"We're friends, right?" Robb asked quietly. "At least, that's how I see it."
Andrey looked up, a complex emotion flickering in his eyes.
"Of course. I feel the same."
"Then if something's bothering you, just say it," Robb's voice was calm and sincere. "I won't pretend I can solve all your problems, but I can listen. Sometimes, just talking about something terrible helps ease the burden."
Andrey sighed again, setting down his tea, his hands clasped so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
"I don't even know where to begin…" he finally said, his voice tinged with rare vulnerability. "It's… complicated."
Robb didn't push. He waited patiently. He knew that in moments like this, silence was often the best support.
"Do you remember last month, when we were talking and you mentioned Talisa? My reaction was… off."
Robb nodded.
"I did notice. But I figured it wasn't the right time to ask."
It wasn't the first time. Every time Talisa was mentioned—that girl who rose from a humble hunter's background to become a mid-tier apprentice—Andrey's mood would shift.
"I saw her at the apothecary about half a month ago," Robb added calmly. "She looked busy."
"Yeah. As Lady Corrina's disciple, her status is quite high now."
Andrey's tone carried a hint of something hard to define—bitterness, perhaps. His lips pressed into a tight line.
"Remember when we all first arrived at the Black Mist Forest? Back then, she was still so…"
His voice trailed off, his gaze distant with nostalgia and sadness.
Robb remained silent, certain that Andrey was finally about to reveal a long-hidden truth.
"I once…" Andrey hesitated, nervously fiddling with a button on his coat. "I once tried to get close to her. Tried to court her. It was shortly after we arrived here. I still held on to some naive fantasies from the capital."
Robb raised an eyebrow.
"You pursued Talisa? Seriously?"
"Don't give me that look." Andrey rolled his eyes. "I am the 13th prince of the royal family, remember? Back in the capital, I had noble girls swooning all over me."
"And? She turned you down?"
"Of course she did." Andrey laughed bitterly. "Her rejection was brutally direct: 'I came here to change my fate, not relive the miserable past. Royals like you, born with silver spoons, shouldn't bother trying to get close to me.'"
"Ouch," Robb whistled. "That's rough. So that's when your illusions shattered?"
Andrey punched him lightly in the chest, knowing full well it wouldn't hurt.
"Laugh all you want. But yeah, that's when I truly realized how this world works—no matter where you go, the weak are meant to look up to the strong. Out here, no one gives a damn which prince you are. All that matters is your power."
"But that's only part of it…" Andrey said, lowering his voice further. "The truth is, the ones who sent me here never expected me to become a real mage apprentice."
Robb's eyebrows lifted slightly, waiting for him to continue.
"The royal family long gave up on my mental aptitude."
Andrey gave a bitter smile.
"They sent me here not to become a mage, but to use the abundant supernatural resources to cultivate my knightly potential."
"Knight potential?" Robb was surprised.
"Yeah. I'm way more gifted as a knight than a mage."
Andrey explained, "Their plan was to train me into a combat knight—a protector for someone they deemed more valuable."
His voice twisted with pain.
"And that 'valuable investment'... was Talisa. The very girl I initially tried to court."
Robb began to understand the tangled mess of emotions—but he could tell this wasn't the whole story.
"She rejected you. That wounded your pride, sure. But there's more, isn't there?"
"Things only got worse!" Andrey nearly shouted. "After I failed to win over Talisa, the royal family began pushing me toward another female apprentice—Cynthia."
That name didn't ring a bell for Robb.
"Sorry, I don't think I've heard you mention her."
"She arrived at the forest ten years ago," Andrey said, his face as dry and cracked as a drought stricken field. "She's a high-tier apprentice now—just barely promoted."
His fingers clenched tightly, nearly digging into his own skin.
"Cynthia has a horrible reputation. She toys with her servants in disgusting ways—especially handsome young men."
The blond prince's face twisted in pain as he made a drilling gesture with his fingers.
"She's into… very special practices. Like using thornball grass to… explore sensitive parts of her servants. Word is, she goes through a new one every year."
Robb winced, a phantom pain creeping down below the belt. He was starting to understand Andrey's suffering.
The royal family was essentially offering him up as a male concubine—and not the glamorous kind. A disposable plaything for a cruel mistress.
"Does the royal family know about all this?" Robb asked carefully.
"Of course they know."
Andrey's eyes burned with rage and despair.
"But they don't care. To them, securing the support of a high-tier apprentice is worth the cost. What's a useless thirteenth prince, anyway?"
His voice nearly broke.
"Robb, I don't know what to do anymore. I hoped I could carve my own path through strength. But…"
"Your progress isn't fast enough," Robb finished. "And my recent breakthrough gave you a sliver of hope."
Andrey nodded, his gaze shimmering with complex emotions.
"I wanted to forge a stronger alliance with you. But even as an apprentice now, your influence and strength still aren't enough to oppose a high-tier apprentice."
"So you've been hesitating to tell me all this."
Robb nodded slowly.
"Because you weren't sure I could help—and even more unsure if I'd want to risk making an enemy out of someone that powerful."
Andrey weakly nodded again.
"I know it's selfish. But I really didn't know who else to turn to…"