Bound in thick ropes, Yuuya walked in silence.
His hands were tied behind his back, restricting any movement, as the weight of the villagers' hatred pressed down on him. Each step forward felt heavier, but it wasn't the rough, uneven dirt road beneath his feet that slowed him, it was the crushing stares, the burning glares of contempt, and the sheer disgust in their eyes.
This was not new to him.
From all sides, villagers cursed and jeered, their voices merging into an angry chorus.
"Liar!"
"Monster!"
"We trusted you, and this is how you repay us?!"
Thud!
A rotten tomato smashed against his shoulder, its foul stench clinging to his clothes.
Thud!
A clump of dirt hit his leg, crumbling upon impact.
Then came the first rock.
Crack!
A sharp sting spread across his temple as it struck. The pain was brief, yet blood trickled down the side of his face, warm against his skin.
Still, Yuuya did not react.
His mind was numb. His heart exhausted.
This scene was all too familiar.
It reminded him of that time…
His past life.
His elementary school days.
The moment he was framed and abandoned by those he thought were his friends.
Betrayal.
The weight of it crushed him just as it had back then. But there was no point in resisting. No point in fighting against something that had already been decided.
"I should have known."
The villagers' anger only seemed to grow as they saw his lack of reaction.
A burly man in the crowd picked up a larger stone, his eyes filled with raw hatred.
"Don't just stand there like a coward!" he roared, hurling it with all his strength.
Yuuya heard it cut through the air.
Smash!
The impact sent a jolt of pain through his shoulder, forcing him to stumble forward.
Still, he refused to make a sound.
His silence only enraged them further.
More stones followed. Some bounced harmlessly off the dirt, while others struck him—his arms, his back, his legs. He could feel bruises forming beneath his torn clothes.
Through the chaos, one voice rose above the rest.
"Enough!"
Leonhardt's voice roared across the crowd. His entire body shook with rage as he stepped forward, standing protectively between Yuuya and the villagers. His hand clenched around the hilt of his sword.
"This is not justice… this is just cruelty!"
His words momentarily silenced the mob.
But before he could take further action, a firm hand grabbed his shoulder, halting him.
"Stand down, Leonhardt."
It was Alric, his expression cold and unwavering. "A criminal can only defend himself in court, not here."
"But…!"
"You know how the law works," Alric cut him off, his voice laced with warning. "Do not let your emotions cloud your judgment."
Leonhardt's hands trembled at his sides, his teeth clenched in frustration. He wanted to fight back. He wanted to defend Yuuya.
But against the weight of the crowd and the rigid laws of the kingdom, his words would mean nothing.
Meanwhile, Cedric stood proudly among the villagers, his chest puffed with pride as they showered him with praise.
"Good work, Cedric!"
"You did well, boy!"
"That monster will pay for his crimes!"
Yuuya kept his head down.
He refused to look at Cedric.
He refused to give him that satisfaction.
The villagers continued their taunts as he was led into the cart. The ropes dug into his skin as he stepped up, his balance slightly unsteady.
The wheels creaked forward, and with it, the villagers cheered—not in joy, but in relief.
There was no kindness in their voices.
Only one thought echoed through the crowd.
Relief that he was gone.
Time passed.
The journey had been gruelling.
No proper food. Barely enough water.
Alric had made sure of that.
Yuuya had only been given a single strip of beef jerky and a small flask of water to survive the entire two-day journey. The jerky had long since been eaten, its meager portion doing little to satisfy his hunger. The water, he had forced himself to ration, a small sip, measured carefully. Yet no matter how much he tried to endure, the burning ache in his stomach only grew stronger, the dryness in his throat becoming unbearable.
The rhythmic creaking of the cart's wheels was the only sound that accompanied the heavy silence inside.
Across from him, Leonhardt sat with clenched fists, his knuckles white from the sheer force of his grip. His frustration was clear, written all over his face. But despite the guilt clouding his eyes, he said nothing.
He couldn't.
As a knight, the law was absolute. Interfering would only bring consequences upon himself.
Yuuya didn't need him to speak. He already understood.
So, he simply lowered his head and continued to endure.
Time blurred together. The sun rose, then fell. The cart never stopped except for short breaks… only long enough for the knights to stretch their legs and rest their horses. No one spared Yuuya a glance.
By the time they finally arrived at the academy gates, the sky had shifted into shades of deep orange, signalling the end of another day.
A row of armoured guards stood in formation outside the entrance.
But the weight of their presence was intimidating. The cart slowed. Then, with a final creak, it came to a complete stop.
Leonhardt moved as if to stand, but Alric raised a hand, stopping him. "Stay seated," he ordered coldly.
Yuuya did not resist as the guards approached.
Clink. Clink.
Without hesitation, the first thing they did was shackle his hands and feet with heavy iron cuffs. The moment the metal locked into place, a cold, suffocating weight settled over him.
These were not ordinary shackles.
A faint glow pulsed along the chains runes, engraved deep into the iron, sealing away any ability to use magic.
The magic suppression cuffs.
For a moment, Yuuya stared down at them, observing the faint inscriptions. They didn't need to go this far. He was already bound, already surrounded. Did they truly believe he would resist?
They did not speak. They did not explain. They simply dragged him out of the cart.
