The day of reckoning was near.
For weeks, the Finance Department had been enveloped in endless discussions, yet they were no closer to a decision. A few days before the official announcement, the mentors and officials gathered in a dimly lit conference hall. The atmosphere was tense, weighed down by the knowledge of what had to be done.
One mentor sighed, rubbing his temples. "This year's candidates… they are truly remarkable."
Another nodded solemnly. "Yes. Each one has worked relentlessly."
A third mentor, arms crossed, said, "After spending two months guiding them, watching them grow, I can say this—choosing who stays and who leaves will be the hardest decision we've ever made."
A heavy silence followed. Then one of them, his voice heavy with guilt, murmured, "I don't want to do this. I have seen them push beyond their limits, giving everything they had. And yet, in the end, only a handful will get to stay? How is that fair?"
"But those are the rules," another mentor reminded him, though the conviction in his voice wavered.
Silence fell once more. The room was thick with unspoken emotions—doubt, helplessness, sorrow. Over these months, these candidates had become more than just students; they had become part of their world. Sending them away now felt like betrayal.
With no solution in sight, they made a decision—they would take this matter to the Head of the Department, Alex.
Gathering the reports, they entered his office, finding him seated at his desk, scanning through documents. His sharp eyes flickered with curiosity as they approached.
One mentor spoke, his voice desperate yet determined. "Sir, we understand we must choose only the best. But these numbers… they don't define them. Each of them excels in different areas. We can't judge them solely by scores."
Another mentor took a step forward. "We should give them a real chance. A fair one."
Alex leaned back in his chair, studying their faces. Their words stirred something deep within him—something long buried. He turned toward the window, his eyes tracing the vast sky.
"Equal opportunities…" he murmured. How long had it been since he last heard those words?
He exhaled slowly. The Royal Palace was a battlefield of politics and power, where one mistake could ruin everything. And yet, these mentors had dared to ask him to challenge tradition.
Finally, he turned back to them, his expression unreadable. "Give me some time to think about this."
As the mentors left, hope flickered in their hearts.
The Day of Announcement.
The kingdom was alive with anticipation.
The Central Plaza was packed—thousands of hopeful candidates and their families stood shoulder to shoulder, waiting for the moment that would change their lives forever. Some sought power. Others wished for a future free from poverty, for a better life for those they loved. Prayers whispered through the air, hands clenched tightly in silent pleas.
Then, an official emerged. In his grasp, a sealed parchment—the results.
Every breath in the plaza hitched as he strode toward the notice board, affixed the paper, and walked away without a word.
Silence.
Then—chaos.
The crowd surged forward, desperate to read the words that would determine their fate.
"All candidates are to assemble at the Royal Grounds immediately."
A ripple of confusion spread. Murmurs filled the air, but no one dared disobey. One by one, they made their way to the grand courtyard.
Upon arrival, they were met with an unexpected sight—the entire Royal Ground had been transformed. Golden banners swayed in the wind, torches burned bright, and rows of soldiers lined the perimeter.
Unease settled over the crowd. This was not how results were usually announced.
Then—
"His Majesty, the Empress, and the Duke have arrived!"
At the guard's proclamation, tension soared. Some candidates stood straighter, while others felt dread creeping into their bones.
The Duke stepped forward, his expression unreadable.
"You all performed exceptionally," he began, his voice steady but laced with something deeper. "It was truly impressive to witness such dedication, such relentless hard work."
A pause.
"And now, the time has come to reveal the results."
A suffocating silence. Hearts pounded.
The Duke exhaled, glancing at the parchment in his hands before continuing, "But before I do, I must share something important."
Confusion flickered through the candidates' eyes.
"You all know that only a select few are traditionally chosen to work with us," he said, his gaze sharp. "That is how it has always been."
A heavy silence followed.
"But this time… something different happened."
The mentors stood at the side, their expressions filled with anticipation. The Duke's voice softened slightly.
