Scripted Fate? No, Thank You.

The grand chandeliers hung from the ceiling, emitting a soft glow that cast long shadows across the regal study. The air was filled with the musky scent of candles, while the rhythmic chirping of crickets and hoot of owls created an eerie nocturnal symphony.

Seated behind his desk, Julius withdrew a small, ornate box from his magical ring. Opening it, the container filled with fine tobacco powder was revealed. Shifting his eyes toward a platinum-blonde middle-aged man standing next to the balcony door beside him, he asked. "Fancy a pinch of snuff?"

Gilbert bowed respectfully, "I appreciate your offer, Your Highness, but I shall decline."

Julius shrugged indifferently and took a pinch of the powder. Bringing it to his nostrils, he inhaled sharply. A surge of cool menthol flooded his nasal cavity, followed by a gentle burn at the back of his throat. The bothersome thoughts clouding his mind dissipated into a soothing wave of catharsis.

He took another pinch and sniffed it, letting the numbing sensation wash over him. For a moment, the room seemed quieter, and the weight on his chest lighter. He set aside the container aside and leaned his head against the chair, staring blankly at the ceiling.

'This… didn't occur in the past.'

There was no such a thing as assassination during Cassian's training, or a case where his brother had amnesia—those never happened. He knew he had altered many events in the timeline, but he never expected it would impact Cassian's life. Thanks to his very dear mother, she succeeded in severing his bond with his brother this time—just as she always wanted.

"Your Highness, it is not your fault," Gilbert rang in.

He chuckled, though there was no humor in it. "How could it not?" Straightening his back, he ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head in disbelief, "I swore to protect Cassian this time, yet I failed miserably."

"Your Highness, it is unjust to bear the blame yourself," Gilbert stepped closer and knelt, locking his golden eyes in him. "You did everything within your power, even rushing here despite the distance. Furthermore, the fact that both the mercenaries you assigned to watch over Prince Cassian and his escort knights were wiped out suggests the perpetrators were far from ordinary."

Julius sighed and brushed his face in frustration. Though Gilbert's words were logical, they did little to ease the knot tightening in his chest. "But his memories of me are gone. His trust in me is gone. How am I supposed to mend that?"

Gilbert smiled benignly at him. "You cannot fix it all at once, Your Highness. Trust is built over time. Perhaps this is a new start, a chance to prove to him, not just through words but through deeds, that you are someone he can rely on." 

Truthfully, Julius wanted to believe those words. He wanted to hope. But deep down, a fear lingered: what if it was too late? What if, no matter what he did, his little brother could never see him the way he once had? Especially when their factions were enemies.

Letting out a sigh for what felt like the thousandth time, he eventually nodded and offered him a faint smile. "You're right. It is premature to give up."

Gilbert returned the smile and inclined his head proudly at his response. However, the whole atmosphere shifted to serious when a presence appeared on the balcony. Rising to his feet, Gilbert approached and opened the balcony door, letting the figure in a black robe slide into the room.

Arriving before him, the man knelt. "Greeting, Your Highness."

Without beating around the bush, Julius asked, "How is it?"

The man lowered his head further. "The one who carried out the assassination is from the Liberation Agency."

Julius arched an eyebrow. "Them? Again?"

Previously, the mercenary of the Liberation agency had attempted to assassinate Cassian several times, but his mercenaries easily thwarted them. What he didn't understand was, how they could manage to wipe out his high-ranking mercenaries and Cassian's escort knights this time. Where did they find those skilled assassins?

"Yes, Your Highness." The man's voice pulled him back to reality, "And just as you expected, the Vazquez family has become their primary sponsor secretly for the past few years. They carry out all of the Duke Vazquez and Her Highness the Consort requests without question."

His jaw tightened, anger seething within him, fists clenched tightly, "So, in other words, the Liberation Agency has become my grandfather and my mother's loyal dog, huh?"

Stillness enveloped the room as the man remained silent to his profane remark. Exhaling deeply to alleviate his rage, Julius leaned against the chair, his fingers drumming the armrest impatiently, "How about the evidence?"

