The Next Morning —
Ben's Bedroom...
Golden rays of early morning light filtered through the sheer curtains of the royal bedchamber, painting the room in a soft, warm glow.
The scent of lavender lingered faintly in the air —
traces of the enchanted oils Charlotte had used the night before.
Ben stirred first, his eyes slowly blinking open.
"____"
The moment he became aware of the warmth pressed against him, a small, amused smile crept across his face.
Charlotte was still asleep, her silver hair messy and cascading over his bare chest, one leg possessively draped over his.
Her face, usually composed and regal, looked peaceful —
vulnerable even —
In sleep, the smallest hint of a smile tugged at her lips.
Ben exhaled quietly, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek and savouring the rare moment of silence and intimacy.
Then suddenly —
[Ding!]
A glowing, green-bordered screen shimmered into existence above his vision.
[System Notification]
[📜 New Mission Triggered!
Title: "Mend the Heart of Fred."
Description:
A boy named Fred, whose hatred for nobles and the king burns bright, is beginning to act dangerously.
His ideals, rooted in pain and injustice, threaten to blossom into rebellion.
Change his heart before it's too late.
Objective:
Gain Fred's trust. Understand his pain. Guide him back to the right path.
Reward:
+35 FP (Fate Points)
Penalty:
Fred becomes a dangerous terrorist leader.
Clover Kingdom faces chaos from within.
Magic Knight squads will be split and weakened.
Civil unrest begins.
Time Limit: 10 Days.]
Ben sighed, the warm contentment replaced by a shadow of seriousness.
Sigh~
"Just when I get five minutes to breathe,"
He muttered, rubbing his temples.
Charlotte stirred slightly, groaning sleepily.
"Already brooding this early?"
She mumbled without opening her eyes.
Ben smirked and complained in his mind.
'System dropped a new task on me. Another life to save. This one might become a terrorist if I don't get to him in time.'
Charlotte cracked one eye open, frowning.
She understood something must have come to his mind regarding the kingdom's safety.
"Then go fix it, Your Majesty."
She murmured teasingly, tightening her grip around him before closing her eyes again.
Even though she didn't know what Ben was thinking about.
"But five more minutes. Or I'm dragging you back here myself."
Ben chuckled, placing a soft kiss on her forehead.
Chuckle~
"Five minutes it is,"
He whispered —
Then glanced once more at the glowing system panel hanging in the air.
"Fred, huh? Let's see what's behind all that hatred…"
After some time...
After a refreshing morning and a mental note of the mission at hand, Ben had dressed in his usual elegant, yet practical royal attire and made his way to his office.
It was a room filled with large windows, thick tomes on governance, enchanted quills, and scrolls stacked high —
The hub of the kingdom's administration.
Inside, as usual, his loyal butler Harry was already preparing the day's documents.
Before Ben could sit, the door burst open.
A guard entered, saluting hastily.
"Your Majesty,"
He said, somewhat breathless,
"A boy… a young boy is here at the main gate. He demands an audience… and…"
The guard hesitated, shifting nervously.
Ben raised an eyebrow.
"And?"
The guard cleared his throat.
Cough~
"He… he claims that you are a murderer."
A tense silence filled the room.
"____"
"____"
"____"
Harry's eyes narrowed dangerously, his calm demeanour shattered.
He slammed his hand on the desk.
Thud.
"What impudence! Shall I have him sent to the heavens for daring to utter such filth about our King?"
His mana fired up.
But Ben lifted a hand calmly.
"Wait."
Ben's green eyes had widened slightly —
not with anger, but with stunned realisation.
The system's mission.
The name. The description.
A boy who hated the king… who was on the edge of choosing violence.
It can't be a coincidence.
Ben's voice dropped, laced with interest and a hint of excitement.
"What was the boy's name?"
The guard replied,
"He calls himself Fred, sire."
Ben smiled faintly, almost in disbelief.
"Well… fate does enjoy its theatrics."
He straightened, his tone now commanding.
"Escort the boy to the courtroom. Tell him his request for a royal audience is granted."
Harry blinked.
"____"
"You're serious, sire?"
Ben turned to him.
"Yes. Because the boy we were going to search for… has walked right into our hands."
Without another word, he left the office —
His long coat swaying behind him —
making his way down the marble corridors of the palace.
Royal Courtroom...
The grand courtroom, usually reserved for nobles and high-stakes judgments, had been quickly cleared.