"These mentors—the very ones who guided you—came to me," he revealed. "They asked for something this kingdom has long neglected—a chance."
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
"They fought for you. They believed in you. And so…"
The Duke raised the parchment—the results that would determine their futures. Then, without hesitation—
He tore it in half.
The sound of paper ripping through the air was deafening.
A stunned silence followed. No one moved. No one breathed.
Then—
"You all have passed. Prepare yourselves for work!"
For a heartbeat, the world stood still.
Then—an explosion of emotion.
Cries of joy, disbelieving laughter, tears of relief. Families collapsed into embraces, hands clutched hearts in gratitude, and voices shouted in jubilation.
They had done it. They had beaten the odds. They had won.
As the celebrations surged, the Emperor stepped forward, his presence commanding yet warm.
"Congratulations, everyone." His voice carried through the air, filled with genuine pride. "Today, I see a future for our kingdom brighter than ever before. And for that, I thank our mentors. You did more than teach—you gave hope."
Applause thundered through the courtyard.
As the festivities raged on, Alex stood at the edge of the crowd, watching the faces of those who had fought for this moment.
For once, the rules had been broken for something greater.
And it had all started with a single request—"Give them a chance."
The candidates had won their battle, but their journey had just begun.
The following morning, the selection committee meticulously assigned each candidate to departments that best suited their skills. Those with strategic minds and leadership abilities were placed in the Military and the Defense Department. Those who displayed exceptional knowledge of law and governance were assigned to the Judiciary. Engineers and innovators found their place in the Research and Development sector, while the most talented scholars were sent to the Royal Library and Education Division.
And then there was the Finance Department.
This was where the kingdom's wealth was managed, where decisions about taxes, trade, and treasury reserves were made. Only the top scorers were chosen to work here, for it required more than just intelligence—it demanded precision, discipline, and an unshakable sense of responsibility.
Among those selected was Maria.
Her hands trembled slightly as she held the parchment with her name on it. She had made it. The weight of years of hard work, sleepless nights, and relentless studying finally bore fruit. The realization sent a wave of pride through her.
But she wouldn't be alone in this journey.
Oliver had also been assigned to the Finance Department. He stood beside her, glancing at his own parchment before flashing her a grin. "Looks like we're in this together," he said, his voice brimming with excitement.
Maria smiled back. "Yes… I guess we are."
But deep inside, something still lingered in her mind—the memory of that fateful night in the North.
The Finance Department was nothing short of a fortress of intellect. Stacks of ledgers filled the grand hall, their pages inscribed with the kingdom's economic lifeblood. Golden chandeliers illuminated the vast space, and at the far end, the Duke presided over the affairs with his usual commanding presence.
Maria and Oliver arrived early, eager to make their mark. But from the moment Maria stepped inside, she sensed something was off.
The Duke—who had shown such compassion during the results announcement—was different.
His demeanor toward Maria was cold, distant. If his eyes landed on her, it was only for the briefest of moments before he turned away, as if she were nothing more than another faceless worker.
At first, she brushed it off. Perhaps he was merely busy.
But as the days passed, it became impossible to ignore.
While others received his guidance, Maria received silence. While others earned his nods of approval, she was overlooked.While others spoke freely, she felt invisible.
Why?
Had she done something wrong?
Had she misunderstood what she saw that night?
Oliver noticed it too.
At first, he thought he was imagining it. But day after day, he watched as Maria was subtly sidelined.
And it didn't make sense.
She was brilliant—one of the best among them. Her work was flawless, her dedication unmatched. Yet, the Duke barely acknowledged her presence.
Oliver didn't like it.
And the more he thought about it, the more his mind drifted back to the night in the North.
Something had happened there—something they weren't supposed to see.
Something Maria had seen.
His jaw tightened. The Duke's kindness during the results announcement, his sudden change in demeanor toward Maria—it wasn't a coincidence.
Something was missing.
