「What a long year this week has been.」

The large clock at the end of the hallway ticked steadily, the sound clear from the other end. It was too early, at least Zen thought so.

The silvery, white-haired man walked almost soundlessly, with limited but unfaltering movements.

The walls, adorned with paintings and antic-looking candle stands, made it look like a royal museum rather than a place where people lived. From the carpeted floors to wall-high furnishing, everything screamed extravagance. 

What kind of luck would someone need to be able to walk freely in such a place? The worst kind. 

But the man was perhaps unaware of that as he opened the large wooden door and walked into the office. The crown prince’s office, study, to be exact. The room was bigger than a modern-day one-bedroom apartment, with bookshelves and cabinets lining each wall. A sitting area was positioned right beside the large window, and another ornate clock stood near the desk. 

「I know this place!」

Knowing was the wrong word. The novel, ‘Debt of Blood’, had only briefly mentioned this place, using it as a contrast to the royal office— which might as well be called a slaughterhouse. 

‘The royal office was as gloomy as ever, no light entered the room through the large thick curtains. Much different from the office the new monarch had used during his time as the crown prince. That bright room that always smelled fresh contradicted this place that would only waft a metallic smell of blood from time to time.’

The novel had said this in the beginning chapters while introducing the murderous, tyrant king. The king, despite being the crown prince sure to inherit the crown, murdered the previous king and queen and succeeded the throne. The sole antagonist of the 200+ chapter novel. 

Zen’s recollection faltered as his gaze settled on the man sitting behind the desk. Ambrose Aurelius, the future tyrant king, leaned on his palm with his eyes closed. 

This was his first time seeing Ambrose in blood and fresh. The illustrations and portraits he had seen were already a work of art. But the real thing was much more profound like he was carved out of quartz, but not quite so. Flawless. That was all Zen could say to describe the tyrant. There wasn't a thing—other than his personality—that one could complain about. 

“Good morning, Your Highness. I apologize for the delay.” Zen focused on the other person, who, unlike him, wasn’t aware of the crown prince’s future deeds. Was it a crime if the judge committed it though? Zen had no idea. He, too, had a striking appearance, but it was different compared to Ambrose. This person looked more like a porcelain doll with eyes shining like tanzanites. Everything about him was graceful. He stood before the desk, calm and poised, but the atmosphere didn’t feel as calm. 

“Good morning, Sepehr.” Ambrose had a voice that matched his appearance; pleasing to the ear with the right balance of pitch and tone. But as Zen imagined this voice reciting the lines he spoke from the novel, he couldn't help but shiver. “I heard you fell ill. You would have missed the event.”

"I would be careful not to cause problems in the future." Sepehr’s reply was measured. Their interaction couldn’t be more formal. The room seemed to hold its breath as Sepehr continued, "I've already instructed the guards to prepare the carriage. We can leave whenever Your Highness wishes." 

"We can leave right now," Ambrose replied simply, standing up in fluid motion. As he stepped past Sepehr, there was a faint exchange of glances, brief, but conveying something Zen couldn’t catch. The prince beckoned a guard from outside and passed a message to the king before walking out. Sepehr followed him, maintaining a few steps distance, the invisible entity hovering above him. 

                                                    —-—-—

The carriages were waiting outside surrounded by twenty guards. 

「So this is what fancy means.」Zen thought dryly. 

The two carriages gleamed under the morning sun, each large enough to hold six passengers. 

"Why do we need two carriages?" Ambrose asked the question Zen had been thinking in his mind. As far as he learned so far, guards didn’t take carriages. Was there a group traveling with these two?

“Your Highness cannot travel in the same carriage as others,” Sepehr informed without missing a beat.
Personally, Zen thought this was better. Sepehr looked so weak. Although there was nothing outwardly threatening about Ambrose at the moment, knowing the crown prince's upcoming track record, it seemed like a bad idea to stay less than three feet close to him. 

“This is not official business,” Ambrose commented, breaking the air of formality Sepehr had built up. “And how am I supposed to get advice if my advisor is in a separate carriage? Rid of it.” 

「So that’s what he does!」

Zen had a hard time figuring out who Sepehr was. Even when he did, it wasn’t possible to find what his job was. All he gathered was that Sepehr was pretty high up in terms of positions, so not coming across the character in the novel meant he was perhaps a minor character. But his face card didn’t fit the idea. 

Sepehr hesitated before he replied, “...As His Highness wishes.” The guard escorts bowed and left to make the arrangements as Zen continued to envy the crown prince’s authority to break the rules like sticks.

                                                        —-—-—
As expected, the carriage was big enough for two people, perhaps one of the most comfortable ones in the kingdom. Bumpier compared to public transport, but comfortable.

Sepehr sat with his hand folded neatly, his gaze fixed downwards. Ambrose was in the opposite seat. Zen took a small corner of the seat, sitting as comfortably as possible. No one could see him anyway. 

