The words felt thick in his mouth. Something pressed against his skull—not pain exactly, but *presence*. Like fingers probing the edges of his thoughts.
A noble leaned forward. "The girl stays within palace grounds at all times. No exceptions."
The pressure intensified. Solved's vision swam for a heartbeat before he blinked it clear. His fingers found the table's edge, gripping hard enough to feel the wood grain bite into his palm.
"Define 'palace grounds,'" he said, forcing each word through the buzzing in his head.
Another noble—the grey-bearded one—gestured dismissively. "The inner gardens, the training yards, approved chambers. Anywhere our guards can maintain constant watch."
Constant watch. The words echoed strangely, like he was hearing them underwater. Solved's jaw clenched.
This wasn't just exhaustion from the manor. Something was actively in his head, pulling at his focus like threads unraveling.
"She's sixteen," he said, though his tongue felt heavy. "Not a prisoner."
"She's a weapon," someone countered coldly. "One we cannot allow to fall into the wrong hands."
The buzzing spiked. Solved's knees nearly buckled, but he locked them, leaning harder into the table. Sweat beaded at his temple. The nobles' faces blurred at the edges, their words arriving a half-second delayed.
Focus. Think.
"Henrik Millwright," he said, surprised his voice came out steady. "Her father. She sees him. Tomorrow."
"That can be arranged," the noblewoman said. "Under supervision, of course."
The pressure in his skull twisted, and for a moment Solved couldn't remember what he'd been arguing for. Henrik? Elera? The room tilted, and he had to count the nobles' faces to ground himself. Seven. No, eight. The shadows were playing tricks.
"And..." His throat felt dry. What else? There was something else. "...her freedom. Outside the palace. With guards if you insist, but she's not—"
"Absolutely not," a voice snapped. "The risk is too great."
Solved tried to formulate a counterargument, but the words scattered before he could grasp them. The bees-in-his-skull sensation intensified, drowning thought in white noise.
"Twice a week," he heard himself say, though he wasn't sure that's what he'd meant to offer. "Supervised visits to the city. Two guards minimum."
Silence. The nobles exchanged glances. One nodded slowly.
"Once a week," the grey-beard countered. "Three guards. And she returns before nightfall."
Solved wanted to push back, but his head was splitting now. He couldn't tell if that was a good deal or a terrible one. The numbers felt wrong, but he couldn't hold them steady enough to compare.
"Fine," he said, the word escaping before he could stop it.
Wait—
"She trains with palace mages," another noble added quickly, sensing weakness. "To control her abilities."
"No." That much he could still fight for. "She trains with whoever she trusts."
"We provide the trainers. Non-negotiable."
The room spun. Solved gripped the table with both hands now, trying to look commanding rather than desperate for support.
"Then I supervise the training," he managed. "Every session."
The noblewoman smiled faintly. "Acceptable. Provided you submit to our authority while within these walls."
Their authority. Warning bells rang somewhere in the fog of his thoughts, but he couldn't pin down why.
"Meaning?" he asked, voice rough.
"You follow our laws. You answer our summons. You do not interfere with matters of state."
Each condition landed like a stone, but Solved's ability to parse their implications was failing. The mental assault—because that's what this was, he realized dimly—had shredded his usual sharp analysis. He was negotiating blind.
"And Elera's father?" he pressed, clinging to the one clear thought he could still hold. "He gets access?"
"Twice monthly. Supervised."
That's not enough. But the words wouldn't form. His vision darkened at the edges.
"Weekly," he said weakly.
"Twice monthly," the voice repeated, harder now. "That is our final offer."
Solved tried to calculate—tried to think through what Henrik would want, what Elera deserved—but his mind was smoke. The buzzing had become a roar.
"...Fine," he whispered.
He'd lost. He knew he'd lost, but couldn't figure out how badly.
The nobles began standing, satisfied. Contracts would be drawn. Arrangements made. Solved stayed gripping the table, fighting to stay upright as they filed past.
Then, as suddenly as it had come, the pressure released.
His head cleared in a rush, leaving him gasping. Clarity returned—and with it, horror at what he'd just agreed to. Twice monthly? He'd been aiming for daily visits. Palace authority? He'd just put himself under their thumb.