Something wasn't right.
And so, late one night, after the last candle in the Finance Department had burned out, Oliver made a decision.
He would uncover the truth.
He would find out what really happened in the North.
And he would find out why the Duke was afraid of Maria.
Before Oliver could begin his investigation, duty called.
A new assignment had been given to the Finance Department recruits—one that would take them far from the comfort of their grand offices and into the heart of the kingdom's forgotten shadows.
The Slum Development Plan.
It was an initiative personally overseen by the Emperor. The kingdom's slums, where the poorest resided, had long been neglected, plagued by poverty, disease, and crime. The recruits were tasked with assessing the conditions, collecting data, and formulating a development plan that would not only rebuild the slums but also uplift the people.
For most, this was just another assignment.
For Maria and Oliver, it was an eye-opener.
The journey to the slums took hours, passing through the bustling marketplaces, merchant districts, and finally, the crumbling outskirts of the kingdom. The closer they got, the more reality shifted.
The stone-paved roads turned into muddy paths. The grand buildings gave way to broken huts and makeshift homes. The scent of fresh bread from the city faded into the stench of unclean water and desperation.
Children ran barefoot through the filth, their faces smeared with dust, but their eyes gleaming with curiosity. Mothers clutched their starving infants, watching with wary eyes as the royal officials entered their world.
Maria's heart clenched. She had studied numbers, statistics, and economic theories—but nothing had prepared her for this.
Oliver, too, was shaken. He had always known there were slums, but seeing them firsthand was something else entirely.
"This… this is how they live?" one recruit whispered in disbelief.
Another muttered, "And we sit in golden halls, making decisions for them…"
Even the arrogant among them were humbled.
Their task was simple—assess, record, and draft a proposal. But the deeper they went into the slums, the more complicated everything became.
Maria took out her parchment, ready to take notes, but found herself drawn into conversations instead.
She spoke to an elderly woman whose home had collapsed due to heavy rains. She met a former soldier, who had been abandoned after losing his leg in battle. She listened to a young girl, no older than ten, who worked day and night just to feed her siblings.
Every story etched itself onto her soul.
Meanwhile, Oliver wandered into the narrowest alleyways, observing details others overlooked. He noticed the lack of sanitation, the crumbling walls, and the polluted water. And most importantly, he noticed the fear.
People weren't just suffering.
They were scared.
Not of poverty.
Of something else.
It was only when Oliver spoke to an old beggar that he got a clue.
"They let us rot here," the man rasped. "But we've seen worse. The North—oh, the horrors we've heard from there…"
Oliver's breath hitched.
The North.
Before he could ask more, one of the officials called out, "We're moving to the next district!"
Oliver had no choice but to leave.
But now, more than ever, he was sure of one thing—
Something dark had happened in the North.
And he was getting closer to the truth.
After days of surveying the slums, the recruits returned to the Finance Department, exhausted but forever changed. They began drafting reports, proposing infrastructure improvements, and calculating costs.
But Oliver's mind was elsewhere.
That night, when the halls fell silent, he slipped out of his quarters.
He had spent days asking questions, listening to whispers. Now, it was time to find real answers.
He made his way to the Royal Archives, where records of every major event in the kingdom were kept. With careful steps, he searched through old reports, military documents, and trade records.
And then, he found it.
A sealed file.
Labeled: "Northern Incident—Confidential."
Oliver's fingers trembled as he reached for it.
Whatever was inside this file…?
It would change everything.
The Royal Archives were silent, the air thick with the scent of aged parchment and candle wax. Oliver's fingers trembled slightly as he broke the seal on an ancient file, expecting to find records related to his search. Instead, the documents inside were something else entirely. His eyes scanned the pages, his heartbeat quickening with every line. The more he read, the more confusion settled in.
"What is this? This isn't what I was looking for… but why does it feel even more important?"
