It was Sion's second night slipping through the shadows under the moon's watchful gaze, his body cloaked in perfected stealth magic, his aura restrained like a tightly coiled blade. He had arrived at the outer quarters of the Avalon Merchant Group—one of the organizations suspected of ties with internal traitors.
What he found buried beneath layers of crates in a hidden chamber was far worse than expected: a forbidden magical scroll etched with runes so ancient and dark, they hissed at his very touch. The scroll bore destructive power—enough to decimate an entire county in seconds. This was not rebellion. It was war.
As he prepared to secure the scroll, muffled voices echoed from the adjacent corridor. Sion narrowed his eyes and pressed against the stone wall, sharpening his hearing with magic.
"…the duke has approved it. No interruptions this time."
"But the capital city? And the Presia Dukedom?"
"It's already in motion. We have full support. Clover will burn from the inside."
Sion's heart pounded. A traitor among the high-ranking dukes had granted permission for a devastating attack—and the targets were the heart of the Clover Kingdom and the territory of Duke John Ragnar himself.
For a brief moment, fury whispered to him. He could end them all here and now. Burn the Avalon Merchant Group to the ground.
But he didn't.
This needed to be reported. Strategically. Carefully.
By dawn, Sion returned to Ragnar Estate, a sealed scroll in hand and truth heavy on his shoulders. He requested a private meeting with Duke John, and together they gathered in the quiet of the study.
John listened in disbelief until Sion unsealed the scroll and revealed the evidence. Every rune, every sigil of destruction, was a clear message: war was closer than anyone thought.
John's hand trembled slightly as he rolled the scroll back. "To think they would dare… They've declared war on the kingdom itself."
Before either could say more, a knock interrupted them. Luthor entered with a rare look of urgency. "Your Grace. A message has just arrived. It bears the royal seal… and it's addressed to you and Young Master Sion only."
John took the sealed envelope and quickly opened it. As his eyes scanned the words, his expression turned grave.
"It's from the King," he said, voice low. "He wants us to come to the royal capital… in secret. Only us. It's urgent."
Sion stepped forward. "So the King knows something's wrong too."
John nodded. "This… this could be about the traitors. Or the war. Or more. Either way, we'll depart discreetly."
They exchanged glances—no more words were needed. War was coming, and the throne had taken notice.
Later that evening, as Sion finally returned to his room, the weight of his growing responsibilities pressed down on him. Just as he sat on the edge of his bed, a golden shimmer appeared in the air. Raphael floated lazily above him, smirking.
"Yo. How's my favorite little investigator?"
Sion sighed. "Tired. I stopped a terror attack, uncovered a conspiracy, and now I've got to sneak off to the capital for a secret royal meeting."
Raphael laughed. "Oh, and don't forget…"
He spun midair and snapped his fingers.
"…your fiancée's arriving tomorrow morning. She just reached the dukedom gates."
"What?!" Sion bolted upright.
"Lady Sara of Zion Dukedom. Future duchess. Your one true love. And she's expecting roses or something."
Sion groaned. "I've fought wars, led armies, rewrote battle theory in my past life… but this? This is too much."
Raphael grinned wide. "Try smiling. Don't look like you're planning world domination when you meet her."
Sion threw a pillow at the angel. "Just. Shut. Up."