The royal palace glittered with gold, draped in crimson carpets, and echoed with the clinking of crystal glasses. Nobles swarmed like bees in a hive of honey—opulent, arrogant, and soaked in deception.
Then, the grand doors creaked open.
Footsteps echoed into the hall.
White.
A young man stepped inside, clad in a coat as white as untouched snow, a soft grey cravat tied neatly at his throat, and a small lion-shaped brooch gleaming on his chest. His black hair was combed with precision, and behind him… stood a servant dressed in deep black, face hidden beneath a long shadowed cap.
Silence fell.
The room froze in place.
Every eye turned to him.
Each step he took was slow, deliberate—yet impossible to ignore. It was as if every movement was calculated to pierce through the very souls of the nobility.
He stopped at the center of the room.
And then… he spoke.
> "My name… is Charles August Milverton."
His voice was calm. Clear. Like a funeral bell ringing on a tranquil morning.
A glass shattered in someone's hand. Mouths hung open. Others stood frozen.
"Impossible…"
"Milverton...? But Lady Lilian never had a child…"
"I thought the Milverton line was extinct…"
A noble whispered, "If that's truly him… he's one of the Three Great Houses…"
Then, from amidst the crowd—a tall young man with ash-brown hair and hawk-like eyes stepped forward. He stared long and hard at Charles… and finally said,
"Charles…? Charles Milverton?"
Charles turned slowly.
"Hugo Ravensword," he said quietly.
The tension in the room shifted.
A warmth bloomed between them. Hugo's lips formed a faint smile, even as his eyes glistened with tears.
"You're alive… I… I thought you died with the others…"
Charles looked at him. His cold eyes softened, just barely. He placed a hand gently on Hugo's shoulder.
"I did die, Hugo. But I came back… with a reason."
---
The next day, Charles was summoned directly to the throne room.
The Queen sat upon her grand seat, motionless. Her face betrayed no emotion, but her pale blue eyes pierced with chilling focus.
"Charles August Milverton… where have you been all these years?"
Charles smiled.
But before he spoke, in the blink of an eye… he stood before the throne—like a shadow that had skipped time and space.
The guards tensed.
But the Queen merely stared, feeling the dense, dark aura that cloaked him like a shroud.
"What… have you become?"
Charles met her gaze—his eyes deep, like bottomless pits.
"I've returned… to mend this city. Even if it means walking beside demons."
He reached into his coat and pulled out a folded sheet of paper.
"This list… holds the names of nobles who have, for years, exploited the system. Corruption. Murder. Human trafficking."
He placed it before her.
"I've come… to make them pay."
The Queen picked it up. Read through it. Her eyes narrowed.
"Even if what you say is true… there is no evidence. They hold power. Influence. I can't touch them."
Charles looked down briefly. Closed his eyes.
Then lifted his face and met her gaze directly.
"Then just close your eyes. Stay silent. Let me be the one to cleanse them."
A thick silence wrapped around the throne.
The Queen stared long… so long it felt like time had slowed.
Then finally, she exhaled. Slowly.
"…Do what you must. But their blood must never stain this palace."
A faint smile tugged at the corner of Charles' lips.
"It won't."
And so…
A silent pact was forged—between a child of the abyss, and a sovereign who no longer held hope.