{ A FEW HOURS LATER… }
"I see… Yes, now it all makes more sense!"
Mirac set the quill pen back into the inkwell and observed the lines he had just written in his notebook.
It had taken a while, but he had finally managed to organize his thoughts, piece together the events that had happened while he was unconscious, and formulate some hypotheses.
During lunch, his parents had told him everything that had happened during the week he had been unconscious.
On the evening of Sunday, April 6th, the same day the entire incident occurred, Mirac's mother had immediately grown alarmed by her son's absence, as he had failed to show up for dinner on time, something he had always done without fail.
Worried, she had ordered everyone in the castle to search for him.
Not long after, a young gardener had found him lying beside the corpse of the old gardener Edward on the white gravel path.
In that gruesome scene, Mirac was clutching a bloodstained sword, and not far away, amidst the white roses, lay the lifeless body of another man. Examining the wound on the latter's chest, it was discovered that he had been pierced by the same blade Mirac was holding.
For this reason, everyone was convinced that Mirac had killed him.
Shortly after he was found, the castle's doctors rushed in to check on him and tend to his injuries, followed shortly by some wizards skilled in healing.
Despite their efforts, however, no one was able to save his arm.
But that loss didn't trouble him in the slightest. Even without a limb, Mirac was grateful and happy to be alive.
The day after the incident, it was discovered that the man among the white roses was none other than Klark Minegot, a notorious assassin wanted in most kingdoms for his many crimes.
For years, however, Klark had seemed to vanish without a trace. Some believed he was dead, while others theorized that he had abandoned his life as a killer.
No one, however, could have imagined that he had infiltrated the Strongold family's royal court under a false identity.
Indeed, he had infiltrated the castle and spent an entire year pretending to be Professor Shirkenn, thanks to an Artifact known as the "Deceptive Glasses".
This Artifact, originating from the mysterious Kingdom of Noctara, was capable of altering the wearer's appearance. With it, Klark had been able to copy and assume the likeness of the real Professor Shirkenn throughout his time in the castle.
Additionally, engraved on the fake Professor's tie were runes of Rock Magic, which had transformed the simple piece of fabric into a lethal weapon, capable of stiffening like steel when firmly gripped by its wielder. With this, Klark had been able to move undetected through the castle for so long, carrying a concealed weapon right under everyone's noses.
Investigators found the shattered remains of the Deceiver's Glasses in the forest, next to a trail of felled trees—evidence of a violent battle. The fragments of the tie, on the other hand, were found in two separate locations: one part lay in the woods, while the other had been discovered next to the assassin's corpse.
And throughout all of this, the real Professor Shirkenn had not been seen for at least a year.
The investigators concluded that Klark had eliminated him before infiltrating the castle to avoid any complications, disposing of the body in some remote location.
"I still can't believe it…" Mirac murmured as he leaned back comfortably in his chair, his exhausted gaze fixed on the ceiling. "All this… just to kill me?"
His words hung in the air, accompanied only by the soft breeze that fluttered the white curtains of the partially open windows.
Amid the chaos of all these events, Mirac was plagued by a myriad of questions, only a few of which had found plausible answers.
One in particular would not let him rest: why had he been found in the garden with a weapon in hand when he distinctly remembered passing out in the woods?
Mirac, however, was not the only one searching for answers.
After lunch, the investigators had arrived to question him about what had happened that evening.
With a feigned expression of disorientation, Mirac had explained that his memories were confused and that he could not recall anything with absolute clarity.
The excuse, though improvised, turned out to be surprisingly effective. In fact, when they asked him where he had found the sword "he had used to face Klark", Mirac had replied with apparent uncertainty:
"I think I found it near the garden tool shed, but I'm not sure…"
Mirac certainly couldn't tell the truth, which was that the sword had appeared out of nowhere behind him, at the exact moment he had needed it the most.
Even though his explanation was vague and not very convincing, no one dared to contest the young Prince's words. Perhaps because of his social standing, perhaps because they were too relieved to see him alive and well, or perhaps simply because they saw him as just a child. In any case, no one seemed interested in digging deeper, just as had happened when he had miraculously "come back to life" immediately after his cardiac arrest at birth.
From that brief interrogation, however, Mirac had deduced that the investigators had only found the original sword that "he had used". In fact, no one seemed to know anything about the second one, the one he had created himself using his "Multiplicative Touch" ability.
And so, a new question arose in the young Prince's mind: where had the second sword gone?
'Another mystery to solve…' thought Mirac, rubbing his temples with a distracted gesture. 'Well, there's only one person who can give me the answers I'm looking for…'
Suddenly, a soft knock on the door broke the silence of the room, interrupting Mirac's train of thought.
The sound was measured, as though whoever was on the other side had carefully chosen the moment to disturb the quiet.
"Come in," Mirac said, his tone calm but firm.
He straightened in his chair, shaking off the exhaustion that had built up from hours of overthinking.
