A phrase I couldn't ignore slipped from the man's mouth—something that made my blood run cold.
He wasn't just ranting. He was implying something.
That his newfound strength… wasn't his own.
Someone had given it to him.
I frowned behind my helmet, my mind piecing together fragments of what I'd seen so far.
The men with the red wolf tattoos had been too organized, too driven, to be dismissed as common criminals. Everything they'd done—from infiltrating the academy to attempting the kidnapping of the Imperial Princess—was far too bold, far too reckless, for a band of ordinary lunatics.
Twice now, they'd tried to capture her.
That wasn't desperation. That was purpose.
'So there's someone pulling the strings,' I thought grimly.
Either they harbored an unimaginable hatred toward the royal family… or—
'Someone's backing them.'
And honestly, the latter seemed far more likely.
But then… who could it be?
