While Reivan was busy massaging his cheeks and practicing facial expressions in front of the mirror, he felt a familiar presence right outside the door to his chamber.

“Come in, Roland,” Reivan called out before his elder brother could knock. “It’s unlocked.”

The door opened, revealing the crown prince in a white outfit that closely resembled the dashing American navy uniforms that he used to see in films. The first king of Aizen must have thought they looked nice too since the uniforms had been around since the dawn of the nation, with only minor changes to its looks. And Reivan could only agree with his ancestor's sentiments — the uniforms were indeed very nice.

“Hey.” Roland stepped in, a smile on his face. He strolled inside and seated himself on a nearby armchair, his legs crossed. “Good to see your senses are as sharp sharp as ever today. Especially since it's somewhat important.”

“You came to check on me?”

“Indeed. I wanted to assure you that even if you embarrass yourself out there, you’ll still be my brother and I’ll still love you. I’m sure everybody else feels the same way.”

The tips of Reivan’s lips teased upward at his brother’s words. Though spoken in a joking manner, he knew that they were genuine — he could feel it. Perhaps if he hadn’t just spent slightly more than twenty years away from everyone he loved, the warmth in his chest may have burned hotter.

Alas, all he could manage was a slight grin. “Thanks, I suppose.”

“Huh.” Roland paused thoughtfully, watching his reaction. Then the crown prince stood up and walked over to where Reivan was standing, putting a hand on his little brother’s shoulder. “You must be really nervous about the thing, huh? Are you sure you’re alright? Wanna talk about it?”

Reivan shook his head. “I’m not nervous. I have prepared extensively for this.”

“That’s a really big word you used right there. There really is something weird going on.”

“Did you just indirectly call me an idiot…?” Reivan frowned, then laughed. This time, it was a genuine laugh. He had missed talking to his family like this.

“There we go.” Roland snapped his finger and clapped him on the shoulder. “That’s the little brother I know and love. Just take it easy… Or not. Don’t do that. Still, don’t be too tense either. I got beat up during my time too, so just clench your teeth and you’ll be fine.”

“So we’re already assuming I’ll get beat up too…?”

The crown prince chuckled, his gaze landing on his and his brother’s reflection in the mirror. He released a nod of satisfaction as he admired the view. “We’re really lucky, huh? We were born like this. Stuffed with charisma and charm.”

Reivan followed his gaze and raised a brow. “Is that so? What use is your looks when you don’t use it to get more women?”

“Wow. Is that a dig at me and Father? You impudent little…” Roland lightly smacked the back of his brother’s head. “Womanizers shouldn’t shame those who are loyal.”

“Loyal, huh? I don’t think you two ever had a choice…”

“Oh, shut up.” Roland feigned anger before he shrugged with a smile as he turned around, walking back to the chair. “You just don’t get it, Rein. The feisty ones are also the sweetest. I suppose you’re still too young to understand these things. Hopefully, you come to understand this as you age.”

Reivan rolled his eyes, making sure his hair was perfect. “Whatever.”

“And do something about your face, will you?”

“...What? I’m more handsome than you though.”

“Are you picking a fight? That’s not what I meant.” Roland sat down, leaned back to relax, and crossed his legs. “Your expression. I know you want to hide your nervousness behind a calm smile, but you’re too… artificial. Try to be more natural. Like Jiji. That girl... I swear, she was meant for whatever it is she's doing now.”

Reivan’s brows furrowed as he stared deeply into the mirror, scrutinizing his own face. He couldn’t fathom what in the world his brother was talking about—though, that may have also been because he felt disconnected from his face.

‘It wouldn’t be the first time it happened, to be honest…’

Back when he was stuck in a hospital bed, there were times when he didn’t look at a mirror for weeks or months on end. He had people to take care of him, after all. That included his appearance. Even Kyouka was enthusiastic about styling his hair and whatnot. Rarely did he ever feel the need to check on his appearance.

And when he finally did get to look into a mirror after a long time, he’d always have this… feeling. A strange disconnect from what he knew he looked like to what he presently looked like. In hindsight, that may have also been because he was undergoing puberty among other things back then.

