Netepel Runtallis gazed at the vast sea stretched out before him. The deep blue waters emitted a fishy smell.

This port, owned by the Rognac royal family of Brinwell, was where he had entered Brinwell. As evidence, his ship that he had ridden from Egelbamot was docked in the distance.

Standing at the quiet harbor where only ships related to the royal family could come and go, Netepel recalled his heartless friend. It was inevitable, as the blue color that was her symbol stretched out endlessly.

Ophelia.

Softly uttering her name, Netepel recalled their last meeting.

At that time, Ophelia seemed quite hurt. Netepel remembered how the area under her blue eyes that glared at him had been flushed.

At a glance, she looked angry, but when she was young, Ophelia often made such an expression just before crying.

He shouldn’t have said those words. Suddenly, regret welled up.

“I always thought my chance would come someday. I thought you would like me.”

That was his true feeling, but it must have been bewildering words to Ophelia. So she must have fired back at him with words she didn’t really mean.

At the time, he felt a bit disappointed and upset, but as time passed, Netepel admitted that he had acted narrow-mindedly.

He shouldn’t have spoken so stubbornly. Wasn’t it quite unappealing?

Perhaps that was his mistake. Lacking charm.

Netepel recalled the man Ophelia seemed to be infatuated with these days.

The Arch King of Aglante was a fairly handsome man, but he had a completely different type of face from his own.

Though he had only caught a glimpse, Netepel clearly remembered the man’s appearance. The corners of the man’s eyes were fierce, and his face was frozen in a cold expression.

I thought she liked gentle types since she liked Haslen.

Netepel let out a small sigh. Perhaps because her first fiancé had allowed her to do all sorts of things, Ophelia had become much pickier than when she was young. It seemed she wouldn’t be easily satisfied with just anything.

But that man really doesn’t suit her.

No matter how sharp Ophelia had become, she was still someone who had only grown up in the palace. Netepel knew how narrow her world was.

Hadn’t she lived seeing and hearing only what her fiancé filtered in that narrow world?

In that sense, the position of Queen of Aglante didn’t suit Ophelia.

While she may have gained more things to wield, hadn’t she also lost the things that protected her?

It was a position where one would learn how painful politics can be and how maliciously people can act without reason.

If he had been by her side, he would have protected her from any harm… but it seemed the Arch King wasn’t that kind of man. Seeing how he had used Ophelia to overthrow his political opponents, it was a fact that could be known without seeing more.

How happy could she be by the side of such a man? Netepel sincerely hoped his friend would face reality.

The Arch King would only make Ophelia suffer. Netepel could guarantee it. The man’s life itself was a path of thorns. How could someone drawn into that be happy?

It was then that someone approached him from behind.

“Your Highness.”

Netepel turned around at the familiar voice and smiled faintly. Bahamal was standing behind him, holding a tray with a letter envelope on it.

The man, who originally looked a bit younger than his age, had aged considerably in the past few months. It must have been because he had suffered much emotional distress.

While thinking it was a bit excessive, Netepel understood Bahamal. It seemed understandable that he would feel troubled when the master he had served wholeheartedly for years was driven out of his homeland.

“Will you now live here forever?”

That was what Bahamal had asked when they first arrived in Brinwell. Netepel remembered the sadness in that tired voice. And even the subtle discomfort he had felt when he sensed that misfortune.

Although it was he himself who had lured Bahamal away out of necessity when he was young, Netepel sometimes felt burdened by the man’s deep devotion. What he needed was an obedient and faithful servant, not someone who worried and cared about him.

But Bahamal was still a necessary person. Knowing this fact, Netepel intended to show the man a bit more of the pitiful prince’s image. Since he had pitiful aspects from birth anyway, it wasn’t difficult.

“There is a letter for Your Highness.”

And Bahamal presented him with the letter on a silver tray. Although he was no longer a court official, the man tried to maintain such formalities.

The letter was from the imperial palace in Egelbamot.

