For an entire month, Theodore's world revolved around three things—training, studying, and planning.
His schedule was strict, almost mechanical. Wake up. Train his mana and aura. Duel against Belial. Study under Roman. Sleep. Repeat.
The morning sun would rise to find Theodore already deep in his training, refining the flow of his mana and sharpening his aura control. His small hands would glow with energy as he pushed himself, forcing his body to adapt, to grow.
But mana training alone wasn't enough.
He needed combat experience.
Belial, of course, was still leagues ahead. Their duels were almost laughable—Theodore's attacks never landed, and Belial dodged with ease, his movements fluid and effortless.
Yet, Theodore never stopped. Every loss was a lesson. Every failed attack, a blueprint for improvement.
He noticed it—the way his agility was improving, how his reaction time sharpened.
He began reading Belial's movements, predicting the tiniest shifts in his stance. Though he couldn't yet match his butler in strength, he was learning to adapt.
And adaptation meant survival.
At times, Principal Roman would arrive, forcing Theodore to sit through private lessons so he wouldn't fall behind in his studies.
Though Roman had relaxed his suspicions after failing to detect any trace of dark mana within Theodore, the old man was still watching him. Testing him.
Every conversation with Roman was a verbal battle.
Theodore would weave his words carefully, pretending to be a dutiful student, all while gauging the man's motives.
(He's still suspicious… but he's holding back. He doesn't have proof.)
A single misstep could ruin everything.
So, Theodore played his role perfectly—absorbing knowledge, pretending to be the promising prince everyone expected him to be.
Finally, after a full month, his punishment was over.
The weight of confinement lifted. He was no longer restricted to training in his dormitory.
Now, it was time to return to class.
The academy's main building was alive with the murmur of students, the marble floors gleaming under the sunlight streaming through the arched windows. But the usual lighthearted chatter was now tainted with whispers—all directed toward one person.
Theodore walked down the hallway, his presence alone commanding silence.
Every student he passed either stared or quickly looked away, fear flashing in their eyes.
"There he is… That's him."
"I heard he almost crippled all the students from the opposite class."
"He was punished for a whole month. Do you think he's still dangerous?"
Theodore sighed inwardly. (This is annoying… but expected.)
The rumors had clearly spread. His reputation had changed.
Before, he had been the "cursed prince," a weakling, a joke. But now? He was something else entirely.
He ignored their hushed whispers and entered the classroom.
Miss Dalia, the gentle and ever-optimistic teacher, brightened the moment she saw him.
"Ah! Prince Theodore! Welcome back to class. I'm glad to see you again," she said warmly. "We were just starting a new topic. Please, take your seat."
Theodore nodded, offering a small, polite smile before making his way to the back of the classroom.
As he walked, the weight of every student's gaze followed him, some filled with curiosity, others with fear. The same classmates who once mocked him now sat in tense silence.
Theodore pretended not to notice, lowering himself into his seat with a relaxed air.
From the desk beside him, Jin, the ever-observant noble with silver-rimmed glasses, leaned in slightly, a sly grin tugging at his lips.
"My prince," Jin whispered, his tone both amused and intrigued. "You really are a demon. The same class that once laughed at you now fears the very sight of you."
Theodore barely glanced at him. "Yeah… you could say that," he replied indifferently.
But his attention was drawn elsewhere.
Across the room, a pair of crimson eyes bore into him with pure hatred.
Caden.
His younger half-brother, the golden-haired, golden boy of the Dominick bloodline, was glaring at him from the front of the class. His red eyes burned with resentment, his fingers twitching against his desk.
Theodore met his gaze—and smirked.
Caden clicked his tongue, scowling before turning back to the board.
(Poor boy… he doesn't even know his mother was murdered by my hands.)
The lesson continued, and Miss Dalia turned to the board, her delicate handwriting filling the space with today's topic:
"Balance—The Art of Mana Control."
"Balance is essential for controlling your mana output," she explained, her voice calm and instructive. "Without proper balance, your mana can become unstable, leading to exhaustion, loss of control, or in extreme cases, self-destruction. Many talented mages throughout history have perished due to poor mana control."
The class listened attentively, some even taking notes.
But Theodore?
He simply leaned forward, resting his head on his arms, completely uninterested.
(Balance? Please. I mastered that a month ago.)
For the past month, his daily training with Belial had pushed him beyond his limits. He had learned to wield mana with precision, refine his aura, and adapt his fighting style. This lesson was nothing but a review—a waste of his time.
From the back of the room, whispers started again.
