Episode 1

Ian ascended to the throne as a boy.

And before he reached adulthood, his head was severed.

The life of Emperor Ian Verocion would be remembered by those two sentences alone. Who would recall the young emperor who came like a gust of wind during turbulent times, only to vanish just as swiftly?

A man stepped into the underground prison and grabbed Ian by the hair. Though drenched in blood and battered, Ian’s eyes burned with a fierce light.

“Uncle Ian.”

The man’s name was Crony. Due to a twisted family lineage, he was Ian’s nephew—twenty years his senior. Every time Crony gently shook Ian’s hair, blood-tinged saliva dripped from Ian’s mouth.

“How did you end up like this? I told you, Uncle, you lack what it takes to be emperor. You should have refused the throne. If you’d listened then, none of this would have happened.”

Ian said nothing, only glaring silently at Crony. Annoyed by the look, Crony struck Ian’s face hard.

Smack!

“Even a reckless teenager should know where to lie down before stretching out their feet! That blasted magic—what’s so great about it?”

Ian sighed inwardly.

Magic—the sacred, divine power left behind by the gods. It was precisely that power that had allowed Ian to claim the throne.

“Look, Uncle! That so-called great magic can’t even stop a single kick from me!”

Thud! Thud!

It was true. Bound by magical shackles sealed with power stones, Ian was nothing more than an ordinary nineteen-year-old human. Even if the seals were broken, death was inevitable—his fate sealed.

“‘One in ten thousand,’ ‘the first noble-born mage’—it’s all meaningless. Right here, before this blade.”

Swish.

Crony finally drew his sword. Even as a fallen emperor accused of treason, to die in a dank underground cell like this… Ian couldn’t help but let out a bitter laugh.

“…Ha.”

“You’re laughing?”

“…Yeah. It’s ridiculous. Crony, you haven’t changed at all. Still jealous that I’m a mage, aren’t you?”

Ian’s words stiffened Crony’s face.

Like rare jewels, mages were precious—only about a hundred in the entire Bariel Empire. So it was unprecedented for a noble family to produce a mage in the empire’s history.

“I remember. When I was just a child wielding magic, you told me, ‘Mages are rare but mostly commoners. If anyone finds out, you’ll be kicked out of the mansion. Hide it.’”

“…Ian. When are you talking about?”

“Isn’t it funny? Of course, there are far more commoners than nobles, so most mages have to be commoners.”

“Enough! Shut up!”

“Why? Embarrassed?”

“Shut up!”

Smack!

Ian’s vision went black. Crony’s fist had landed squarely on his eye. Ian’s head hit the floor, then was ground beneath Crony’s boot.

“What does it matter? I’m standing here, and you’re face-down on the floor. That’s what counts.”

Crony pressed the tip of his sword to the back of Ian’s neck. Without hesitation, he was about to end it when footsteps echoed from outside.

“Lord Crony, a letter has arrived from Duke Hilron.”

“…Is it urgent?”

“Yes, my apologies.”

Crony clicked his tongue, lifted his foot from Ian’s head, and glanced once more at the motionless emperor before leaving the cell.

How much time passed?

Click. Clack.

“Ian…”

A strange metallic sound and a familiar voice. Ian barely opened his eyes, too weak to turn his head. He shifted his gaze slightly and saw Naum, the Minister of Magic, tearfully unlocking his shackles.

“Ian, please, please try to stay conscious.”

“Naum… what are you doing here…?”

“Now’s not the time. You need to get out of here quickly and survive. Ian, please, you have to fight…”

But the magical shackles wouldn’t come off easily. Moonlight streamed through a small window, illuminating Naum’s hands—fingertips corroded and mangled by rust.

“…Stop.”

“Ian?”

“…I want to stop.”

“W-what are you saying?”

Ian smiled faintly and closed his eyes again. Memories of when he first entered the Ministry of Magic came flooding back.

“Thank you. It was because of you all that I could become a mage from a mere magic user, and that I could ascend to the throne. Though I failed and ended up like this, you must survive and protect the Bariel Empire.”

“No, that’s impossible. Without you, Ian, the Ministry of Magic means nothing. So please, stay with us and accept my magic. If you die, it’s all over…”

‘If I die, it’s all over.’ That was exactly what Ian longed for. He was exhausted, worn down, and broken. The three years he spent as emperor had destroyed everything within him.

“Ian, please listen to me.”

But Naum refused to give up.

