Chapter 5

Inside the luxurious case that Chief Attendant Marcellus carefully opened lay a shabby ring that contrasted sharply with its fine container.

It was far too plain for a prince to treasure—no, far too humble to be considered a keepsake of the Empress, who had been Yurion’s mother.

Yuwon immediately recognized what it was.

‘The shape is different, but it’s definitely that one from before.’

A small ring with a red gemstone no larger than a fingernail. It looked ordinary enough, yet to Yuwon, it was anything but.

‘It was a necklace in my previous life, but now it’s a ring…’

For a moment, Yuwon was lost in his old memories.

He had been an orphan with nothing but his own body, rolling through the marketplace since childhood.

Yet somehow, without even remembering how he came to possess it, he had kept that gem from his earliest days until the moment of his death—only for it to appear before him again, slightly altered.

‘If these are Yurion’s memories, they should be clearer than those of my previous life… But there’s nothing like this ring in his recollections.’

When it came to Yurion, Yuwon remembered even his infancy as if it had happened yesterday. Yet, no matter how many times he turned it over in his mind, the ring was completely foreign to Yurion.

‘There’s no doubt about it—this is something I remember as myself.’

It didn’t exist in Yurion’s memories, but it stood vividly in Yuwon’s own. And yet, Marcellus was insisting that it was something Yurion had once treasured dearly.

‘I could take the attendant’s word for it, but… it’s clearly not an ordinary item.’

For an object from that other world to exist here—it couldn’t be mere coincidence.

Nor was he mistaken. It was the item he had carried on his person until the day he died. Yuwon could not possibly be wrong.

‘…Perhaps this thing was what brought me back to life. I’ll need to investigate it.’

After briefly sorting through his thoughts, Yuwon smoothly resumed his act of memory loss.

“It’s a ring.”

“Yes, Your Highness. Do you happen to recall anything about it?”

“Does it seem to have any effect?”

“Ah… Regrettably, to my humble eyes, it does not.”

“Just as it appears, then.”

Disappointed at being of no help, Marcellus looked visibly crestfallen.

“Regardless, I’ll take it with me. It’s said to be my mother’s keepsake; I can’t just leave it lying around.”

“Yes, as you wish, Your Highness. I anticipated you would say so.”

Marcellus respectfully lifted the case containing the ring. Yuwon immediately took it, placing it on his right index finger.

The mysterious ring fit him perfectly, as though it had been made for him.

‘How strange—it fits exactly. Almost… as if it truly did belong to Yurion.’

An identical object existing in a different world. To Yuwon, now living a new life, that ring was the only possible clue that could explain everything.

‘But there’s something more urgent right now.’

Though investigating the ring was important, the immediate priority was regaining his former strength. The enemy blades aimed at Yurion’s throat were drawing ever closer.

“Indeed, every item shines brightest when with its rightful owner. Especially jewels, wouldn’t you agree, Your Highness…?”

Marcellus was once again quick to flatter—but his words died mid-sentence when he saw what Yuwon did next.

Removing the ring from his finger, Yuwon placed it back in Marcellus’s hand.

“Take it and have it made into something I can wear around my neck.”

“Y-Your Highness?”

To insist on wearing a perfectly fitting ring around his neck— even sharp-witted Marcellus couldn’t immediately grasp his intent.

“It hinders my grip when wielding a sword.”

“A… a sword, Your Highness?”

At those calm words, Marcellus looked as though he’d seen a ghost.

He had been by the youngest Prince Yurion’s side since infancy, yet never—not once—had such words been spoken.

Marcellus quickly scrambled to make sense of the situation.

‘His Highness not only requested an audience with His Majesty of his own accord, but now he wishes to train with a sword…! What in the world is happening?’

Of course, Yuwon did not wait for him to finish his astonishment.

“Then let’s head to the training grounds. Lead the way.”

He gestured with his chin for direction.

It wasn’t that he was pretending to have amnesia; rather, Yurion’s memories simply offered him no help.

Not even knowing where the training grounds were in his own palace—such ignorance perfectly matched Yurion’s pitiful state.

“What are you waiting for? Lead the way.”

“Oh dear! Forgive me, Your Highness. I was so startled I forgot myself. Right away!”

Only after Yuwon spoke twice did Marcellus finally come to his senses and lumber forward with his large frame.

Side by side, Yurion and Marcellus made their way toward the Fifth Prince’s Palace training yard.

‘Just five days until the imperial coming-of-age ceremony… There’s not a moment to waste.’

In Yurion’s current, youthful body—one that had not yet reached adulthood—Yuwon’s plans faced many constraints.

Thus, his next goal was clear: the imperial coming-of-age ceremony. To reach it, swordsmanship training was essential, and he had to begin immediately.

Of course, while Yurion would be preparing for that ceremony through training, the true move Yuwon was preparing would be honed in secret—sharp as the dagger he carried within his heart.

‘There’s much to do. I’ll have to stay sharp.’

The disgrace of the White Lion House, the wastrel prince—the White Dog, Yurion Aphahiel—had chosen to take a sword in hand.

* * *

After walking for about fifteen minutes, Yuwon, guided by Marcellus, arrived at the training yard reserved exclusively for the Fifth Prince’s Palace.

Though it wasn’t as vast as the ones shared by many, it was still more than spacious enough for a single person’s use.

Despite having gone unused for quite some time, the training ground was kept impressively clean—clearly, someone had taken care to maintain it.