"The Emperor disposed of it all before the Marquis' heir—Lord Samuel, could start his investigation."

Julius massaged his temples at the excruciating headache. 'Again, it has always been like this.' It was an open secret that Gideon—the Emperor—despised the Vazquez household, yet each time his family caused trouble, he swiftly covered it up. 'Just… Why?' Was it merely to maintain the Empire's delicate balance, or was there something else that he wasn't seeing?

After a long pause, Julius broke the silence. "You've done a great job." He glanced at Gilbert, who nodded, stepping forward to hand the man in black a small pouch of gold to the man. "Take it as a token of gratitude."

"Thank you, Your Highness," the man replied, accepting the bonus with a bow. Julius nodded and ordered, "Continue monitoring my grandfather and mother."

"Understood." The man bowed once more before vanishing toward the balcony.

The moment Gilbert locked the door, Julius spat his mind, "I'm thinking of attacking the Liberation Agency." The only way to stop the assassination from coming was to raze the door where they came from. He couldn't afford to let the same thing happen again to his brother.

Surprise etched on Gilbert's face. Making his way toward him, he knelt, "With all due respect, Your Highness. You have every right to be angry, but acting out of fury will not serve you well. If His Majesty learns of you owning a mercenary agency, it could have grave consequences."

Julius shut his mouth tightly as Gilbert's words sank in. Any conflict between mercenary agencies had to go through arbitration first; launching an outright attack was strictly forbidden and could result in the agency being banned across the continent.

His mercenary agency was his lifeline—an area his mother and grandfather couldn't touch or reach. Losing it would also mean losing the power to protect Cassian from his family, which was doubtlessly a devastating loss.

After a deep rumination, Julius eventually nodded, his frustration slowly ebbing away, "You're right. I cannot act rashly."

Gilbert rose and bowed reverently, "It is my honor to serve you, Your Highness."

Julius nodded in acknowledgment, and instructed, "Also, sent words to my agency to choose new people to watch over Cassian."

"As you wish—"

Knocks reverberated into the room, pulling their attention toward the entrance. A man's voice followed, "Your Highness, this is Sanchez. I've brought the medicine you requested."

"Enter," Julius responded.

The door creaked open, revealing an elderly butler along with a maid holding a tray entering the room. Upon reaching the desk, they bowed and the maid carefully placed the tray on the polished surface before stepping back.

Julius glanced at it, showing a teacup set and a glass bottle filled with black pills. Picking up the bottle, he asked while inspecting the label. "How fares my brother?"

Sanchez's expression softened at his question. "Prince Cassian is resting well, Your Highness. The physician reported no complications thus far, though he has advised continued observation." 

Julius nodded in acknowledgment, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. "I see. If anything changes, I want to be informed immediately." 

"Of course, Your Highness," Sanchez replied.

"Then, that will be all," Julius concluded.

Sanchez and the maid bowed again. "As you wish, Your Highness. Should you require anything else, please do not hesitate to call upon me." 

With that, they exited the room. Once the door closed, Gilbert whirled to face him. "Will you be retiring for the evening, Your Highness?"

Julius nodded. "Yes, I think I will. It's getting late."

"Understood." Gilbert approached, pouring tea into a cup before stepping back and bowing. "Then I shall take my leave. I wish you a restful night, Your Highness."

"Thank you. The same to you."

As the door closed with a click, the room steeped with quietness, broken only by the chirping of crickets and the occasional hoot of an owl. Fixating his sight on the glass bottle in his hand, his mind whisked away to the past—remembering how the sharp edge of his sword grazed Cassian's body, the way blood spurted from the wound and splattered on his face.

Shaking his head to dispel the memories, he extracted a pill with trembling hands and swallowed it. Letting out a long sigh, he ran his hands over his face in frustration. Despite having turned back time, the day he killed Cassian remained vivid in his mind, and he couldn't sleep without the pills.

'Cassian, I promise—I will protect you this time, no matter what.'