Kaeler
Kaeler woke from his sleep after three hours, inside his elegant room. He wasted no time. Rising from the chair, he examined his tall figure in the mirror. His messy red hair framed his face, and his glasses were slightly dirty. He removed them carefully, beginning to clean them with precision, refusing to leave even a trace of dust.
Despite the king granting him a refined room—four by five meters, with a soft, comfortable bed and pristine white sheets—the handsome young man preferred the chair he had crafted himself using creation magic. Though he had wanted a bed, that chair remained the finest thing he had ever designed. A clear sign of his remarkable progress.
Pushing open the door to the bathroom, he adjusted the time and began bathing. He stripped quickly, immersing himself in the tub before applying cleansers to remove any odor or impurity. As he washed, even blemishes and unwanted hair vanished.
Finished, he put on his robe and looked into the mirror again, inspecting his face. Despite not sleeping for weeks, he felt no drowsiness or fatigue. His body was trained—compressed with energy. As the right hand of King Azeron, he had to remain in peak condition.
He dressed in noble attire, woven from the silk of giant spiders from the Eastern Mountains, reinforced with magic to be stronger and more durable than steel. Yet it lacked softness—despite the natural resilience of spider silk, it could still stretch and be pulled.
He took his sword—Mooncutter—and fastened it at his waist.
Ironic.
Why would he carry a sword to protect King Azeron?
The king who, if he faced the entire world, would leave none standing.
The king who described as unkillable and invincible
And that was precisely Kaeler's role:
To prevent any fool from provoking the beast
The corridor was completely white, lined with paintings of kings and queens stretching toward the throne hall. Vases filled with blue flowers stood along the walls. Kaeler had never really known what kind of flowers they were. Personally, he preferred tulips—lavender tulips in particular. Historically, they symbolized pride and nobility, essential decorations within royal courts.
At the center of the corridor stood a long balcony overlooking the entire city.
Kaeler had always considered this the greatest city in the world.
Not because it was pleasant to live in.
It wasn't.
But because the world itself was merciless.
If absolute power rested in the hands of just anyone—a child, a man, a woman, even some depraved old fool—then everyone else would exist at their mercy.
Yet here, absolute power belonged to the person standing at the far end of the corridor.
King Azeron.
With his cold gaze and silk garments hanging around his waist, his muscular legs visible beneath them, his sheer height forced Kaeler to tilt his head upward. His massive chest—absurdly broad and muscular—jutted forward so prominently that there was even a joke claiming a person could hide beneath it and vanish from the king's sight entirely.
His beard was poorly groomed.
And Kaeler noticed blood.
That wasn't unusual. Kaeler had found countless corpses inside the palace before—traitors, spies, assassins. Azeron was not sadistic or particularly cruel. Despite his constant teasing and strange sense of humor, he could kill someone with a calm smile still resting on his face.
That was what made him terrifying.
Especially during official meetings, when Kaeler would suddenly witness someone's head explode in front of him.
"Good morning, Your Majesty. It's seven thirty. You're unusually early for your schedule," Kaeler said calmly while holding out a handkerchief. "There's a little blood on your face. Allow me to wipe it off."
Azeron waved him away.
"No, thank you."
He said it while walking forward.
Thank you.
That tone.
If Kaeler did not know Azeron so well, he might have mistaken it for anxiety.
Impossible.
The strongest being on the planet afraid of something? Ridiculous.
And it wasn't exhaustion either.
"May I assist you with something?" Kaeler stepped forward, placing a hand over his chest as he bowed slightly.
Azeron looked at him before laughing.
"Ah, Kaeler. My favorite assistant."
Damn it. There are others?
The red-haired young man felt immediate irritation before suppressing it.
Azeron spoke again, strangely tense.
"Would you like to go to the relaxation chamber and bring me the spellbook?"
Ah.
Now Kaeler understood.
The great king was not afraid—he simply did not want to enter his private chamber.
But why not summon the book with a snap of his fingers?
Something was wrong.
The person before him was definitely Azeron… but still—
"I lent it to one of the girls for practice. A talented sorceress. Perhaps you should accompany me so we can evaluate her."
Ah.
That made sense.
If the king forcibly summoned the book in the middle of an active spell, it could cause a disaster.
Kaeler should go.
But as the king's first servant, he could not afford to fall even a minute behind schedule.
And besides…
It hadn't been an order.
Azeron had said Would you like to?
The very idea irritated something inside Kaeler, which was exactly why he preferred refusing.
"My apologies, Your Majesty, but I have five hours allocated to inspect the kitchens, baths, noble guests, and guards throughout the palace. I also have correspondence from several acquaintances to review. And I must visit the orphanage to bring back the queen. She slept there again."
Kaeler smiled sarcastically.
"She's become extremely popular. It was wise of you to allow it. Don't worry—I won't tell her anything. I refuse to involve myself in marital affairs."
He watched Azeron burst into laughter.
"If I ever need marital advice, I'll ask old Willy—not a lifelong bachelor."
Kaeler whispered proudly,
"I intend to remain a bachelor forever."
Azeron smiled.
"More importantly, your task is to bring back my wife first. It's improper for her to stay there overnight."
Kaeler nodded.
He had heard they tried desperately to convince her to return, but she stubbornly refused. Carrying her back by force would likely be impossible anyway.
Kaeler smiled faintly, his face slightly red, before bowing and leaving.
Ah… the king has changed again. For the ninth time.
Kaeler was not stupid.
Something mysterious was happening.
The king's strange behavior. His unease. Staying awake in that chamber. Forgetting parts of conversations.
Had he developed dementia?
He was exactly sixty years old.
But Kaeler understood one thing clearly:
He could never keep up with the king.
Even thinking too deeply about him was dangerous.