The soft chime of a high-end encrypted notification cut through the low hum of the dinner conversation. Professor Alexander Dawn reached for his phone with a movement so swift it was almost predatory.
For five years, Alexander had maintained a network of the world's most elite private investigators and informants. While the university focused on the past, Alexander had focused on the present, pouring his personal resources into a singular obsession: finding Kramark Kurogami.
He had always told himself it was for protection—that if Kramark ever found himself backed into a corner by the Kurogami clan or the syndicates Alonzo Carlos ran, Alexander would be the first to arrive with a way out.
The others at the table—Mario, Valliant, Lizzy, Carmilla, and Elenita—watched him with bated breath. They saw his thumb swipe across the screen, the blue light of the display reflecting in his sharp, analytical eyes.
After a moment, Alexander's shoulders slumped, just a fraction. He sighed, a sound of profound frustration.
"Another dead end?" Mario asked, his voice laced with disappointment.
"It's from my primary lead investigator in Europe," Alexander said, turning the phone face down. "The message is the same as it has been for the last eighteen hundred days: 'Peaceful. Nothing unusual. No footprints of Kramark Kurogami. No leads.'"
"How is that possible?" Elenita asked, leaning forward. "You just told us about the Godfather, the Gambler, and the Ghostwriter. If you suspect those are him, how can your investigators find nothing?"
"Because those identities are ghosts," Alexander replied, his voice tight. "They exist in the results they produce, not in the physical world. My investigator is looking for a man named Kramark Kurogami—a man with a Philippine passport, a specific height, a specific gait. But if Kramark is playing these roles, he isn't a man anymore. He's an algorithm. He's a shadow. To the world's intelligence agencies, he simply doesn't exist."
Valliant rubbed his temple. "So, we are back to speculation. We are seeing his 'syntax' in the world, but we cannot prove he is the author."
"Perhaps," Alexander said, his expression darkening as he looked back at the others. "But there is something else. Something far more public and infinitely more world-altering that has just surfaced from the Great Britannian Empire."
The room grew silent. The British Royal Family, the pinnacle of global prestige and ancient authority, was not a topic usually discussed in the same breath as "trash" students from the Philippines.
"What could the British Royal Family possibly have to do with our situation?" Carmilla asked.
Alexander took a long, slow breath. "It concerns Princess Czenovia Britannia. I'm sure you all remember her stance on... well, everything."
"Czenovia?" Lizzy chimed in, her voice filled with a mix of awe and skepticism. "The 'Iron Princess'? Every student at Maxim knows her. She's the one who gave that famous speech at the United Nations three years ago."
"I remember it well," Elenita nodded. "She stood before the world and said: 'Normal human men are not worthy of me. My lineage is the blood of empires, and my mind is the forge of the future. I will rule alone, for I have found no peer.'"
"She's known to hate men," Carmilla added. "Or rather, she views them as intellectually and genetically inferior. The tabloids call her the 'Unreachable Sovereign'. She refused the princes of Spain, the dukes of Germany, and even the tech billionaires of Silicon Valley. She called them 'inconsequential distractions'."
Alexander nodded grimly. "That was the status quo. Until today. The news hasn't hit the mainstream Philippine media yet because of our local awards gala, but the Royal Gazette just issued a formal decree. Princess Czenovia Britannia, the Crowned Princess and heir to the throne, has chosen a suitor. And the shock of it all... she has already married him in a private ceremony."
The sound of Elenita's wine glass hitting the table rang through the room. "Married!?"
"Czenovia Britannia has chosen a suitor and married?" Mario stood up, his face pale. "That's impossible. Her father, the King, is in failing health. Whoever she marries doesn't just become a prince consort—if she allows it, he could be the most powerful man in the Western world."
"It gets worse," Alexander said, his voice trembling with a rare touch of genuine fear. "The decree states that Czenovia will not only share her authority with her husband, but she has explicitly declared that she will support him and let him take the crown as King Regnant if her father retires. She is abdicating her primary right to rule in favor of this... unknown suitor."
