The spring breeze swept across the courtyard of the Lux Royal Palace like a gentle whisper, as if the sky itself were trying to deceive anyone who looked—revealing beauty, hiding embers.
Ren stood on the balcony of the servants' barracks, breathing in the morning air scented with pollen. Down below, the main training grounds were already bustling with noise. The Four Heroes of Light—Hiro, Akira, Daiki, and Rei—were neatly lined up, each accompanied by their heroine. Magic swords glinted, ritual robes fluttered, healing runes glowed like fireflies on the knights' skin.
It was from this height that Ren put on his mask. He greeted anyone who passed by with a polite nod, flashing a sincere smile, saying "Praise the Light" like a humble monk. The servants—girls and boys in gray—began to whisper, marveling at the purity of the "innocent youth" who had been dragged into this world by chance. Little did they know that the smile was merely a cloak; beneath it, the embers of envy and ambition burned hotter than a blacksmith's fire.
Ren began his day in the East Chapel, helping the Elder Priest named Father Gideon light incense and arrange wine cups. he knelt, head bowed, reciting a penitential litany in a soft voice—though what he had memorized was not a prayer, but a subtle illusion spell: a series of vibrations of notes that made the listener feel safe near him. Each "Amen" he uttered slowly gave the impression that Ren was a small light in the darkness.
It didn't take long for word to spread. Kitchen soldiers came to consult about nightmares. Elite guards left their mothers' necklaces to be "blessed." Even ladies-in-waiting whispered that they wanted to confide in them about love. Ren listened, looked them in the eye softly, and offered advice as if they were old friends. It was a false empathy—but the effect was real: trust flowed into her hands, drop by drop.
In public, he never raised his voice even when ridiculed. When his cheap kitchen knife broke while peeling an apple in the canteen, he simply laughed softly. "If this is a test from the goddess, I accept it," she said. People nodded, moved. They didn't know that in their hearts the sentence was, "...and I will use this test to stab you back."
Meanwhile, the Hero training was going on hard. Ren snuck to the edge of the arena, carrying a water jug. He politely served the water to Hiro who had just managed to break a giant boulder with a True Light slash.
"Wow, Ren! You're such a helper," Hiro laughed innocently. "You should join the training. Who knows, the holy sword might suit you!"
Ren lowered his head, "I'm just an unintentional guest, Hiro. My service is quite behind the scenes."
Alicia—the graceful Knight Princess—gave Ren a glance, perhaps with pity. A glance… just a glance, but Ren caught it.
Akira was in the corner of the field studying magic with Selene. Blue ice spells swirled in the air, the chill felt all the way to the spectator seats. Daiki ran around the arena laughing, Maria chasing after him while attaching stamina runes to her back. Rei sat solemnly with Eiryn, praying to the forest spirits before shooting a target a hundred paces away.
Ren swallowed bitterly. They had everything—swords, spells, affection…
In the afternoon, the Palace Castellan distributed supplies. The Heroes received an ebony chest containing sacred weapons—shrimp, mithril, spirit crystals. Ren? He received a short dagger with a cracked wooden handle and a servant's badge.
"Excuse me, Lord Ren," the Castellan said, half blushing. "Supplies are limited. But the blade is… uh, still sharp enough to cut bread."
Ren smiled. "Enough, Your Highness." He thought to himself: Bread? I'll slit your veins with this if I have to.
In addition, he was placed in the Third Class Servant dormitory, sharing a dank room with four skinny teenagers—Leif, Milo, Arne, and Tissa. They were friendly, innocent, and easy to talk to. Key pawns in his long-planned plan.
The first night, Ren earned their trust with tales of "humility." He bribed Milo with cookies he "found" in the kitchen, helped Tissa patch up her shoes, and calmed Leif, who was afraid of lightning. Arne—a hot-tempered young man—was still suspicious, but Ren was patient. Even stone can be engraved if water is dripped on it continuously.
Days turned into weeks. Ren held back his envy like a snake hiding in the tall grass. Every night, from the small window of the dormitory, he saw the knight's tower where Hiro and Alicia discussed tactics until late at night. He saw the light of the elite library where Akira and Selene researched cross-dimensional spells. He heard Daiki's bright laughter as Maria massaged his shoulders with healing light. He saw Rei and Eiryn practicing their archery duet in the dim twilight—the two seemed as harmonious as an old poem.
Ren bit his lip, but his eyes remained soft as other servants passed by. He lit candles on the small altar in his room, pretending to pray. In reality, he was strategizing:
Master the information: who each hero's trainer is, the palace's guard pattern, the library's secret room.
Increase his charm: soften the "holy mask", making it harder to break.
Test the heroine's heart one by one—starting with the most fragile.
The opportunity came on a stormy night. Rain pounded the chapel windows; the roof leaked right in the holy aisle. The senior priest was busy securing the holy texts, Maria ran around carrying a bucket. Ren appeared with a cloak draped over the priestess' shoulders.
