A young servant entered, bowed, and said, "Your Highness, His Majesty the Emperor awaits you for dinner."
Niklaus turned to the servant calmly. "Alright."
Despite showing no visible reaction, something stirred inside him. During the three months, and even before he woke up in Niklaus's body, the second prince had never dined with the emperor except on formal occasions. Banquets were held with everyone present, and everything was more of a social ritual than a family gathering.
Does he want something? Does he want to reprimand me for something? Or... did he understand that I am not Niklaus?
But when he thought about it further, he dismissed the idea. The emperor wasn't interested in what Niklaus did as long as he didn't bring shame to the imperial family. And since he hadn't done anything worth mentioning, why was he being summoned now?
How annoying.
Niklaus left calmly, indifferent.
When he reached the massive dining hall, he stopped for a moment.
The hall was filled with the most delicious types of food, scents of roasted meats and exotic spices wafting through the air. Crystal chandeliers cast warm light dancing on walls covered with paintings depicting the imperial family's ancestors.
Emperor Leonard sat at the head of the table with cold dignity. His golden hair was carefully styled, and the white fur on his shoulders connected to his luxurious red robe. Every part of him suggested power and nobility.
In the seat beside him sat Adrian. His appearance was a miniature copy of the emperor, the only difference being his long, carefully styled golden hair. The features were an exact replica—seeing him, one could imagine the emperor in his youth.
In complete contrast, Niklaus's appearance was entirely different. His black hair, his crimson eyes, his sharp features—everything whispered that he did not belong in this perfect family portrait.
The atmosphere was charged with silence, that kind of silence that carries an invisible tension behind it, as if everyone realized this gathering was not an ordinary one.
Niklaus sat on the first seat in front of him—he was saving himself the walk to his supposed seat, and didn't want to stay here longer than necessary.
His eyes met the emperor's for a moment. Leonard looked at him coldly, then began eating without any preamble, as if there was nothing that needed explanation.
This irritated Niklaus slightly. He wanted to know what this emperor wanted so he could leave. But if this was what the emperor wanted—silence—then fine. It would be better not to say a single word to them.
Servants placed food in front of Niklaus. He looked at it indifferently, then began eating carelessly, unconcerned with the type or quality of food.
Vast silence prevailed in the hall, broken only by the sound of ceramic dishes touching the marble table.
But in the end, it was Adrian who decided to break this silence.
He looked at Niklaus for a moment, then said in a quiet but undeterred voice:
"It's been a long time since we all sat at this table."
Niklaus showed no reaction. He simply took a piece of bread and ate it slowly, without responding to the conversation.
But Adrian didn't back down. He continued in a deeper tone:
"Have you been thinking about anything during these months? Or planned what you'll do at the academy?"
This sentence carried more meaning than it appeared. As if it was an attempt to understand what was going on in Niklaus's mind, or perhaps an attempt to pull him out of the isolation he had placed himself in.
But Niklaus didn't raise his eyes from his food. He wasn't interested in responding, nor even in listening. His reaction was like complete emptiness, as if the words weren't worth the effort of a reply.
Adrian paused for a moment, searching for any way to make this conversation move. But in front of him, Niklaus was as he always was—calm, indifferent, as if he saw no value in anything happening around him.
As for the emperor, he remained silent. He showed no expression on his face, but he was watching the situation carefully. His blue eyes moved between his two sons, trying to decipher his youngest son.
After Niklaus finished eating—or rather, after he ate enough to say he had eaten—he rose from his seat. He placed the napkin on the table quietly, ready to leave without a single word.
But before he could move, the emperor's voice came. Quiet but firm, like an unmoving rock:
"Sit."
Niklaus paused for a moment. Then he looked directly at the emperor. His crimson eyes carried something cold, something that hadn't been there before. There was a silent challenge in them, or perhaps just cold curiosity.
Then he said in a low but clear voice, like a drop of water falling into a sea of silence:
"Is it an imperial command... or...?"
His voice was measured. It wasn't an explicit challenge, but it was a quiet refusal of the idea that he was merely a subordinate receiving orders.
At that moment, silence prevailed in the hall. The silence was heavy, as if everyone realized that something was no longer as it had been. Even the servants stopped moving, their gazes directed toward the ground.
The emperor looked at his son. He stood silently, his eyes remaining on Niklaus, but his cold features didn't change. Yet deep inside him, where no one could see, he felt something he hadn't experienced in years: genuine shock.
But he said firmly: "And what difference does it make? Will you sit if it's an imperial command, or from a father?"
Niklaus replied with indifference and coldness, like ice that doesn't melt:
"Do you wonder about the difference, Emperor? Well... there's no difference in either case. In both situations, I won't sit. The family role is meaningless anyway, and the emperor's command is disgusting."