The room felt as though the floor had dropped away. The geopolitical implications were staggering. Great Britannia was a nuclear power, a financial hub, and a cultural titan. For the 'Iron Princess'—a woman who famously despised the very concept of a husband—to not only marry but to hand over the throne, suggested something beyond love. It suggested a level of respect or submission that was terrifying to contemplate.
"Who is he?" Valliant asked, his voice a low, urgent rumble. "Who could possibly change a woman like Czenovia? Who could make her believe a man is not only her equal, but her superior?"
"That is the part that is sending the global intelligence community into a frenzy," Alexander replied. "His name has not been released. His face has not been shown. The Palace is calling him 'The Prince of the Void' for now—a placeholder title until the formal coronation. No one knows his lineage, his nationality, or his history."
"The Prince of the Void," Mario whispered, his eyes darting to the empty seventh chair. "Void... like the 'Voided Millennia'."
"It's a common enough word in theology," Carmilla said, though her voice lacked conviction. "But the timing... Alexander, are you suggesting...?"
"I'm not suggesting anything yet," Alexander said, though his eyes told a different story. "But think about the logic. How do you conquer a woman who believes no man is her peer? You don't woo her with flowers or titles. You conquer her mind. You solve the problems she cannot solve. You speak a language of power that she thought only she understood."
"If the husband of Czenovia is a man of ill intent," Valliant said, his face etched with deep worry, "then the whole world is in grave danger. If he is a 'rotten' soul, he now has the keys to a global empire, the British military, and the most influential throne in history. He could plunge the world into a new dark age."
"And if he's not 'rotten'?" Lizzy asked softly. "What if he's just... someone we know?"
"That's almost more terrifying," Mario said. "Because if it is Kramark, then he hasn't just been gambling or taking down mafias. He has ascended to a level where we cannot reach him. He has taken the most 'unreachable' woman in the world and made her his partner in an empire."
"But why the secrecy?" Elenita asked. "Why hide his face?"
"Because he's not ready for the 'Trash of Maxim' to be linked to the 'King of Britannia' yet," Alexander speculated. "Imagine the chaos. If the Kurogamis find out the son they disowned is about to wear a crown that makes their senate seats look like children's toys... they won't just be embarrassed. They'll be targets."
"We are speculating too much," Mario warned, though he paced the room nervously. "We have no proof. For all we know, Czenovia found a reclusive genius from a noble house in Europe."
"But you don't believe that, Mario," Valliant said. "None of us do. The 'syntax' is there. The secrecy, the suddenness, the absolute dominance over a 'god-like' figure like Czenovia. It matches the pattern of the man who gave us the Gilgamesh text and walked away into the night."
Alexander looked at his phone again. The silence of his investigator was now more deafening than ever. "If Kramark is the one, then the 'debts' he mentioned collecting... they aren't just local. He's building a global infrastructure to ensure that when he strikes back at Alyssa, Manfred, and his parents, there is nowhere on Earth they can hide."
"I'm worried for him," Elenita whispered. "And I'm worried for us. If we are wrong, we are chasing ghosts. If we are right... we are friends with the most dangerous man alive."
"I don't think 'danger' is the right word," Valliant mused. "Kramark was never dangerous to those he loved. He was dangerous to the structures of power that lacked a soul. And right now, the most powerful structure in the world has just been handed to a man with no footprints."
The dinner, which had started as a celebration of their private bond, had turned into a war room of global uncertainty. They sat in the shadows of the Maxim estate, six people who knew a secret the rest of the world hadn't even begun to guess.
"We have to stay silent," Mario commanded, his voice regaining its presidential authority.
"We cannot mention these suspicions to anyone. Not to the faculty, not to the students, and especially not to the media. If the Kurogamis suspect we have a lead on Kramark, they will use every illegal tool in their arsenal to squeeze it out of us."
"They're already watching us," Lizzy said. "The Student Council has been receiving 'inquiries' from the Governor's office about 'past student records' under the guise of an educational audit. They're looking for him too."
"Let them look," Alexander said with a cold smile. "They're looking for a student. They'll never think to look for a King."