“Sepehr.” Ambrose’s voice was lower than before, “You look awfully pale. Are you unwell?”
Zen didn’t spot anything different. Sepehr looked the same as he did a week ago when Zen had first seen him. 

Zen had the bare minimum access to information. If a servant hadn’t mentioned the crown prince, he’d have no idea where he was for the whole week. The character he was attached to spoke little and there was no way for him to look into Sepehr’s mind freely. 

Sepehr’s head lifted slightly, but his expression remained the same. "It’s nothing, Your Highness. Merely fatigue." 

“Fatigue shouldn’t leave you bedridden for a week. You don’t seem to have recovered.” Ambrose’s words were soft but carried a weight that couldn’t be dismissed. 

“Your Highness need not concern yourself with trivial matters,” Sepehr replied, his voice steady. 

The temperature inside the carriage felt colder after Sepehr spoke.  The man sitting opposite to him looked out the window with a displeased look. “If you’re not feeling well, you shouldn’t have come. Do you want me to look like an evil employer, Sepehr?”

Sepehr watched him quietly for a few moments before finally speaking up. “That was not my intention. I’m in working condition. But if his highness feels uncomfortable because of me, I—”

The words were cut short as the carriage jolted to a stop; it was as if the wheels had jumped up a few meters and got down. 

Sepehr was thrown off the seat; trying to catch himself by holding the doorframe but slipping.  Luckily, he was caught in time, just before he hit the doorframe. “Ugh…” Sepehr was startled, and so was Zen. As for Ambrose…

[Should I just kill the coachman?] 

Zen looked at Ambrose with horror upon hearing the words. 

「Kill who? Over what?」

“My apologies.” Sepehr shifted again, attempting to steady himself, only to collapse further due to the sharp pain in his feet. Their foreheads would have crashed if Sepehr hadn’t held onto Ambrose’s shoulder. 

「Well…thats a…sight.」

The awkward proximity clashed with Zen’s understanding of the genre. Historical thriller? This scene didn’t fit the setting; it felt like something else entirely. 

[He looks so alluring up close.] 

It was the same as before. Zen heard Ambrose’s voice, but Ambrose had not spoken.
Among this, Sepehr made another attempt to regain his composure. “I’m deeply sorry, Your Highness. I’m—”

“Don’t move,” Ambrose ordered quietly, yet with power behind the words. “I believe you’ve hurt your leg.”

“I’m fine, Your Highness. You can let go.” The words were not heeded.

[Can’t we stay like this for a while?]
[I can’t remember the last time I saw him from such proximity.]

[Why must I let go?]

Ambrose showed no sign of releasing Sepehr, and Zen’s mind continued to be overwhelmed by words of unknown origin. He wasn’t sure what was more surprising: the unspoken words he heard or the way Ambrose looked at Sepehr.

“Your Highness, this is inappropriate. Please release me.” Sepehr’s voice was quieter than before, and Ambrose’s gaze became more intense.

“You’ll fall over if I let go.” They were in a compromised position. Sepehr was essentially hovering above Ambrose, with the difference that Ambrose was holding him up, not allowing Sepehr’s weight to affect his feet. So, if he let go, Sepehr would either fall forward or backward 

Amidst all this, someone knocked on the carriage door. “Your Highness, We’re deeply sorry for the inconvenience. Are you alright?” 

“His Highness unharmed. What is the issue?” Sepehr was the one to speak, earning a glare from Ambrose.

“There’s a ditch on the road, Lord Vale. We’ll be delayed.” 

“Such things mustn’t happen in the foreseeable future,” Ambrose spoke grimly, “Dismissed.”

The man outside was perhaps out of his wits thinking how angry the prince was. 

Zen, however, was witnessing something entirely different. 

[Why won’t you stop trying to jump away? Is it that bad?] 

At this point, Zen had a rough idea of what the source of the voice was. But its contents kept getting more surprising.

“Please let me down, Your Highness.” Sighing internally, Ambrose finally complied, carefully helping Sepehr sit back down.

"Sepehr, if you're in pain, you're free to go back." Ambrose's eyes didn't leave him as he spoke. Sepehr didn’t meet his gaze though, he was looking down. 

"I'm alright. It's just a sprain. It'll be alright by the time we arrive." 

「There’s something.」

Even with limited access to information, despite being unable to communicate with the character he was attached to, and even if he hadn’t heard the unspoken words, Zen still could've guessed this much. Honestly, anyone would. It was too obvious.

He continued to look between the two. There was so much he needed to find out. The prince and his advisor. What kind of relationship did they have? 

Zen wasn’t actually concerned about that as the problem wasn’t in any of this. 

The problem was, that Sepehr didn’t show up once in the first 195 chapters of ‘Debt of Blood’, not even mentioned, nor did Ambrose have an advisor.
Sepehr was an entirely new character to Zen, and nonexistent in the story of the tyrant king. That story was yet to begin.