Theodore returned to his dormitory, pushing open the heavy wooden doors.As he stepped inside, he found Belial lounging on one of the velvet chairs, his usual smirk in place. Across from him, Mimi sat with Luna curled up beside her, the little girl absently playing with the ends of Mimi's sleeves.
Belial stood as Theodore entered, his crimson eyes flickering with interest. He placed a hand over his chest and bowed slightly. "Welcome back, my lord," he said smoothly. "How were your lessons today?"
Theodore waved a hand dismissively as he settled onto one of the armchairs, stretching his limbs slightly. "Nothing too difficult. I'm leaving for a mission tomorrow."
Belial's easygoing demeanor stiffened ever so slightly, his expression turning serious. "Shall I accompany you, my lord?" he asked, his tone respectful but firm. "Your safety is paramount."
Theodore shook his head. "No. I have a different task for you," he said, his voice carrying an air of authority. "Keep a close watch on the Marquess. If he so much as stirs, I want to know about it immediately."
Belial's smirk returned, his sharp canines glinting in the light. "Understood, my lord. If he breathes in the wrong direction, you'll know about it."
Theodore then turned his attention to Mimi, his gaze assessing. "Mimi, I want you to visit your father occasionally. Make sure his loyalty to me doesn't waver. If there's even a hint of betrayal, handle it before it becomes a problem."
Mimi's emerald eyes gleamed with understanding. She rose from her seat and knelt slightly, her tone unwavering. "As you command, Lord Theodore."
Then, Theodore glanced at Luna, expecting her usual quiet observance, but instead, she pouted, crossing her arms.
"What about me, big brother Theodore?" she asked, tilting her head in a way that would have seemed innocent—if not for the knowing glint in her silver eyes.
Belial made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a muffled laugh, turning away slightly. Mimi covered her mouth, amusement evident.
Theodore's body tensed. His crimson eyes widened in shock. "…What did you just call me?"
Luna blinked up at him. "Big brother. Is it wrong for me to call you that?"
Theodore looked away, clearly uncomfortable. "I… well, it's weird," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "But… do whatever you want. Damn it."
Mimi chuckled softly. "The lord doesn't like affection, Luna. Perhaps he's afraid of it."
"I'm not afraid of it," Theodore snapped, a little too quickly. His expression darkened as he crossed his arms. "I just don't… like it. That's all."
Belial's smirk widened as he finally let out a low chuckle. "How fascinating. The feared prince, master of deception and war games, undone by a single word."
Theodore shot him a glare. "Shut up."
Still chuckling, Belial straightened. "Very well, my lord. We'll stay on task while you're gone. Take care on your mission—and grow stronger while you're away."
Theodore's gaze flickered to each of them, assessing, before finally nodding. "I will."
The sun had barely risen, casting golden hues across the sprawling campus of the Imperial Academy as Theodore made his way towards the Mission Assembly Grounds. Unlike the main school buildings, which were built with elegant white marble and adorned with golden banners, the mission district had a more practical design. Large training fields stretched out across the landscape, filled with sparring students and instructors barking orders. Beyond that were the Academy Stables, where well-bred horses and mana-fueled carriages awaited their riders.
Theodore strode through the crowd of older students—fifteen of them, ranging from fourteen to sixteen years old—who were gathered in formation, waiting for the instructors. Each of them was taller than him, their presence looming as they whispered amongst themselves.
"Why is a ten-year-old joining the mission?"
"Isn't he too young for this?"
"Still, he's the crown prince… He must be special."
"And cute," a few girls whispered, giggling behind their hands.
Theodore ignored the whispers, keeping his expression unreadable. He had expected this reaction—his small frame and youthful appearance made him an easy target for skepticism.
Then, cutting through the crowd, a tall boy with jet-black hair and piercing blue eyes approached him, his confident stride parting the gathered students with ease.
"Theo!" the boy called out, his voice warm and familiar.
Theodore blinked in mild surprise. Few people dared to address him so informally. He turned toward the boy, studying him carefully. His face was vaguely familiar, but no immediate memories surfaced.
The boy stopped directly in front of him, grinning widely.
"Ah," Theodore said awkwardly.
"Don't tell me you don't recognize me," the boy teased, his smile faltering slightly as he noticed Theodore's blank stare.
Theodore quickly masked his confusion, forcing a small, polite smile. "Ah… of course. Long time no see," he said smoothly, though he still had no idea who this person was. The casual tone suggested someone close—a relative or an old friend of the body's past.
The boy frowned slightly, his keen eyes narrowing. "You don't seem to remember me," he said flatly.
Theodore hesitated for only a moment before crafting a response. "I've been ill for some time," he admitted smoothly. "It's left my memory a bit… blurry."
The boy's face softened instantly. Without warning, he leaned forward and hugged Theodore tightly, squeezing him like an overenthusiastic older brother.
"You poor thing," he murmured. "You're still as cute as ever."
Theodore stiffened, his entire body locking up in sheer discomfort. He had faced death countless times, battled against monstrous shadows, and even defied a goddess—but nothing had prepared him for this level of secondhand embarrassment.
"I regret everything about this mission already," he thought grimly.
Maintaining his composure, Theodore pushed the boy away firmly. "Who are you?" he asked, his tone flat.
The boy grinned, completely unfazed. "Vincent Vermin," he introduced himself cheerfully. "Your cousin. Soon to be the Duke of the North."
At the mention of the name "Vermin," a flood of memories crashed into Theodore's mind.
Vincent—his cousin.
His parents had died in a tragic carriage accident,Vincent had been raised by their grandfather, the Grand Duke of the North. That same grandfather who had once doted on Theodore, only to turn cold and distant after his daughter's death,Urian,abandoning Theodore completely.
A dull, cold anger stirred within Theodore at the recollection.
Vincent, however, remained blissfully unaware of his inner thoughts, his warm smile never fading. "How are you, my sweet cousin?" he asked, stepping forward as if to hug him again.
Theodore shoved him back, scowling. "I'm not a child," he snapped. "And stop being so touchy."
Vincent only laughed, unfazed by his irritation. "Still grumpy, huh? Some things never change."
Theodore clicked his tongue in annoyance. Something told him that this cousin of his was going to be a persistent nuisance—whether he liked it or not.