Chapter 2

After pulling a grueling double shift that spanned the entire previous day and night, Isaac had collapsed into bed, thoroughly spent. He slept like the dead. At some point, however, hushed murmurs began to filter through his heavy consciousness, the indistinct voices weaving together in a low, persistent hum.

His roommate, Horden, had planned to spend the night at his lover’s apartment, which meant Isaac should have had the room entirely to himself. Where was that sound coming from? Was he dreaming? The soft voices sounded transitionally close, yet Isaac, still trapped in a dazed, sleep-deprived haze, only half-listened as he tried to drag himself back under.

「Is this the one?」

「Yeah. Look at the royal guard uniform hanging over there. He definitely works at the palace.」

「Wow. Even if he’s only a half-blood, how on earth did he decide to work in the one place crawling with those monsters?」

「Maybe the kid is just stupid.」

「Poor thing.」

「He really is a pitiable creature.」

「Which is why we, in all our grandeur, must look after him.」

「I don’t know. Must someone as precious as myself really play nanny to a kid like this?」

「Those blessed with boundless virtue must look down kindly upon the lowly. Noblesse oblige! Imagine how hard this poor boy has struggled, navigating this cruel world with that deficient little brain of his. Don’t you pity him?」

「True. And while his intellect is clearly lacking, he was thoughtful enough to offer us tribute. We ought to show him some mercy. Besides, with him around, maybe…」

「Exactly. He works in the palace. Which means he might be able to bring us—」

「Yes, yes, we absolutely need that. It was ours to begin with.」

「We must reclaim it. Only then can we return.」

The relentless prattle continued to drone on. Desperate to block it out, Isaac shoved his pillow over his face, but the voices refused to fade. Finally, snapping under the irritation, he bolted upright, ready to snarl at them to shut the hell up.

At that exact moment, his eyes collided with Horden’s. Horden, who was currently stripping off his shirt right in front of the bed, flinched so hard he froze mid-motion.

“What the hell?” Horden stammered, clutching his half-removed shirt. “What is your problem? I thought you were dead to the world.”

Isaac rubbed his face, his voice raspy. “…Are you alone?”

“Huh?”

Sitting dazed on his mattress in the quiet, peaceful room, Isaac stared blankly at Horden before vigorously scratching his messy, bird’s-nest hair. Morning light had already flooded the window, accompanied only by the cheerful chirping of sparrows outside. Below the sill, a stray cat meowed occasionally, its eyes likely fixed on the birds. Everything else was perfectly still, idle, and completely ordinary.

“Someone was whispering right next to my ear,” Isaac muttered, swinging his legs out of bed. “Probably just a dream. You just get back? How was your time with Aire?”

Horden beamed, the tension melting away. “Of course. Aside from the rain ruining our plans to grab a drink on the terrace under the full moon, it was perfect. But look at you. You claimed to be coming down with a cold, yet you spent the night with the window wide open?”

Judging by how sickeningly infatuated Horden had been lately and his frequent sleepovers, he would probably end up married before the year was out. Clicking his tongue, Horden walked over to shove open the rickety old window, its latch broken years ago.

The ancient wooden building, which housed several impoverished young men from the provinces as a dormitory, had functioned as a church until about a decade ago. Opening the window offered a direct, unobstructed view of the overgrown graves outside. While tolerable during the day, the cemetery turned so eerie at night that any resident who managed to save up some coin moved out immediately. Only four or five tenants, Isaac included, still lingered in the half-abandoned structure.

“I swear I closed it before I crashed,” Isaac said, stretching. “The wind must have pried it loose. Damn, my body feels like lead…”

He thumped his lower back, kneaded his stiff shoulders, and shook his heavy head. He needed to move if he wanted to avoid being late for morning drills. Every fiber of his being screamed for a full day of rest, but a low-ranking royal guard enjoyed no such luxury.

“You get weirdly drained like this sometimes, even when you haven’t done much,” Horden remarked, turning back. “It’s almost like clockwork, once a month… Hey, are you secretly a witch? They say witches lose their power and shrivel up during full moons. What do you think? Scared? Are you shaking?”

Horden snickered, playfully waving a small iron cross in front of Isaac’s face. Isaac indifferently swatted it aside.

“As if there are any witches left in this kingdom. It’s been decades since the crown hunted them down with bloodshot eyes, slaughtering every single one they could unearth.”

“Why not? The royal family’s curse remains unbroken, which means some of them must still be lurking in the shadows. Besides, you still hear rumors of them being caught now and then.”

“Once in a blue moon.”

“Tsk. Imagine the payday, though. You’d be set for life if you dragged even one in.”

Isaac slid out of bed and walked past the wistfully muttering Horden toward the window. The meowing from below grew sharper, and suddenly, a sleek black cat leaped onto the sill.

“Gah! That damn thing is back?” Horden gasped, jumping back and clutching his chest. “Seriously, what kind of cat has eyes that look like actual lanterns…?”

The feline ignored Horden entirely. It locked its massive, glowing eyes onto Isaac and let out an insistent, demanding meow.

“See? What did I tell you?” Horden grumbled, shaking his head. “I told you not to feed it. Now it’s going to haunt us every day. You brought this on yourself.”

“It’s fine,” Isaac said softly. “Honestly… you get used to it. It’s almost cute.”

“What on earth is cute about a black beast with eyes as big as carriage lamps?”

“Its tiny footprints.”

