“Yes!”

The word thundered through the room, sharp and final. Its impact reverberated among us. Frustration gripped the group like a vice.

Elizabeth pressed her lips together, her gaze fixed on Leopold as if searching for any trace of contradiction in his words. Benjamin, still catching his breath, clenched his fists tightly, while Nicole folded her arms, one eyebrow raised in defiance.

Midori had regained some composure but stayed by Elizabeth’s side, unwilling to utter a single word.

As for me, I remained silent—not out of agreement, but because I understood the reality of our situation. Our lives—or what little remained of them—were in the hands of the man seated on that throne. Any protest now would be futile.

It was Carlos who finally broke the silence. He stepped forward, his face a mixture of disbelief and anger. “And who are you to tell us how to live?” His voice rang out in the vast chamber like a challenge, accompanied by a sweeping gesture of frustration. “Not long ago, I was enjoying a peaceful breakfast with my friends. Now I’m supposed to swear loyalty to a complete stranger?”

The reaction was swift.

“How dare you?!” roared Oswald, a short man standing beside Leopold. His fiery gaze was matched by his attempt to step past the edge of the magical circle. He must have forgotten, in his outburst, the invisible barrier that held him back. “You’re speaking to Augustus XIII Van Allytharion! The supreme ruler of this kingdom, far above the likes of you!”

“That’s enough, Oswald.” Leopold raised a hand, his voice sharp enough to halt the brewing conflict. His expression, as always, was calm and composed, but there was a weariness in his eyes. “Let us avoid unnecessary confrontations. Remember, they are not accustomed to our ways.”

Oswald hesitated, glaring at us with disdain, but eventually stepped back, muttering under his breath in frustration.

Leopold turned his attention back to us, inclining his head slightly in a gesture of respect. “Once again, I must apologize on behalf of the kingdom. Allow me to introduce the figure before you. Seated upon the throne is Augustus XIII Van Allytharion, the reigning king and sovereign of Allythéon.”

My gaze fixed on the man before us—the king. This time, I didn’t see him as a distant figure, but as a person. Augustus was slender, his elegant frame draped in a robe adorned with golden details and intricate embroidery. A neatly trimmed anchor-shaped beard gave him an air of calculated authority. His golden eyes, the same shade as his perfectly groomed hair, betrayed neither disdain, pity, nor arrogance.

There was something more complex in his expression. A commanding presence, carefully maintained, seemed to struggle against the weight of guilt resting on his shoulders.

He rested his chin on his gloved hand, his fingers adorned with ornate designs. A faint sigh escaped him. Without moving, Augustus shifted his golden gaze to Leopold and sighed again, his impatience evident.

“Leopold, get to the point. We don’t have much time. If they don’t want to stay, they’re welcome to return to their graves.”

His voice was cold and unyielding. After a pause, he added with a trace of cynicism, “After all, they only have four hours left, and the process takes at least two, doesn’t it?”

Leopold, maintaining his formal demeanor, bowed his head slightly and replied with respectful efficiency, “You’re right, Your Majesty. I’ll proceed quickly.”

Turning to us, his expression betrayed no uncertainty about what lay ahead. He clapped his hands once, the sound echoing through the otherwise silent room. “I trust there will be no further unnecessary interruptions.”

Luca, who had been silent until now, couldn’t hold back any longer. Frustration laced his voice as he blurted out, “What does that man—?” He stopped abruptly, noticing Oswald’s raised eyebrow and reproachful glare. Quickly adjusting his tone, he corrected himself. “What does His Majesty, King Augustus, mean by ‘only four hours left’?”

“Exactly!” Nicole chimed in, her usual composure giving way to a note of anxious urgency. “And what is this ‘process’ you keep mentioning? What are you talking about?”

Leopold, clearly restraining his irritation, inhaled deeply, his calm veneer intact. “That is precisely what I was about to explain—if you’d allow me to finish without constant interruptions.” His smile was dry and humorless as he stroked his beard thoughtfully, his tone growing more serious.

“To put it simply: you’re still dead.”

The impact of those words was immediate. All of us instinctively leaned forward, our minds racing to make sense of what he had just said.

“Still dead?” My thoughts spiraled in confusion. What does he mean by that? I can feel my heartbeat, my senses are all intact. My mind struggled to process the revelation, but the answer eluded me.

Midori, who had until then remained completely silent, finally spoke, her voice low yet laden with the weight of the revelation. “So... all of this is really just a dream?”