Winter mornings inside the palace always began slowly.
Servants lit braziers before sunrise.
Guards rotated silently through frost-covered corridors.
Kitchen smoke drifted upward into the pale grey sky.
Everything followed routine.
And yet lately
Rudura felt like he was watching routines instead of simply living inside them.
The realization bothered him.
He walked through the southern corridor with one hand tucked into his coat while cold light spilled across the polished stone floor.
Two servants stood near an open archway speaking quietly.
The moment they noticed him approaching, both straightened immediately.
"Good morning, Your Highness."
"Morning."
Their voices became more formal instantly.
Their posture changed too.
Tiny adjustment.
Automatic.
Rudura noticed it immediately now.
And because he noticed it
his brain immediately started asking why.
Respect?
Nervousness?
Habit?
Obligation?
He almost sighed aloud.
A month ago he would have simply walked past without thinking twice.
Now every interaction carried layers beneath it.
It was exhausting.
The servants continued walking after he passed.
Rudura heard one of them exhale softly afterward.
Again
tiny.
But noticeable.
"…I seriously need to stop doing this," he muttered under his breath.
Unfortunately, his brain ignored him again.
By the time he reached the western dining hall, breakfast preparations were already complete.
Warm air drifted through the room from several braziers while morning sunlight filtered faintly through the tall windows.
Queen Devi sat near the center table reviewing several folded documents beside her tea.
She looked up as Rudura entered.
"There you are."
"I'm not late today."
"You sound disappointed."
Rudura sat down quietly across from her.
A servant approached immediately with tea.
"Your Highness."
The man poured carefully.
Too carefully.
Like he was worried about making mistakes.
Rudura noticed the tension in his hands instantly.
Again.
Always again now.
"Thank you," Rudura said.
The servant bowed quickly.
"Of course."
Then left.
Queen Devi watched him for a few moments.
Rudura noticed that too.
"…What?"
"You've been quieter lately."
Straight to the point.
Rudura leaned slightly back in his chair.
"…Have I?"
"Yes."
"That sounds dramatic."
"It really isn't."
She sipped her tea calmly before continuing.
"You think more before speaking now."
"That's called maturity."
"That's called suspicion."
Rudura frowned immediately.
"I'm not suspicious."
Queen Devi smiled faintly.
"Then what are you?"
The question lingered awkwardly for a moment.
Because strangely
Rudura didn't fully know the answer himself.
Nothing bad had happened.
Nobody betrayed him.
Nobody threatened him.
He had simply started… noticing things.
Too many things.
He looked down at the steam rising from his tea quietly.
"…I've just been thinking."
"About?"
Rudura hesitated.
How exactly was he supposed to explain this?
Sorry mother, I read a psychologically unsettling book and now ordinary conversations feel layered.
Not ideal.
"…People," he answered eventually.
Queen Devi raised one eyebrow slightly.
"That sounds concerning."
"It's not."
"Your expression says otherwise."
Rudura sighed quietly.
Unfortunately, she was annoyingly perceptive.
Breakfast continued calmly afterward, though Rudura noticed himself speaking less than usual.
Not intentionally.
He simply paused more now.
Observed more.
Thought more carefully before responding.
Even small conversations felt different lately.
By midday, Rudura wandered through the inner palace gardens alone.
Winter had drained most color from the landscape.
Bare branches stretched over frozen pathways while thin ice rested across the surface of the pond near the western wall.
Krrrk…
The ice shifted faintly beneath the wind.
Rudura sat down on a stone bench near the pond and exhaled slowly.
Cold air fogged before him.
Several palace attendants crossed the garden paths farther away carrying folded cloth and supply baskets.
Even from here, Rudura noticed the differences in their behavior depending on who they passed.
Relaxed around each other.
Careful around guards.
More formal near nobles.
Before Échecs Humains, he understood hierarchy intellectually.
Now he saw its emotional effects constantly.
That was different.
A pair of younger servants approached the pond carrying fresh water buckets.
The moment they noticed Rudura sitting nearby, both slowed slightly.
Then bowed quickly.
"Your Highness."
"Relax," Rudura said automatically.
Both servants smiled nervously.