‘It feels like that time... but quite a bit worse.’

While training within the fragment of eternity, there weren’t any situations where he had to look at his face. In pursuit of efficiency, he naturally hadn’t bothered with doing things like maintaining his appearance, eating, drinking, or even bathing. That space was special, after all—he had no need for such mundane trifles.

Still, now that he was focusing on his face so much, Reivan realized what Roland was making an issue of — his face did look a bit… artificial. Like some sort of alien creature trying to emulate a human’s emotions.

‘Interesting. I’ve almost forgotten what I looked like. That’s strange, but not that big of a deal.’

Perhaps he should have taken a look at himself once every few years. Still, it wasn’t much of a detriment to what he needed to do. The ability to manipulate one’s expressions wouldn’t be too useful against what he was going to be fighting against a few hours from now.

‘Or is it?’

After some thought, Reivan recalled something fundamental about the trial he would undertake.

Years of solitude, focused only on training, sharpened him, but it seems to have dulled him in certain aspects. For a long time, he was focused on the result. He had his eyes on the prize of victory, making countless preparations on how to achieve it.

But that wasn’t it. That wasn’t why they were doing this whole thing.

The real purpose of participating in a trial match was to ease the people’s minds. They needed to be assured that the royal family was competent in many fields and weren’t crazy bastards who would start tyrannically throwing their weight around on a hot Monday.

At this rate, their impression of Reivan would be a very strong warrior with an impassive face that just screamed “I’m an uncaring piece of shit, don’t you dare meet my gaze for more than three microseconds” or something similar.

‘This… will be somewhat of a problem.’

Reivan debated spending a few months in a fragment of eternity just to recondition himself. But he didn’t even know what to do. How did one even restore a person’s familiarity with their own face? This wasn’t a problem normal people had anyway.

‘It’ll heal with time… But I don’t have time for that.’

He was sure that his mind was in peak condition at the moment. Tactics, strategies, and all sorts of other things were swimming around his head very clearly. Reivan could only describe it as being in the zone. If he spent that much time in a fragment of eternity just trying to refamiliarize himself with his face, he would lose that mindset and probably never get it again unless he dived back in for another decade of training.

‘But if I don’t, winning will mean nothing…’

Reivan frowned, troubled that something unexpected cropped up just when he wanted to focus on his upcoming fight. He then looked at his brother. “Help…”

“Hm?” Roland stopped fiddling with a silver pocketwatch, looking up with a raised brow. “About the fight? I’d be happy to help, but I’m not much of a fighter, so I can’t offer a lot of advice. I hadn’t awakened my qi during my trial, so I only had to fight some trained citizens and squires that Father planted in the tournament. I have no idea how you’re going to deal with the people you’re fighting… especially that one lady. She’s trouble…”

“Not that. I mean my face.”

“Your face…? You mean your expression?”

“Yes. Please help.”

Roland stared at him for a few moments, seemingly trying to decide if his little brother was joking or not. Soon, he stifled a chuckle and stood up. “Sure, sure… Man, I came here to give you a pep talk. I didn’t expect I’d be giving you facial management lessons…”

It took a while, and the two were almost late, but Reivan managed to fix his face enough for Roland to approve.

Gwendolyn Suprana progressed through the bustling streets with evenly spaced steps, the heels of her freshly shined military boots clicking against the pavement.

She had actually bought a new pair of boots, different from the pair she was wearing. But in the end, she opted for her old ones instead. Since the likelihood of being in close proximity to their great ruler was high and she wanted to look as presentable as possible when it happened, however, she just wasn’t accustomed to the new ones.

Since her orders were to obtain victory against the second prince, she had to prioritize that above something so trivial as her vain desires.

If fighting in her underwear was what would give her the best chance of victory, then that was what she would do — though she wouldn't actually show up in her underwear, as that would be a violation of public decency.

‘As we'd expected, the tournament this time is drawing more traffic than ever.’