‘This is good enough… but the problem is…’

Soon, Marcellus, looking troubled, brought up the very issue Yuwon had already anticipated.

“Your Highness… I must beg your pardon, but… you have no sword instructor.”

It was something Yuwon had already expected—nothing surprising at all.

“Of course. Why would someone who had no desire to learn ever have a teacher?”

“If I had known that Your Highness would so admirably decide to learn on your own, I would have made every effort to arrange something in advance… Please punish me for my short-sightedness.”

“Enough of that. A teacher can always be found anew.”

Even if the Fifth Prince had a reputation as a wastrel, he was still a prince—surely finding a sword instructor couldn’t be impossible.

Besides, his training was more of a front anyway. Yuwon had his own source of confidence—his memories from a previous life.

He only needed a cover while rebuilding the physical foundation of Yurion’s withered, stick-like body.

“Your Highness… I must beg your pardon again, but…”

“Skip the apologies and speak plainly.”

Looking uneasy, Marcellus continued, “I fear… there’s no one in the palace willing to serve as Your Highness’s instructor.”

At those words, scenes from Yurion’s past flashed before Yuwon’s mind like a lantern slide—the countless misdeeds he had committed against his tutors.

Compared to what he’d done, throwing punches might have been the least of the offenses.

He would strain his feeble arms to hurl heavy books at them and spew vulgar insults the great scholars of the empire had never once heard in their lives.

“Baldy” and “old fart” had practically been his greetings.

“Hmm… is that so…”

He’d even driven away his sword instructors faster than the others—preferring to throw blades instead of books.

‘Good thing there wasn’t anyone foolish enough to get hit by one of those stray blades.’

“I finally feel like learning something, but it seems finding a teacher will be difficult.”

“This humble servant will see to it personally. Once it becomes known that Your Highness has regained your determination, who would dare refuse the honor of that position?”

“You talk too much, Marcellus.”

Reprimanded, Marcellus’s mouth shut tight.

“Less talking, more doing. Go handle it.”

There was no way Marcellus would stand idle when Yuwon spoke so firmly.

“Yes, Your Highness. I’ll go at once and find an instructor.”

Bowing his large frame, Marcellus hurriedly ran out of the training yard.

It was as though his feet were on fire.

The wastrel prince, who had fainted and awoken acting unlike himself, now suddenly declared he wished to learn swordsmanship—something he had always avoided.

“Ahh… what now… there’s hardly anyone fit to take that role…”

Having spoken so confidently before the prince, Marcellus had no choice but to find a solution. His already unattractive face twisted further with worry.

Meanwhile, Yuwon remained alone in the sunlit training yard, warm spring light spilling gently over the stone floor.

Step— step—

He strolled leisurely through the neatly kept grounds, basking in the sunlight. In the stillness, only his quiet footsteps echoed faintly.

“The sunlight is fine… and the breeze cool. Couldn’t ask for a better day to work up a sweat.”

A soft spring breeze tousled his long hair, and he spoke to himself calmly, almost contentedly.

To anyone watching, it might have looked like he was simply wandering aimlessly—until he stopped abruptly before the equipment storage shed.

He lifted his gaze toward the roof of the shed and spoke.

“If it weren’t for an uninvited guest, that is.”

“Well, damn. I’ve been caught.”

A man’s voice rang out from atop the shed’s roof, right where Yuwon’s gaze had landed.

Almost at the same moment, the man leapt down gracefully, revealing himself.

“It’s been a while, Your Highness.”

He was a striking figure with rare, pale-blue hair and sharply defined features. Though his face wore a smile, the stiff tone of his greeting carried little genuine warmth.

‘The illegitimate son of Marquis Bredman… Terrien Calmodet.’

The face was familiar—not to Yuwon, but from Yurion’s memories.

Back then, Terrien had been much younger, but his good looks hadn’t changed.

“So you recognize me. And who might you be?”

Feigning ignorance, Yuwon continued his act as a prince suffering from amnesia.

“Pardon? Ah… right, I did overhear the attendants gossiping that Your Highness lost his memory or something of that sort. Heh.”

Terrien let out a clear, mocking laugh.

No matter how much of a wastrel a prince might be, no one should have dared to smirk so insolently in front of royalty.

‘Even the lowest servants never dared act like this. He must truly think little of me.’

At Terrien’s insolence, a quiet anger flickered in Yuwon’s chest.

“I dislike having to ask twice.”

Whether or not he noticed the prince’s irritation, Terrien continued on as if nothing was wrong.

“Your Highness, there’s no need to act that way with me. Whatever tension there was between us in the past—surely it’s all behind us now?”

“….”

His words were not answers to Yuwon’s question but self-serving excuses. Yuwon remained silent, and Terrien kept talking.

“When you called me a half-blood bastard back then… well, it wasn’t exactly wrong. You were, what, five or six years younger than now? I understand. So let’s not dwell on it—let’s be comfortable, between two discarded sons of our respective houses.”

The illegitimate Terrien and the infamous wastrel Fifth Prince—he thought himself witty for feigning familiarity while, in truth, mocking the prince outright.

Unfortunately for him, he’d chosen the wrong opponent today.

‘So he sneaked into the palace grounds, climbed the wall, and hid out in the prince’s private training yard…’

When a man commits a fault, he should be punished for it.

‘At least I can make good use of this nuisance.’

A sly thought crossed Yuwon’s mind, and a relaxed smile spread across his lips.

“Discarded sons, you say… So that’s why you’re so insolent.”

The words came out smiling—but the expression didn’t match the tone at all.