Chapter 242: The Name is

Lucion took a deep breath, trying to calm the torrent of emotions threatening to overwhelm him.

At last, he understood why Carson had been so sensitive about the fabricated carriage accident and why Heint had been so shocked.

“Did you know my mother died in a carriage accident while protecting me?”

Though the incident happened when he was young, the memory was still vivid. He could still feel the warmth of his mother’s embrace.

“I’m… sorry.”

Once again, Heint could do nothing but bow his head before Lucion. After exhaling deeply several times, Lucion finally managed to speak. Heint had been just an outsider in that incident.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrogate you or make you feel responsible, Brother. So please, lift your head,” Lucion said gently, extending the files he was holding toward Heint.

“That carriage accident was orchestrated by the Neubra scum. They did it to kill me and my mother. My mother…”

Lucion’s hands trembled as the papers he held shook. Fighting back the tears threatening to fall, he raised his voice, unable to suppress his frustration.

His father had been right all along–it was because of Neubra.

“Those… bastards!” Heint spat, his voice laced with anger.

To think the Neubra had not only targeted Lucion but also dared to harm the Countess. Their audacity to attack the frontier was utterly appalling.

“Brother… to be honest, I want to give this information directly to my father,” Lucion said, swallowing hard as Heint’s brows furrowed further.

“But I can’t. Because I’m Lucion.”

The noble Lucion had no power or ability to do all this. So someone else had to deliver it on his behalf.

“I want to free everyone from this chain of guilt. Please deliver this to His Majesty immediately,” he pleaded, trusting Heint to ensure the documents reached the Emperor.

“Lucion.” Heint’s voice broke the silence, heavy with emotion.

“If you can’t deliver it as Lucion, then do it as Hamel.”

“I… deceived His Majesty.”

“No. You’ve never deceived His Majesty, not even once,” Heint assured him, pushing the documents back toward Lucion with a faint smile.

“Hamel. That’s your name, too.”

“Hamel? Was that the young master’s name?” Hume asked, surprised, as Lucion nodded slowly.

Hamel had been his name in his past life–the name his mother had given him, a name that connected him to his siblings. It was a name he had abandoned out of guilt for his mother’s death.

Lucion silently met Heint’s gaze.

“I don’t know why you changed your name to Lucion,” Heint said. “But Carson told me a few times when he was drunk and his lips were loose.”

Heint paused before calling out to him again.

“Anyway, Lucion.”

“Yes, Brother?”

“You’ve never deceived His Majesty, nor have you lied. Go ahead. I’ll stay here a little longer,” Heint said, leaning back in his chair with a faint smile. “Feel reassured now?”

“Yes. Very reassured,” Lucion replied softly, sneaking a glance at Russell.

[Of course, you have to go. Who could stop you now?] Russell murmured, biting his lip lightly, his heart heavy.

* * *

“I apologize for coming at such a late hour, Your Majesty,” Lucion said, bowing before Ketlan.

“No need to apologize. At my age, I often wake early,” Ketlan replied with a light laugh before quickly shifting to a more serious tone. “More importantly, Hamel, aren’t you pushing yourself too hard?”

Following news from Ben Neubra, the leader of the anti-monarchist faction, that all items imbued with light had been cleared away, Ketlan had no hesitation in informing Heint.

And that was today.

“First, please accept this written confession from Norvion himself,” Lucion said, presenting the results of his efforts.

“I left no evidence behind. Instead, I raided the secret vault.”

“Oh? I didn’t expect you to take an interest in the vault,” Ketlan said, his tone light and approving, as though praising a grandchild for excellent marks.

“It seemed suspicious, and I couldn’t resist,” Lucion replied, fabricating a plausible reason as he handed over the documents he had discovered.

“After the Magic Tower incident…”

“Hamel,” Ketlan interrupted, reaching for Lucion’s hand but stopping mid-movement. His voice softened as he called his name again.

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“You’ve done well. I should have said that first. Hamel, Sir Heint has told me everything about your achievements.”

–Right! At that time, Lucion was amazing! Truly amazing! Ratta knows! Ratta will never forget how much Lucion sparkled!

