The festival ended in triumph.
Officially.
The fireworks were praised as "a historic enhancement to imperial spectacle."
Merchants celebrated record trade.
The Emperor declared the ceremony a success.
But inside the palace—
Silence was heavier than celebration.
Arthur stood in the private strategy chamber.
No projections.
No maps.
Just stillness.
Seraphina broke it first.
"The eastern underground site was abandoned."
Arthur didn't react.
Darius crossed his arms tightly.
"They retreated too cleanly."
"Yes," Arthur replied.
That was the problem.
The festival trap had failed in execution.
But the deeper issue remained.
They had successfully:
Deepened the crack in his mana core.
Tested Darius's reflex patterns.
Confirmed his protective instinct toward his siblings.
Measured the palace core's discharge threshold.
And Arthur had responded emotionally in one critical moment.
He had chosen to release.
That was data.
Seraphina's voice lowered slightly.
"There is another problem."
Arthur looked at her.
"Go on."
"Three noble houses have formally requested a 'temporary decentralization of palace mana oversight' for future festivals."
Darius's eyes flashed.
"They're blaming you."
"Not directly," Seraphina corrected. "But subtly."
Arthur nodded slowly.
This was smarter.
Instead of attacking him—
They were isolating him.
If the palace core oversight was decentralized, future synchronization attempts would become easier.
Arthur walked to the window.
"I miscalculated."
Darius looked stunned.
"…You?"
"Yes."
He turned back.
"I assumed they needed my full release to destabilize the system."
Seraphina's eyes sharpened.
"They didn't."
"No."
Arthur's voice was calm — but colder now.
"They only needed emotional response."
Silence.
That stung more than any wound.
He had not lost the confrontation.
But he had been guided.
Darius stepped forward.
"You reacted because of Isolde."
"Yes."
"And that's wrong?" Darius demanded.
Arthur didn't answer immediately.
"No," he said finally.
"But it is exploitable."
That truth settled heavily.
Emily entered quietly.
She didn't smile this time.
"There are missing persons reports."
All three turned.
"How many?" Arthur asked.
"Seven confirmed in the past two weeks."
"Location?"
"Outer merchant districts. Two from eastern wards."
Seraphina frowned.
"That's too many for coincidence."
Arthur's mind shifted instantly.
This wasn't political maneuvering.
This was something else.
"Bodies?" he asked.
Emily shook her head.
"None."
Arthur's eyes darkened slightly.
"They're no longer just calibrating."
—
That night.
Arthur stood alone in the underground foundation chamber.
The stone still carried faint resonance scars from the festival.
He placed his palm against it.
The crack in his chest pulsed sharply.
Worse than before.
Not catastrophic.
But closer.
He closed his eyes.
And for the first time—
He felt something he hadn't allowed himself to acknowledge.
Fear.
Not of death.
Of loss of control.
If his core fractured fully—
He could destabilize everything he was trying to protect.
He exhaled slowly.
"They're forcing acceleration."
He had two choices:
Continue adapting reactively.
Or seize initiative violently.
But violence without clarity was what they wanted.
Footsteps echoed behind him.
He didn't turn.
"Duke Valmont," Arthur said calmly.
Valmont stepped into the chamber, hands clasped behind his back.
"You requested a private audience," the duke replied.
Arthur turned slowly.
"Your son fought well."
Valmont inclined his head slightly.
"He respects you."
Arthur's gaze hardened.
"And you?"
Valmont smiled faintly.
"I respect stability."
Arthur stepped closer.
"Missing persons reports."
Valmont's expression didn't change.
"I am aware."
"You control eastern trade jurisdiction."
"Yes."
Arthur held his gaze.
"And yet you missed this."
A pause.
Then Valmont replied carefully:
"Or perhaps I did not."
The air tightened.
Arthur didn't flare mana.
But pressure filled the chamber.
"Explain."
Valmont met his eyes directly.
"There are players in this board that do not answer to old bloodlines."
Arthur's voice lowered.
"You're telling me this isn't you."
Valmont didn't hesitate.
"If I intended to destabilize you, Your Highness, it would not be subtle."
Silence.
Arthur believed him.
That was worse.
Because it meant—
Another force had entered the board.
One not aligned strictly with the secret organization.
Valmont continued,
"You are focusing upward."
Arthur narrowed his eyes.
"Meaning?"
"Look sideways."
Valmont turned to leave.
But before stepping out, he added:
"There are foreign guests still in the capital from the festival."
Then he left.
Arthur stood still for several seconds.
Foreign guests.
The neighboring empire had sent a diplomatic delegation.
Young nobles.
Merchants.
Observers.
Arthur's golden eyes sharpened.
"New players."
—
Far from the palace.
In a beautifully decorated rented estate on the edge of the capital—
Two nineteen-year-olds sat across from each other at a long table.
Silver cutlery.
Fine wine.
Elegant clothes.
They looked like noble siblings enjoying leisure.
The boy tilted his head slightly.
"Did you see the flare?"
The girl smiled faintly.
"Yes."
Her eyes were bright.
Almost too bright.
"He hurts now."
The boy tapped a small metallic device on the table.
Delicate.
Intricate.
"Not enough."
The girl leaned forward slightly.
"Soon."
They clinked glasses lightly.
Outside their estate—
In the cellar below—
Something groaned.
Low.
Inhuman.
Muted.
And then—
Silence again.
—
Back in the palace—
Arthur stood by the window overlooking the capital.
Foreign delegates mingled with imperial nobles under lantern-lit streets.
His core pulsed again.
Unstable.
But alive.
"They've changed the game."
He smiled faintly.
"Good."
Because so would he.