A foul, musty stench permeated the dark, narrow channel, barely wide enough for a few people to pass through.

Though the maze-like channel had many branching paths, making navigation difficult, Tucker was miraculously finding his way using scent alone.

“My nose is as sharp as a dog’s.”

At the time, merchants had escaped from prison, but since the deposed king was executed along with all those involved, the royal palace remained in disarray for a while. The guards, fearing their own negligence would be exposed, never reported the incident to their superiors.

Thus, to this day, the merchants’ prison break remained a closely guarded secret.

After traversing the maze-like channel, Sikar Blake’s group barely managed to reach a passage near the plumbing.

Once they had advanced a certain distance, Tucker halted his forward progress.

“From here on, Your Grace can proceed alone without difficulty. When you reach a dead end, climb the passage ladder upward. You’ll then arrive at the underground prison.”

“I see. Then you should leave now. I’ll go on alone from here.”

“But there’s a problem with this place.”

“A problem?”

“When I escaped, the sluice gate was locked and inactive. But originally, this channel was designed to release torrents every two minutes through the waterway to prevent intruders or escapes. So when the torrent comes, you must climb onto the pipe passage and wait until the water recedes, then advance toward the tunnel connected to the underground prison. It’s nothing like ordinary waves—they say even two strong men can be swept away.”

“Really?”

“Yes. However, you must sprint to the section with the passage before the two minutes are up. Even if you run as fast as possible, it still takes over three minutes to reach the passage.”

“So you’re saying you’ll inevitably be swept away again by the current?”

“Yes. Exactly.”

“What happens if you’re swept away by the current?”

“You’ll be carried along the channel until you reach the river outside Recador. By then, respiratory failure will have turned you into a living corpse.”

Had Sikar not considered Tucker an extraordinary individual, he might have been angry at someone who followed him into the channel only to deliver such grim news.

But since this man had led him this far, Sikar assumed there must be a method to proceed.

“So what method must I use to get through this channel?”

“It’s very simple. Your Grace is of the Sitar clan, correct? The Sitar are known for their strength. Ordinary people would be swept away, but Your Grace can endure it. When you hear the torrent approaching, stop advancing and brace yourself against the wall.”

“What do you mean… so then…”

“Yes. I will soon be swept away by the torrent.”

This meant Tucker had known from the moment he came here that he would be swept away by the current.

Even Sikar, whose heart rarely wavered, felt shaken as he looked at Tucker—who had followed him here, fully aware he would die, just to guide him.

“Let’s go. I’ll take you back outside.”

“No. If Your Grace leaves now, you’ll never be able to return here again.”

“Then you… truly…”

At that moment, a loud, rushing sound echoed from the passage as the torrent surged forward. Sikar turned his gaze to inspect the interior of the tunnel.

“Then hold onto me tightly. I can easily hold someone of your size!”

When Sikar turned back, Tucker had already moved his body backward.

“No. If you hold onto me too, Your Grace might also be swept away. I saw your left hand is frozen. You’ll have to brace yourself with only your right hand—holding me too will be too difficult.”

“Come here before I kill you.”

“Even if I die, I trust the Lady will take good care of my grandmother. I entrust her to you.”

“You madman!”

“Don’t come closer! The moment you take a step, Your Grace will also be swept away by the torrent! Didn’t you once say you spared me for when I might be useful? This is precisely that moment. Please stay safe!”

Tucker bowed his head as if offering a final farewell. At that instant, Sikar tried to step forward, but the torrent had already reached his nose. The swiftly descending water engulfed him in an instant.

If even one finger gripping the wall loosened, he would be instantly swept away. He couldn’t even open his eyes against the force of the current.

The torrent didn’t stop—it surged for a long time, long enough that someone with low lung capacity would drown before even being swept away.

Just as swiftly as it had filled the passage, the water receded instantly. The tunnel, as if nothing had happened, was left only damp and empty. Tucker was nowhere to be seen.

All of this had occurred in the blink of an eye.

His cold, rational mind gave him no time to mourn Tucker.

Soaked to the bone, Sikar moved forward again. If he didn’t hurry, he might be swept downstream and discovered as a corpse floating by the riverside.

Sikar endured the torrent and silently advanced through the passage, finally reaching a dead end.

Where a wall should have been, there was instead a gaping hole—the very source from which the torrent flowed.

Sikar entered and inspected the water tank. He then completely smashed the sluice gate, ensuring it could never be opened again. This was in preparation for his eventual escape back through the channel.

After exiting the water tank area, Sikar returned to where the ladder was and climbed upward. His body, drenched from head to toe, felt heavier than ever.

Upon reaching the end of the connected pipe, a gloomy, menacing corridor came into view.

Since viewing the guards’ memories would make finding Veronia easier, Sikar walked boldly through the decrepit passage.

Not long after, he heard human voices—two of them. He recognized them as two guards on patrol.

The guards weren’t particularly vigilant. Yawning, they assumed nothing unusual would happen today.

Sikar tossed a small stone fragment, but they didn’t even flinch, dismissing it as merely passing rats.

He couldn’t afford to cause a commotion, so he tried to lure the guards—but since no one could possibly enter this place, they remained completely unalarmed.