Ratta beamed with happiness at Ketlan’s praise. Her eyes sparkled, urging for more compliments for Lucion. Embarrassed, Lucion stumbled over his words as he handed over the documents again.

“I–I only did what I had to do, Your Majesty.”

Lucion shook his head, trying to regain focus. Now was not the time for distractions.

“Forgive my presumption, but these documents contain information that could lead to reconciliation with Cronia,” Lucion explained.

“Is this related to Lord Lucion Cronia?” Ketlan asked.

“Yes. They detail exactly what Neubra did to Cronia.”

Unlike Lucion’s steadfast demeanor, Ketlan faltered. His expression betrayed hesitation and unease.

[Doesn’t His Majesty’s expression seem strange?] Bethel asked, studying Ketlan.

It didn’t seem like he was shaken solely because the matter concerned his friend’s family.

[Could it be because it involves his friend’s son? Or perhaps…]

Russell trailed off, glancing at Lucion. Though the mask concealed Lucion’s face, Russell couldn’t shake the feeling that Ketlan had somehow discerned Lucion’s true identity.

It shouldn’t have been possible, not even for someone with sharp instincts.

[‘Is it different because he’s the Emperor?’] Russell wondered.

One thing was clear: Ketlan was deeply shaken.

–Ratta doesn’t know! But it looks like Emperor Uncle is worried about Lucion.

Ratta clung to the shadows, wagging her tail.

“You’ve worked hard, Hamel,” Ketlan said, taking a slow, measured breath before continuing.

“Your Majesty hasn’t even read the documents yet,” Lucion responded.

“Hamel.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Do you remember me mentioning a friend I had long ago?”

“I do,” Lucion replied.

“That friend is Novio Cronia. How could I not know what happened in Cronia?”

As if he already knew the contents of the document, Ketlan held it delicately in his hands.

“This document you’ve brought me is a precious gift that will ease my friend’s lingering regrets. On behalf of Novio Cronia, I express my gratitude.”

As Lucion released the papers, Ketlan briefly glanced at them before raising his gaze to meet Lucion’s eyes.

“Well done, Hamel. You’ve given me so many gifts that I’m left wondering what I should give you in return.”

“Your Majesty, as I’ve said before, all I need is your trust and mercy.”

“That only makes it more difficult for me. If you’d simply said, ‘I need something,’ it would have been easier. But you’re not asking for anything.” Ketlan lightly tapped his forehead, a trace of frustration in his voice.

“But I understand why you say such things,” he continued.

Ketlan hesitated for a moment, contemplating his next words. Honestly, he wanted to keep Hamel close, to cherish and protect him, but seeing Lucion trembling made it clear he needed to tread carefully.

He decides that the only option is to soothe him, comfort him, and patiently wait for Lucion to approach him in his own time.

“Your Majesty,” Lucion spoke, breaking the silence.

“Go on.”

“I’ve heard that you’re working to create a world where I can live without this mask.”

“This confession you’ve brought will serve as a strong bridge toward that world. Trust me.” Ketlan smiled without hesitation.

‘It’s true,’ Lucion thought, staring blankly at Ketlan.

The Emperor truly was working to create a world where warlocks could live openly, without fear or shame. Slowly, Lucion clenched his fist, his resolve hardening.

“Thinking about it now, this is something I should have addressed long ago. It’s shameful and pitiful that I haven’t done so until now,” Ketlan said with a self-deprecating laugh, brushing the matter aside quickly.

“Well, regardless, once we see results, I’ll have something to proudly share with you. For now, tell me the other reason you came here.”

Ketlan was right–this wasn’t the time to dwell on hopes for a brighter future. Nothing had been set in motion yet.

“We’ve gathered a group of warlocks in the East. When would you like us to begin?” Lucion asked.

Delos had moved to the Eastern region and was waiting under the protection of Lucion’s organization for further instructions.

“Begin the operation the night after tomorrow. I’ll inform Sir Heint of the precise timing.”

“The night after tomorrow? Your Majesty, the Temple won’t take kindly to this. Are you certain?”

“As you know, the Temple’s power comes from ‘faith.’ Their structure is entirely different from the Empire, where leadership lies with the Tesla bloodline. You understand this, don’t you?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. What I’m trying to break down, and what you’re aiming for, is that very ‘faith.'”

