Trapped in the body of Arlon Throndsen, the feared antagonist of The Seventh War, Shin must navigate a perilous world of betrayal, death, and secrets untold. Guided by a mysterious golden screen that predicts events moments before they occur, Shin uncovers truths about the world—and Arlon—that were never part of the story. As he struggles to rewrite the villain’s fate, Shin faces an impossible question: Can he escape Arlon’s tragic end, or is he doomed to lose everything, no matter what he does?
Emilia sat behind her polished mahogany desk, her expression thoughtful as Dimitri stood before her, delivering his report with calm precision. The faint scent of lavender lingered in the air, but the weight of their conversation pressed heavily in the room.
Dimitri's steady voice broke the silence. "The Celestial Clan has shown more interest in Arlon than anticipated. They've begun targeting him through their group, the Pry. Their motives are clear—they seek to manipulate him into their fold."
Emilia sighed softly, her fingers brushing against the desk. "I expected this. The Pry have always been drawn to power, and Arlon, as the next heir, is an obvious target." Her sky-blue eyes hardened. "But I won't let them use him. No matter what."
Dimitri paused briefly, measuring his words. "Arlon rejected their offer."
Emilia blinked, her surprise evident. "He rejected them?" she repeated, her tone laced with confusion.
"Yes," Dimitri confirmed, his expression neutral. "He chose a safer path."
Emilia leaned back in her chair, her mind racing. Arlon's decision was unexpected. She had always seen him as ambitious, someone who would seize any opportunity to gain power and secure his position as heir. "I assumed he'd accept," she admitted, her surprise evident. "Why didn't he?"
"Because he is more cautious than most assume," Dimitri replied. "He may appear driven by power, but he isn't impulsive. He is thinking carefully about his future—and the risks involved."
Emilia exhaled slowly, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Perhaps it's for the best," she said, though the concern in her voice remained. "If he'd acted rashly, he might have fallen into their trap. But still…The Pry won't give up. They'll keep pushing him, testing his resolve."
"Which is why I'll ensure their attempts are closely monitored," Dimitri agreed, inclining his head. "I'll continue to monitor his movements and report back to you immediately if anything arises."
"Good," Emilia said firmly, her tone leaving no room for doubt. "We can't afford to underestimate them."
The conversation shifted slightly as Dimitri asked, "And the twins, Your Grace? I trust they are doing well?"
Emilia's gaze softened, but her worry was evident. "They are in stable condition," she said, folding her hands on the desk. "But I remain concerned about their proximity to an awakener. Such connections tend to strain their lineage, draining their energy. It's a dangerous risk."
Dimitri's expression remained impassive, though a flicker of concern passed through his sharp green eyes. "I'll ensure they are kept at a safe distance from any potential threats," he assured her.
Emilia gave a faint nod. "Good. Their health is fragile enough as it is. The last thing I want is for them to suffer further."
Her voice softened as her thoughts turned to Arlon. "And Arlon…" She paused, the words momentarily catching in her throat. "He's still distant from the twins. But I've seen how they look at him. There's admiration there, even if he can't see it yet. Perhaps one day, he'll understand."
Dimitri inclined his head, his tone measured yet reassuring. "Lord Arlon has endured much. His struggle to connect is not without reason. But with your patience and care, as with the twins, he will find his way. Progress, Your Grace, takes time."
Emilia offered a small, grateful smile. "I hope you're right, Dimitri. I only wish their father could have been here to guide Arlon himself."
….
The room fell quiet, the mention of Ciel Throndsen bringing a heaviness neither could ignore. Dimitri's gaze softened as he said, "Ciel may not be here in body, but his presence lives on—in you and in the children. His legacy will not be forgotten."
Emilia's smile wavered, but there was a warmth in her eyes now. "Thank you, Dimitri," she said quietly. "I'll keep moving forward. For them."
Dimitri gave a small bow. "You've done far more than most could, Your Grace. They're fortunate to have you."
For a moment, the two shared a quiet understanding, the weight of loss balanced by determination. Finally, Dimitri straightened. "I'll leave you to your thoughts," he said, stepping toward the door. "I'll remain vigilant and keep you informed."
With a respectful nod, Dimitri exited the room, his footsteps echoing softly down the hall.
Left alone, Emilia turned her gaze toward the window. The sunlight streamed through the glass, casting soft patterns on the polished floor. Her thoughts drifted to the day of Ciel's death, a memory etched deeply into her heart.
"I'm sorry," Ciel had whispered on his deathbed. "I wish I could stay… to guide them. To guide you." Even now, the words cut deep. He had sacrificed everything for their family, leaving a void that even Arlon could not fill.
But despite the sorrow, she had never forgotten his strength or his love. You would be proud of them, Ciel, she thought, her gaze softening. Especially the twins. They've grown so much, even through their struggles.