His eyes fixed on the door as it slowly creaked open.
'Here she is!' thought Mirac.
Closing the door behind her, Carmen entered with her usual grace.
Her steps were silent, almost imperceptible, as though she intended to blend into the hushed atmosphere of the room.
The air seemed to ripple slightly as she moved, and Mirac couldn't help but notice the shadow of worry on her face.
"I heard that you've recovered, young Prince," Carmen said warmly, bowing as was customary.
Her hands were clasped respectfully in front of her, though her eyes sought his, eager to gauge the young Prince's state of mind.
"I'm truly glad to see you safe and soun-"
Mirac interrupted her with a sudden wave of his hand.
The boy's gaze, usually lively and cheerful in the servant's presence, had turned abruptly serious.
"I appreciate your concern for me, Carmen," he said, lowering his hand. "However, I have many doubts about you and what happened that evening. Therefore, I have three questions to ask you…"
Those words seemed to freeze time for a moment.
Mirac was so determined to find answers that he was willing to speak as an adult, even if it risked shattering his pretense of being an 8-year-old child!
Carmen remained still for a moment, watching him with a mix of respect and caution. Then, she nodded and positioned herself before him. Her hands remained clasped in front of her, her face serene but with a faint shadow of awareness glimmering in her eyes.
"Alright," she said, her voice soft but with a note of seriousness. "As I promised, I will be happy to answer each of your questions, young Prince."
Mirac nodded slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on her. He wanted to catch every nuance, every hesitation, in her demeanor.
"My first question is very simple: why did you do it?"
Carmen tilted her head slightly, her expression serious yet puzzled.
"Do you mean…"
"Why did you cover up the incident and make sure I received the credit for defeating Klark?" Mirac asked firmly. "Everyone in the castle looks at me with admiration, convinced that I was the one who eliminated the infiltrator. BUT THAT'S NOT TRUE! You were the one who saved me, but no one seems to know it. I assume you're behind all of this. Am I not right?"
The silence that followed was heavy and palpable.
Carmen lowered her gaze for a moment, as if searching for the right words to say. Her face was impassive, but something in her posture suggested inner tension.
After a few seconds, she raised her eyes to meet his again.
"Young Prince… I believe the time has come to reveal my true identity."
With a fluid, controlled movement, Carmen knelt before Mirac, her gaze directed at the floor. The wood creaked slightly beneath her, only accentuating the solemnity of the moment.
Her hands rested on her thighs as her long black skirt spread softly across the floor.
"My name is Carmen Veloth, and I am your secret bodyguard."
Mirac flinched slightly, startled by the revelation.
"My secret bodyguard?" he repeated, incredulous.
"Yes, exactly," Carmen replied, her tone carrying the weight of a long-held confession. "My mission, since I arrived here at the castle, has always been to protect the future son of King Arthur, and therefore, you! In fact, your safety is my only priority, young Prince."
With that being said, Carmen lifted her gaze to meet his and continued:
"Since I was a child, I have been trained in the arts of combat and assassination. Because of this, I was chosen among many as the most suitable to protect you. But for now, I cannot reveal more about myself."
Mirac remained silent. His face was motionless, but his gaze betrayed deep inner contemplation.
"I see…" he finally said, his voice barely audible. "What you just told me answers the second question I wanted to ask you. In fact, I intended to ask you right after who you truly were and where the strength you used against Klark came from. And finally, I would say I understand it…"
The young Prince studied Carmen intently, trying to decipher the mystery surrounding her.
"But you still haven't answered my first question, Carmen: why did you hide your actions? You saved me, yet you made sure I received all the credit for killing Klark. Why?"
Carmen didn't answer immediately, and silence fell over the room once again. For a few seconds, it seemed she was deep in thought.
"You see, young Prince," she began at last, her tone measured, "my presence here at the castle is a carefully guarded secret. Not even His Majesty the King or the Queen know my true identity. No one at the castle does, in fact. I was sent here without anyone's knowledge, under orders from someone I cannot, unfortunately, speak to you about."
The red-haired woman paused briefly, as if gathering her strength before continuing:
"I couldn't simply claim that I was the one who had confronted Klark, because that would have revealed my true identity. That's why I had to make sure you were credited with his death. That evening, after defeating him, I carried you to a spot close enough to his body and ensured you held the same sword I had used to take him down. Then, a gardener found you unconscious, exactly where I had left you. The rest, as you can imagine, unfolded on its own."
She lowered her gaze, a shadow of unease crossing her face.
"I know all of this may seem strange and suspicious to you, but I assure you it's the truth! Protecting you is the only thing that truly matters to me!"
The tension in the room grew with each passing moment of silence.
'Hmmm…'
Mirac studied the woman's face intently: there was certainly sincerity in her words, but there was also something that continued to elude him…
"I have one last question for you, then, Carmen…"
Carmen looked at him intently.
"Ask away, young Prince."
