It seemed the magical device contained some kind of sedative, because Rein felt overwhelmingly drowsy. Still, he forced himself to stay awake.
After several minutes of silence—ensuring Elie was truly gone—Rein slipped out of bed and quickly left the room.
"Phew." He exhaled in relief, the heaviness in his eyes fading.
He trailed his hand along the wall as he headed to the study. The location of "that thing" could only be found at night—which was why he hadn't retrieved it earlier.
Honestly, Rein suspected it was one of Reinhart's hidden research findings, something the protagonist would later discover. If true, Reinhart was far more brilliant—and dangerous—than he'd thought.
Once at the study door, he retrieved the key he'd stashed away. He'd gotten it from Elie earlier; after all, this was his study. It was only natural he had the key.
Rein stepped inside, holding his breath. The room was dimly lit by the aromatherapy candle on his desk. Strangely, the candle never burned out or diminished.
His magenta eyes scanned the room for any hidden mechanisms. He dropped to the floor, checking every corner and beneath the desk.
"Where is it?" he muttered after circling the room twice with no success.
He pulled books from the shelves one by one, stacking them on the floor. Finally, behind one of them, he spotted it—a hidden magical device shaped like a palm scanner.
Rein pressed his right hand against it. Nothing happened.
"Huh?" He pulled back, confused, recalling how effortlessly the protagonist had activated it in the story.
"This doesn't make sense. The protagonist just brute-forced it open because he was overpowered. But Reinhart wouldn't create something he couldn't unlock himself."
Clutching the candle, Rein paced the room, illuminating every crevice. Then he saw it—a dark stain on the back of the book, like dried fluid.
"Is this… blood? Reinhart, you madman!"
Rein realized he'd underestimated the original owner's insanity. He had no knife to draw blood—would he have to bite his finger?
Luckily, the imperial doctor's special medicine dulled his pain receptors. Without hesitation, Rein bit his thumb until blood welled up.
He smeared it onto the mechanism. Seconds later, crimson light seeped from the device, spreading across the floor in intricate patterns.
Rein's eyes widened.
"A magic circle?"
He'd seen these in Reinhart's research notes. So this was what they were for.
As the light completed its circuit, the left bookshelf slid open like a hidden door, the wall behind it vanishing as if it had been an illusion all along.
「 Reinhart wasn't supposed to have magic. Where did he get the energy to create this?! 」
The more Rein uncovered, the more unnerved he became.
「 I need to grab it before Elie returns! 」
Time was running out. He hurried into the hidden chamber.
Inside, only one object lay waiting—a shimmering black-blue crystal fragment, glowing faintly inside a glass case. Beside it was a note detailing its function. Rein snatched both and rushed out.
Panting, he hastily re-shelved the books and wiped the bloodstain clean.
The illusionary wall reappeared, the bookshelf sliding back into place. A glance at the magical bell-clock confirmed fifteen minutes had passed. Elie would return soon.
Rein cracked open the glass case and unfolded Reinhart's note. By the candle's flickering light, he read:
---
[ || Helio Fragment || ]
Personal Notes:
If body and soul are separated, something terrifying takes form.
Usage:
Wear while sleeping. Your soul will leave your body, unbound by any restraint. No physical weakness or barrier can stop you. Only those you permit may see you—or certain individuals who sense your presence.
Deactivation:
Remove the fragment from your body.
Side Effects:
You may go mad.
---
Rein's gaze fixated on the last line. Was this what drove Reinhart insane?
But why had the protagonist's friend suffered no side effects? Was it due to the protagonist's plot armor?
「 Should I try it tonight? If the Emperor realizes I'm not his son tomorrow, I might not be executed outright—but imprisonment is likely. This thing could be my escape route. 」
The fragment was designed to be worn—as a necklace or bracelet. Rein chose the latter, concealing it beneath his long sleeve.
He burned the note, scattering the ashes, then dashed back to his bedroom.
Elie still hadn't returned. Rein clutched his left wrist, where the bracelet rested. A piercing cold shot through his veins.
His energy drained instantly. Consciousness plummeted into darkness the moment he reached his bed.
"Ugh!" A groan tore from his throat—then he froze. Someone else was here.
He turned.
And saw himself lying on the floor.
"Am I… a spirit now?"
Rein touched his own chest. Solid. Not the intangible ghost he'd imagined. It felt like having two bodies.
He reached for his physical form—no phasing through. A small mercy. Explaining his collapsed body to Elie would've been a nightmare.
He hauled his unconscious self onto the bed, tucking it under the blankets. A check confirmed it was still breathing.
「 What the hell was Reinhart planning with this power?」
Rein decided to test it first. Venturing beyond the palace was too risky. Instead, he'd visit the guards' quarters—a place he'd never normally see.
He needed to know if they truly couldn't perceive him.
As he turned to leave, an idea struck. Instead of the door, he pushed through the wall.
His spirit-form liquefied, slipping effortlessly past solid stone.
"This is amazing!" He pulled his arm back, then did it again.
A wild impulse took hold. He ran through walls, zigzagging like a child in a dream. An euphoric thrill surged through him.
Even the darkness didn't hinder him—his vision pierced through shadows like daylight. The frustration of Reinhart's frail body melted away under this bizarre, exhilarating freedom.
Yet… something felt off.
He pushed the unease aside.
Next, he leapt from his third-floor window, landing soundlessly like a feather. No impact. No pain. Just giddy disbelief.
Grinning, he dashed through courtyards, eventually reaching the guards' barracks. Warm light spilled from the windows, laughter echoing inside.
Five off-duty guards lounged around, polishing weapons.
"I heard Prince Reinhart's health is worsening. We're not even allowed in his line of sight. Isn't his life just… pitiful?" one remarked, scrubbing his spear.
"Aside from his personal attendant, the imperial physician, and His Majesty, no one's permitted to speak to him. How's that different from prison? Why's the Emperor so cruel to his own son?" another grumbled.
"Rumors say the prince has already gone mad. Can you blame him? What sane person wouldn't break after being caged like that? Even his last attendant quit because of his insanity," a female guard added, stirring the gossip pot.
"Enough!" A senior guard cut in. "You know nothing. Do your jobs and keep your mouths shut."
The gossiping trio were recent transfers, clueless about the truth.
"You've no idea how much His Majesty cherishes Prince Reinhart. This isolation is for the prince's health," another veteran explained.
"Years ago, before the prince was confined here, he was always at the Emperor's side. I was there—I saw how adored he was. But his health deteriorated. He couldn't tolerate others without suffering. So His Majesty built this palace just for the prince."
"Then why's he left alone with just one attendant?" the woman challenged.
"Because Prince Reinhart refused all visits—even His Majesty's. The Emperor's decisions hurt the prince too deeply." The senior guard wiped his brow, as if pained by the tragedy.
Silence fell. Pity hung thick in the air.
In the corner, Rein—still in spirit form—stood frozen, arms crossed. One phrase looped in his mind:
"The Emperor cherishes Prince Reinhart."
---