He gently grasped Ian’s chin, forcing him to look into his eyes.

“There’s a separate building attached to the Ministry of Magic next to the central main hall of the Second Imperial Palace. You know it, right? The place you went to whenever you wanted to cry after first entering the palace.”

“…I only cried once.”

“Still.”

Why did he cry?

Ian frowned, trying to recall through the foggy haze of his memories. Then Naum seemed to sense something and glanced toward the prison entrance. Crony was surely approaching after finishing his business.

“…Break the barrier and hide quickly.”

“That’s impossible. Ian, you must go that way. If you do, you’ll find a way out.”

“What do you mean?”

Naum said nothing. It wasn’t the darkness of the dungeon but worry and fear that darkened his face. Ian clung to Naum’s sleeve, struggling to keep his fading consciousness.

“Naum, I asked you.”

“I mixed my blood with magic.”

“…Naum!”

“He said if you come that way, a chance will open. I don’t know why it’s there. Maybe it’s my lack of skill. But you must hurry.”

Magic itself defied the laws of nature. If the balance of power shifted even slightly, one would fall into the abyss. The Church called it Hell; mages called it the Curse of Eternity.

“You twisted space and time?”

“I had no choice, Ian. So…”

“Why? Why!”

Creak.

“I knew it. Even if you purge all the Ministry’s scum, what good is it if the minister acts like this?”

It was Crony. Behind him stood a man being groomed as the next Minister of Magic, replacing Naum. Naum clenched his teeth and cast a magic circle. The shimmering pattern wavered, no longer glowing as before. The power of the sealing stones binding Ian’s wrists was too strong.

“Naum! Please! No!”

“Ian, it’s okay. There’s always, always a chance. The gods don’t give us problems without answers.”

Whoooom!

Naum’s magic circle flared red. But strangely, the flames didn’t burn toward Crony—they consumed Naum’s own hands.

“Ahhh!”

“No! Naum, wait! Stop!”

Ian, lying face down, lifted his head and shouted.

He no longer cared for his own life, but he couldn’t bear to see those precious to him die.

Only after becoming emperor did Ian understand: the weight of the crown was the weight of the trust his followers placed in him. And it wasn’t Ian who bore that weight—it was them.

Fwoosh!

“Ugh!”

Crony blocked the rising flames with his left hand. Without a protective shield from the mage behind him, his face would have been burned.

‘Damn it.’

Meanwhile, Ian felt his mind slipping away again from the searing heat. Everything brightened with light, and even the pain faded. Then, he heard the metallic sound ringing in his ears.

Clang.

Crony’s sword touched the back of Ian’s neck. To think the three-year reign of the emperor would end like this. Ian had believed he did his best for Bariel, but the one who served the gods was devoured by himself, and Ian was about to lose his head.

“Ian. Don’t be born in your next life.”

With Crony’s cruel words, everything vanished. Death was so quiet, it was almost surreal. And then, what appeared before him was…

‘A fork and a knife?’

Held in his own hands—but reversed.

---

Ian slowly lifted his head.

His body felt like lead, but compared to the pain of the past few days, he felt as light as if he could fly.

“Ian.”

A strange woman across from him looked down at him.

A vast garden, well-tended flowerbeds, and sumptuous food laid out before him. As he came to, he realized everyone seated around was watching him.

“Ah.”

This wasn’t hell. Then was it heaven?

But the scenery wasn’t much different from where he had lived. Compared to the imperial palace, it even seemed a bit shabby…

“What’s wrong with him? Ian, it’s rude to the guest.”

“Some people’s ignorance shows at the worst times.”

“Tsk. Watch your words.”

“Ian, snap out of it.”

The chubby boy sitting next to the lady spat out some harsh words, but Ian barely paid them any mind. It was the smell—something rich and tantalizing—that had been teasing his senses for a while now. Locked away in this underground prison, he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d eaten.

“…Whatever it is, it’s driving me crazy.”

It was an instinctive reaction, one he barely controlled. With a graceful flick of his hand, Ian straightened the cutlery and assumed a proper dining posture. Then, with more elegance and speed than anyone else, he began slicing and eating the steak.

“Hmm.”

The refined, formal gesture was a far cry from the way he’d been clutching his fork like a fist just moments ago. The appreciative sound he let out was brief, low, and far from crude.

Across from him, the border lord, the countess—his stepmother—and his half-brother all watched in stunned disbelief.