The next morning, Lucjan sat at his desk, his notes spread across the table. He was going through diagrams of Principle-based warfare, particularly those relating to compressed aura control, when he noticed something off.
Guinevere hadn't shown up today.
At first, he thought nothing of it. They lived in the same royal estate. If something had happened, he would've known.
But as the hours passed and lunch came and went without her usual remarks or presence, the silence began to weigh on him.
Still, there was no alert from the guards, no news from the staff. So he pushed through the day.
Later that evening, while he was reorganizing his notes for Principle Theory, a classmate approached him.
She had long, curled auburn hair and wore the Southern Dravoj Academy uniform with a personal brooch—an indicator of her noble house.
Her name was Darsia Relvere, and Lucjan remembered her as one of the higher-ranked students in the year.
"Hey, Lucjan," she said, hesitating a little. "Do you… mind helping me study tonight? I've been having trouble with the Principle Law examples Professor Bernice gave."
Lucjan thought about it briefly. He didn't exactly have anything urgent to do tonight. Guinevere still hadn't returned, and maybe keeping himself busy would stop the worry from growing.
"Alright," he replied. "Where are we doing this?"
"My family's manor," she said. "It's just a few streets from the castle. A private study room. Nobody will bother us."
He agreed.
By the time night arrived, he was already seated across from her inside a modest but elegant study chamber.
The Relvere manor was decorated in silver and blue, and though it didn't have the grandeur of the royal castle, it was still unmistakably noble.
Lucjan opened his notebook and began explaining the Principle sequencing model.
"So, the reason why principles resonate isn't due to power level," he said, "but due to intent. Let's say someone's using a defense-based principle and another person strikes them with aggression. The law of resonance activates because both beliefs are strong enough to 'collide.' If they're not aligned in strength or intent, there's no resonance."
Darsia nodded while scribbling down notes. "That... actually makes a lot more sense now."
Lucjan summarized more concepts.
He covered the Tri-Tier comprehension model, why the Comprehension Principle was non-linear, and how Principle mutations could occur when the user's core philosophy was altered.
As he spoke, he noticed something odd about the room.
It was quiet.
Unreal, almost. He had never been in a girl's room alone, at night, while studying Principle laws.
But it was close to the castle, and he trusted himself enough not to overthink it.
Lucjan sat across from Darsia. The books were open between them, and they had been studying quietly for an hour.
She suddenly looked up and asked a question.
"Are you a cannibal, Lucjan?"
"No. What kind of question is that?"
"Well, everyone is."
"That isn't true. What do you mean by that?"
She didn't answer. She only smiled. It was not warm or playful. It was stiff and lifeless.
He tried to return to his notes. He forced himself to read the same paragraph again, but he couldn't focus. The silence between them stretched too long. Then, he felt a sharp pain in his left arm.
At first, he thought it was a cramp. He tried to move, but his arm wouldn't respond. The pain grew worse. He looked down. Blood ran down his elbow. He could see red soaking into his clothes.
He looked at Darsia.
Her face was lowered. Her mouth was wrapped around his hand.
She was biting through his flesh.
Lucjan sat still. His body froze. He could not react. He could not scream.
His hand was gone. Only bone and muscle remained. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.
He stared at her.
"Oh. My arm is gone?"
His voice was flat.
Darsia did not stop. She continued chewing as if nothing had happened.
Then, a loud gunshot rang through the room.
Her head snapped back, blood splattering across the furniture. Her body dropped to the floor.
Lucjan stared at his arm. The pain came back all at once. His body shook. His breath caught in his throat.
"ARGHHH!"
He screamed, loud and clear.
A cloth swayed unnaturally through the stillness, and then—just like that—someone appeared.
She wore a faint smile and a sharp look in her eye. Lucjan recognized her instantly.
Ms. Pillow. From the Marisegold Doctrine.
He backed up in pure panic.
"ARGHH!"
Pain surged from his arm. But before he could even check the wound properly, Ms. Pillow walked forward, calm as ever, and flicked her fingers toward him.
In an instant, his arm grew back.
"What…?"
She then crouched beside Darsia's still body, placed a hand over her chest, and muttered something under her breath.
Light shimmered, and Darsia's form slowly began to repair itself. The girl opened her eyes and smiled.
"My name is Darsia Relvere."
Lucjan froze.
What the hell is going on?
He couldn't breathe properly. Nothing made sense. The blood, the death, the pain—none of it was real? Then what was?
Ms. Pillow stood and dusted her gloves. "There is a condition," she began, "called Principialia Paradoxia. It's rare, dangerous, and entirely real. It infects those with unusually deep attunement to Principles."
Lucjan just stared.
She went on. "Those infected experience accelerated comprehension. They see the world clearer and they evolve faster. But they lose their humanity piece by piece. Eventually, they start resonating with themselves—looping their own principles until they're no longer human, but a living doctrine. They become what people call proto-Principled."
He blinked hard, trying to process.
"To prevent social panic," she continued, "we do something necessary. We kill them. Then revive them into marionettes with false lives and fake purposes."
