Brandt kicked open the flimsy, half-rotten door with a dramatic flourish—only to immediately regret it as his toe collided with the unyielding wood.
"*AARGH!* Damn this stupid door!" Hopping on one foot, tears welling in his eyes, Brandt cursed violently. "Next time, I'll smash you to splinters!" Glaring at the now-crooked door, he gingerly set his injured foot down.
Thankfully, the two kids inside were still unconscious. *At least no one saw that.*
Limping over, Brandt nudged the elf boy with his bruised heel. No reaction. He kicked harder. Still nothing. *Is the sleep-flower's effect this strong?* Giving up, he turned to Agatha and delivered a sharp kick.
This time, he got a response.
Agatha stirred groggily, her blurry vision slowly focusing on Brandt's scowling face. Instantly awake, she instinctively shrank closer to the boy behind her. *At least he didn't bring the whip.* A few kicks were bearable.
"Agatha! When this brat wakes up, you report to me *immediately*! Or *no food for three days!*" Having issued his threat, Brandt sauntered out as if nothing had happened—only to resume limping the moment he was out of sight.
Once sure he was gone, Agatha finally moved. She tucked her "blanket"—a ragged piece of cloth discarded by some older child—around the still-sleeping boy.
---
The hard, cold ground was deeply uncomfortable, but Charles couldn't pry his eyes open. His head spun violently, as though even his dreams were trapped in a whirlpool.
Night passed. Morning came. Still, Charles slept.
Brandt herded all the children, including Agatha, out to begin their daily "work."
Meanwhile, *Magic Doll* stood silent, its doors locked. Everyone else scoured the streets, expanding their search further each hour.
Even Libor, who'd fled to Lamibor to hide his vampiric nature, abandoned caution and used his full abilities that night—but found nothing.
Now, guided by Milta, Sophie marched toward the royal palace. Her target? **The king himself.**
After a day and night without news, she couldn't wait any longer. Though Milta and Yax had influence, they were still children. Only the king had the power to help.
Under different circumstances, Sophie would've marveled at her first visit to an *interdimensional palace*. But now, the endless corridors only fueled her impatience. *Why is this walk so long?!*
The man before her shattered all expectations. This kindly old man—more "grandpa at the park" than "regal monarch"—was the king? *No majestic aura, no piercing gaze.* But right now, she didn't care if he played chess or tai chi—*just help me find my son!*
---
Charles finally won his battle against the drowsiness, blinking up at a small, tear-streaked face. *The flower girl? Why's she in my room?*
Sitting up sent the world tilting. Only Agatha's quick grip kept him from face-planting. A glance around confirmed this was *definitely* not his room—or *Magic Doll*.
"Where... am I?"
"I'm *so* sorry! I didn't mean to!" Fresh tears spilled from Agatha's eyes.
"Hey, don't cry!" Panicked, Charles realized he couldn't stand seeing girls cry. Maybe because he'd never seen it before?
It took patience, but Agatha's fragmented explanation painted a clear picture. Oddly, Charles wasn't worried. If anything, *he* started comforting *her*.
"Agatha, don't be scared! I'll get you out of here! You can be my little sister! My mom's *amazing*—she cooks the best food, makes awesome toys, and she's *super* pretty! We've got snow cones and so many cool things—you'll love it!" Patting her head, Charles could already picture Sophie waiting with a feast.
"Oh! Have you seen Bai?"
"The little white dog?" At Charles' eager nod, Agatha looked down. "The boss only took you. The dog was left behind... I don't know where it is now."
"He'll find his way home." Charles grinned, then cracked his knuckles. "Once my head clears, I'm dealing with that 'boss' of yours. Messing with *me*? Doesn't he know who my *mom* is?"
Watching him strategize, Agatha sat perfectly still, barely breathing.
*Mom's methods are too gentle for scum like this. Time to get creative.* Charles mentally reviewed his arsenal. *Magic's best—something painful but non-lethal.*
---
By morning, Charles was fully alert—and starving. Two days without food left him eyeing the blackened sludge Agatha had smuggled in. *This is what she eats?* No wonder she was so tiny.
Pushing hunger aside, he strode out of the shack like a general heading to war.
Brandt's eyelid had twitched incessantly since dawn. *Bad omen? Or a windfall?* Breakfast—stolen pastries brought by his "workers"—boosted his mood. Today would be profitable.
"Leaving without saying goodbye? Rude."
The lazy taunt froze Brandt mid-step. *Who dares—?* Whirling around, he found the elf boy and a cowering Agatha.
"Well, well. Look who's awake." A sharp gesture sent his gang circling the pair.
**Will Charles' magic be enough—or has he bitten off more than he can chew?**