Ignoring Horden’s muttering about how some people could find anything cute if they tried hard enough, Isaac reached into the ration basket, pulled out a strip of tough beef jerky, and tossed it. The cat snatched the treat mid-air and vanished in a flash, darting away without a single backward glance.

The first time Isaac had fed this strange, large-eyed cat was only a few weeks ago—if one could even call that encounter ‘feeding.’

He had returned late from a grueling shift and set a loaf of bread and a single sausage on a plate for his late dinner. He stepped away for a brief moment to wash his hands, and when he returned, the sausage had vanished.

Confused, Isaac stared at the empty plate before catching movement at the window. There sat the cat, frozen mid-escape on the sill with the sausage clamped firmly in its jaws, its lantern-like eyes wide and startled. One of its front paws remained suspended in the air, paralyzed by the sudden confrontation.

For several agonizing seconds, man and cat simply stared each other down.

With a heavy sigh, Isaac realized he would have to make do with plain bread. He waved his hand dismissively at the thief.

“Fine, you must be starving too. Go on, take it.”

The cat held his gaze for a beat longer before turning and disappearing into the night. Isaac assumed that would be the end of it.

He was dead wrong.

From that day forward, the cat became a permanent fixture, routinely shaking Isaac down for food. It would swipe his meals the split second he turned his back, or simply sit on the sill, glaring with its massive eyes and meowing relentlessly until he surrendered a portion of his rations. It was nothing short of organized extortion.

Give them an inch, and they take a mile, Isaac thought dryly. It seemed even stray cats understood the concept of entitlement.

As Isaac finished dressing, chewing on a piece of dry jerky for breakfast, Horden stepped into the washroom and immediately walked back out, scowling.

“The drain is clogged again. Seriously, we need to pool our money and get the hell out of this ancient dump,” Horden grumbled, grabbing his towel and heading toward the communal baths.

Left to his own devices, Isaac decided he would simply scrub his face upon reaching the palace. He began to change, his movements efficient and practiced, until his gaze snagged on the cross Horden had abandoned. He snatched the delicate crucifix from the chain, gave it a dismissive shake before his nose, and let out a sharp click of his tongue. He tossed the trinket onto the windowsill, his interest entirely extinguished.

“What is there to be afraid of?” he muttered. “That thing would need to steep in moonlight for a century before it even singed me. Honestly, the rumors have spiraled out of control. Not that I have any reason to complain.”

CLANG

The bell signaling the midday meal resonated across the grounds. The royal guards, slick with sweat from their grueling morning drills, trudged toward the shade of a nearby grove to await their rotation. The morning shift held priority in the dining hall, forcing their afternoon counterparts to wait in the sweltering heat.

“Ugh, I am absolutely famished,” one guard groaned. “I wish those bastards in the morning crew would hurry the hell up.”

“Is it just me,” another asked, wiping his brow, “or has the training been unusually brutal lately?”

“The hunting tournament is just around the corner. Isn’t that the obvious reason?”

“And what does that have to do with lowly grunts like us?”

While the hungry guards fanned themselves and cast resentful glances toward the hall, a few succumbed to exhaustion, stretching out across the grass. Isaac was among them, sprawled motionless under the relentless sun, a handkerchief draped over his face to ward off the glare.

“It is still an opportunity to distinguish ourselves,” a guard remarked, ignoring the malaise. “If we secure a significant catch and catch the eye of the higher-ups, it could mean everything for our careers.”

“Career advancement?” his companion scoffed. “I would trade that for a fat reward right now. Remember the story? If someone makes a major contribution, His Majesty supposedly leads them into the treasure vault to pick their prize. Years back, when Captain Abe suppressed that provincial rebellion, he was ushered into the vault. Or did I hear that wrong, Squad Leader?”

“Mm, no, that is accurate,” Squad Leader Simon confirmed, his voice dropping to a wistful rasp. “Captain Abe and Deputy Captain Brown both entered. They described the experience as… truly rapturous.”

Simon narrowed his eyes, exhaling the word like a man savoring a fading dream. His subordinates followed suit, their minds drifting to the legendary vault where the world’s treasures were said to be piled to the rafters. It was a place of myth—gold, jewels, flying carpets, geese that laid golden eggs, and boots capable of traversing a thousand miles in a single step.

Because a select few high-ranking officials had claimed to have stepped inside, the rumor that the king personally granted prizes to his most meritorious subjects carried a heavy weight of truth.

“Not that earning enough merit to gain entry is easy,” Simon added, his expression clouding with regret. “Most men won’t even catch a glimpse of the gates.”

The enchantment broke. The guards clicked their tongues in unison, their faces twisted with disappointment.

“Tsk. Our king is a miser. Would it kill him to let us at least peek?”

“Exactly. What is the point of hoarding all that wealth when he lives only half the lifespan of an ordinary man?”

“Shh!”

The warning was sharp. Even if the truth were known to every soul in the kingdom, some observations were best left unvoiced. A guard jabbed his comrade in the ribs, forcing him into a panicked silence just as a short, slender soldier sauntered down the path.

He was a strikingly handsome young man with golden hair, visible even from a distance. While he wore the uniform of a bodyguard, it was altered by eccentric, lavish flourishes: a massive brooch at his collar, ornate cuff links, a decorative belt, and sword straps adorned with shimmering jewels. His finery, combined with his natural beauty, made him appear as radiant as a prince. As he passed the guards in the shade, he lifted his chin with an air of practiced arrogance and swept past them without a glance.

Silence descended upon the grove like a shroud. Only when the young man had vanished over the horizon did the guards allow themselves to breathe, their hushed murmurs rippling back to life.