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​The scene before Agnes’s eyes…

…was a frozen hellscape.

Everything was… frozen.

• • • ₪ • • •

In the distant past.

Towering icebergs jutting out from the shattered earth, countless demon corpses scattered across the landscape, a colossal fortress reduced to rubble.

…All frozen. Ezekiel’s handiwork.

“Rise.”

His voice was a whisper.

His gaze was fixed on five bodies.

They were all members who had once followed Ezekiel.

Laid out like chess pieces, their feet barely protruded from the shrouds covering them, making them look quite pitiful. It was a fitting end, much like the lives they had led.

Nameless, faceless, voiceless. They had left no legacy, no trace of their existence, except for these five pairs of feet poking out from beneath the white cloth.

“…Rise.”

He repeated the command, his voice hollow.

He was the leader of the imperial secret organization, Balance.

But there was no response. His comrades were gone. They had drawn their last breath long ago.

His entire team, wiped out, except for him.

The price of sealing the gate to the Demon Realm.

They had lived their lives as shadows, sacrificing their identities, their desires, their very humanity, to serve the Empire. And this… this was how it ended.

“Pathetic, aren’t you? The Empire’s loyal lapdogs,” a voice said from across the battlefield.

“The hunt is over, and all that awaits the hounds is the cooking pot. You should have known better.”

The words struck Ezekiel like a physical blow, igniting a rage he couldn’t contain.

He trembled, his body wracked with fury. He slowly lifted his head, his gaze locking onto the source of the voice.

The source of the continent’s woes.

Simultaneously, the master of the Demon Realm.

The Demon King, Valletta.

It looked… strangely serene.

Its entire fortress was in ruins, its legions slaughtered… and yet… it bore an expression of utmost tranquility.

And it was injured — its left arm was missing, torn from its body. But the Demon King was still holding something in its remaining arm—a small child.

It was Valletta who broke the silence first.

“Balance… ”

The Demon King uttered the name of Ezekiel’s organization.

Balance.

The organization that served the Empire from the shadows.

“It’s a fitting name, now that I think about it. With this temporary truce between the Demon Realm and the continent, balance has been somewhat restored, just as you wished.”

Valletta’s eyes curved like a crescent moon.

“Don’t you agree, Commander of Balance, Ezekiel, the Seolgwi?”

“…Take your filthy hands off Her Highness.”

But Valletta only tightened its grip on the sleeping child in its arms. The child’s face was blurred, obscured by a strange distortion in the air.

“Poor, deluded fool. You still don’t understand, do you?” Valletta sneered.

“ Ezekiel, allow me to enlighten you on the terms of this truce.”

“… Terms?”

“We get to keep the First Princess. So, I’m afraid I cannot return her to you. What a shame.”

Ezekiel stared at Valletta, his mind reeling. It made sense now — the lack of reinforcements, the silence from the capital…

The First Princess had been traded for a truce.

“The Emperor, however, has specifically mentioned sparing your life. You should consider yourself fortunate. There’s nothing you can do about this.”

Valletta’s sneer turned into a mocking laugh.

“Who would believe you, anyway? You’ve spent your entire life serving the Empire, but your low birth condemned you to a life as a puppet. A disposable pawn.”

“………….”

“And who will remember you? Though your name, Seolgwi, struck terror in the Demon Realm, no one on the continent will remember it. Don’t you see that yet?”

“…I said, release Her Highness.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible, my dear Seolgwi. You’ve worked hard to bring about this truce. I’ll raise the First Princess well. It’ll be quite amusing when the war resumes.”

Valletta continued to laugh, its voice echoing across the frozen wasteland.

“The Demon Realm will recover, and in the meantime, the human continent will rot from within. Humans… such fragile creatures. They can never overcome the ravages of time.”

Thud—!

Ezekiel couldn’t listen any longer and dashed forward, pushing off the ground. He swiftly advanced, spreading ice in his path, but no matter how he ran, he could not close the distance between him and the Demon King.

It was bizarre.

The Demon King merely stood there, yet Ezekiel could not reach it.

“Farewell, Seolgwi.” Valletta’s voice was cold, dismissive.

“It seems you’ve acquired a… terminal condition. I doubt we’ll meet again.”

