Snow did not fall over the capital often.
But the air tonight felt close to it.
Cold wind pressed softly against the palace walls while darkness settled across the imperial grounds. Lanternlight flickered along distant corridors, their warm glow barely pushing back the winter night.
Inside his room, Rudura sat beside the brazier with Échecs Humains resting open before him.
The fire crackled quietly.
Orange light shifted across the pages.
For the past few days, the book had remained constantly in his mind.
Not because it was dramatic.
Because it was observant.
That somehow made it harder to ignore.
Rudura exhaled slowly and turned the next page.
Frrt.
His eyes stopped at the title immediately.
Chapter II, Never Put Too Much Trust in Friends, Learn How to Use Enemies
Rudura stared at the words for several seconds.
Then frowned deeply.
"…Alright, that just sounds terrible."
He leaned back slightly.
The first chapter had at least sounded practical.
This one sounded paranoid.
Rudura looked down again.
Smaller lines beneath the title followed.
Familiarity creates expectation.Expectation creates disappointment more easily than hostility does.
"…Still terrible."
He kept reading anyway.
Men compare themselves most fiercely to those closest to them.
That line made him pause slightly.
Not because he agreed.
Because it sounded possible.
Rudura rested one elbow against the table thoughtfully.
The chapter continued calmly.
No emotional language.
No dramatic warnings.
Just observations again.
Friendship often conceals competition beneath affection.
"…That's cynical."
And yet
for some reason
he continued reading carefully instead of dismissing it outright.
The brazier crackled softly nearby while winter wind brushed faintly against the windows.
An enemy declares opposition openly.A friend may hide resentment beneath loyalty.
Rudura frowned harder.
"No. That depends on the person."
He believed that immediately.
Loyalty existed.
He had seen it himself.
His father trusted Chanakya completely.
Malavatas remained loyal to the throne after decades.
Real trust clearly existed.
So why did this chapter sound like friendship itself was dangerous?
Rudura continued reading with growing skepticism.
The closer men stand beside each other, the more naturally comparison emerges.
That line stayed in his head longer.
Comparison.
Not hatred.
Comparison.
Rudura looked away from the book for a moment.
Then unexpectedly remembered the palace trainee courts from years ago.
Young noble sons competing during lessons.
Comparing swordsmanship.
Comparing memory.
Comparing praise from instructors.
Most of them acted friendly afterward.
But the competition never disappeared underneath.
Rudura slowly looked back toward the page.
"…That's normal though."
Wasn't it?
Competition didn't automatically mean resentment.
The chapter seemed to disagree.
Envy rarely announces itself honestly.
Rudura sighed quietly.
"This book really enjoys making human interaction sound exhausting."
Still
he couldn't deny the logic completely.
That was the frustrating part.
The chapter wasn't claiming every friend would betray you.
It was pointing toward something smaller.
Something subtler.
People compared themselves naturally.
Especially around equals.
Rudura thought back toward the examination period again.
Several noble students had congratulated one another publicly after evaluations.
Normal behavior.
Friendly behavior.
But now that he thought about it
some smiles had looked tighter than others.
Some praise sounded forced.
At the time, he ignored it.
Now his brain refused to.
"…I hate that this book keeps doing this."
Making ordinary memories feel layered afterward.
He rubbed his forehead briefly before continuing.
Men tolerate superiority from distant figures more easily than from those beside them.
That line hit harder than expected.
Because suddenly
he understood exactly what the chapter meant.
People accepted extraordinary ability from legends.
Kings.
Famous generals.
But someone standing directly beside them?
Someone similar to them?
That became personal.
Comparison became unavoidable.
Rudura narrowed his eyes slightly.
"…That's actually true."
He remembered younger trainees reacting differently depending on who outperformed them.
If Malavatas demonstrated something impossible, everyone admired him.
If another trainee succeeded too easily
frustration appeared much faster.
Not always openly.
But there.
The realization made Rudura uncomfortable.
Because it felt human.
Not evil.
Just human.
The brazier popped softly.
Outside, faint footsteps echoed through distant palace corridors before fading again.
Rudura turned another page.
Open hostility is predictable.Hidden bitterness is not.
"…So that's the real point."
Not "friends bad."
Predictability.
An enemy openly disliked you.
That made them easier to understand.
But hidden resentment?
That stayed concealed until it mattered.
Rudura leaned back thoughtfully.
The chapter's title suddenly felt misleading.
This wasn't really about choosing enemies over friends.
It was about understanding emotional complexity.
The problem was that most people probably didn't want to think about relationships this way.
Honestly
neither did he.
Because part of him still resisted the entire idea.
Real friendship existed.
It had to.
The empire itself depended on trust between people.
And yet
the book wasn't entirely wrong either.