Ben entered through the main door and took his seat upon the high-backed throne, a symbol of authority nonetheless.
The guards stood silently at attention.
Moments later,
The door creaked open again, and in walked Fred —
a boy no older than fifteen, with wild eyes full of fire and lips curled in disgust.
His clothes were ragged, and his hands clenched into fists.
He looked at Ben as though seeing the embodiment of everything he despised.
Ben, however, simply leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand, expression unreadable.
"Welcome, Fred,"
He said, his voice smooth.
"You've come quite a long way to call me a murderer. So tell me…"
He gestured for the guards to leave the room.
"…Why do you hate me so much?"
Fred clenched his fists as he glared at the king seated before him.
"I am Fred Macman,"
He shouted, voice trembling with rage.
"Son of George Macman… the man you murdered in front of the entire kingdom! A loyal noble who served the last king with honour — my father!"
"____"
Harry's mana flared in response.
The tiles beneath his feet cracked slightly, a ripple of fire flickering around him.
His voice thundered through the courtroom:
"You dare—! Insolent wretch, watch your tongue before the King!"
The sheer magical pressure Harry exuded caused Fred to stagger back a step, his defiance flickering.
But Ben raised a hand, calm yet firm.
"Enough, Harry."
The pressure vanished as Harry reluctantly stood down, biting back his fury.
Ben's gaze never left the boy.
"Fred Macman,"
Ben said softly, the court falling into utter silence once more.
"____"
"Son of George Macman. He has a son as innocent as you. Huh..."
His green eyes narrowed, voice low but resonating clearly through the room.
"Your father was publicly executed… yes. But tell me…"
A shift in Ben's tone —
cold, commanding, and deeply probing —
made Fred freeze.
"…how does that make me a murderer?"
Fred blinked, confused.
"You—you killed him! You gave the order!"
Ben stood from his seat, his presence suddenly overwhelming.
"I gave the order to execute a man found guilty of treason. Gorge Macman supported someone to plot against his king and helped him succeed as a king who oppressed the people."
"He funded assassination plots against the previous queen, my mother. All proven in court. All witnessed by the nobles."
He stepped forward, slowly, his shadow falling over Fred.
"I did not kill your father out of hatred. I judged him for crimes. Justice was done — not murder."
Fred's mouth opened, but no sound came out.
"____"
Ben crouched down to meet his eye-level, his voice quieter now —
not cruel, but piercing.
"You are angry, Fred. I don't fault you for that. But don't confuse justice with vengeance… or hatred with truth."
Fred's voice cracked as he shouted, his eyes brimming with tears that he refused to let fall.
"Lies!"
He roared, shaking his head violently.
"You're lying! All of it was fabricated! You made him a villain just to get rid of him—just to tear my family apart!"
His voice echoed in the courtroom, raw with grief and fury.
The guards stiffened.
Harry clenched his fist, visibly trembling with the urge to silence the boy for good.
But Ben did not flinch.
He simply looked at Fred—
truly looked at him.
Not as a rebel.
Not as an enemy.
But as a broken child, swallowed by loss and clinging to hatred like armour.
Ben's voice was calm —
unnervingly so.
"Do you truly believe that, Fred? That I would burn the credibility I had as a simple magic knight at that time, when I didn't know the truth about my parents, risk turning nobles and the public against me, just to remove a man who was… what, a political nuisance?"
Fred's jaw locked.
His breathing was ragged.
He had no answer, only the blind hurt of a boy who had no one left.
Ben took a few steps closer, every footstep echoing with unshaken authority.
"Do you know who gave the final testimony that sealed your father's fate?"
Fred didn't respond.
"It wasn't me,"
Ben said.
"It was Lord Harkin Clive. A fellow noble. A close friend of your father's. He wept while reading the evidence aloud. And your uncle—your own blood—sat on the judiciary council that day. He voted guilty."
Fred's lip quivered, rage faltering.
Ben's tone softened again, like steel cooling after fire.
"You think I took your father from you. But it was his choices that did that. I'm sorry for your loss, Fred. But until you face the truth, you will never be free of it."
Silence returned.
"____"
"____"
Then Ben added, voice low and personal:
"You can let this pain destroy you… Or you can use it to become someone who prevents others from facing the same. That's the path I offer."
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(Author's POV)
(A/N): Thanks for reading the chapter!
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