A cold realization gripped him—he had stumbled upon something far bigger than he had anticipated. He exhaled sharply, closing the file, his mind now swarming with even more questions. As he stepped out of the archives, a faint sound made him freeze.
Behind a heavy curtain, Maria pressed herself against the cold stone wall, her breath shallow. She had been watching Oliver for days, sensing something unusual in his behavior. Tonight confirmed it—he was looking for something. But what? And why?
She remained hidden as he left, her heart hammering in her chest.
The next morning, the newly recruited candidates were assigned their first mission: the Slum Development Plan. Their task was to survey the area, assess its needs, and draft a proposal for improvements.
The streets of the slum were narrow and filled with the scent of damp earth and smoke from scattered fire pits. Children ran barefoot, peering curiously at the well-dressed officials. The contrast between their world and the grandeur of the palace was stark.
While the others focused on their tasks, Oliver's thoughts remained elsewhere. The sealed file from the archives still haunted him. But before he could investigate further, this mission required his full attention.
As everyone remained busy documenting the area, Oliver silently slipped away, retracing his steps from the previous day. He had met a man here—a man who might have answers.
Maria, who had been keeping a close eye on Oliver, noticed his sudden disappearance. Without hesitation, she followed him.
Oliver stopped in a secluded alley where an older man leaned against a crumbling wall, his expression cautious.
"You're back," the man muttered.
"I need to know the truth," Oliver said firmly. "Did anything happen to the Northern Duchess? Was she really pregnant? Was there an accident?"
Maria froze mid-step.
"Northern Duchess? Pregnant? What is he talking about?"
She moved closer, straining to hear.
The old man sighed, glancing around as if the walls themselves could betray him. "Yes. The Duchess was pregnant. But something happened in the North… something terrifying. Everyone who saw or heard about it was silenced."
Oliver's breath hitched. "Who ordered it?"
The man hesitated before finally uttering the words that sent a chill down Oliver's spine.
"It was the Duke. He did it."
Oliver took a step back. "That's not possible…"
"They say he even killed his own child—for his mistress."
A sharp gasp broke through the tense silence.
Both men turned.
Maria sat on the ground, her arms wrapped around her head, rocking back and forth, her body trembling violently. Memories came flooding back like a raging storm—fragments of blood, screams, a cold, empty cradle. Her heart pounded as the long-buried past clawed its way to the surface.
Then, she screamed.
A piercing, soul-wrenching scream that sent shivers down Oliver's spine.
The sound of Maria's scream echoed through the slum. The other recruits, officials, and guards rushed to the scene. The old man's face paled as he stared at her, recognition flashing in his eyes.
"The Duchess of North… Maria Luxembourg."
Maria's body convulsed as wave after wave of memories assaulted her. The pain, the fear, the betrayal—she couldn't contain it. Her nails dug into her skin, her breaths shallow and erratic.
Oliver caught her just as she collapsed, her unconscious body limp in his arms.
The Morgan estate was a flurry of movement as Oliver burst through the doors, Maria cradled in his arms.
"Help! Someone, help!" His voice thundered through the halls.
Servants rushed forward. The Marquise himself appeared, his eyes widening in shock. "What happened?"
Oliver laid Maria on the grand bed, his own hands shaking. "She remembered. She… she remembered everything."
A physician arrived, checking Maria's vitals. His diagnosis was grim. "It was a sudden shock. Her mind is trying to process something traumatic."
The Marquise turned to Oliver, his face dark. "Tell me everything."
Oliver recounted his encounter with the old man, Maria's reaction, and the devastating accusation against the Duke. The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of the truth settling like a crushing force.
Then—footsteps.
The doors burst open.
Standing there, breathing heavily, was the Duke.
His piercing gaze scanned the room before locking onto Oliver.
Before anyone could react, he crossed the room in three strides, grabbed Oliver by the collar, and slammed him against the wall.
"I warned you." His voice was dangerously low, trembling with fury. "I told you to stop digging."
