While the lower depths of the castle were cold, damp, and filled with the lingering smell of grease and old smoke, the Royal Training Grounds and the heroes' wing existed in a completely different world.
Those upper halls were bathed in constant sunlight streaming through enormous windows, illuminating polished marble floors and walls adorned with gold. Servants moved quietly through the corridors carrying trays of rich food, while guards stood watch with disciplined posture, as though protecting royalty rather than newly summoned outsiders.
The four summoned heroes had been taken to magnificent chambers so they could rest before their official training began.
Liam, the SS-Rank Sword Saint, lay sprawled across a luxurious bed layered with silk sheets and red blankets. He stretched lazily, staring up at the painted ceiling that depicted ancient battles and heroic legends.
"This is perfect," he said with a satisfied sigh, a wide smirk forming across his face.
"I already like this place. It beats the university any day."
Clara didn't respond immediately.
She stood by the tall window, her gaze fixed on the kingdom stretching beyond the castle walls. Sunlight reflected faintly in her eyes, but her thoughts were far from the view in front of her.
"Shouldn't you be worried?" she asked at last, her voice quieter than usual, though tension lingered beneath it.
Liam didn't even turn.
"About what?"
Clara hesitated briefly before answering.
"…Lucius."
That name drew a faint reaction.
Collen glanced up for a moment, then leaned back again.
"The mistake," Clara added, her tone tightening.
Liam let out a short laugh.
"You're still thinking about him?"
Clara turned to face them fully now, her expression firm.
"He was summoned with us. That means something went wrong. And now he's being treated like… that." She paused, her brows drawing together. "Doesn't that bother any of you?"
"No," Liam replied immediately.
There was no hesitation in his voice.
"He's weak," Liam continued, finally sitting up. "An F-Rank healer who can barely stand. What exactly do you expect him to do? Heal us after everything is already over, when mages could do better?"
Collen gave a small shrug from where he sat, idly rolling a spark of electricity between his fingers.
"He couldn't even make the summoning orb react properly," Collen added. "That alone should tell you everything you need to know."
Clara's expression hardened.
"That doesn't mean he deserves—"
"It means he's not like us," Liam interrupted.
The room fell quiet.
Shira shifted slightly in her stance, her voice softer as she spoke.
"…Maybe we should at least check on him."
Liam scoffed.
"And do what? Bring him up here so he can slow us down, too?"
Shira hesitated.
She didn't respond.
That hesitation lingered in the air longer than her words would have.
Clara looked between them, disbelief slowly settling in.
"So that's it?" she asked. "We just ignore him?"
"We focus on what matters," Liam said coldly. "Getting stronger."
Collen nodded in agreement.
"Exactly. Look around, Clara. We've been given everything—training, resources, power. Why should we risk that for someone who can't even keep up?"
The words weren't loud.
But they were firm.
Final.
Clara said nothing after that.
She simply looked at them for a moment longer, as if trying to recognise the people standing in front of her.
Then she turned and walked out.
The further she moved away from the heroes' wing, the more the castle changed.
The warmth faded.
The light dimmed.
The air grew heavier.
Polished marble gave way to rough stone, and the faint scent of incense was replaced by smoke and stale air.
By the time she reached the lower levels, the difference was impossible to ignore.
She barely noticed when she collided with someone.
"I'm—sorry—"
Ian grabbed her arm before she could finish.
His grip was tight.
Too tight.
"Stay away from him," he whispered urgently.
Clara froze.
"…What?"
"That boy," Ian said, his voice shaking slightly. "Something is wrong with him."
Before she could question him further, he released her and hurried away into the dim corridor.
Clara remained still for a moment.
Uneasy.
Then she continued forward.
The moment she stepped into the kitchen, the heat struck her.
But what stood out wasn't the temperature.
It was the silence.
Servants stood frozen in place, their eyes fixed on a single figure near the back.
Lucius.
He looked the same—thin, fragile, still wearing the same worn clothing.
And yet…
Something felt different.
He slowly stood, his movements slightly uneven, as if something invisible weighed him down.
Clara stepped forward, her chest tightening.
"Lucius…?"
He didn't respond.
He simply walked.
Slowly.
As though she didn't exist.
"Lucius, wait—"
This time, he stopped.
The silence deepened.
Then
He turned.
Clara flinched.
The face was the same.
But the eyes—
Cold.
Empty.
Like nothing inside them remained.
"…We can help you," Clara said, her voice softer now. "Liam and the others… we can talk to the King."
Lucius looked at her.
For a long moment.
Then he spoke.
"The King gave me exactly what I deserved."
His voice was low.
Hollow.
"You should return to your palace, Clara."
A pause.
"Do not come down here again."
For a brief moment, something flickered in his eyes
Something human.
Something familiar.
Then it disappeared.
He turned away.
And walked into the darkness.
The shadows seemed to stretch toward him, swallowing his figure completely.
Clara didn't follow.
She couldn't.
She remained standing there, the heat of the kitchen pressing against her skin, while a cold feeling settled deep inside her chest.
Because the boy who had just walked away…
Was no longer the same person she once knew.