Boom—!

And then…

He was flung back, expelled from the Demon Realm.

The dimensional rift swallowed him whole, and Ezekiel felt as if he were drowning, his body floating through a sea of swirling colors and distorted shapes.

“Damn it…!” he muttered, his eyes wide with despair.

It was worse than death.

He had failed to defeat the Demon King. He had failed to save his comrades, failed to protect the princess. He had even failed in his attempt to die a warrior’s death.

Thump—!

His heart pounded as if it would explode.

He had pushed his cold abilities to the extreme during this mission. His body, once thrown off balance, would never return to its original state.

Sssss–!

The dimensional current swept him along, his consciousness fading.

Ezekiel closed his eyes and focused, not to survive but to remember the names and faces of his fallen comrades, leaving no detail forgotten; their faces, their names, their voices… he clung to them desperately.

“They said they had dreams…”

Dreams of living a normal life, dreams of opening an orphanage to live with children, dreams of a good night’s sleep… none of them had come true.

He had hoped for his comrades’ wishes to be fulfilled.

…But their wishes remained unattainable.

Had he ever truly achieved balance in his own life?

He had lived as a shadow, an ornament of the Empire. He had striven so hard, but what had it all been for?

Commander.

The title felt like a mockery now.

He couldn’t save his comrades, nor could he protect himself.

He hadn’t even managed to save the precious princess.

“Idiots…” he croaked, his voice a raspy whisper.

Your commander is so weak that he couldn’t achieve even blind revenge. If you had known this, you might have abandoned your foolish loyalty. If you had, maybe you could have lived a better life than Ezekiel…

“Cough─!”

He coughed, a torrent of blood erupting from his lips. He was too weak to swallow, too weak to spit it out. His throat clogged, his lungs burning. 

His consciousness slowly faded away.

.

.

.

.

.

Agnes had vividly witnessed Ezekiel’s past, felt his pain, his anger, his despair.

BEEEEEP—!

A high-pitched ringing filled her ears.

Her vision blurred, fading to white. The prolonged exposure to the demonic sword’s aura was taking its toll.

Then, as if her view had turned into a blank canvas, various scenes flashed before her eyes like a streak of falling stars.

— This is our last mission! What are we going to do after this is over?

— Hey, Commander, don’t you have any dreams?

— I want to have a hundred cats.

— You know, I’ve never seen the Commander smile.

…What is this?

— Teacher! Look!

— Where are you going, Teacher?

— Teacher!

…How? How is this possible…?

Truths that the world would never know, truths she had no right to know… glimpses of Ezekiel’s past, his hidden life, his buried pain, assaulted her senses.

Some of Ezekiel’s memories haphazardly streamed into Agnes’s mind and mixed together.

His childhood in the Palace of Penance, the brutal training that pushed him to his limits, his days as a tutor to the imperial princesses… her head throbbed, her mind felt like it was on fire.

Blood trickled from her nose.

She was paralyzed, trapped in a nightmare she couldn’t escape.

And then… just as she thought her head would explode…

“Ugh…”

A jolt of pain brought her back to reality. The black mist that had enveloped her dissipated, but she was still dizzy, disoriented.

“…Nes!”

A voice called her name. A hand shook her shoulder.

“Lady Agnes! Lady Agnes! ”

That’s when her vision cleared.

Tether was kneeling beside her, her face etched with worry. Ezekiel stood nearby, the black mist completely gone.

“Lady Agnes, are you alright?”

“I…”

She couldn’t answer. Her head was spinning, and words failed her.

Yet, her gaze instinctively turned towards Ezekiel.

Now, perfectly fine, he stood as the Inspector.

“…Why do you always push yourself so hard? You need to know your limits.”

He met her gaze, his expression calm, a lollipop still in his mouth.

“You seem to have been quite frightened. You’re even crying.”

Agnes looked at her reflection in the ice.

Though her expression was as impassive as usual, it looked ghastly. She hadn’t realized the streams of tears that had traced down her cheeks.

“…………..”

After a while, she quietly nodded.

“…Yes.”

For now, that was all she could muster to say.

“I was very scared.”

Dawn was breaking.

It was time to head to the Black Tower.