Reazel stepped into the room, his presence as calm as it was unnerving.
Krios stood near the doorway, arms crossed, cracking his knuckles as he glared down at the three assassins who had dared to strike at King Eldors. One sat stiffly at an old wooden table, sweat beading on his brow. The other two knelt on the stone floor, trembling like prey before a predator, casting desperate side-glances at Krios—whose grin promised violence.
“Thanks for your help, Sir,” Reazel said with a polite nod toward the Royal Knight.
The knight stammered, “P-Prince Reazel, I didn’t do anything. It was Prince Krios who stopped the assassins. He saved the king’s life.”
Krios shot a smug look toward his brother. “At least someone around here knows how to show a little appreciation.”
Reazel didn’t bite. Silent, unreadable, he walked to the table and sat across from the assassin. His gaze bored into the man, sharp as a blade. He said nothing.
“We—we did it willingly,” the assassin stammered, the fear plain in his voice.
“Yes!” cried the second, still kneeling. “We hate King Eldors! That’s why we did it.”
“He… he let us die out there,” the third assassin muttered. “When we begged for help, he turned away.”
Reazel remained still. Listening. Watching. Not even blinking.
Then finally, he spoke.
“Brother. I need you.”
The room tensed as Krios stepped forward, his expression gleaming with malice. He stood beside Reazel without a word.
Suddenly, blood trickled down the edge of the wooden table.
The assassin across from Reazel screamed.
The knight gasped. The assassin’s eyes widened in disbelief as he looked down at his mutilated hand—his finger now a severed mess on the table.
“If you don’t stop screaming,” Reazel said, voice cold and eerily calm, “I’ll take the other one.”
Reazel held a dagger, freshly drawn from the strap on Krios’ thigh. His grip was steady. His expression—ice.
The assassin tried to stifle his cries, clenching his jaw so hard it trembled. His body shuddered with pain.
The other two assassins looked close to passing out, pale as corpses.
Krios watched silently, then spoke—not aloud, but in thought.
“People always mistake my brother’s kindness for weakness. They forget he shares the same blood as me… and Nyssa. He’s Medusa’s son. In Thaimera, we have a saying: If your interrogator is named Reazel, tell the truth before he even asks. Because it’s not an interrogation. It’s surgery. And my brother… is the surgeon.”
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Reazel leaned forward, eyes locked on the assassin.
“I’m not here to play games,” he said flatly. “I’m here for the truth.”
The dagger hovered over the man’s second finger.
“Now start talking. That’s the only reason I’m still sitting here.”
The room's tension snapped like a whip as a knock echoed at the door. A royal guard stepped in, bowing slightly.
“Prince Reazel, someone’s arrived at the Royal Hall requesting to meet you.”
Reazel didn’t look up. “Do you know who it is?”
“He said his name is Roha, Prince.”
Reazel’s expression softened. His eyes lit up.
“Roha?”
A rare smile crossed his face.
“Take care of him. He’s a dear friend. I’ll be with him soon.”
Krios stepped in with a smirk. “Go. I’ll handle the rest. If they’re still lying when you get back… they’ll wish they weren’t.”
Reazel nodded once. “Thanks. If they don’t give you the truth—call me.”
And with that, he left.
***
In the Royal Hall stood a boy clothed in black tunics and wide-legged pants designed for speed and agility. A crimson royal overcoat, gilded with gold embroidery, hung from his shoulders like a second crown. Tiger-like ears twitched atop his head, and his piercing blue eyes shimmered with wild instinct.
“Roha!” Reazel called out, smiling.
Roha grinned. “I’m happy to see you too, Chief.”
Reazel sighed dramatically. “That’s the 3,756th time, Roha. We’re friends. Stop calling me ‘Chief.’ Or are you saying you don’t see me that way?”
Roha blinked. “No, Chie—Sorry. Raezel.”
Before the moment could linger—
“Chief!” two voices called in unison from above.
Raezel turned to find two young girls descending gracefully through the air.
One wore a sleeveless black robe, its high neckline trimmed with constellations of golden thread. A thigh-high slit traced her leg, revealing skin kissed by moonlight.
The other glowed with soft starlight, her blue top radiant as dawn, paired with a flowing navy suspender skirt that danced with every movement.
Raezel chuckled. “Lia. Gia. You two showed up too.”
“Yes, Chief!” They sang together. “We came to see you!”
He eyed them suspiciously, lips curling into a playful smirk.
“The Gravity Sisters, huh? Wait a second… did you really come to see me—or did you tag along just to spend time with Roha on the way?”
Both girls flushed. “Wha—WHAT?! Chief, no! It’s not like that!”
Roha confused:
"What are you talking about, Chief?"
Raezel sighing with a wicked grin:
"You're still as dense as Broxiam, aren’t you, Roha?"
Roha smiling awkwardly:
"I don’t really get what you’re saying, but if you’re saying it, it must be true, Chief."
Raezel groaning and rubbing his forehead:
"At this point, you two should just confess already. This human version of Broxiam is a lost cause. Seriously, Roha—how do you not see it!?"
Lia & Gia muttering under their breath:
"We think so too, Chief..."
