The Human Heart

Revival Palace—the most important, central, and tallest structure in all of Everstar City.

In the 34th year of the End Era, during the late reign of Tomond I, he modeled this semi-pyramidal palace after the imperial palace of the Ancient Empire's Triumphant Capital, raising it from the ground and enclosing it within six-sided palace walls. At least six subsequent Supreme Kings expanded or repaired it. Under countless master craftsmen, the palace body and walls bore classical, mottled colors, while the interior layout was grand and imposing. Over six hundred years of erosion had steeped Revival Palace in a profound sense of time.

Two hundred and twenty-five steps above lay the Hall of Stars, supported by twenty-four massive pillars—vast and spacious, reserved for the National Affairs Conference. The open northern section of the hall overlooked Star Gathering Plaza beyond the palace walls, the largest commercial plaza in the Central District. To the south was the Imperial Council chamber, while the center held the broad Council Hall, capable of accommodating a great number of nobles in assembly.

At this moment, inside the Imperial Council chamber, two people sat on opposite sides of the conference table. Beneath two Eternal Lamps, the atmosphere was quiet and heavy.

The thirty-ninth Supreme King of Starfall—the robust Kessel the Fifth—set down the letter report in his hand and looked up at the travel-worn noble across from him.

The Cold Fortress City Lord of the kingdom, Warden Duke of the North, now forty-nine years old—Val Arendt—narrowed his eyes and returned his liege lord's gaze.

As one of the heads of the Six Great Houses of the kingdom, Val appeared less than "noble," a fact owed largely to the scar stretching from his chest to his chin. He kept his hair in a clean, close-cropped buzz cut, making his brown-black hair nearly indiscernible.

Val's features differed from the common Starry Sky Person. His eyes were deep black, his gaze sharp, his nose high and prominent, his lips protruding, and his chin thick with stubble. His entire face was angular and defined. The chainmail Military Attire he wore still carried the chill of the north, with melting frostwater occasionally dripping down.

On his chest and shoulders, the emblem of House Arendt—the first among the Six Great Houses, who had guarded the northern lands since the Ancient Empire—was vividly depicted: a white eagle on a white field, a snow branch in its beak, its claws spread imposingly toward Kessel.

"Iron Eagle" Duke Val Arendt—he was more a Warrior who fought on the front lines than a pampered lord of a great house.

"A truly memorable forty-eighth birthday gift, Duke Arendell," Kessel said coldly.

"So?" Val raised his head without backing down, his eyes wide with fury as he stared at his king. "Are you planning to kill me here to assign blame?"

"His Majesty Kessel, who has no heir?"

Mind reading?

Tales could hardly believe it—he could even hear his own heart beating, irregularly, one thump after another.

Staring into Morat's shadowy gaze, he thought bitterly: Then what can I still hide?

"Young sir, no need to be too astonished," Morat said softly, stroking the Blackwood Cane in his hand—as unremarkable as his own face. "You know, I've seen that expression on your face far too many times."

"From criminals," Morat bared his broken teeth, grinning horribly, "to kings."

"Hahahaha..." Morat let out a dark laugh.

Facing someone like this... someone so terrifying...

Hah...

Tales's mind was completely in chaos.

I might as well just—

Right at that moment!

"Calm down."

A voice came faintly from beside his ear.

"He's been lying the whole time."

Tales was jolted violently!

He slapped the banquet table—the sudden childish voice sent a massive shock through his heart.

Morat's laughter paused, and he glanced at him oddly.

"Don't move recklessly. Right now, only you can hear my voice."

Tales gripped the edge of the banquet table tightly, staring hard at Morat, and at the right moment, channeled his shock at that voice into fear of Morat's mind reading.

"He doesn't actually read minds!" the childish, girlish voice said in his ear.

Doesn't read minds?

"But he can detect lies," the mysterious voice added.

Tales forcibly suppressed his already shattered composure and shut his eyes tightly.

A memory surfaced.

"Qiren, psychology focuses on individual behavior and psychology, while our research leans toward group behavior and psychology—the two are worlds apart." An old professor, puffing on a pipe, exhaled a cloud of smoke and smiled slowly at Wu Qiren, who was flipping through his frustrated first draft of a thesis.

"But one thing is common. Human behavior and psychology have always been elusive, hard to predict, let alone governed by rules—a miracle. In the face of such a miracle, a researcher must remain humble."

"You also know that attempts to encompass all phenomena of human society with one or a few grand theories have long been criticized to shreds."

"Because there has never been, and never will be, the possibility of fully dissecting the human heart."

The memories of his past life receded like a tide, merging into the already considerable sea of his recollections.

Tales snapped his eyes open and looked ahead at the Black Prophet, who sat leisurely waiting for his answer.

