The Many Faces of Deception

Before opening Dean's door, Tales had imagined countless possible scenarios.

The situation before him was one of them: The suspicious and wily Mercenary Prince had shown an uncooperative attitude, treating him as an enemy and remaining wary of Tales all along.

But the other's reaction was simply too extreme.

"You don't need to do this."

Tales stared at Moral, feeling the faint sting at his throat. Bewildered, he raised both hands to signal his intentions to his opponent.

He steadied his breathing and suppressed the surging Sin of the Hell River, forcing down the instinctive urge to fight to the death. "I said I'd keep my promise and let you leave. No one will come after you, and you won't have any trouble."

"You said?"

Moral's voice sounded rather strange—calm and indifferent. "That doesn't sound like much of a guarantee."

The other man had not completely subdued him, but the knife in his hand was pressed precisely and expertly against his artery. Tales could even clearly feel the blood pulsing beneath his skin.

Damn it.

The Prince of Starfall struggled to remain calm. His pack was wedged against the bedboard, causing a sharp pain in his back.

Yet the suspicion and vigilance of the former Prince of Exeter before him made him extremely uneasy. The man seemed to have become someone else entirely, as though the Mercenary Dean, who had once possessed a bright smile and an easygoing personality, had died, and another cold-blooded and ruthless man had come alive in his place.

Tales even felt a little regretful. Perhaps he should have gone to find the army from the beginning.

Setting aside those irritating officers in the Great Desert, he could at least have gone to find the Star Kingdom's army at the camp, then arrived here without fail