She gave a long pause.
"And half of your academy?" She smiled. "They're already like that. Half of the population in Southern Dravoj Academy and other popular well respected academies are Marrionettes."
Lucjan's breath caught in his throat. What the hell is going on...?
Before leaving, Ms. Pillow turned back to him.
"I've told you enough. I expect you to die within a week."
Then, with a soft smile—
"Be careful."
A quiet snap of her fingers echoed, and she vanished.
Lucjan stood still, the room dark and silent again. But it didn't feel like before.
Nothing would feel the same anymore.
Darsia smiled at him. Her expression looked exactly the same as before. Her voice, her tone, even her little habits were still there.
But Lucjan knew that the real Darsia was dead. What stood in front of him now was a puppet—no, a marionette, made to mimic her perfectly.
What the hell is happening?
Lucjan wanted to scream again, but he held his breath and smiled back.
If he looked too disturbed, if he acted even slightly off, there was a chance that some Principled entity or one of those people behind the curtain would eliminate him on the spot.
They clearly had the power, and if half the academy was like this, then he was practically walking through a minefield every single day.
So, for now, he had to survive.
He sat up straight and grabbed his notebook. His hand trembled, but he pressed it down.
"Let's study, Darsia!"
Please don't notice. Please don't act strange.
He opened a textbook and began writing.
"Okay, so the Resonance Theory is about the connection between one's Principle and their environment. If two Principles are in the same space, their behavior starts to overlap. For example, if someone with a strong Principle of Precision stays long enough near someone who has a Principle of Chaos, their techniques can begin to waver or fluctuate."
If I act like I always did, then I'll live another day. Just another day.
Darsia nodded. Her head tilted slightly, just like she always did when she was listening seriously.
"And it's not just about powers clashing. Resonance is subtle. It affects thoughts, feelings, even instinctive actions. That's why some Principles become corrupted over time. If someone keeps training around others who don't align with their belief, they start to shift."
I hope she doesn't speak too casually. If she messes up her personality, I might become crazy.
"And that's also why certain martial arts schools or noble clans avoid mixing with others. Their Principles are tuned to their customs. If they send their heir somewhere else, that heir might lose what they've built for generations."
Lucjan paused. Darsia kept nodding and jotting things down.
I want to live normally... Please...
"The Resonance Theory also explains why people feel drained or energized around others. The clash of Principles can weaken mental and physical stamina. It's not just personality. It's law. Principle law."
He kept talking. He kept explaining everything he remembered. Even if she was a fake, even if she was dead, he just kept going.
Please... someone save me...
---
"Thank you, Lucjan!"
Darsia waved at him as if everything were completely normal. Lucjan smiled back and stepped into the carriage. His hands shook slightly as he sat down.
He forced himself to relax. He had to play along.
What if someone can read my thoughts? What if there's a Principled watching me from above right now?
He gritted his teeth and pressed his knuckles to his forehead.
Stop thinking. You're fine. You're normal.
Then, he lightly hit his own head.
"I have to act normal."
The words came out under his breath like a mantra. He sat with a straight back, smiled once or twice, and nodded when someone passed by the window.
Everything he did was practiced.
The carriage arrived at the royal castle after an hour. He stepped off like nothing had happened and entered the halls without a word.
When he finally opened the door to his room, he expected Guinevere to be waiting inside.
But she wasn't there.
The room was silent. The bedsheets were untouched. The window was shut. The books on the table hadn't moved since morning.
She said she'd stay by my side. Where is she?
Then, without warning, a gust of wind hit his hair from behind.
He turned his head toward the hall.
There were people walking slowly in the corridor outside. They didn't speak. They didn't look around. Their faces were pale, and their steps were too even.
One of them was crying.
It was Guinevere.
Her eyes were red. Her head was low. She walked like someone who had just come back from a funeral.
But when she saw Lucjan standing in the doorway, she suddenly stopped.
Then, she smiled.
It wasn't kind. It wasn't the smile he knew.
It was a horrible, crooked smile that didn't belong to her at all.
The maids beside her stopped walking as well. One by one, they turned their heads. All of them smiled at him the same way.
Lucjan's heart stopped for a second. He closed the door fast and locked it behind him.
He stepped back and took a long, steady breath.
What is happening? What is this place turning into?
As he pressed his back against the door, a heavy slam shook it. The sound echoed in his ears.
That was no knock. That was force. Someone had struck it hard, almost like they were trying to break through.
His breath grew shallow. His fingers tightened on the handle.
Then, he heard it.
"Lucjan…"
A soft voice. It was coated with gentleness, but something felt wrong underneath.
"Lucjan, it's me, Guinevere… Open the door. Please."
That voice... it's like Guinevere's. But, I'm scared...
He didn't say a word.
"I just want to talk to you," she continued. "You've been acting strange. I'm worried about you."
She was crying earlier. Why was she smiling like that then? Why were the maids smiling too? Why the hell were they all smiling?
His hand hovered near the lock.
"I've been crying, Lucjan. You haven't said anything."