His gaze snapped up, searching the room. Most of the nobles were already leaving, but one remained, standing near the far wall with perfect posture and an expression of carefully controlled neutrality.
Lady Sera.
Their eyes met for a fraction of a second. She tilted her head slightly—not quite a bow, not quite acknowledgment. Then she turned and glided from the chamber.
Roderick approached, concern creasing his features. "Are you alright? You seemed—"
"I'm fine," Solved cut him off, voice tight. His eyes tracked the doorway where Sera had disappeared.
The magic had come from that direction. He was certain now.
And she'd made him look like a fool.
"Excuse me," Solved said, voice calm but clipped. Roderick gave him a questioning look, but Solved was already gone..
He followed the traces through the marble corridors, the faint shimmer of energy dancing like smoke before him.
It moved fast—too fast for ordinary magic—but his Truth Sight kept the trail visible.
A new trick? Or a new power-up? he thought, weaving through an alley.
He turned a sharp right—and stopped.
Before him stood an oak door, dark and heavy, faint wisps of magic still clinging to its frame. This has to be where it came from.
He tried the handle. Locked.
"Do… do you want to see Lady Sera?" came a small voice behind him.
Solved turned. The maid from earlier—the one who'd shown him to his quarters—stood clutching her apron, eyes wide.
He glanced back at the door. Lady Sera? So that was a name.
"Yeah," he said shortly.
"She doesn't like being disturbed. Maybe if you wait until—"
But Solved had already drawn Truthforge, the blade humming faintly with golden light. The lock clicked open under its edge.
He pushed the door wide.
The scent of lilac drifted out—a noble's chamber, soft and meticulously arranged. At the center, Lady Sera sat on the edge of her bed, her hands folded neatly in her lap.
She looked up, startled—but her eyes weren't startled at all.
For a moment, silence. The kind that stretches too long to be polite.
"You could've at least knocked," she muttered, eyes narrowing.
"Was locked," Solved replied flatly. "Didn't seem to stop you."
"Baka," she whispered under her breath.
Solved blinked. "...What?"
"Nothing," she said quickly, turning her gaze away.
Solved tilted his head. That word… Japanese.
Not from here. The pieces clicked—he wasn't the only one thrown into this world.
"Right," he said, forcing a smirk. "Next time, I'll bring flowers."
Her lips twitched. "Don't bother. I'd just assume you stole them."
"Oh, so we're starting with trust issues." He leaned lightly against the doorframe. "You always this friendly with people who kick your door open?"
"Only the ones who break in using relics they shouldn't have," she shot back, eyeing his Truthforged Key.
He chuckled softly. "You're welcome for ignoring your 'don't disturb' policy."
"I didn't say thank you."
"You didn't have to."
Silence lingered—tense, but charged.
"You know," Solved said, eyes narrowing, "you poked into my head first."
Sera blinked, feigning confusion. "I don't know what you're talking about."
[Truth sight—lieing. ]
The interface glowed in solved head.
"You're lying."
Her eyes widened—then hardened. "How dare you—"
Before she could finish, the door creaked open again. The maid rushed in, flustered. "P–pardon him, my lady! I'll escort him back immediately!"
But Solved was already halfway through the doorway, voice calm but edged with a smirk.
"Don't bother. I can find my own way out."
He paused at the doorway, that usual half-smirk tugging at his lips.
"You know, 'saru mo ki kara ochiru'. (Even monkeys fall from trees), Lady Sera."
Her eyes widened — just for a heartbeat — before narrowing again. "Tch… baka," she muttered.
Solved only chuckled and walked away.
The door closed behind him, leaving a tense silence—and Sera staring at it.
Solved leaned against the corridor wall, away from prying eyes. The pieces clicked together with bitter clarity.
The nobles hadn't reacted to his struggle. No surprise, no concern—just patient waiting. They'd known.
And Sera had been positioned perfectly. Clear sight line. No obstructions.
She'd attacked him during the most crucial negotiation, made him look weak, made him agree to terms that chained both him and Elera to the palace.
The question was: had the nobles ordered it, or had she chosen to help them on her own?
His jaw tightened. Either way, Lady Sera had just made his list.