The grand hall of the empire was filled with whispers, each word sharper than a blade. The marble pillars stood tall, yet for Laine, they felt like prison bars closing in.
At the center—he knelt. Shackled. Blood trickling from his lip where the guards had struck him.
Before him, upon the throne, sat the Empress. His sister. The one who once called him family.
"Laine of the Imperial Blood," her voice echoed, sharp and merciless. "You stand accused of attempting dishonor against the royal guard. Do you deny it?"
Laine raised his head slowly. His eyes weren't broken yet—they still carried fire.
"I am innocent." His voice was steady, though pain laced each word. "But innocence has no meaning in a world that prefers lies."
The court gasped. Some laughed. Some murmured.
The Empress's gaze faltered for a single breath—then hardened.
"Your words mean nothing without proof. And the proof is against you."
Chains rattled as Laine clenched his fists.
"Proof can be forged. Hearts cannot. Sister—do you truly believe… I would harm the weak? You know me."
But she looked away. Silence weighed heavier than the verdict.
The guard who accused him smirked in victory.
The Empress lifted her hand, her tone cold as winter steel:
"One year imprisonment. Strip him of his name. Let him survive as nothing."
The chains tightened. The crowd erupted.
And Laine… smiled bitterly.
"Very well. If I must survive as nothing… then I will show this world the strength of nothingness."
His voice echoed in the hall like a curse, one that would outlive the moment.