Grand historical murals depicting the Council’s long and storied legacy adorned the towering ceilings of its inner corridors. They were so immense and majestic that they seemed designed to inspire awe in every viewer—and instill pride in every member.
As Leonardo followed Hugo through the halls toward the Council's inner courtyard, his gaze lingered on the murals. Then, faint sounds of movement drifted in from a nearby window. He tilted his head slightly, looking outside. In the wide courtyard below, well over a hundred members stood gathered in formation.
Leonardo silently watched them, his chest tightening at the sight of so many people moving as {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} one. Hugo, noticing where his gaze had landed, also turned to look.
Scanning the formation, Leonardo spoke quietly, with a note of admiration in his tone.
“Their morale’s high. There’s no fear at all.”
Hugo, understanding that Leonardo could read the soldiers’ mood with a glance, replied with a sidelong look and subtle conviction.
“It’s an expedition for the Empire and its people. They see this as an honor, not something to be afraid of.”
Leonardo, still staring ahead, glanced at Hugo. His brows knit, and something bitter flashed in his golden eyes. When he turned his gaze back to the courtyard, Hugo realized he’d touched a sore point. Yet instead of easing off, he pressed further—perhaps intentionally.
“You once said saving the people of the Empire was your duty, too.”
But Leonardo didn’t respond. He seemed determined to ignore him. Hugo spoke again.
“Then maybe this expedition could be—”
“Don’t force it.”
Before Hugo could finish, Leonardo cut him off, furrowing his brows and pressing a hand to his forehead, as if Hugo’s words had triggered something deeper.
His eyes sharpened as he turned and locked stares with Hugo.
“I said don’t force it. Whether I save someone or not, that’s my decision. It’s no longer a duty.”
His voice was low, but the edge in it was unmistakable. Hugo looked at him quietly, solemnly. Though Leonardo clearly didn’t want to continue, Hugo pushed forward with something he had been meaning to ask.
“Leonardo... what will you do after this is over?”
“...That’s none of your concern.”
“I’m not asking because I want you to join the Council. I’m asking because I care.”
Leonardo’s brow twitched, his expression darkening. But since he didn’t lash out, Hugo sensed the door to conversation wasn’t completely shut.
“You still carry the pride of someone who once swore to protect others.”
“...”
“You may not return to the military, but there are other institutions where you could use your talents—for the good of the Empire.”
“...”
“So, if you could just show your loyalty again... if you could atone for the past, then maybe the world would—”
“...Ha.”
Leonardo gave a bitter laugh—cold, cutting. The sound was like frost creeping over glass. Hugo stopped.
That single laugh, though wordless, said enough to weigh down the air between them.
Leonardo stared coldly at Hugo, who was now gazing at him with something that resembled pity. Slowly, he blinked a few times, then asked,
“You. Have you ever killed a man with your own hands?”
Hugo’s brows tightened at the question. It seemed unrelated to anything they’d just discussed. He didn’t answer.
Leonardo sneered, lips curling.
“You haven’t, right? As the noble Duke and Commander of the Council, basking in peace, there’s no way you’ve ever taken a life with those hands.”
Still, Hugo didn’t speak. But the pain and weight in Leonardo’s voice were growing too heavy to ignore, so he simply listened, accepting the disrespect without rebuke.
Leonardo went on.
“Then how many do you think I’ve killed on the battlefield?”
“...”
“...Hundreds? Thousands?”
His voice was quiet as he lifted his hand and looked at it—like it was a cursed weapon soaked in blood.
“No. I’ve killed so many people I’ve lost count. And their vengeful spirits, their dying curses, they cling to me—awake and asleep—gnawing away at my body and mind.”
His eyes reddened. Veins traced through them as he met Hugo’s gaze.
“So why? Why did I kill them all? Was it because I enjoy murder? Because I wanted to bathe in blood like a monster?”
His voice remained composed, but Hugo could hear the pain, the bitterness, layered beneath.
Leonardo’s breath quivered, his expression growing more twisted by the second. He gritted his teeth and spat out the next words with burning clarity.
“...I did it because I loved the Emperor of this land more than anyone else. Because I loved the people of this Empire. And because I gave everything I had—my loyalty, my soul—for their sake.”
The weight of Leonardo’s confession hit Hugo hard. He didn’t know how to look him in the eyes anymore.
“But what do I have left now?”
Leonardo’s ragged breathing, heavy with rage and despair, reached Hugo’s skin like a chill.
“My honor has sunk into an abyss it’ll never climb out of. It’s the filth people kick aside in the street. All I have left are the resentments of the dead and their curses, clinging to me like rot.”
The pressure around Leonardo was violent—but his form looked like it could crumble at the slightest touch. He let out another deep, empty breath, and finally said the thing he had meant to say all along.
“You have no right to demand loyalty from me. Not you. Not anyone in this Empire.”
He stared at Hugo for a long time, each breath trembling. Then, with a twisted, mocking smile, he added,
“And what exactly are you expecting from a dishonorably discharged soldier?”
Hugo couldn’t answer.
It was the one thing everyone knew—but no one dared say to his face. The worst ending a soldier could meet. A disgrace that followed him like a shadow.
And Hugo knew, no matter what he said now, the moment was already broken. Leonardo’s fury ran deeper, darker, and more painful than he had imagined.
He hadn’t realized until now that he wanted to ask the question himself.
Why did you disobey orders?
Why had the man who loved the Empire more than anyone—defied it?
People said he had tainted the honor of the fallen with his personal, selfish emotions. And Hugo had never bothered to hear the full story. He, too, had believed the victory Leonardo ruined was unforgivable.
But now—those golden eyes in front of him looked not defiant, but pleading. As if begging someone to pull him from the very depths he’d condemned himself to.
And though Hugo knew what he felt was probably foolish sympathy—or worse, hypocrisy—he opened his mouth anyway, driven by something he didn’t understand.
“...I’ll give you a chance.”
“...”
Leonardo didn’t respond, but he lifted his head just enough to meet Hugo’s eyes again.
That cold, haughty, desperate contradiction in his gaze made Hugo feel like he’d do anything just to give him a foothold—just to prove redemption was still possible.
“I’m not forcing you. Whether you take this chance or throw it away... it’s your choice.”
He stepped closer and looked Leonardo in the eyes.
“Leonardo. You have everything it takes to reclaim the honor you once held.”
Leonardo’s eyes flickered—faint, but there.
Seeing it, Hugo placed the final words between them, heavy with meaning.
“Prove it. In this expedition.”