"Maria, let me help."
"Ren? You haven't gone to bed yet?"
"It feels uneasy to let the Chapel of Light get wet."
They worked together. Thunder rumbled; the candles went out one by one. In the darkness, Maria slipped—Ren was quick to catch her. Their bodies were pressed together, warm breaths meeting. Maria's eyes widened, her cheeks flushed like wet rose petals.
Ren lowered his voice. "Careful… You might sprain your ankle."
Maria lowered her head, "S-sorry. You're so kind."
Ren touched her wrist—a brief touch, but enough to make her heart race. "Your kindness is contagious, Maria. The Light must be proud."
A flash of lightning revealed their reflections on the wall: the "saint" embracing the young priest. Something that should not have happened in the holy of holies. Maria quickly moved away, but her smile wavered—a seed of guilt mixed with a strange tremor she didn't understand.
Ren bowed respectfully, then left before the storm passed, leaving the girl with trembling hands holding the rosary. The first crack formed.
The next day, Father Gideon found the chapel still damp. Ren volunteered to fix it. As he replaced the thatched roof, he embedded a small sigil—a silent spell that seeped into the wood. The sigil soothed the minds of anyone who entered, creating a vague sense of comfort associated with Ren's presence. No one suspected anything: who would have thought a "librarian servant" was adept at subtle magic?
With each sigil, he wove a spider's web: one in the kitchen, one in the library hallway, one in the night garden where Selene liked to retreat. The effect was weak, almost a placebo. But the sense of peace led the heroines' minds back to one name: Ren, Ren, Ren.
One evening, Ren led Leif and Milo to a forgotten cellar behind a wine cellar. He found an empty, mossy room, festooned with old chains. There he envisioned his little headquarters—a place to concoct suggestion potions, copy forbidden scriptures, and… exercise control.
"We can make this a meeting room," he said kindly. Milo nodded eagerly. Leif, charmed by Ren's charisma, volunteered to clean it. The seeds of loyalty sprouted; one day, they would become right-hand men who moved without question.
Ren patted both of them on the shoulder. "This is our secret, okay? For the safety of the palace."
They swore an oath. That was the beginning of a small sect—founded not in the name of a god, but the ambition of one man.
A week later, the palace held a "Weapon Purification" ceremony. The Heroes plunged their swords, staves, and bows into the Fountain of Light to be blessed. Ren, as a servant, stood in the back row, holding a frail dagger. He bowed his head, offering a false prayer, holding back a bitter laugh as Hiro was praised by the general for his sword's aura that dazzled the audience.
But in the midst of the ceremony, Selene looked out over the crowd and caught Ren's gaze. For a split second, her icy eyes softened—a memory of that night in the garden flashing across her retinas. Alicia was focused on praying, but her hand had briefly brushed an old scar on her neck; it itched when she was nervous, and Ren had noticed: Alicia harbored trauma.
Maria whispered to Daiki, looking troubled. Eiryn, meanwhile, turned to the sky, clearly disturbed by the ceremonial magic's pollution.
Ren made mental notes. They were beginning to crack at the edges—my time was drawing near.
That night, Ren sat cross-legged in the library's attic—where dust had gathered on shelves labeled "FORBIDDEN/FOR THE WILL OF THE CROWN ONLY." He lit a blue candle, unrolling the scroll of Ars Motus Cordis—The Art of Moving Hearts. Inside was an ancient spell that could connect the dreams of two souls, exchanging subconscious whispers.
Ren read aloud, letting the sound of the candles crackle in the background. The spell demanded an emotional sacrifice: the caster would share the darkest parts of themselves. Ren remembered his father's face that slapped him on a rainy night years ago, remembered the teacher's insults, remembered the gaze of his high school sweetheart who chose another man. He opened those old wounds, used them as bait... to ensnare new victims into dreams full of desire.
When the spell was finished, the candle flame dimmed to purple. Ren gasped—but he smiled. Tonight, one of them will dream of me.
He stood up, sheathing the old dagger. The weak iron felt light, but in his imagination, he lifted a sword made of forbidden pleasure—a weapon that would cut down the destiny of the prophecy.
In the tower of the Princess Knight, Alicia woke suddenly, sweat pouring down her forehead. Her breath was ragged; she had just been thrown out of a dream where a strange man's hand gripped the wrist of her sword—not with violence, but with a desire that made her tremble. She couldn't see his face clearly, only the faint light of the blue candle and a whisper:
"Give up your heart... and the world will bow."
Alicia stared at the window. The moonlight was blocked by clouds, leaving a tall shadow in the corner of the room—its shape resembling a man with a soft glowing mask.
Her heart was pounding.
The sword of the kingdom's greatest knight felt heavy in her grasp.
she wasn't sure... if she was afraid, or if she wanted it.