"What… What is it?" he finally said, trying to keep his tone even.
"You promised me. You promised we'd stay together. Did you forget?"
"You don't love me anymore?"
That one hit harder than the slam. His fingers froze on the lock.
What is going on? Why is she saying these things?
He slowly unlocked the door. The door creaked open.
Guinevere stood there.
She was wiping tears from her cheeks. Her face looked pale. Her shoulders trembled as if she had been crying for a long time.
Lucjan stared at her, confused.
She looked like Guinevere. She sounded like Guinevere. But what he saw earlier—those terrifying smiles, the way she stared at him—it looked like an illusion.
"What happened?" he asked.
Guinevere looked down for a moment. Then, with slow steps, she walked inside the room and sat on the edge of the bed. She didn't answer immediately.
"I want to talk to you about something," she said.
She took a breath, then spoke with a soft voice.
"Lucjan, King Isaac passed away just a few minutes ago."
Lucjan felt the air leave his lungs. His back straightened, and his mind tried to catch up with what she had just said.
"King Isaac died?" he asked, his voice low and unsure. "But… he was supposed to recover. The doctors said he would."
Guinevere nodded slowly. Her eyes showed nothing but exhaustion.
"They were wrong. The poison spread more quickly than they expected. He didn't survive."
Lucjan looked away from her and stared at the floor. The room felt colder than before. He remembered how many guards were posted outside the king's chambers, how many people hoped for his recovery.
"Then who's going to rule the kingdom now?" he asked. "Is it going to be you?"
Guinevere hesitated. She glanced away, then answered.
"It was supposed to be me, but I can't do it."
Lucjan furrowed his brow. He could not understand what she meant.
"What do you mean you can't? You're the rightful heir, aren't you?"
She nodded faintly.
"I am, but things have changed. You will understand soon."
Lucjan took a step forward. He felt his stomach turn.
"Guinevere, just tell me what's going on."
She looked at him again, but her voice shifted to something firmer.
"I only have one request for you, Lucjan. Leave this castle. Do it now."
Lucjan stared at her in disbelief.
"What? Why? That doesn't make any sense. Why would I leave?"
"You will be in danger if you stay," she said. "That is the truth."
Lucjan stepped closer. His voice was rising.
"You need to explain it to me. What kind of danger are you talking about? Are they targeting me now? Is it because of what happened with Lune?"
She shook her head slowly.
"I can't say more."
"No, I'm not just going to walk away without answers," Lucjan said. "You said you would stay by my side. Now you're telling me to run away? Tell me why."
"I said leave."
Her voice cracked at the edge, but she held her posture.
"Guinevere—"
"I SAID JUST LEAVE!"
The words slammed into him louder than her voice ever had before. Lucjan's breath hitched in his throat.
Guinevere saw the look on his face and immediately softened. Her hands shook slightly as she stepped back from him.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
She turned around and walked toward the door without waiting for a response. She opened it, stepped through, and gently closed it behind her.
Lucjan remained in place. He had no words left. Everything felt like it was falling apart again.
Why does it feel like everything I trust is breaking piece by piece?
He stood alone in the room, left with nothing but silence.
Lucjan stared at the ceiling for what felt like hours. His body remained still, but his thoughts were chaotic.
He replayed Guinevere's words again and again. Nothing made sense.
She had told him to leave, to run away from the place that once felt like home.
Then, the door creaked open.
Two royal guards stepped into the room. Their faces showed no emotion. Their spears glinted under the dim candlelight.
"Lucjan Wurford," one of them said firmly. "You've been ordered to leave the castle immediately."
Lucjan sat up, confused. His voice cracked as he tried to speak. "Wait, I—"
Before he could finish his sentence, they grabbed his arms. Their grip was tight, and he couldn't resist.
They dragged him across the hallways of the castle he had lived in for months. The same halls he used to walk beside Guinevere. The same halls where he once felt safe.
Now, they were cold.
At the front gates, the guards didn't speak. They opened the massive doors and tossed him outside. His body hit the ground.
Then, one of the guards threw a large sack at him—his belongings, crushed together without care.
The doors shut behind him with a loud thud.
He was left in the dark.
Lucjan sat on the ground and stared at the sack. His mind couldn't process what had just happened.
Then, it broke.
"No..."
His voice trembled. He clutched his head, his fingers digging into his scalp.
"No, no, no…"
He rocked back and forth, trying to keep himself from falling apart, but it didn't work.
"They threw me out. She threw me out... I trusted her. I thought I still had someone."
Tears fell down his cheeks as his voice rose.
"Why? Why won't anyone tell me anything? Why am I always the one left behind?"
He covered his face with both hands and cried harder.
"I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask for this curse. I just wanted to protect people."
His voice became softer, but the pain only deepened.
"I've lost everyone. And now, I've lost her too."
Lucjan looked up at the castle walls, barely visible through the night mist.
His chest ached. His hands trembled. His heart felt like it was tearing apart.
And then, with no more strength to hold himself up, he fell forward and cried into the dirt.
"I'm not ready to be alone again…"