Niklaus didn't speak much, especially after the incident. But this was the longest sentence he had uttered since waking up.
And for the first time, he didn't call his father "Father," but "Emperor."
At that moment, time seemed to stop. The words hung in the air like arrows, piercing the prevailing silence.
The emperor didn't say anything. He just remained there, unable to respond, as if his words had gotten lost somewhere between his shock and astonishment. His blue eyes, which had always been steady, seemed for a moment as if they were searching for something.
As for Adrian, he tried to say something, to prevent this moment of rupture from taking root. He opened his mouth, but the words didn't come out. Even he didn't know how to respond to this silent refusal that had suddenly turned into words.
Then, before Niklaus left, he muttered in a faint, barely audible voice:
"Cliché drama... I won't be here anymore."
He thought he had said it only to himself, thought it was just a thought that came out in a faint voice no one heard.
But everyone heard.
Every word.
Every syllable.
Every tone of boredom and disgust.
Then Niklaus left, leaving behind whatever remained of his connection to these annoying dramatic events. His steps were calm, steady, like someone walking in a stroll, not a confrontation.
---
After Niklaus left the hall, the emperor and Adrian remained seated in their places. There was no movement or sound.
The silence was heavier than it should have been. Not because it was merely an absence of words, but because it carried something that wasn't supposed to happen.
The emperor kept staring at the table, at the spot where Niklaus had been sitting moments ago. The empty chair.
Even the servants lowered their heads. The speech wasn't angry or rude so much as it was indifferent. Not because he had spoken to his father like that, nor even because he had spoken to the emperor, the strongest man on the continent, in this manner. But because the manner itself was different.
In the past, if Niklaus had been invited to this dinner, he would have felt happy. Not because he was seeking attention, but because he saw it as a rare moment to confirm his place in this family.
But now? It was as if it meant nothing to him. As if the entire dinner was nothing but an empty obligation, as if nothing here was worth even the effort of thinking about.
And this was what made Niklaus's words more shocking than the emperor had expected. It wasn't that he was angry, or that he showed any direct rejection of them. It was worse than that: he was completely indifferent.
He had lost all interest in this family, and he showed that with complete clarity, without leaving any room for doubt about his stance.
The emperor realized that, but he didn't move.
Then, unable to control his thoughts, memories he thought he had buried years ago returned to him.
He saw a beautiful woman with soft black hair like silk, and bright green eyes that saw the world in a way he couldn't understand. She was placing her hand on her swollen belly, smiling widely despite the pallor in her face.
"What do you think of the name Niklaus? Don't you think it will be a beautiful name for our child? It's a name that suits his destiny already..."
He placed his hand on hers and held it gently, looking into her eyes:
"You should get rid of it. The pregnancy is dangerous. You can't even stay conscious anymore... and he also..."
She closed his mouth with her hand before he could continue.
She looked at him with her confident eyes, those eyes that had never submitted, and said in a quiet but steady voice:
"I won't do that, Leonard. You won't say this again, or I will never forgive you afterwards. I accepted all of this even before I met you."
He gritted his teeth, tried to say something, but her hand on his lips and the words he knew well prevented him from speaking.
The emperor's thoughts were interrupted by Adrian's voice. Adrian was staring at the door Niklaus had exited through, muttering to himself:
"Did we fail to remain a family, Mother... or were we never a family to begin with?"
These words froze Leonard in his place. He stood there, unable to move, and unable to respond.
---
Meanwhile, Niklaus was in the library, searching through books as he usually did. He paid no attention to the conversation with the emperor. He was thinking about how he would leave this annoying palace. He didn't want to stay here anymore.
He was flipping through pages slowly, reading with half-closed eyes, when a book bound differently from the others caught his attention. The book was covered in dust, as if it hadn't been opened in years.
It talked about magic. Magic was rare in this world, and not everyone possessed it easily.
He read:
"Magic is divided into many types, but the two rarest types are: Radiant Light Magic, which is confined to the ruling family of the Valdrin Empire. And the even rarer magic is Dark Magic, the magic of darkness and shadows. No one in the world possesses it; the last to possess it was the master of the Sorcerers' Tower, unknown for 300 years. There are other rare types of magic, but there aren't many details about them. It is said that the origin of magic comes from the Kingdom of Lucreven, isolated from the world."
As he turned the pages, an envelope fell from the book.
He looked at it, then bent down to pick it up. The envelope had a strange seal. He opened it slowly, taking out the letter inside. And beside it was a picture.
It was a picture of Empress Alicia.
He looked at the picture for a few seconds calmly. She was a beautiful woman, her long black hair falling over her shoulders, and her green eyes smiling at whoever looked at her. There was something strangely familiar about her, something resembling...
He set the picture aside and opened the letter.
When he read it, he froze in place.