Mirac took a moment to think. Every word had to be chosen carefully, every question precisely formulated.
He slowly crossed his arms, and his expression grew even more serious and probing.
"For all this time, did you already know who the 'Professor Shirkenn' really was?"
The question echoed through the room, making it feel suddenly smaller.
In that moment of silence, a subtle tension seemed to ripple through the air.
Seeing that his "bodyguard" showed no sign of responding, Mirac pressed on, his voice growing more insistent but never losing its composure:
"Actually, there's no need for you to confirm anything, because I'm quite convinced about it, and now I'll explain why. When you arrived to save me, after throwing that rock into his eye, you called him by his real name: 'Klark'. That means you knew who he was from the very beginning. So, as I see it, the only plausible explanation is that you already knew the true identity of the fake Professor Shirkenn."
The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken meanings.
Carmen's face was inscrutable, but the slight stiffening of her hands betrayed an inner conflict.
'I can't back out now…' she thought, exhaling deeply.
Then, Carmen lifted her gaze to meet Mirac's.
"For someone your age, you're remarkably perceptive, young Prince…"
She allowed herself the faintest hint of a smile, almost affectionate, but her face quickly turned serious again.
"Yes, you're right. I already knew that Professor Shirkenn was, in fact, an imposter. But once again, I can't tell you how I knew it. It's part of the secrets of my profession. And, of course, I couldn't tell anyone for that very reason. So, I had to handle it on my own. I hoped that constant threats would make him back down eventually, that he would leave the castle without the need for a direct confrontation. Unfortunately, things didn't turn out that way."
"Constant threats?" Mirac repeated, surprised.
"Exactly," Carmen replied. "The first day Klark arrived, I threatened him by telling him I had his family hostage. Of course, it wasn't true, but for a number of reasons, he believed it. In exchange for the 'safety' of his loved ones, I imposed two rules on him: not to lay a single finger on you and to provide me with some information."
Mirac, still seated at the desk before her, watched every subtle movement on the face of the red-haired woman.
"And for over a year, this strategy of mine was working successfully!" exclaimed Carmen. "He showed no hostility towards you and simply adapted to the role of Professor. He seemed to have given up. But that lasted only until that evening, when Klark decided to take advantage of my absence—and that of your father, Grand Knight Leonard, and the Infernal Knights—to try to kill you after discovering that I didn't actually have his family held hostage."
The memory of the confrontation surfaced in Carmen's mind, her expression growing heavier.
"I'm grateful, at least, that I arrived in time to stop him," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "But…"
Her words trailed off for a moment, and her gaze dropped to the floor.
"It's entirely my fault that you lost your arm! If I'd dealt with him the very first day, none of this would have happened!"
Her voice faded into a whisper as she clenched her trembling fists in frustration.
"I humbly beg your forgiveness, young Prince…"
Mirac remained silent for a few moments.
Then he took a deep breath, and his fingers, which had been drumming idly on the edge of his chair, stilled.
"Don't worry," he said, his tone soft, almost as if to comfort her. "After all, it wasn't you who cut off my arm. And besides, without you, my family would probably be mourning over my grave right now. You undoubtedly did your best to help me, and I'm very grateful to you for saving my life."
Carmen raised her head, surprised. Her eyes, usually so impenetrable, widened slightly.
Her lips parted faintly, as though she was at a loss for words.
Finally, a smile, warm and affectionate, graced her lips.
"I'm glad to hear that, young Prince…"
Mirac returned a faint smile and nodded, letting the silence stretch briefly between them. Then, with his gaze drifting to the horizon beyond the window, he seemed to gather his thoughts.
When he looked back at her, the smile was gone, replaced by an expression of renewed seriousness.
"But, Carmen…" he began, his tone heavy with doubt, "are you sure you're not hiding something else from me?"
The "maid" widened her eyes, visibly caught off guard.
"What do you mean?"
"Nothing, really," he replied, shrugging. "But the reaction you just had makes me think you're hiding something else… Something that, for no reason in the world, you want me to find out…"
Before Carmen could respond, Mirac continued speaking, his tone growing more resolute:
"For instance, there might be another reason why you didn't alert anyone to Klark's presence. Come to think of it, you could have warned about the infiltrator's presence at the castle without compromising your identity. You could have, for example, simply sent an anonymous letter to the royal guards, or even better, to the King. And yet, you didn't."
The tension in the room escalated sharply, and it was then that Carmen realized where this conversation was heading.
"Did you want to keep gathering the information that Klark was forced to provide you based on the second rule you had imposed on him? That's possible, but I doubt it's the only explanation," Mirac pressed on. "Maybe you wanted to learn something more from him… For example, find out who hired him to kill me…"
With a decisive gesture, he rose from his chair and stepped closer to Carmen, who was still kneeling before him.
His expression grew more intense, as did his voice.
"Because perhaps, just like me, you suspect that it was someone residing here at the castle who hired Klark to kill me…"