Chapter 206

Morning classes had technically begun, but the copper classroom had its own world.

Classes were already in session across the academy. Bells had rung. Professors were lecturing against boards elsewhere. Yet here, the copper classroom had become something else entirely. 

Voices overlapped in a constant hum, rising and falling like surf against stone. Laughter burst out in uneven pockets. Chairs scraped. Someone thumped a desk for emphasis while telling a story that clearly grew larger with every retelling. Students leaned against walls, sat backward on chairs, sprawled across desks as if the room itself had surrendered any claim to discipline.

A few students from other classes drifted in and out, drawn by the noise like moths to light. No one stopped them as if it was a natural occurrence.

At the center of the chaos, naturally, was Toby.

He had claimed a desk like a throne, one foot propped up, hands moving as he spoke. A small crowd clustered around him, boys nodding, interrupting, laughing at the right moments. Kana heard the details from where she sat, but she didn’t want to. Toby’s tone alone carried implication. Secrets. Rumors. Things not meant for official ears.

Kana sat with her arms folded, letting the noise wash over her. Yesterday’s protest lingered in her thoughts like an afterimage burned into the eyes.

Loud voices. Noble outrage. Demands shouted into the morning air.

And today?

Nothing.

Those same nobles were gone. No whispers. No lingering resentment. As if the academy had pressed a hand over their mouths overnight.

Kana’s gaze drifted again. It settled on Toby.

He was laughing now, head tilted back, perfectly at ease. Too at ease.

Her curiosity tugged harder than she intended.

“Toby,” she said.

Her voice barely cut through the noise, but somehow he heard it anyway. He turned, one brow arching.

“About the nobles yesterday, do you know what kind of deal they made?”

The chatter didn’t stop, but the students closest to them leaned in unconsciously, curiosity filled the air.

Toby paused.

He stepped off the desk, walked a small circle as if considering the question from every angle. Then he shrugged dramatically and raised his hands. “How would I know?”

No. He definitely knows.

Rin shot to her feet. “Then why did you act like you knew?” She reached out and grabbed a fistful of his hair.

“Ouch! Ouch!” Toby laughed, twisting away but not trying very hard to escape. “It’s more fun that way!”

Boris intercepted Rin mid-tug, gently pulling her back. “If you keep that up, he might go bald.” He glanced at Toby’s head, then added thoughtfully, “I don’t think that’s something anyone here wants to see.”

Rin stared at Toby, eyes narrowing as if genuinely picturing it. “You’re right,” she said solemnly. “That would be terrible.”

Toby stared between them. “What do you mean by that—”

The light dimmed.

A shadow stretched across the floor, swallowing desks, cutting through the noise like a blade. The chatter faltered. Laughter died mid-breath.

Suri stood in the doorway. She held a cup carved from some hardened fruit, its surface rough and dark, juice sloshing faintly as she shifted her grip. It was one of her favourites to start her day in the past few days, drinking the sweet juice in the morning.

“Kana,” she said evenly, “they’re looking for you.”

Kana blinked. Trying to remember what she did in the past few days. Nothing really stands out, “Did I do something wrong?”

Suri stepped aside.

Steel filled the doorway. Knights in full plate stood there, armor polished to a mirror sheen. The clink of metal as one shifted his weight sounded painfully loud in the now-silent room.

“Kana of the Saltrain Village,” one knight said, voice calm, formal.

Every head turned.

“You are to visit His Majesty after your last class. This matter concerns the cloak of the [Lich].”

A chill crept along Kana’s spine. Does the king have some kind of mind reading skill? The thought surfaced. She swore she was just about to bring that up to the principal. She stood and bowed deeply, the movement precise despite the eyes on her. “I acknowledge His Majesty’s command. I will comply.”

The knight nodded once. No more words were exchanged. They turned and left, armored footsteps echoing down the corridor long after they were gone.

Only then did the copper classroom remember how to breathe.

Whispers erupted instantly, louder than before, the room surging back to life. But Kana barely heard them.

……

Early evening covered the palace in amber light, the kind that softened stone and made even secrets seem warm at first glance.

Kana sat alone in the king’s private guest room, hands resting calmly on her knees. The furniture was understated by royal standards. No banners. No courtly observers. Just polished wood, thick curtains, and a hearth that crackled softly, failing to banish the chill that clung to the air.

King J walked.

Back and forth. Back and forth. Each step measured, deliberate, the rhythm of a man thinking several moves ahead while pretending to think about none of them. In one hand, he held a glass. The scent alone told Kana it wasn’t watered wine. Strong. Sharp. The kind of drink chosen when sleep was not the goal.

He stopped, drained the glass, then finally turned toward her.

“I’ve made up my mind,” King J said.

He sat across from Kana, leaning back slightly, eyes studying her the way a strategist studied a map rather than a person. “The crown prince is suspicious and I believe he is right. The empire has spies embedded throughout the kingdom. More than I anticipated.”

Kana remained silent.

“We need a task force,” the king continued, voice steady, “separate from the knights, the guilds, the court, the public. A group that answers to no one.”

His gaze sharpened. “No one except me.”

Kana’s attention narrowed, instinct stirring. This wasn’t a casual proposition. This was a blade being offered hilt-first.

“One candidate came to mind immediately,” King J said. “You.”