"We are relaxed, Your Highness."
Rudura immediately knew that was false.
Not intentionally false.
Just socially false.
People said what felt appropriate around status.
That realization had become impossible to ignore now.
The servants hurried away afterward.
Rudura stared quietly at the frozen pond again.
"…This is exhausting."
Not because people were fake.
That wasn't it.
The problem was that emotions rarely existed alone.
Respect mixed with nervousness.
Admiration mixed with comparison.
Politeness mixed with caution.
Human interaction suddenly felt far more complicated than before.
A month ago, conversations simply happened.
Now his brain constantly examined tone, pauses, expression, posture.
And the worst part?
Most of the time, the observations were probably correct.
The thought settled uncomfortably in his chest.
By afternoon, Rudura headed toward one of the smaller indoor practice halls near the eastern side of the palace.
Not for intense training.
Just movement.
Something simple.
The hall was mostly empty aside from a few guards rotating through light drills near the far wall.
Rudura grabbed a wooden sword from the rack and stepped toward the practice floor.
Shua.
The blade cut cleanly through the cold air.
Again.
Shua! Shua!
The rhythm helped slightly.
Movement felt simpler than conversation lately.
Less layered.
Less emotionally complicated.
One of the older palace guards nearby watched for a moment before speaking casually.
"You've gotten fast, Your Highness."
Rudura paused slightly.
A month ago he would have answered immediately.
Now
his brain analyzed the statement first.
Was the guard genuinely impressed?
Being polite?
Trying to encourage him?
The pause lasted barely a second.
But Rudura noticed it.
"…Thanks," he answered finally.
The guard smiled faintly.
"Prince is becoming difficult to keep up with."
Again.
Comparison hidden inside compliment.
Not negative.
Not resentful.
Just there.
Rudura almost wanted to laugh from frustration.
Because now he couldn't stop seeing it everywhere.
The guard eventually returned to his own drills.
Rudura remained standing in the center of the hall quietly.
Wooden sword resting against one shoulder.
Something about all this felt strangely isolating.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
Because once every interaction gained additional layers
simple conversation stopped feeling simple.
He suddenly understood why highly observant people often became quieter.
Not arrogance.
Mental exhaustion.
By evening, snow finally began falling lightly outside the palace.
Tiny flakes drifted slowly through the darkening sky while lanterns flickered warmly along the corridors.
Rudura returned to his room in silence.
The familiar warmth of the brazier greeted him immediately.
He removed his coat slowly and sat near the window.
Outside, snow gathered faintly along the stone rooftops of the palace.
Inside, quiet filled the room comfortably.
For once, nobody interrupted him.
No servants.
No officials.
No conversation.
Just silence.
Rudura leaned back slightly and closed his eyes for a moment.
Then opened them again toward the low table nearby.
Échecs Humains rested there.
Waiting.
The dark cover reflected faint orange light from the brazier.
Rudura stared at it quietly.
"…You're causing problems already."
The book, unsurprisingly, offered no apology.
After several minutes, he finally reached toward it.
Frrt.
The pages shifted softly beneath his fingers.
He didn't immediately begin reading.
Instead he skimmed briefly through earlier chapters again.
Small lines caught his attention repeatedly now.
Men protect their importance more fiercely than comfort.
Another.
Friendship often conceals comparison beneath affection.
Rudura exhaled slowly.
The frustrating thing was that the book wasn't entirely wrong.
Maybe not even mostly wrong.
Just uncomfortable.
He rested one hand against his forehead.
Conversations really had felt easier before this.
Before he started noticing emotional layers constantly.
Before ordinary politeness became psychologically interesting.
That realization made him stare silently at the fire for a while.
Eventually
his gaze shifted toward the next unread page.
A new chapter title waited there quietly beneath the dim lantern light.
Rudura's eyes narrowed slightly as he read it.
Chapter III , Conceal Your Intentions
Silence settled across the room immediately afterward.
The title alone felt heavier than the previous chapters somehow.
Rudura stared at the words for several long moments.
Then slowly closed the book again.
Thump.
Outside, snow continued falling softly over the imperial palace beneath the dark winter sky.
(Continued in Chapter 66)