Her thoughts turned to Arlon. He was still a mystery, his heart guarded and distant. But she refused to give up on him—or on any of her children. He'll find his way, she told herself firmly. I'll guide him as best I can. Just as you would have.
Emilia's expression grew resolute as she straightened in her chair. The burdens of the past weighed heavily on her shoulders, but she carried them with quiet strength. Her children were her future, and she would do everything in her power to protect and guide them.
He would have been proud of them. All of them.
With a final glance out the window, Emilia rose from her desk, her posture poised and determined. There was much to do, but she would face it all—just as she always had.
Elsewhere in the castle, Arlon walked the halls, lost in thought.
Arlon strode through the hallways, the weight of the book he had found in the library grounding him as his thoughts drifted back to his brief encounter with Irien. Her quiet curiosity lingered in his mind, mingling with a faint unease that he couldn't quite place.
His steps were slow and deliberate, his gaze flickering between the ornate surroundings and the path ahead.
As he turned a corner, the sound of hurried footsteps broke the stillness. Instinctively, he stiffened, preparing to step aside. Before he could react, a small figure collided with him, the force jarring but not enough to unbalance him.
His stance remained firm as he steadied himself, while the other person fell to the floor with a soft thud.
Thud—
Arlon glanced down to see a girl sitting on the polished floor, her arms sprawled among scattered books. She rubbed her forehead, stunned, before her wide blue eyes rose and locked onto his masked face.
For a moment, the hallway was silent. Irish froze, her expression shifting between surprise and what looked like a mix of awe and trepidation. Arlon cleared his throat to break the awkward tension and crouched to help her gather the fallen books.
"Are you all right?" he asked, his voice calm but distant.
Rustle rustle—
Irish blinked, snapping out of her daze. "Y-Yes," she stammered, her cheeks flushing as she fumbled to collect the books around her. "I'm so sorry! I wasn't looking where I was going."
"It's fine," Arlon replied, handing her a book. "But you should be more careful running in the halls. You might hurt yourself next time."
Irish lowered her gaze, clutching the books tightly to her chest. "I didn't mean to bump into you," she mumbled, her voice a mix of embarrassment and nervousness. "I was just in a hurry to—" She stopped abruptly, realizing she was rambling. Her fingers tightened on the books as she glanced down, clearly flustered.
"..."
Arlon studied her briefly, taking in her demeanor. Unlike Irien's quiet hesitation, Irish seemed livelier—yet just as unsure around him. Her energy was palpable, though it came with a certain clumsiness that contrasted with her sister's reserved presence.
"I was just coming back from my room," Irish added quickly, filling the silence. "Irien and I… we were in the library earlier, but I forgot a few things."
Arlon glanced at the pile of books she clutched. "That's a lot of books," Arlon observed evenly, his tone neutral as he glanced at the pile.
Irish offered a faint, nervous smile. "I like reading," she admitted softly. "Irien does too. But… we don't get to visit the library often."
"You should," Arlon said simply. "The library is a good place to learn—and to think."
Irish looked up at him, her expression softening as a flicker of relief replaced some of her nervousness. "Do you… read a lot too?" she asked cautiously.
"I do," Arlon replied. "Knowledge is a powerful tool."
Irish's grip on her books loosened slightly. "I didn't expect you to say that," she murmured, almost to herself, as though surprised by his response.
Arlon tilted his head slightly but chose not to press her further. Instead, he straightened and gestured for her to continue on her way. "You should return to the library. Irien may be waiting for you."
Irish hesitated briefly before bowing her head. "Thank you…," she said softly. Her voice carried a note of uncertainty but also a quiet sincerity. Without another word, she hurried past him, her steps quicker and lighter than before.
"..."
Arlon watched her retreating form for a moment before turning and resuming his walk down the hallway. Irish slowed her pace as she glanced back, watching him disappear around the corner.
Her heart fluttered slightly, still reeling from the unexpected collision. Yet, as she clutched her books to her chest, a strange sense of ease settled over her.
She couldn't explain it, but something told her that this wasn't the last time she would cross paths with her brother.
———
The sunlight streaming through the castle windows painted warm patterns on the walls as Dimitri made his way toward Arlon's chamber. His sharp eyes caught a glimpse of two small figures ahead, their blonde hair shining like spun gold.
"Sir Dimitri!" came a cheerful voice.
Dimitri turned to see the twins, Irien and Irish, hurrying toward him. Irien's steps were hesitant yet graceful, while Irish dashed forward with the boundless energy of youth.
"Ladies Irien and Irish," Dimitri greeted with a small bow, his voice carrying a rare warmth. "It's always a pleasure to see you."
"We're happy to see you too, Sir Dimitri!" Irish chirped, her bright blue eyes sparkling.
Irien nodded shyly, clutching the hem of her dress. "You're always so kind, Sir Dimitri."
Dimitri smiled. "And you both seem to be in good health. That's all I could hope for."