He raised a hand before she could speak. “You were meant to become a royal knight. You still are, in many ways. But opposition is… fierce. The officials fear what they cannot categorize. For now, that path is closed.”

He set the empty glass down.

“But this task force,” he went on, “will exist outside such concerns. No titles. No commendations. No songs.” A faint smile touched his lips. “I’ll call it the Gloriousless. Because no one will know your deeds. They will not be recorded. History will not remember you.”

He leaned forward.

“Are you interested?”

“No.”

The answer came instantly.

Kana didn’t flinch. Didn’t hedge. Didn’t soften it.

“No,” she repeated. “Sounds like a lot of hassle.”

The king laughed quietly, more amused than offended. “I thought you might say that.”

His tone shifted. Just slightly. Enough to tighten the room.

“I want you to know,” he said calmly, “that we are aware of what you did in the western mountains.”

Kana’s heartbeat stumbled.

“You killed many people,” King J added, almost conversationally.

The room felt smaller.

How did they know?

Kana had been careful. Methodical. She had erased trails, scattered signs, and left nothing but survival behind. The people she rescued wouldn’t speak. They weren’t those kinds of people.

…Were they?

Her thoughts spiraled for a heartbeat before she forced them still.

She blinked.How was she so certain? She had met many people yet she barely knew any of them. Kana drew in a slow breath, steadying herself. If this was a trap, panic would only tighten it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said evenly. “And you have no evidence.”

The king chuckled. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to laugh.”

He stood and poured himself another drink. “It just so happens that one of my knights was investigating the Sun group. Their leadership. Their ties to the empire and their contacts inside from our kingdom. I’m planning to capture them.”

He glanced back at her. “You destroyed them before that investigation concluded.”

Kana’s eyes narrowed slightly. She couldn’t remember anyone's presence that night.

“You must have an excellent detection skill,” the king continued, “but the knight I assigned is the best we have at hiding himself. You will never notice him.”

So that’s it.

Her silence answered him well enough.

“Am I going to be jailed?” Kana asked, carefully.

The king laughed again, louder this time. “Of course not. I have no desire to see my former niece rot in a cell for the rest of her life.”

“However,” King J said, his tone sobering, “I can’t shield you forever.”

He met her gaze directly now. No humor left. Only weight.

“But if you join the Gloriousless,” he continued, “I can pardon you. Even if you kill a noble.”

Kana stiffened.

“Of course,” the king added smoothly, “you would need a valid reason.”

“And before you give me your answer,” King J said, lifting a finger as if remembering something trivial, “there is only one benefit if you will join.”

He rose again, moving toward the tall cabinet near the wall. Its surface was carved with faded reliefs of beasts and heroes, the kind worn smooth by centuries of disuse rather than neglect. He rested a hand on it, not opening it, merely acknowledging its presence.

“One dungeon item,” he continued. “Once a year.”

Kana’s breath caught.

“You will have the right,” the king said, glancing back at her, watching closely now, “to choose a single dungeon item from the kingdom’s treasury. Freely. No bidding. No justification required.”

The room seemed to tilt.

“Our kingdom has stood for nearly a thousand years,” King J went on. “We have survived wars, calamities. Over that time…” He smiled faintly. “We have collected more dungeon items than you could possibly imagine.”

Kana’s heartbeat accelerated, loud in her ears.

Dungeon items were rare. Painfully rare. Even a flawed one could change a person’s future. Entire noble houses were built in the possession of a single artifact. And this wasn’t just any collection. This was the accumulated hoard of a kingdom that had endured for years.

Her mind raced ahead of her restraint.

Experience boosters. Skill amplifiers. Skill book. Conditional growth artifacts. Items that bent rules rather than followed them.

Her throat went dry. “When do I start?” Kana asked.

The words slipped out before she could stop them.

The king stared at her.

Just for a moment.

Then he laughed, genuinely this time, surprised enough that the sound escaped him unguarded. “I expected resistance. Bargaining, perhaps.”

Kana didn’t respond. Her thoughts were already digging through imaginary vaults lined with relics and sealed curses.

“And where is my [Lich] cloak?” she added, as if the decision had already been finalized.

That earned her a longer look.

“That,” King J said, “was merely an excuse to bring you here.” He sighed and returned to his seat. “Too many eyes following my movements. Summoning you over an item is far less suspect than simply summoning you.”

Kana frowned. “So the cloak?”

“Destroyed beyond repair,” the king replied. “A pity. The runes woven into it were old. Powerful. Likely predating the kingdom itself.”

Kana clicked her tongue softly, disappointment flickering across her face. She had felt it during the fight. The cloak had something to do with the [Lich] toughness.  That explained a lot.

She leaned back slightly, then paused.

“…Is it really just me?” King J asked suddenly.

Kana looked up.

“You speak too comfortably,” he continued, studying her with sharp interest. “Far more comfortably than most do in my presence.”

Kana coughed into her fist. “Your Majesty,” she said quickly, posture straightening by reflex, “it must simply be your imagination.”

The king smiled into his glass, eyes glinting with something unreadable.

“Very well,” he said. “I must be wrong.”

Post note:

Kana might be busy recruiting(cheat-like skills users) in the next few days.
Hope you enjoy the chap! 🙂