As the night deepened, the wine in the seventh glass remained untouched, a deep, blood-red mirror of the world's darkening state. In London, a princess was preparing to change the course of history for a man she called her master. In the Philippines, a "Goddess" was sleeping soundly, unaware that the foundation of her world was being dismantled from a palace thousands of miles away.
And at Maxim University, the six guardians of the truth sat in silence, wondering if the boy they once taught was the man who would now teach the world the meaning of a true reckoning.
"To the Prince of the Void," Alexander whispered, so softly only he could hear it.
The storm wasn't coming. It was already reigning.
The heavy oak doors of the Maxim estate finally closed, marking the end of a night that had felt like a descent into a world of shadows and global conspiracies. Dr. Carmilla and Dr. Elenita had departed in a shared silence, their hands still gripped together as if afraid that letting go would make the ground beneath them vanish. Professor Alexander Dawn had vanished into the night with his phone still glowing, his mind already calculating the next moves in a game he was only just beginning to understand.
But as the dust settled, the silence within the Maxim family car—a sleek, armored sedan—was of a different nature.
Mario Maxim sat in the back, staring out at the passing streetlights of Manila. Beside him was his daughter, Lizzy. In the front passenger seat, Dr. Valliant Maxim kept his gaze fixed on the road ahead, though his eyes frequently darted to the rearview mirror to check on his niece.
The neon signs of the city blurred into long, distorted streaks of light. To the world, the city was alive with the news of the "Goddess" Alyssa and the "Voided Millennia." But inside the car, the air was thick with the suffocating weight of a private grief.
Lizzy leaned her head against the cool glass of the window. Her eyes were dry, but they held a vacant, hollow stare that worried Mario more than any outburst of tears would have.
"Lizzy," Mario said softly, his voice barely audible over the hum of the engine. "You haven't said a word since Alexander mentioned the British Princess."
Lizzy didn't move. She didn't even blink. "What is there to say, Dad? The world is changing. "
Valliant sighed from the front seat, his voice a low, sympathetic rumble. "It's not just the world that's changing for you, is it, little bird? It's the hope you've been sheltering for five years."
At the mention of 'hope', Lizzy's breath hitched. The facade of the Student Council President—the efficient, composed leader of Maxim University's student body—began to crack.
She remembered.
She remembered being a fifteen-year-old freshman, a girl who had grown up surrounded by geniuses but had never met anyone who truly saw the world until she met Kramark. He had been a sophomore then, already a legend in the restricted archives. While other students were obsessed with grades and the approval of the faculty, Kramark would sit under the old acacia tree behind the library, staring at the sky as if he were reading a script written in the clouds.
She had been the one to bring him coffee when he stayed up for three days straight deciphering the Sumerian fragments. She had been the one who stayed by his side even after the "tragedy"—after Alyssa had walked away with the Senator, after Manfred had stolen his life's work, and after his own parents had stripped him of his name.
"I was there," Lizzy whispered, finally turning away from the window. Her voice was trembling. "I was there when everyone else was calling him 'trash'. I was the one who held his hand in the infirmary when he hadn't eaten for two days because he was too busy proving a theological theorem that would eventually make Carmilla and Elenita famous."
Mario reached out, placing a hand on hers. "We know, Lizzy. We know how much you did for him."
"No, you don't," she snapped, a sudden flash of fire in her eyes. "You saw a student who needed guidance. You saw a prodigy who needed protection. But I saw him. I saw the man behind the genius. I saw the way his eyes softened when he talked about a world where people didn't have to lie to be powerful."
She looked at her father, her expression pained. "When he left... he told me to stay strong. He told me that Maxim University was in good hands with me. I thought... I thought that meant he was coming back for me. I thought if I kept the university exactly as he left it, he would have a home to return to."
"And now?" Valliant asked gently.
"And now Alexander says he's married to Czenovia Britannia," Lizzy said, the words tasting like ash in her mouth. "The 'Iron Princess'. The woman who said no man was her peer. If it's true... if he really is the 'Prince of the Void'... then he didn't just leave Maxim. He left my world entirely. How can I compete with a woman who can give him an empire? I only had a library and a cup of coffee to offer."