The twins exchanged glances before Irien spoke, her voice soft but tinged with curiosity. "I met big brother Arlon in the library earlier. He… seemed different."
Dimitri's brows rose in surprise. "Did he? How so, Lady Irien?"
"Well," Irien hesitated, her fingers fiddling nervously. "He didn't say much, but… he didn't ignore me either. It was… nice."
Irish chimed in, unable to contain her excitement. "I bumped into him in the hallway. He didn't get mad or anything—he just asked if I was okay."
Dimitri chuckled softly. "It seems you've both had quite eventful encounters with him."
Irien tilted her head."Do you think we can talk to him more? He likes books too, doesn't he?"
Irish nodded eagerly. "Yeah! Maybe we can talk about the books we like!"
Dimitri's expression softened. "That sounds like a wonderful idea. Your brother may seem distant, but he isn't unapproachable. Kindness and patience go a long way. Show him that you care, and I'm sure he'll appreciate it."
The twins brightened at his words, their eyes gleaming with newfound determination.
"Thank you, Sir Dimitri," Irien said earnestly. "We'll try our best."
"I'm sure you will," Dimitri replied with a faint smile. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go see your brother. But I'll look forward to hearing more about your progress the next time we meet."
The twins curtsied, their enthusiasm evident as they watched Dimitri continue on his way.
As he walked, Dimitri couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope. The twins' desire to connect with Arlon was genuine, and though the young lord still had his walls firmly in place, Dimitri believed that those walls could one day crumble under the weight of small, persistent kindnesses.
With that thought in mind, he approached Arlon's chamber, ready to offer his own guidance to the man who seemed determined to carry the weight of the world alone.
Plop—
Arlon sat at his desk, the ancient book lying untouched before him. Its faded pages promised answers, but his thoughts were elsewhere, circling the encounters that had left a strange unease in his chest.
Irien, quiet and reserved, her presence in the library almost ethereal, had seemed like a fragile doll, animated by faint curiosity yet guarded by an invisible wall. Then there was Irish, her twin—vivid and impulsive, colliding into him with all the energy of a whirlwind, yet faltering when vulnerability briefly broke through her bravado.
"They're just children," Arlon muttered, leaning back in his chair. Yet the gnawing feeling wouldn't leave. Children they were, but they were also his sisters, an undeniable connection that the original Arlon had ignored.
He turned his gaze to the book, its lines of ancient script blurry in the moonlight. He wanted to focus, to distract himself with its mysteries, but the quiet weight of the twins' hesitant expressions kept creeping back into his mind.
Knock— knock—
A knock on the door interrupted his spiraling thoughts. "Come in," Arlon called, straightening in his chair.
Creak—
The door opened, and Dimitri stepped inside, composed as ever. "My lord," he began, bowing slightly, "I've brought the documents you requested regarding the noble assembly. But judging by your expression, it seems your mind is occupied with something else."
Arlon arched a brow but remained silent, gesturing for Dimitri to continue.
"You've been sitting here for some time, yet I doubt you've made any progress with that book," Dimitri observed, his sharp eyes scanning the desk. He placed a stack of parchment down, his tone light but deliberate. "Perhaps your trip to the library yielded more than just texts to decipher?"
Arlon's frown deepened, but Dimitri pressed on, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "The young ladies," he said knowingly. "They've captured your attention, haven't they?"
"Captured my attention?" Arlon scoffed, leaning back. "They nearly knocked me over and fled. Hardly the kind of interaction worth noting."
Dimitri's smile widened slightly."But you're thinking about them, aren't you? They're still your family."
Arlon's fingers drummed against the desk.
"Family doesn't mean anything if there's no bond. I don't know them, and they don't know me."
"Not yet," Dimitri said, his voice steady. "But bonds take effort, my lord. A simple gesture, a word of kindness—it can mean more than you realize."
Arlon exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "You expect me to be their doting older brother? That's not who I am."
"No," Dimitri replied calmly. "I expect you to be yourself, but to try. They're young, my lord, and they look up to you, even if they don't know how to show it."
"They've done nothing wrong," Arlon murmured, his gaze drifting back to the book. "They're just... caught in the mess of this family, like the rest of us."
"That's precisely why they need someone to guide them," Dimitri said. "They don't need perfection. They just need someone willing to care."
Arlon stared at the desk, his jaw tightening. The weight of Dimitri's words settled heavily in the room, challenging the walls he had built around himself. Finally, he spoke, his voice low but resolute. "I'll think about it."
Dimitri inclined his head, satisfied. "That's all I ask, my lord."
As Dimitri exited the room, Arlon remained seated, his thoughts conflicted.The idea of connecting with the twins felt foreign, but Dimitri's words lingered.
Shaking his head, Arlon reached for the book, forcing himself to focus on the ancient script. Answers lay ahead, both in the pages and in the ties he had yet to rebuild. For now, he would deal with what he could control.