The sixth seat of the Dark Night Courtyard was a striking golden leopard—white-haired, with feline ears and a tail to match. Her ferocity was matched only by her elegance, and her strength ranked easily in the top three within the organization, second only to Alpha. Her hatred toward the Cult of Diablos, and her reverence for Alhaitham, burned with an intensity unmatched even by her peers.
"Snort!!"
Zeta flicked off the blood staining her hands, her expression twisting in disgust. To her, the blood of someone who had insulted her lord was nothing short of filth.
After all, as a feline warrior, she had a natural inclination toward cleanliness—and perhaps an even greater disdain for anything unworthy.
Unlike many members of the Courtyard, Zeta's story was a paradox of both immense fortune and unparalleled misfortune.
When her Devil Possession was discovered, she wasn't abandoned like others. Her parents loved her fiercely. They didn't turn their backs on her. Instead, they sought every possible cure, sparing no effort.
But their love cost them everything.
The Cult of Diablos, ever vigilant and cruel, caught wind of Zeta's existence. They incited conflict between orc tribes, a brutal deception that ended in blood. Her tribe was slaughtered. Her parents—who had fought to protect her—were murdered before her eyes. Even her younger brother, so innocent and small, was butchered in front of her.
That day, a seed of hatred took root deeper than even Alpha's.
It consumed her.
And yet, that darkness eventually brought her to Alhaitham.
He rescued her from despair—not just with power, but with conviction. And Zeta, in her cold and sharp way, loved him for it.
Loved him dangerously.
So now, hearing someone dare insult the man she respected most?
Zeta, usually as frigid as ice, now burned with fury. If she could, she would reduce Orba to ashes and scatter his soul to the wind.
"Everyone, please control your emotions."
"…Yes, Lord Alpha." (×N)
"Let's head to Dark Night. He should have rescued the captive by now."
…In the Dungeon…
"Have your symptoms started showing yet?" Alhaitham asked, his voice as casual as ever.
Before him was Claire Cageno, chained to the wall.
Compared to how other victims of Devil Possession were treated—locked in cages like wild animals—this setup could almost be considered… luxury. Four enchanted chains held the girl's limbs in place, fixed beneath a reinforced wall. Judging by the setup, they had bound her in her sleep. She was still in a light nightgown, clearly unaware of her abduction.
Alhaitham took a quick glance at her outfit, then looked away without a second thought.
(Well, he thought, Alpha's still healthier. The cult must be getting desperate if they're acting before full bloodline maturation. Their top-tier targets don't even put up a proper fight anymore.)
The Cult of Diablos had clearly suffered setbacks from the Courtyard's relentless attacks. They'd lost a number of Devil Possession subjects, and without those, their twisted experiments had ground to a halt.
Claire's bloodline, though noble, wasn't particularly powerful. Certainly nowhere near the Seven Shadows. At best, she was of average potential within the Courtyard's hierarchy.
"Aww!!"
Claire lunged forward, baring her teeth. Despite being restrained, she used the only weapon she had left—her bite.
Alhaitham tilted his head slightly to dodge.
She was fierce. Even now, helpless and bound, she refused to surrender.
"Oh, Moses Roy…"
"Tch. You dodged? Damn you—"
CLANG!
Before she could finish her curse, the chains binding her suddenly snapped apart.
Claire stared at Alhaitham, bewildered.
The man in front of her was wearing extravagant attire, far more refined than the ones worn by her captors.
"Huh? Wait... aren't you the Second Prince?"
"That's right," Alhaitham replied, flashing a relaxed smile. "If you didn't recognize me, I might not have saved you. Just kidding. You're free now."
"…I don't know why His Highness is here, but it seems I've been saved… Thank you, for now. Wait—what are you doing?! Let go!"
Before she could move, Alhaitham grasped her wrist and ankle gently, turning them over with great care.
"What the hell?! Just because you saved me doesn't mean I belong to you! Please have some decency!"
Claire flailed in panic. Yet strangely, she couldn't move. Her limbs had gone numb, like all strength had vanished.
"…You're a lot louder than I expected. Relax—I'm treating your Devil Possession."
"…You… What? Did you say cure? But… isn't it said even the Holy Archbishop can't treat it?"
Claire's eyes widened. Her earlier panic vanished. In its place: desperate hope.
"Tch. That's because the Holy Archbishop's part of the Cult. Of course, they won't cure it. They don't want a cure. But we do. We're the only ones who've mastered a true treatment."
As he spoke, Alhaitham channeled a gentle but powerful magical energy through his fingertips. The cursed black patterns that marred Claire's skin began to fade, retreating like shadows under sunlight.
Her arms and legs returned to their natural, smooth color.
Claire exhaled a breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding.
She still didn't fully understand what was happening, but in this moment, she felt truly grateful.
In this world, Devil Possession was tantamount to a death sentence. Even princes and princesses couldn't escape the fate of abandonment.
Claire had known about her symptoms for a while but kept them hidden from her parents. She believed it was incurable. She could only hope to endure, one day at a time, in silence.
"...Eh? I… I want to try something."
"Hm? Go ahead."
"Hyahh!"
Without warning, Claire gathered her magic and kicked out—destroying the section of wall that had just imprisoned her.
Alhaitham blinked. That was a strong kick. She had good legs—but really, didn't noble girls worry about modesty when they fought?
Claire only realized afterward that she was still in a thin nightgown—and the high kick had shown a lot.
Her face turned beet red as she stared daggers at him.
"You… you saw that?"
"As clear as daylight."
"…Please forget."
If he hadn't saved her life, she might have tried to kill him.
Alhaitham chuckled and, without saying another word, unfastened his cloak and gently draped it over her shoulders.
"Alright," he said, voice softening. "Let me explain. The people who kidnapped you belong to the Cult of Diablos. They're a vile group hiding in the shadows of history, obsessed with resurrecting the demon lord and ruling the world. As for me… I'm the leader of the Dark Night Courtyard. You can call me Alhaitham."
He extended a hand to her, palm open.
"Will you join us, Claire Cageno?"
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