"Lizzy, you're looking at it through the lens of power," Mario said, trying to comfort her. "Kramark never cared about empires. You know that better than anyone."
"Then why her?" Lizzy cried out, her composure finally breaking. "Why her and not me? I stayed! I defended him! I fought the Student Council when they tried to strike his name from the honors roll! I've spent five years waiting for a ghost, and the ghost has gone and found a Queen."
The car fell into a heavy, uncomfortable silence. Mario and Valliant exchanged a look of deep concern. They had known Lizzy cared for Kramark, but the depth of her devotion—the way she had anchored her entire identity to his eventual return—was a revelation that saddened them.
"You're assuming he's the same Kramark," Valliant said after a long moment. "But Lizzy, if he is the man behind the 'Masked Gambler' or the 'Unknown Godfather', he has had to harden his heart in ways we cannot imagine. To survive the shadows for five years, to dismantle mafias and outmaneuver the British Royal Family... that requires a coldness. A ruthlessness."
"He was never cold to me," she whispered.
"He was twenty then," Valliant countered.
"He is twenty-five now. And he has lived a lifetime of betrayals since the last time you saw him. If he married Czenovia, perhaps it wasn't for love. Perhaps it was a strategic move to gain the leverage he needs to finally destroy the Kurogamis and Alyssa."
"That's worse," Lizzy said, a tear finally sliding down her cheek. "If he's using marriage as a weapon, then the Kramark I loved really is dead. The boy who hummed melodies to ancient texts wouldn't do that."
"We don't know the truth yet," Mario urged. "Everything Alexander said is speculation. For all we know, the 'Prince of the Void' is someone else entirely, and Kramark is still out there, waiting for the right moment to come home."
Lizzy looked out the window again. The car was turning into the gates of their home. The Maxim mansion, usually a place of comfort, looked like a cold, empty fortress tonight.
"He's not coming home," she said, her voice sounding older than her years. "Not to this home. Whether he's in London or in a basement in Macau, he's moved on. He's collecting debts, and I wasn't one of the people who owed him anything. I was just... the girl with the coffee."
Mario watched his daughter as she stepped out of the car the moment it stopped. She didn't wait for them. She walked up the stairs, her back straight, her head held high, maintaining the image of the Student Council President until she disappeared into the house.
Mario turned to Valliant. "I've never seen her this lonely. Even when Kramark first left, she had the hope of his return to keep her company. Now, that hope has turned into a rival."
Valliant stepped out of the car, looking up at the light that flickered on in Lizzy's bedroom. "Loneliness is the price of loving a man like Kramark, Mario. He is like the North Star. He gives everyone direction, but he is fundamentally alone in the sky. Lizzy chose to follow that star, but she forgot that stars don't come down to earth."
"Do you think it's him, Valliant?" Mario asked, his voice low in the quiet of the driveway. "The husband of the Princess?"
Valliant looked at the horizon, where the first hints of a stormy dawn were beginning to brew. "I think the only man in this world capable of making Czenovia Britannia bow is a man who has nothing left to lose and the intellect of a god. It fits him, Mario. It fits his silence. It fits his brilliance."
"Then God help the people who hurt him,"
Mario whispered.
"God won't have a say in it," Valliant replied. "Kramark is the one writing the text now."
Inside her room, Lizzy Maxim sat at her desk. She opened a small, hidden drawer and pulled out a worn, blue ribbon. It was the bookmark Kramark had used for his favorite volume of mythological hymns. He had left it behind the day he disappeared.
She held it to her face, searching for a scent that had long since faded.
"I don't care if you're a King," she whispered into the dark. "I don't care if you've destroyed the world's mafias. I just wanted you to be Kramark."
She sat there for hours, the light of her lamp the only thing burning in the vast Maxim estate. The world was waking up to a new age—an age of Kings and Queens, of hidden Godfathers and legendary Gamblers. But for Lizzy Maxim, the world had never been smaller, or more empty.