That tension bothered him.
Rudura stared quietly at the fire for several moments.
Then remembered something from years earlier.
One of the younger noble boys during early military lessons.
Talented.
Hardworking.
Friendly.
The boy constantly praised another student publicly.
Always supportive.
Always encouraging.
Then one day after losing repeatedly during sparring evaluations
the frustration finally surfaced.
Not through violence.
Through bitterness.
Small comments.
Sharp tone.
Forced politeness.
At the time, Rudura barely cared.
Now he understood something important:
The resentment probably existed long before it became visible.
That thought settled uncomfortably in his chest.
"…So envy grows quietly."
The chapter never once claimed friendship itself was fake.
Only fragile.
Affected by pride.
Comparison.
Expectation.
Human weakness again.
Échecs Humains truly loved dissecting weakness.
Rudura continued reading.
A trusted companion may eventually believe he deserves what you possess.
That line immediately made him think of nobility.
Inheritance disputes.
Political rivalry.
Succession tension.
Entire conflicts probably started exactly like that.
Not from hatred initially
from comparison.
From wanting.
The brazier's warmth softened slightly as the fire burned lower.
Rudura reached over absentmindedly and adjusted one of the charcoal pieces carefully.
Sparks shifted upward briefly.
Then silence returned again.
He looked back down at the text.
Men reveal their intentions most clearly when ambition meets proximity.
"…That sounds like something Chanakya would say."
Honestly, parts of this book felt frighteningly compatible with politics.
Rudura could suddenly understand why people might avoid reading it deeply.
Not because it was forbidden.
Because it changed how you viewed ordinary behavior.
That was exhausting.
The first chapter made him notice ego and insecurity everywhere.
Now this chapter made him rethink relationships too.
He wasn't even halfway through the book yet.
"Fantastic."
Rudura sighed and kept reading.
Blind trust creates vulnerability.Blind suspicion creates isolation.Wisdom exists between the two.
That line finally made him stop resisting slightly.
Because unlike the harsher earlier lines
this one felt balanced.
The chapter wasn't demanding paranoia.
It warned against blindness.
That was different.
Very different.
Rudura rested his chin against one hand thoughtfully.
Maybe that was why the book felt so dangerous.
Not because every observation was absolute truth
but because enough truth existed inside the observations to make them difficult to dismiss.
Outside his window, wind brushed softly against the glass again.
The palace had grown quieter now.
Most servants had already finished evening duties.
Only distant guards remained awake through the deeper night hours.
Rudura turned another page slowly.
Then stopped again.
The loyal enemy often seeks redemption.The resentful friend seeks validation.
"…That's an interesting distinction."
An enemy had something to prove.
A resentful friend had something to compare.
The chapter clearly viewed comparison as one of humanity's most dangerous instincts.
And honestly?
Rudura was beginning to understand why.
He remembered noble gatherings from childhood.
Children smiling while competing constantly beneath the surface.
Comparing clothing.
Skill.
Attention.
Praise.
Adults weren't much different either.
They just hid it better.
Rudura suddenly laughed quietly to himself.
"…Humans are complicated."
The fire crackled softly nearby.
For a while, he simply sat there thinking instead of reading.
Thinking about trust.
About loyalty.
About how difficult it was to truly understand another person completely.
Maybe that was the real point of the chapter.
Not to reject friendship
but to recognize that emotions could shift quietly over time.
Pride changed people.
Ambition changed people.
Comparison changed people.
Even good people.
That thought felt strangely realistic.
And strangely sad.
Rudura eventually reached the end of the chapter.
The final lines remained simple.
Trust carefully.Observe quietly.And never mistake closeness for certainty.
Silence settled across the room after he finished.
Rudura closed the book slowly.
Thump.
For several long moments, he simply stared at the brazier flames.
The chapter had bothered him more than the first one.
Because unlike authority and ego
friendship felt personal.
Human.
He didn't want to believe trust could become unstable so easily.
But he also couldn't deny what he had observed throughout palace life.
Comparison existed everywhere.
Especially among people standing side by side.
Rudura leaned back against his chair quietly.
Then suddenly remembered something small from the examinations.
One noble student had congratulated another after a performance evaluation.
Perfect smile.
Polite words.
But afterward
just for a second
the boy's expression had tightened slightly when nobody else looked.
Tiny.
Almost invisible.
At the time, Rudura ignored it completely.
Now
he understood it differently.
Not hatred.
Not cruelty.
Just disappointment.
Comparison.
Envy.
Human emotion.
Rudura exhaled slowly.
Then muttered softly into the quiet room:
"…Maybe hatred isn't the only thing that creates enemies."
Outside, winter wind moved silently across the imperial palace beneath the dark night sky.
(Continued in Chapter 64)