Oliver met his gaze, unfazed. "You… killed your own child?"
The Duke's grip tightened. His eyes darkened with something unreadable—pain, rage, or perhaps… regret?
"You know nothing," he spat. "And if you continue down this path, you won't just destroy yourself—you'll destroy her."
Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken words.
In the bed, Maria stirred.
The storm was far from over.
Maria stirred. A deep ache settled in her chest, suffocating, unrelenting. The room was dim, bathed in the soft glow of flickering candlelight, its golden flames casting long, distorted shadows across the walls.
She wasn't dreaming.
Her breath hitched as fragments of memory clawed their way to the surface—blood on the snow, silent screams, cold steel glinting under a moonless sky.
Maria's eyes flew open, her body tensing.
"Maria."
The voice was gentle, yet firm. She turned, her gaze locking onto Oliver. He sat beside her bed, his brows knitted in worry, his presence a quiet anchor in the storm raging inside her.
She tried to sit up, but pain lanced through her skull. A sharp gasp escaped her lips.
"Easy," Oliver said, reaching to steady her. "You collapsed."
Maria swallowed hard. "I—" Her voice broke. Her hands trembled as they clutched the silk sheets beneath her.
Memories crashed over her like a tidal wave.
Blood.
A child's cry that never came.
A voice whispering in the dark, it's done.
Tears welled in her eyes. "Tell me," she choked out. "What did that man say?"
Oliver hesitated. He had spent years searching for the truth, but now, as it sat heavy in his chest, he wasn't sure if he should speak it.
Before he could answer, the door creaked open.
The air turned frigid.
A shadow fell across the room.
The Duke stood at the threshold.
His presence was like a storm—silent, yet seething with suppressed rage. His gaze flickered from Maria's pale face to Oliver's protective stance beside her.
Maria flinched.
She hadn't even realized she had done it, but the way her body recoiled from him was instinctive. A memory of fear is engraved deep in her bones.
A flicker of something—regret?—crossed the Duke's face before it disappeared behind his usual cold mask.
"Leave us," he commanded, voice low, dangerous.
Oliver didn't move.
"She's not alone anymore," he said, his voice steady, unyielding.
The air between them crackled with tension.
Maria exhaled a shaky breath. Her heart pounded against her ribs. The memories were still fractured, still blurred at the edges, but there was one thing she knew with certainty.
She lifted her gaze to the man she once called husband.
"I… I remember."
Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.
The candlelight flickered, its golden glow unable to warm the room's sudden chill.
The Duke exhaled slowly. "Then you know why I did it."
Maria's hands clenched the sheets. "You… killed our child."
A tremor passed through his hand. Just for a second. Then his expression hardened. "That's not—" He stopped himself.
Maria's breath came in short, shallow gasps. "Tell me the truth, Dyke. Was I betrayed? Was it because of her?"
His fingers curled into fists.
Silence.
Maria's world was shattered.
Tears spilled down her cheeks, but she didn't wipe them away. She let them fall, let them carry the last remnants of who she used to be.
Oliver's jaw tightened. His gaze bore into the Duke's, searching for something—**anything—**that would make this make sense.
But the Duke wasn't denying it.
And that meant…
Maria was right.
Maria barely slept that night. Each time she closed her eyes, the memories dragged her back into the past, a nightmare painted in red.
Oliver, too, found no rest. His mind was a battlefield of questions, each one more damning than the last.
Something wasn't adding up.
There was more to this.
So before the first light of dawn kissed the horizon, Oliver slipped out of the Marquise's estate.
His destination?
The Royal Archives.
The halls were eerily silent as he navigated the endless shelves of forbidden knowledge. The further he delved, the thicker the dust became—proof of secrets long buried, untouched by time.
And then, he found it.
A sealed file with a crest not of the Duke, but of the Royal Family.
His hands shook as he broke the seal.
The truth lay before him. And it was far worse than he had ever imagined.