The moment his feet touched the stone pavement; the guards tightened their hold.
They weren't treating him as a student. They weren't even treating him as a prisoner. They were treating him as a dangerous threat.
Leonhardt took a step forward, but a sharp glance from Alric stopped him again. He could do nothing but watch as Yuuya was led away.
The underground prison awaited.
Then, without a single word, they dragged him out of the cart and toward the underground prison.
The cell they threw him into was damp, the air thick with the scent of mold and stale blood. The floor was rough, the stone walls colder than ice. A single, dim torch flickered outside the bars.
That was all.
No blanket.
No mattress.
News of the incident spread quickly throughout the academy, throwing the entire academy into an uproar.
In the instructor's meeting room, a tense meeting was underway. The Headmaster, Eltharion, sat at the center of a long, polished table, his golden eyes carrying a storm of emotions.
"This is madness." He exhaled sharply, looking around at the gathered instructors. "We cannot pass judgment on a student based on claims alone. Yuuya has not been given a fair chance to defend himself…"
"A fair chance?" One of the mage instructors scoffed, crossing his arms. "Headmaster, with all due respect, the evidence speaks for itself. He was found at the scene, with the victim."
"Means nothing without a proper investigation." Eltharion's voice was sharp.
Several of the mage instructors exchanged glances, their expressions unreadable. Some nodded in agreement, while others, members of the Verne faction, remained firm in their stance.
One of them, a silver-haired man with piercing green eyes, leaned forward. "Headmaster, you must understand, we cannot afford to ignore this. The Verne family has already begun pressuring us to take action. Because of his action the Royal family name will be in the mud. If we hesitate, the academy itself may suffer."
"Then let it suffer," Eltharion muttered under his breath.
Silence.
He knew he was fighting a losing battle. The weight of noble influence was suffocating. Even the knight instructors, who had no prior connection to Yuuya, seemed to lean toward the Verne faction's logic.
That was, until a calm voice cut through the tension like a blade.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I believe you are all forgetting something important."
All eyes turned to the speaker, Vice Headmaster Liora.
The woman sat with her usual air of elegance, her deep blue eyes sharp with intelligence. With a single glance, she commanded the room's attention.
"Yuuya is not just any student." Her voice was steady. "He was personally recommended by the Royal Family of Araulia. As such, his punishment does not fall under the academy's authority."
A ripple of shock spread through the room.
Eltharion's lips curled slightly. Finally.
"As per the laws of Araulia," Liora continued, "his trial must be held at the royal court, under the judgment of King Alfred himself. If we take any action beyond detaining him, it would be a direct violation of royal protocol."
The Verne faction instructors stiffened. Some looked at each other, uncertain, while others quickly masked their displeasure.
The grand hall of the Araulia Palace was drowned in an unsettling silence. The air itself felt heavy, thick with disbelief.
King Alfred von Araulia sat upon his throne, his usual aura of unshakable authority dimmed by the weight of the news he had just received. His broad shoulders stiffened, his jaw tightening as his grip on the armrests of his gilded chair hardened.
His piercing blue eyes, normally sharp with wisdom, held only shock.
At his side, Queen Fauna covered her mouth with trembling fingers, her eyes reflecting a storm of emotions… disbelief, anger, and something deeper.
A silent plea.
"This… cannot be," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
The messenger, still kneeling at the base of the grand steps leading to the throne, hesitated before continuing. "Your Majesty, the Academy has taken immediate action… but the debate on Yuuya's fate remains unresolved. Vice Headmaster Liora has demanded that the kingdom itself take jurisdiction over this matter, as the accused is under your protection."
King Alfred exhaled slowly, but there was no calm in his breath.
"Prepare a royal decree."
His voice was low, cold, not with uncertainty, but with controlled fury.
"Summon the Academy and the court. This trial… will be held under my judgment."
The moment the words left his lips, the tension in the hall shifted. The royal guards, standing at attention along the grand marble pillars, stiffened. The scribes rushed to gather their materials, preparing to transcribe the king's orders.
Queen Marianne's hand dropped from her lips, her expression hardened with determination.
"Dear," she murmured, "you must uncover the truth."
The king did not answer immediately. He leaned forward, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. His expression was unreadable.
"I fear the truth may already be tainted."
Far from the palace, across the city where the noble estates lined the heart of Araulia's capital, a single estate burned with a different light.
Within the lavish halls of House Verne, candlelight flickered against marble walls, casting long shadows upon golden-trimmed furniture.
At the centre of it all, Isaac von Verne sat comfortably in his grand chair, a glass of crimson wine swirling idly in his hand. The faint scent of oak and spice lingered in the air.
He did not drink.
He was too busy savouring something far sweeter than wine.
The news had arrived.
And it was delicious.
A chuckle escaped his lips, low, quiet, amused.
Then another.
And another.
Until his laughter filled the grand chamber.
Cold. Cruel. Victorious.
"Finally…"
His grip on the wine glass tightened, his eyes gleaming with dangerous satisfaction.
"The weed that dared grow near the royal family…"
He lifted the glass, staring into the deep red liquid as if it reflected his very desires.
"…will be cut down at its roots."
The wine tilted slightly as he swirled it once more.
"And I will be the one to wield the blade."