fidget with the watch whenever he was thinking especially deeply. It was a subconscious habit, but Kuro had no reason to point it out to Herscherik. His reports were kept strictly oral, never written down for fear of a third party discovering any notes. “And I heard in the castle town today that a particular drug is rampant among nobles. I know you’re tired, but could you look into that as soon as you can?”

“On it.” Kuro nodded. In the blink of an eye, he vanished into the darkness.

I do feel bad for Kuro... Herscherik quietly apologized as Kuro disappeared without any sound or complaint. Still, Kuro was his only confidant at the moment. He had no one else to ask. Herscherik swore that he would pay him back for his work, someday.

At that moment, Herscherik recalled what the townsmen had discussed earlier. The term “drug” was unmistakable, as well as the term “aphrodisiac.” Obviously, they weren’t talking about any kind of medicine. “Drug... Like some kind of narcotic?”

Herscherik sorted through Ryoko’s memories. From TV, she’d learned that narcotics could be a terrifying thing. The user felt a sense of relief and euphoria, but it was short-lived. Once they became addicted, there was no escape. People would burn through their life savings to obtain more and even resort to crime. Drug addicts easily slipped down to the bottom of the ladder they’d been climbing their whole lives. Why don’t they buy games and comics with that money? Ryoko sincerely wondered, as someone who’d spent her whole life cruising down Otaku Road. Games and comics, though, were just an example of something she enjoyed; ultimately, she just couldn’t understand why someone would spend a fortune just to ruin their life. At the end of the day, though, narcotics were something Ryoko had only heard about through a TV screen... something that had nothing to do with her.

Now this exact issue was lurking just around the corner. Illicit drugs held the power to not only ruin the life of an individual but to shake the very foundation of a nation if left unchecked. That was something Herscherik had to prevent at all costs.

“Who’s behind this...? And why? Maybe you’d know, Count?” Herscherik couldn’t help but occasionally speak to Ruseria, who was surely by his side in spirit.

The prince gazed at the watch. Holding down the button, it popped open to reveal the portrait of Count Ruseria’s family of three. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect them,” Herscherik said, more to reassure himself than to renew his resolve. The prince then stood and put the watch back into his pocket before leaving his room.

Herscherik knew that he had to do everything he could, as little as that might be. He was ready to spend another night in the castle ruled by darkness.