Gwen kept track of her surroundings but didn’t let her pace fall. She noted how despite it being just the third day of the week-long festival, the crowd was already thinning. There weren't as many drunk people passed out along the streets and even some of the stalls were unmanned.

Obviously, it was because of the upcoming event at the arena — which was, incidentally, also her destination.

‘Mother and Sir Criston weren’t able to secure tickets…’

But that wouldn’t be much of a problem. New technology developed from the holostones would be officially unveiled today, allowing the entire nation to witness the glory of the royal family.

After all, even if it was a festival where the crown encouraged the people to celebrate, the country’s economy couldn’t just halt while everyone made merry. Some people would have to man the forts, so to speak. The arena, though large, didn’t have the capacity to seat everyone in Aizen either — nor could the capital city contain every citizen in the country. If it could, the kingdom would have had no need to expand its cities underground.

Hence, the newly developed Sky Panels would project the fight for all in the kingdom to see. Artifacts that telepathically transmitted sound directly into one’s mind would also be interspersed throughout the various cities.

And so, Gwen’s mother and the knight could watch the fight from the comfort of their own home. They were probably cuddling and kissing and whatnot, unaware that Gwen had already found out about their relationship.

‘They really thought I didn’t know…’

Sir Criston was already married and with children, so if they were hiding things from the main wife, their relationship could be considered an illegal affair.

Gwen wanted things to be official though. No matter how the previous kings made it seem otherwise, Aizen supported polygamy and polyamory as long as all parties consented. She really didn’t want to have to arrest her own mother for something that could have been easily avoided.

‘Hm. They're old so they should know how to take care of themselves.’

She wouldn’t stick her nose in that pile of dung for now. Gwen had other matters to attend to. Besides, as someone who was outwardly part of the administration department, she knew that the government wasn't too strict regarding marital issues. At the very least, the portal to a world filled with an endless number of monsters was a bigger concern than who was fucking who's spouse.

While her thoughts wandered, Gwen's steady steps eventually led her to the arena’s back entrance, where a few armored knights holding halberds stood guard. They were armored too, though she was sure those were made by their [Soul Armaments] as well — just one of Aizen's many advantages in combat.

The weightless armor manifested through this method was a facade. What was truly important was the "Damage Resistance" that the armor bestowed upon the wearer. Unlike normal armor, pure damage resistance had no gaps. A normal citizen — or even a newly knighted squire — trying to stab Gwen in the eye would have had no such luck with how high her damage resistance was.

“Good morning, Dame Gwendolyn.” One of the guards greeted her with a nod and a smile. “Awfully early, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir.” Gwen saluted with a serious look on her face. Though she was significantly stronger than the knights in front of her and higher ranked too, they had served this nation quite a bit longer than she had. The fact alone meant that they were deserving of her respect — this, she believed with her heart. “I didn’t want to be late so I came exactly thirty minutes early.”

“Is that right? Well then. We won’t hold you up.”

The two guard knights stepped aside and let her through.

Gwen dipped her head at the two seniors before confidently striding inside. She had already scouted the place in advance a few days ago, so she already knew where her waiting room was. A glance at her watch told her that she’d made good time. There would be plenty of opportunities to meditate before the fight, or at least exchange information with the other knights slated to fight with the second prince — surely, they had done some investigation on the prince's abilities much like she had.

Once she made it outside the waiting room, Gwen knocked politely even though she couldn’t sense anybody inside. It was just basic courtesy after all. After an appropriate amount of time had passed, she opened the door and stepped inside only to freeze in place.

“Quite early, girl.” Donovan, his face stern and unkind as usual, was sitting on a chair right in the middle of the training room.

Gwen’s clammy hands wiggled indecisively and she wanted to turn around and leave at the speed of light itself. For once in her career as a proud knight of Aizen, she regretted being so damned punctual.

"Oh? What's wrong with your face?" The balding instructor that just about every knight under the ascendant realm knew furrowed his brows. "You look like you just stepped on something putrid. Why don't you step inside and tell me what troubles you, Gwendolyn."

"...Yes, sir."

Gwendolyn took a seat and shrunk into herself, her face feigning calm.