"Look at him, he's not even listening."
"Just because he won one fight doesn't make him invincible."
"That's why Prince Caden is better than him."
Theodore ignored the whispers of his classmates, tuning them out like background noise.
But then—a light tap on his shoulder.
Jin.
Theodore turned to him, arching a brow.
"My prince," Jin said, keeping his voice low, "you seem well-versed in this topic of Balance."
Theodore nodded. "Yes, I'm familiar with it."
Jin let out a small sigh, offering a bitter smile. "I envy you."
Theodore narrowed his eyes slightly. Jin was the only student in this class whose potential genuinely intrigued him.
"Why, Jin? Everyone can achieve it with enough practice. You included."
Jin hesitated, then dropped his voice even lower. "Because… I haven't awakened."
Theodore's crimson eyes widened slightly.
"What?" His voice was a whisper of shock. "That's impossible. But during the hunting test, you used the bow—"
Jin shook his head. "My family is proficient in magic, not weapons. My father, however, was always curious about combat, so he married my mother—an archer from a noble warrior lineage. But…" Jin hesitated, his expression darkening.
Theodore's gaze sharpened. "But?"
Jin hesitated before answering. "My father lost his title as Duke… and no one will tell me why."
Theodore's curiosity piqued.
"How does a duke lose his status?"
Jin sighed, frustration evident in his voice. "I wasn't born at the time. And no matter how many times I ask my father, he refuses to tell me. He says he'll explain everything when I'm an adult."
"What about Vivian? Does she know anything?"
Jin's expression grew even more conflicted. "Vivian… Her family is just as complicated as mine."
Theodore tilted his head slightly. "Explain."
Jin lowered his voice even further. "Her mother—my aunt—was normal once. But then something happened. Now she's… broken. She keeps repeating the same word, over and over."
Theodore leaned in slightly, intrigued. "And no one knows what triggered it?"
"No one talks about it," Jin whispered. "But I suspect it had something to do with the downfall of our family."
Theodore's mind whirred with new calculations.
(A mother who lost her sanity… A family stripped of its title… And Vivian—who developed a double personality. If Jin's theory is right, then whatever happened must have been traumatic enough to break them. But what? And why keep it a secret?)
Theodore glanced at Jin, seeing him in a different light.
(This guy and I have more in common than I thought… No wonder the original Theodore saw him as a friend.)
As class ended and students shuffled toward their next lessons, Jin turned to Theodore with mild curiosity.
"Prince, won't you enroll in the swordsmanship class? It seems like it would suit you."
Theodore paused, considering the suggestion. He had already mastered the blade in his previous life, but it wouldn't hurt to refine his skills further—especially in a structured environment.
"I see… so there's a swordsmanship class," he murmured. He looked at Jin and gave a small nod. "Sure, I'll enroll."
Before Jin could respond, a commanding presence filled the room.
Theodore turned just as Mr. Roman, the principal, strode in. His long, flowing robes trailed behind him, and his sharp, hawk-like eyes locked onto Theodore with unsettling intensity.
"Theodore," Roman's voice rang through the classroom. "Come with me."
Silence fell over the room.
All eyes turned to Theodore.
"What did Prince Theodore do this time?"
"I bet he beat up another student."
"Yeah, what a thug."
Theodore, unfazed by the whispers, stood from his seat, adjusting his uniform. (Did I do something again?) He thought as he followed the principal into the hallway.
Once they were far from prying eyes, Roman finally turned, his expression unreadable.
"Relax," Roman said. "I'm not here to punish you."
Theodore exhaled slightly, though he remained wary. "Then why did you call me?"
Roman's gaze bore into him, as if assessing his very soul. "Because of all the lessons you missed during your suspension."
Theodore crossed his arms. "I thought you already taught me the most important parts?"
Roman smirked slightly. "That was just the basics. Since I'm a busy man, I'll be teaching you personally. Consider this a privilege."
Theodore's brow furrowed. "I never agreed to be your disciple."
Roman's smirk widened. "That's because you don't have a choice. You injured twenty students during your last fight. If I let you continue untrained, you'll either cripple someone or be crushed yourself. So, I'll train you—whether you like it or not."
Theodore sighed in defeat. "Fine. I understand."
"Good," Roman said, satisfied. "Your training starts tomorrow. Meet me in the library."
Before Theodore could ask where the library even was—Roman vanished.
Not a trace of mana. No sound. No movement. Just… gone.
Theodore stood there for a moment, processing. Then, he clicked his tongue in irritation.
(This man… he really isn't human, is he?)