Just as he was pondering how to lure them, the guards began nodding off to sleep.

Seizing that precise moment, he ambushed the sleeping guards. After simultaneously pressing both their necks to render them unconscious, he read their memories and instantly located the room where Veronia was held.

Veronia was kept in the lowest level of the underground prison—the very last cell, completely isolated.

To reach the lowest chamber of the underground prison, only a single spiraling staircase existed, and no patrols ever passed through.

Sikar descended silently, careful not to startle the princess.

Beyond the firmly locked iron-barred door, Veronia was seen crouched asleep on an old prisoner’s cot.

From head to toe, clad in rags, no trace of royal dignity remained in her appearance.

Sikar used the key taken from the guard to unlock the door and entered slowly.

“I’ve come to escort you.”

But there was no response. Not even faint breathing could be heard—though he briefly wondered if she might already be dead, he couldn’t risk touching the royal body to confirm.

“We cannot afford to delay. You must hurry.”

The face of Veronia he had seen through the guards’ memories looked vacant, utterly gaunt—nothing remained of the bright, radiant girl he remembered from childhood.

Could she possibly not understand speech?

If prolonged starvation had impaired her cognition, she might not comprehend words. He decided that, however rude it might be, he would have to physically take her and leave.

“I must commit this discourtesy.”

As Sikar took another bold step forward, the princess, who had been facing away, slowly sat up.

Seeing this, Sikar resolved to wait a little longer and took a step back.

The princess turned her body slowly, deliberately. Her face, deeply concealed beneath a hood, was too shadowed to be seen clearly.

At that moment, Sikar felt a bad premonition. He drew his sword and used its tip to push the hood back.

The face revealed was not Veronia, as expected—it was Lape.

Lape looked up at Sikar with an unpleasant smile.

“As expected, your instincts are sharp.”

He briefly wondered if this was a trap, but there hadn’t been time to set one. So he would simply have to see for himself.

“Your expression is quite something, Duke. Surprised? Curious how I ended up here?”

“That’s something I’ll find out soon enough.”

Lape, being a spirit-being, was weaker against Sikar than Pasium, who wielded magic. Lape well knew that even with Sikar’s arm frozen by curse, he himself stood no chance of victory.

“If you touch me, Veronia’s life ends too.”

“That’s something I’ll verify myself.”

As Sikar took another bold step forward, Lape shouted loudly.

“Your Highness!”

Was Gillian here as well?

After Lape’s shout, the sound of someone rushing urgently toward them was heard.

Sikar quickly turned around—and there stood Veronia, the very person he had searched for so desperately, her neck held at knifepoint by Queen Dienne.

Though Veronia’s face was as gaunt as seen in the guards’ memories, she stood with regal poise, her dignity unbroken.

Dienne, her face filled with murderous intent, pressed the sharp blade even deeper against Veronia’s throat.

“If you move even slightly, this blade will pierce the princess’s neck, Duke.”

“The moment Her Highness is harmed, neither of you siblings will survive.”

“I suspected as much—you really were searching for Veronia. Why did you betray us?”

“Choose your words carefully. It was you who betrayed me, not the other way around.”

At that moment, another voice emerged from the darkness, accompanied by heavy footsteps. Sikar knew instantly from the sound who it was—it was, as expected, Gillian.

Gillian walked slowly forward, his face filled with disappointment.

“Have you already forgotten that we resolved together to depose the fallen king, Duke? Why did you betray me and choose Veronia?”

“I just said it— you were the one who betrayed me first.”

“How audacious. No matter how recklessly you behaved, I always supported you. My faith in you never wavered—not even when I learned Reidox had committed treason, I didn’t move against you immediately! Yet you shattered that faith of mine, Duke.”

“Is that why you tried to eliminate the only person who could lift my curse—because you trusted me so much?”

“A dog that fails to recognize its master might bite the moment its leash is loosened. I was merely preparing for contingencies.”

It was the moment Gillian’s true face—hidden until now without exception—was fully revealed.

“I was never your dog, Gillian.”

Shhrrring. With a sharp metallic sound, Sikar’s sword pointed directly at Gillian’s throat.

“How fortunate. Pasium has gone to hunt Reidox. Shall we make a bet, Veronia? Who dies first—you or Reidox?”

Veronia glared at Gillian with murderous eyes. Even in the darkness, her blue irises radiated such sharp, chilling intent it was palpable.

“You won’t survive either, Gillian.”

Gillian looked at Veronia with an expression of pity.

“You’re still so angry. That’s precisely why I want to see you even angrier, Veronia.”

Veronia immediately spat toward Gillian—but Dienne, extending the knife she held against Veronia, intercepted the spit midair.

Just as someone might have begun to say such behavior was impolite, Veronia swiftly dodged and moved to stand beside Sikar.

Though Dienne and Lape were startled, Gillian smiled as if thoroughly amused by the sight.

“Veronia. I thought starvation had slowed your mind, but your reflexes are still sharp. Truly, royalty remains royalty. Isn’t that right?”

Veronia tore a cord from Sikar’s shoulder plate, tightly tied back her hair, and said to Gillian:

“Shut up.”