Chapter 39

At the end of the hallway was another iron cage. Inside the dimly lit cell, a gaunt man crouched on the floor, muttering endlessly to himself.

Dylan stopped in front of the bars and called out to him.

“Hey. Who are you?”

He thought the man might not respond, but the prisoner immediately lifted his head and met Dylan’s gaze directly.

His hearing and vision seemed intact. Dylan quickly assessed the man’s condition, noting that he had likely been imprisoned for a long time. What mattered most was his mental state.

‘He needs to be sane enough to tell me something that could harm Rickman.’

Dylan’s eyes hardened.

To his surprise, the man’s gaze was sharp and lucid. In fact, his eyes gleamed almost too brightly, like an animal reacting to light.

The man gave a low, eerie chuckle and curled into himself even tighter.

“So it’s over. Finally over…”

“What is?”

“The Crown Prince has come. That bastard’s business is finished.”

The words “Crown Prince” made Dylan’s eyes narrow.

This frail man knew who he was, but it seemed he had been cut off from the world long enough to still believe Dylan held that title.

Dylan had never officially been named Crown Prince, but before that battle it had been widely assumed he would be. People had casually called him “Your Highness” as if it were fact.

Which meant this man had likely been imprisoned since that time.

Dylan’s eyes grew colder.

A man locked away in Rickman’s secret mansion who still thought of him as the Crown Prince.

‘Rickman’s older brother died around then.’

That was something Dylan had learned while investigating him.

Many noble heirs had perished in that failed campaign, and Rickman’s brother had been one of the names Dylan had noted, though he had supposedly died even before the battle began.

Now, before him, a deranged man grinned faintly, hinting at a chilling possibility.

Dylan made sure only his closest men were nearby before he spoke.

“Your name is Hasel Overhen, isn’t it?”

The madman laughed for a long moment before gasping as if choking on his own breath.

Dylan drew his sword and struck the thick chain that bound the iron bars. It snapped cleanly with a heavy clang.

The man scrambled back into a corner in panic.

“I can’t. I can’t say anything! If I talk, he’ll kill me! He’ll kill me!”

The prisoner began screaming, but Dylan’s voice remained cold and steady.

“Calm him. Do not let him die or lose his mind.”

“My lord, who is he?”

Pavel frowned, clearly feeling sympathy for the man.

It was almost certain this man was Hasel Overhen.

Which meant Rickman had imprisoned his own brother and declared him dead to steal the family title.

But why keep him alive all this time instead of killing him outright?

The answer came to Dylan swiftly.

If Rickman was truly incapable of fathering a child, then bloodline would have been everything to him.

The man before him had likely been used as Rickman’s breeding stock.

For reasons unknown, Rickman hadn’t killed him afterward, choosing instead to leave him here, trapped in darkness and fear forever.

A cruel and monstrous man.

As the knights moved busily around the cell, Dylan called Pavel over.

“Yes, my lord. Give your order.”

“Do not leave Lady Everchen’s side. From now on, her safety is your top priority.”

“Yes, understood.”

“Forget this place. Go back to her immediately. If she questions it, tell her I will explain everything later and ask her to wait.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Pavel looked puzzled but obeyed without hesitation, heading straight for Agnes.

She was safe enough at the Vasteron townhouse, yet Dylan could not shake his unease.

He had never once thought Rickman was sane, which was why he always assigned guards whenever Agnes left the house.

But after seeing this man, he realized that might not be enough.

Perhaps even for the smallest outings, a visit to a salon, a stop at a coffeehouse, or a simple walk in the townhouse garden, she should never be alone.

The cruelty Rickman was capable of made Dylan fear what might happen to her.

He gripped the collar of his shirt tightly before releasing it, suppressing the anxiety clawing at his chest.

‘Why am I this uneasy?’

Agnes was important to him.

He didn’t need to hide his identity from her, and through her, he received the blood he needed to survive. With her, he could live more like a human than ever before.

Was that why?

Was it because he couldn’t bear the thought of losing that fragile sense of stability?

It was a reasonable conclusion.

Forcing himself to calm down, Dylan looked toward the struggling madman with quiet composure.

The knights were still trying to subdue him, but the man resisted wildly until one of them turned back to Dylan, silently asking if they could use force.

Dylan nodded.

As the knight struck the man on the back of the neck, a loud crash followed. The knight stumbled backward and fell.

The man hadn’t even touched him.

It wasn’t a hard shove either, yet a trained knight had been thrown off balance.

Dylan stepped closer, eyes sharp with inquiry.

The fallen knight pointed at the prisoner, pale and confused.

“H-he didn’t even touch me, but something knocked me back.”

The knight looked utterly baffled.

Dylan, however, understood immediately. His eyes glinted coldly.

The man had reflected the knight’s force back at him.

And only one kind of being could do that.

A mage.

Long ago, centuries past, mages had been common. Not anymore.

Not because they were too rare but because magic itself had lost purpose. Its practical use had dwindled, and with no research to sustain it, the discipline had faded away.

Occasionally, a mage still appeared, but their abilities were small, perhaps making chores easier or lighting fires more efficiently.

Even so, in every age, a few gifted ones emerged who seemed blessed by the gods themselves.

Just as one of Dylan’s old friends had once been.

His blue eyes darkened deeply.

“A mage, then…”

He approached the man and pressed the sheath of his sword against the prisoner’s neck.

“Be careful, my lord…!”

A knight tried to warn him, but Dylan ignored it and struck the man sharply at the back of the neck.

The prisoner collapsed instantly, as if the power he wielded had never existed.

“There is nothing to fear. He is useless now.”

Dylan spoke coldly and turned away, calm as ever.

The knights, momentarily frozen, hurried to lift the unconscious man. They whispered among themselves.

“Of all things, a mage in front of our lord.”

“H-how were we supposed to know? But why does it matter so much?”

“Just be careful next time!”

The newer knights, unaware of Dylan’s history, only looked more confused.

* * *

After hearing everything from Dylan, Agnes’s first action was to request a secret trial at the temple.

She argued that the crimes were too cruel to be revealed publicly, that they would stain noble society, and that the witnesses were too traumatized to testify before a crowd.

Those were only her stated reasons. The truth was simpler, she no longer wanted anyone discussing Noah’s parentage.

She also insisted that Noah not be present at the trial.

Fortunately, the temple agreed. They too preferred to maintain peace within the noble class rather than stir scandal.

And so, once again, Agnes and Rickman stood before the solemn judgment of the temple court.

This time, the priests would not dare remain vague.

As the presiding cleric announced the start of the trial, Agnes stepped forward. She summoned multiple witnesses, both criminals and victims alike, to stand together.

The moment Rickman saw them, his face turned deathly pale.

Agnes knew then that this time, he would not walk away unscathed.