“The Great Light Temple is already under my thumb thanks to a significant weakness I’ve uncovered. They have no choice but to comply.”

“A weakness, Your Majesty?” Lucion asked.

“A priest attacked Saint Lucion Cronia. Of course, the priest is now dead, and the incident occurred before Lucion became the Saint, but the details are irrelevant.”

–Ah! Ratta remembers! That happened when we met Hume, didn’t it? Ratta is right, isn’t she?

Ratta perked up, her ears twitching eagerly as she sought confirmation.

[That’s correct. It was when Carson cut down that priest. Who would’ve thought that incident would turn out to be so useful? Now it’s become a major leverage point, hasn’t it?] Russell chuckled, clearly amused.

The fact that the Temple couldn’t openly challenge the Emperor, even with the word “warlock” thrown around, was immensely satisfying.

“Rumors grow and evolve, and once they spread, they’ll paint the Temple as incompetent–unable to protect, let alone recognize, a Saint. Worse, they attacked him. How could they ever admit such a thing publicly? It’s better for them to remain obedient, don’t you think?” Ketlan said with a knowing look.

Lucion stared into Ketlan’s sharp eyes, feeling a chill. The Emperor was undeniably a man who could strip him of everything if he so desired.

“Hamel,” Ketlan said, noticing the weight of his words and softening his tone.

“I brought this up because I thought you might be concerned. Don’t misunderstand me. I’m deeply indebted to you and constantly troubled by what I can give you in return.”

“Your Majesty, there’s no need to give me anything. As long as I, my organization, and my people are safe, that’s all I need.”

Ketlan frowned at Lucion’s words. Why was he so unselfish?

For someone who deserved recognition and accolades, Lucion’s humility made Ketlan feel even more compelled to do something unprecedented in the Empire’s history.

Lucion stood and bowed deeply. Now that the matter of the Sea of Death had been settled, it was time to leave. His body felt heavier with every passing moment.

“Then, Your Majesty, I’ll take my leave.”

“Take care on your way. I’ll leave shortly after you.”

After receiving Ketlan’s send-off, Lucion walked outside.

“Ha.”

Ketlan stared at the closed door, touching the document as he let out a deep sigh.

‘What thoughts must have been weighing on him when he brought this to me?’

His heart sank at the thought. As Emperor, one of the first survival skills Ketlan had mastered was reading the emotions of others.

No matter how carefully someone tried to conceal their feelings, subtle signs always gave them away–minute eye twitches, trembling hands, slight lip movements, or the faint flicker of their pupils. Over decades, this skill had become second nature to him.

Even with the mask concealing Hamel’s face, Ketlan could read his emotions through his behavior. When they had first met during the Magic Tower incident, Ketlan had sensed a certain familiarity. And now, meeting him again as Hamel, he was sure.

Hamel was Lucion.

And Lucion was Hamel.

‘It seems I have yet another reason to apologize to Novio,’ Ketlan thought grimly.

If he had recognized Lucion this quickly, Novio would undoubtedly know the moment he saw him.

“Hah.” Ketlan let out a heavy sigh.

Today, he truly felt the depth of Lucion’s hatred–hatred so powerful that he restrained himself from killing Norvion.

“Your Majesty, please protect those around me so that my existence doesn’t give others a reason to slander or blame them.”

Ketlan finally understood the weight of the words Lucion had spoken as Hamel.

‘That’s right. If I wanted to, I could take everything from Cronia.’

Lucion knew this truth better than anyone. As a noble, he understood that the title of Emperor wasn’t merely a title–it was power, absolute and unyielding. That was why Hamel had pleaded.

He had begged Ketlan to protect Cronia. Even as a warlock, he had desperately cried out for his family, asking that they not be destroyed because of him.

‘Lucion.’

Ketlan silently called the name he couldn’t say aloud.

‘Do not worry. The Empire will protect Hamel.’

Since Lucion had given himself to the Empire, it was only right that the Empire protect him in return–both as Lucion and as Hamel.

With a heavy heart, Ketlan gently caressed the document Lucion had handed him.

“Do not worry, Lucion,” he whispered to the empty room.