Kael sat on the sofa, facing Elara. She held a delicate porcelain cup, her fingers graceful, her movents quiet. The room was steeped in silence—no words had passed between them.
He watched her.
She was beautiful. The kind of beauty that didn’t need adornnt—calm, composed, and every bit the princess this kingdom claid she was.
Their eyes t. Neither looked away.
Then, at the exact sa mont, their voices broke the stillness.
"Who are you?" Elara asked.
"What do you want?" Kael said.
Both were stunned—but Kael more so.
A cold feeling crawled into his chest.
Sothing was wrong. Deeply wrong.
He straightened slightly, trying to collect himself.
"What do you an, who am I?" he asked, forcing a casual tone.
"I’m Kaelion Drenlor, heir of House Drenlor—"
"Cut the crap," Elara interrupted sharply. Her voice was low but firm.
"This room is completely sealed. Isolated. You can speak freely. I want to know who you really are."
Kael didn’t flinch, but inside, sothing twisted.
Still, he gave a faint, innocent smile.
"I don’t understand what you’re talking about. I am Kaelion—"
"You’re not," she said, cutting him off again.
"Because Kaelion is dead."
That hit him like a slap.
His voice rose, harsher now. "And how the hell would you know that?"
Elara set her teacup down with a quiet click.
"Because I’m a regressor," she said.
"And in the previous tiline, Kaelion Drenlor died from poisoning."
Silence returned.
A crushing pressure settled over Kael.
His mind raced.
She knows.
The truth he had buried so deeply—that he wasn’t Kaelion Drenlor—was no longer safe. The mask he wore had cracked. But that wasn’t what truly shook him.
It was her.
Elara.
She had revealed sothing far more terrifying.
She was a regressor.
A woman with knowledge of the future—of events yet to unfold. The most lethal kind of knowledge. She could manipulate outcos, avoid pitfalls, change fates.
And if she chose... destroy him before he ever saw it coming.
In that mont, Elara beca sothing else in his eyes.
Not a noble. Not a princess.
A threat.
A weapon aid at the heart of everything he was building.
Kael’s instincts scread at him. He had already been considering her removal—quietly, surgically. But now...
Then he noticed Yue.
Standing behind Elara, hovering like a silent shadow. Her eyes t his, unreadable—but then, just barely, she gave a small shake of her head.
Not yet.
Kael exhaled slowly.
He trusted Yue.
That didn’t make this less dangerous.
But for now... it wasn’t war.
Not yet.
Kael lowered his head. At first, it was just a faint sound.
A quiet chuckle.
"Haha..."
Elara narrowed her eyes, watching him.
Then the laughter grew.
"Hahaha..."
He lifted his face.
His eyes glead—wild, unhinged. The polite veneer, the noble heir’s mask, shattered completely.
And then ca the full laugh, loud and mad.
"HAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Elara flinched slightly, her eyes wide.
The man before her no longer resembled Kaelion Drenlor.
What sat across from her now was sothing else entirely—sothing colder, darker, terrifyingly real.
The laughter died out. Kael exhaled, a long, tired sigh.
"...Yes," he said quietly.
"I’m not Kaelion. I never was. I’m Kael—a soul that was switched into his body."
Elara didn’t speak.
She simply nodded, slowly. As if she had expected this.
The air between them shifted—both had laid their masks down, if only partly.
Truth had begun to slip through the cracks.
Then Elara spoke again.
"Are you the Devil?"
Kael didn’t blink.
No flinch. No twitch of the brow. Just silence and a calm, unreadable expression.
"I don’t know who he truly is," he said, his voice smooth, asured.
"But I’m in contact with him."
It was a calculated answer—neither denial nor full admission. Kael remained composed, offering just enough truth to keep control.
Elara studied him carefully, her gaze sharp but no longer hostile. After a long pause, she let out a quiet sigh.
"...I don’t think you’re the Devil," she said.
Still, Kael didn’t relax. Not even a flicker of relief crossed his face.
She continued, voice softer but thoughtful.
"At first, I was almost certain you were. In the previous tiline, the Devil never appeared. And neither did you. But in this one... you arrived. And so did he.
So naturally, I assud—you must be the sa."
The silence returned, heavy once more.
Kael said nothing.
But inside, he was already three moves ahead.
Elara rose from her seat. Her eyes didn’t leave him.
"But the very possibility of you being the Devil... that’s a problem."
Kael calmly sipped his tea, his expression unreadable. He didn’t interrupt—he wanted to hear how far she’d take this.
She stepped closer, her voice steady.
"After watching your duel with my brother, I knew—whoever you are now, you must have been a high-rank magician in your past life."
Kael said nothing.
He let her play detective.
Elara studied him for a mont, then continued.
"But the Devil... never used magic. Not once, at least not in any of the battles I saw. He fought with only his sword. Ruthlessly. Without a chant, without a trace of spellwork."
She folded her arms. Her tone grew more analytical, more precise.
"In this world, almost no one —truly noone— can master both sword and magic at that level. It’s an anomaly.
So that leaves only two possibilities."
Kael’s cup paused midair. She had his attention now.
"First," Elara said,
"You are an extrely rare, heaven-defying prodigy—soone who, against all odds, has mastered both arts."
She tilted her head slightly.
"That possibility exists. Slim, but not zero."
A breath.
Then the second option.
"Second... soone else, like you, has entered this tiline. Another soul, swapped into a body. And that person beca the Devil."
The room was still.
Kael set down his cup gently.
"So... until I prove my innocence," he said quietly,
"I’m your pri suspect."
Elara gave a small laugh—not mocking, but sharp, edged with clarity.
"No," she replied, her eyes fixed on him.
"Until I confirm it for myself, you are the Devil."
Kael didn’t show it on his face, but inside, a curse rang through his thoughts.
Damn woman.
She wasn’t just intelligent—she was relentless.
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