Although it was true that he had to leave Larocs, Netepel had planted eyes and ears in the imperial palace, as he would have to return there someday to obtain the blood of Runtallis. Tanel, the empress dowager Iris’s personal physician, was that person.

Tanel, who had grown up under Bahamal’s care since childhood, still served Bahamal as his teacher and parent.

After becoming the attendant of the half-prince, Bahamal had silenced Tanel about their relationship, worried that his disciple’s future would be blocked if it became known, so the world didn’t know they were that close, but Netepel knew.

Perhaps feeling sorry for the prince who was not only driven out of the capital but also permanently barred from entering the country, Bahamal had used his own hand to make him a contact.

“I have someone who can relay news from the capital to me. For now, we’ll hear about the current situation in the capital from him, and when the Emperor’s anger subsides a bit, we can try to ask for forgiveness again…”

And Bahamal’s voice trailed off. Netepel saw the guilt that had clouded the devoted servant’s face.

As far as Bahamal knew, he had been exiled without any major wrongdoing, just for incurring the Emperor’s wrath, so it was understandable to feel such emotion while telling him to ask for forgiveness when he hadn’t done anything wrong.

But what Bahamal knew was subtly different from the truth. Netepel knew why he had been exiled.

“You dare plant spies in the imperial palace?”

Not long after being exiled from the capital, Orien, who had come to his mansion, said as he slapped his cheek without warning.

Netepel lowered his eyes like a guilty person in front of his half-brother, who had such vulgar manners unbecoming of his noble status. That expression, which he had often made since childhood, was now almost his specialty.

He wasn’t truly remorseful. To be honest, what Netepel felt at that time was nothing but resentment.

He needed the blood of Runtallis. But since he couldn’t inherit the throne, was it so wrong to try to do something by planting a few people?

It wasn’t wrong to take what one wanted.

Moreover, he wanted the blood of Runtallis more desperately than Orien or the Emperor. It was natural since he needed it to obtain Ophelia.

Orien slapped his cheek once more, then smashed all the furniture in the room. Glaring at him with terrifying eyes, Orien said:

“You deserve to be torn to pieces, you bastard. If I catch you doing the same thing again, I’ll gladly hang your head in the imperial palace with my own hands.”

And Orien returned to the imperial palace.

Not long after he left, a carriage sent by the Emperor arrived. It was something closer to a cart given to common laborers rather than a carriage, but Netepel got on it without hesitation.

Those who have never been humiliated may not know, but when you experience the same act repeatedly, you become numb to it at some point.

As he prostrated himself in the reception room he was guided to, the Emperor soon entered.

Netepel did not raise his head. Although he truly didn’t know what he had done wrong, in the imperial palace, the Emperor’s punishment was absolute.

He thought he might lose a hand or so, but the Emperor said something completely different from what he expected.

“I have long tolerated you.”

And something fell before his eyes. Although it was quite mangled and emitted an unpleasant smell, Netepel recognized it at first glance. It was the eyes and hands of the spy he had planted.

“I knew from the beginning that you were rotten to the core, but I endured for a long time. Even though you were as worthless as your mother.”

That day, the Emperor banished him from Egelbamot.

“Don’t ever think of setting foot in my land or that of my children again. Your tongue should have been cut out originally, so you no longer have a tongue. Do you understand?”

Those words meant that this exile would be kept unofficial.

Netepel knew the reason. The Emperor didn’t want to inform the Empress of the situation.

Upon learning that her husband had spent the night with a woman other than herself, Empress Iris began to view everything about her husband as filthy.

The Emperor had covered up all evidence of his one-night stand in various ways to avoid offending the Empress’s eyes.

The Emperor, who didn’t want to let the Empress hear any news about his second son in any way, seemed to intend to first remove him from Egelbamot and then pursue and eliminate him later.

Even though he intended to kill him anyway, the Emperor tried to confiscate all of his assets. It was truly shameless to try to take what he had built up himself without borrowing even the name of royalty.

Those assets were eventually saved by Bahamal, who learned of his situation belatedly and begged, giving up his castle and title.