The timing is about right, Morat Hansen thought silently. He narrowed his eyes with interest, watching the little boy before him.

But judging by his expression... could there really be something significant that Yordel has been hiding?

Morat tightened his grip on the cane—Good. Let's see how many more lies he can tell.

Coming here today wasn't just about verifying Yordel's words or finding clues about that newborn Magic User.

Morat breathed in the cloyingly sweet air. What a luxurious and decadent scent.

More importantly... it was about meeting the future King of Starfall and planting in his heart a seed of respect and awe for the Kingdom Secret Bureau.

And dependence... and submission.

One king with "strong opinions" like Kessel was enough.

The Star Kingdom only shines in the darkness.

Morat thought with satisfaction.

"Now, you need to listen carefully to me," the loli-like voice murmured in Tales' ear.

"He doesn't know you two spoke."

"He only knows what he said."

"I can't transmit anymore—he'll notice."

"Take care of yourself, ally."

The familiar voice, with its severe air leak yet oddly reassuring, never came again.

Tales took another breath. Though he still looked thoroughly frightened on the surface, his heart had rearmed itself.

Just another game—he told himself.

His gray pupils dilated and contracted, finally focusing on Morat before him.

The brain, once frozen and locked by shock and fear, began to turn at the right moment.

First, sort out the available intel.

Morat was lying—after the mysterious loli voice's reminder, he calmly made this judgment.

One: I met an Elementalist.

Two: The Elementalist spoke to me.

Three: The Elementalist discovered I'm the next Elementalist.

That was the three layers of information Tales needed to hide. The problem was—Yordel knew all three!

If Yordel had told Morat everything... the "Black Prophet" wouldn't be here; I'd be facing what Ashida called the "Legendary Anti-Magic Weaponry."

I shouldn't doubt Yordel. From Red Quarter to Weed Manor, he did everything he could to keep me safe—Tales told himself with guilt.

He doesn't know you two spoke—that voice told him: Morat didn't know the Elementalist and Tales had spoken.

So—Morat only knew the first layer from the start. As for the rest, he was lying through his teeth, fishing for information from Tales!

And I stupidly took the bait. My panicked reaction probably let him fish all the way to the second layer.

He only knows what he said—that voice also said: Morat only knows what Morat himself said.

The only thing certain in Morat's words was: Ashida discovered a new Elementalist!

But that was it. Yordel probably only told him half of the third layer—he didn't know who the new Elementalist was!

He can't read minds—since Morat couldn't use mind-reading, that act of pinching his nose bridge and using his ability was all a fake to trick me!

The reason he could confidently pull the Air Elementalist's image from my "brain"—I was so stupid. With Ashida's centuries-old unchanging outfit, how could the Secret Section not know what he looked like?

As for the energy sphere in Ashida's hand—same logic. The Air Wall was obviously Ashida's famous signature skill!

His habit of squeezing people into balls—after the Red Quarter battle, the ball-shaped corpses were definitely found!

And the pitch-black darkness that night in Red Quarter—wasn't that obvious? Even a fifth-level Alert Officer could point that out in a post-incident investigation!

So, this guy's so-called mind-reading—Tales frowned bitterly—was all a facade Morat built with known information to bluff me and force me to submit!

Now, let's confirm this.

"Lord Hansen," Tales looked up with a terrified face, trembling slightly as he spoke, "Since—since you can read minds, why ask me?"

"Why not just read my thoughts directly..."

"How dare I," Morat smiled faintly, gripping his cane and giving a slight bow. "The brain of a mind-reading target suffers varying degrees of damage."

"And you are, after all, my future liege."

Then how dare you just now!? Tales roared in his heart.

"However, if you wish to save trouble, I can only comply with your will and delve directly into your mind. I'll try not to harm..." Morat's smile didn't fade as he extended his left hand toward Tales.

"No, no, no! No need!" Tales waved his hands in panic. "I'll just tell you directly."

Watching Tales' expression, Morat shook his head self-deprecatingly in his heart.

After all, just a seven-year-old child.

"As you command." The Black Prophet lowered his head, the corners of his mouth curling up.

Tales' heart was now completely certain.

Bluffing!

Bluffing again!

Call a bluff!

With acting this good, why not join the Midnight Temple!

But...

But he could detect the existence of lies—that alone made Tales especially wary.

A black-tech human lie detector with an unknown mechanism?

That meant, before the Black Prophet, he couldn't fabricate outright; he could only use "partial truths" to conceal and hide the truly critical points.

Partial truths, huh.

Tales sighed inwardly: Why didn't I study journalism back then?

Got a small cover recommendation on the fantasy category page—feeling a little happy.

Begging for collections, for votes, for recommendations!

by Wu Jian, with a serious face