#109. Crimson… Eyes?
His charge rarely seemed willing to keep him close, yet sometimes—out of some sudden whim—she would summon him without reason.
By now Kaslan was used to such abrupt calls, and so he quietly fulfilled his duty as a knight.
But his inner world was far from calm.
Ever since coming into contact with Greta, he had been forced to confront the terrifying reality that clear gaps existed in his memory.
The missing pieces varied in length and time, and while he had never heard that he had caused any incidents during those lapses, the very fact of losing himself without knowing why filled him with dread.
Even while endlessly busy as an imperial knight after the bloody incident at the Hunting Festival—where he had failed to properly protect the Empire—Kaslan searched everywhere for answers.
“If you drink too much, don’t you lose your memory?”
“Maybe someone smacked you on the back of the head.”
“That’s something to ask a physician.”
As expected, his seniors, juniors, and fellow knights were of no help, and even the palace physician—whom he had trusted—gave him nothing conclusive.
“Hmm. There are no external injuries. You say this happened more than once? I do recall a paper mentioning an illness that causes memory loss, but it is exceedingly rare in someone your age.”
He requested the document anyway, but deep down he knew it wasn’t a disease.
Because it only happened when he was around that unsettling Norden diplomat.
No matter how much he tried to deny it, he could not separate Greta from his missing memories.
Before coming here today, Kaslan imagined countless times running to his captain, begging to resign from this post. Yet he never did.
The terror and nausea Greta evoked were unbearable—but something inside told him he must not flee from her.
He knew himself to be timid and fearful, and so he relied on his sharp instincts and keen observations to mask that truth.
More than once, following his intuition had led him through peril and into great reward—or at least allowed him to escape greater dangers.
This time too, that intuition told him to endure. So he stood before Greta, as if walking into his own death.
On the surface, however, his years of training ensured that his demeanor was that of an exemplary knight—calm, steadfast, unreadable.
Greta, who could turn people into puppets with magic but not read minds, of course had no inkling of his thoughts.
“You arrived on time.”
Her lips curled faintly, eyes appraising him like livestock awaiting slaughter.
She had tried two or three more times since her first attempt to make this knight into a puppet.
But even divine power and magic could not so easily strip a person of their will and memories. Only when fully hollowed out would the puppet move solely according to Greta’s will.
A true puppet never blinked, though otherwise, thanks to divine power, it functioned perfectly normally—enough that most people overlooked the oddness.
Still, how much more of her power would it take to make this imperial knight into a puppet that satisfied her? And would the cost be worth it?
Greta weighed the value of her “product” through the pounding pain in her head.
As a puppet, an imperial knight could serve as her eyes within the palace now, and later, perhaps, as a dagger in the royal family’s back.
Besides, Bonita’s investigations confirmed this Kaslan was a well-regarded knight even within the Imperial Guard.
If Tison learned to better wield his strength, then this knight might seem less useful—but the more tools one held, the better.
Yes, it would be better to make him a puppet.
Bonita, had she known Greta’s thoughts, would have laughed bitterly and objected.
It sounded rational enough, but the cost of binding even “just” a knight was too steep. Greta had already paid dearly to make the king of Norden into her perfect puppet.
She didn’t bother recalling that now—her impulse to rid herself of the imperial spy was stronger.
And so Greta judged Kaslan’s value—rationally, in her mind; impulsively, to any observer.
The next moment, pain stabbed at her temples, blood vessels burst in her eyes.
No, not today.
The familiar agony shook her, forcing her to save her strength despite her impulses.
Pressing her reddened eyes shut, she quickly decided. She had summoned him for another matter anyway. Unless that too went awry, this would do.
Kaslan shivered slightly as Greta’s piercing stare finally slid off his cheek.
Her glossy, reptilian eyes had carried something dangerously lethal—and even with them turned away, the chill crawling over his skin did not fade.
“Sir Knight. Come here.”
Greta waved him over with careless flicks of her hand, like summoning a dog. Kaslan stepped forward without betraying any distaste.
He had no desire to linger at a distance where her presence made him nauseous. Besides, another matter caught his eye: the silent figure standing behind Greta like a lifeless doll when he had first entered.
As he expected, Greta lifted her chin and nodded slightly toward the unmoving man at her left.
“Greet him. My bodyguard.”
“Your… bodyguard?”
“You recall the unfortunate incident at the Hunting Festival, when I was attacked? I summoned someone I could truly trust—one who had protected me since Norden.”
Hardly the thing to say in front of her existing bodyguard, an imperial knight.
Her twitching cheek and mocking tone made the meaning clear: the real guard is here now, so know your place.
As a knight of the Empire—indeed of the Imperial Guard—Kaslan found such treatment hard to swallow. Yet Greta had never held him in esteem anyway.
Not that he wanted her favor in the least.
Still… a knight obeys his charge. If she demanded a hierarchy, then he must prove himself.
Kaslan steeled himself with uncharacteristic resolve.
The one he dreaded was Greta with her scarlet hair, not this nameless Norden knight.
But as the thought formed, a strange déjà vu struck him.
“After the tournament, Her Highness accepted a Norden knight…”
“An unknown man, at that. To keep him close? The captain’s already reported to His Majesty…”
Yes—when that beast of a man, cloaked in darkness, entered the Princess’s palace, nobles and knights alike had erupted in rumors…
Kaslan never finished the thought.
“My name is Tison.”
The knight’s hollow eyes, empty even while looking straight at him, pulled Kaslan harshly back to the present.
“Crimson… eyes?”
The words slipped out too faintly to reach even his own ears.
For the instant his gaze locked with Tison’s, every other thought in Kaslan’s head was bleached away.
Eyes of piercing crimson-black.
He remembered them vividly—those same eyes he had once faced, belonging to a man more dangerous than any he had ever encountered.
And now, before him, stood another with those exact eyes, claiming to be a Norden knight.
Most would dismiss them as merely similar. But Kaslan, sharpened by fear and forced to train his perception, knew the truth.
The shade, the depth—identical.
No two people ever shared precisely the same eye color. Even brown, the most common in the Empire, varied endlessly in hue.
But these crimson eyes—he had seen them twice, and they were perfectly the same.
And they belonged to a man of terrifying power, who had somehow won the Princess’s favor and place at her side.
The two bore no family resemblance—hardly even looked related. Perhaps they were? Both from Norden, perhaps distant kin?
The swirl of thoughts left his mind in even greater disarray.
“You are a knight of Norden, then.”
Kaslan extended his hand smoothly, masking his shock so well that neither Greta nor Tison could sense his turmoil.
When their hands met, Kaslan swallowed hard.
Despite Tison’s inhuman features and hollow voice, his hand was warm—human. That only made it all the more unsettling.
First that diplomat, and now this so-called bodyguard… they’re both wrong. Utterly wrong.
Kaslan withdrew his hand, hiding the stiffness from his tension.
From the moment the two knights met eyes, Greta had been watching closely, her own eyes narrowed.
If Kaslan showed even the faintest sign of realization, she was ready to intervene—even if it meant another nosebleed, like last time.
“Call me Kaslan,” he said calmly.
Only then did Greta ease her gaze.
Her “other business” with Kaslan had concluded without issue.
