After the attack the previous night, little else happened.
All the princes returned to their respective lands, and Oz vanished back into his hiding place. The only one truly affected was Ozu, who was dragged by his fellow knights to the palace infirmary, where he remained until he finally regained consciousness.
Ozu felt a strange weight pressing down on his chest as he painfully opened his eyelids.
It wasn't pain—at least, not exactly. It was a thick, sticky drowsiness, as if the very air refused to enter his lungs properly. He blinked several times before managing to focus on the pale green, almost whitish ceiling stretching above him.
The Emerald Palace infirmary.
The scent of ointments, herbs, and damp parchment confirmed it before his mind could fully piece together his memories.
He had no idea how he had arrived there. His thoughts spun endlessly, circling around a single image: the girl in the red hood.
He tried to move, but a sudden wave of dizziness forced him to remain still for a few seconds to keep himself from retching.
That was when he noticed.
His armor was gone.
Not just that—everything had been removed from his body. Every possession. Even his undergarments.
The cold crawled across his bare skin as if he were only just becoming aware of his nudity. He lowered his gaze clumsily and discovered that only a thin, nearly translucent white sheet barely covered him. He jolted upright in shock, clutching the fabric tightly against his groin, ignoring the sharp pain that shot through his temples and lungs.
—Such a lovely sight.
A soft, feminine voice sighed from the corner of the room. Ozu hurriedly covered his abdomen as well, his face burning.
—You can really tell you've lived through many battles, General Ozu. Those scars suit you quite well.
Seeing that he was still tense, the woman sat down and continued gently.
—Relax. You're safe.
Only then did Ozu fully register who stood before him. He hastily tied the sheet around himself like a toga and gave a formal salute.
It was—
Glin, the Good Witch.
She sat with her hands folded over her lap, wearing a calm expression that sharply contrasted with the turmoil churning inside Ozu.
She was undeniably beautiful: long, wavy golden hair cascading well past her back, fair skin, and radiant eyes like the morning sun—always carrying a warmth that felt almost maternal.
And yet… something was different.
She wore a white, single-piece dress, tightly fitted in a way that left very little to the imagination. Its deep neckline plunged boldly toward the center of her chest, and the miniskirt barely concealed what Ozu desperately tried to convince himself was intimate salmon-colored fabric beneath.
He attempted—unsuccessfully—to avert his gaze with dignity. No man alive could ignore attire so daring.
He wanted to ask why. Ever since he had known her, Glin had always worn formal garments—elegant, certainly, but never like this. Never so wild. So openly seductive.
But Ozu lacked both the courage and the confidence to question someone whose power was second only to the Great Mage himself.
He swallowed hard.
—I-I'm sorry —he murmured—. I didn't expect to wake up like this.
Glin smiled sweetly as she crossed her legs in an exaggerated motion clearly meant to draw his attention.
—We removed your armor to treat you properly. Emerald gas can be rather unforgiving if inhaled for too long —she explained—. How do you feel?
—Drowsy… but functional —he replied, clearing his throat—. What happened to me?
She tilted her head slightly, her movement deliberately seductive. At that moment, even her breathing felt dangerous to him.
—That's what I wanted to ask you. Do you remember anything besides your fight with the intruder?
Ozu closed his eyes, searching his mind. All he could see was green smoke, as if it had corroded his memories themselves.
—No —he answered firmly—. Nothing beyond that.
Glin observed him in silence for several uncomfortable seconds, then nodded with a smile that could have slain millions.
—I'm glad you're well. The Great Mage is unharmed too.
The name alone restored strength to Ozu's chest.
—That's what matters —he said with conviction.
She stood.
—Your clothes are on that bench —she said, pointing to a pale green wooden seat—. You may take the day to rest. You've earned it, General.
Ozu bowed his head respectfully.
—Thank you, Lady Glin.
As she reached the door, she paused.
—Ozu… —she said without turning—. Tell me something.
He looked up.
—Are you loyal to the Mage?
There was no hesitation.
Ignoring the dizziness, Ozu slid from the bed and knelt upon the cold floor. He struck his fist against his heart and performed the sacred sign of Oz: thumb and index finger extended outward, pinky pointing toward himself.
—My life belongs to him.
When he looked up, Glin was smiling.
But it wasn't a warm smile.
Ozu's chest twisted.
It was a crooked smile—almost… satisfied.
—Then hurry —she said—. Your family awaits you.
The door closed behind her.
Ozu dressed quickly. Every movement stirred faint pain, but nothing he couldn't endure. As he placed the pocket watch around his neck, his fingers lingered for a moment longer than necessary.
A gift.
From Aira.
From Licia.
His beloved wife and daughter—surely waiting for him at home, worried sick. He adjusted his wedding ring and exhaled slowly.
The day had been strange, yes… but also promising. He had proven his loyalty to the Mage and to the Principality. Perhaps he would even receive a promotion. A new position.
The future seemed… bright.
He stepped into the streets.
At first, he didn't notice how the night's cold grew heavier, more suffocating. The air burned faintly in his throat when an unfamiliar glow appeared in the distance.
Fire.
At his home.
The world stopped.
A blinding glare forced him to shield his eyes as flames embraced his house—and what shook him most… feminine screams tore through the night from within.
—Aira! Licia! —he shouted, running without thought.
A figure stepped into his path.
A tall man with an elegant posture, wearing a red hat tilted to the side and a meticulously groomed mustache sharpened to a point, accentuating his disturbingly satisfied smile.
—My dear knight —he asked with false courtesy—. Might you be General Ozu of the Emerald Forces?
Ozu didn't answer. He grabbed the man by the shoulder to shove him aside.
A reckless move—one he would never have made under normal circumstances. But the emerald gas still clouded him, and panic for his family had shattered his judgment. Had he been thinking clearly, he would have noticed the obvious.
The man plunged his left arm into Ozu's abdomen.
It wasn't a hand.
It was a stump fitted with a steel hook, sharpened like a short sword. He twisted it viciously, withdrew it, and drove it in again.
The pain was overwhelming.
Ozu collapsed to his knees, blood spilling from his mouth as his vision blurred.
The hook was withdrawn one final time, tearing a strangled groan from his throat—along with the captain's final breath.
Dragging himself forward, he tried to reach the burning house, futilely.
—For the honor of the Mage… —the man whispered, leaning close—. Do not wake up.
Soon, for Ozu, the flames went out.