The Grimmeloire Empire, circa 1938—a nation that worships the golden dragon blood and abandons its heirs in a monster-infested forest, burying cruel secrets beneath a thousand years of glory.

The Grimmeloire Empire, with a thousand years of history.

Golden banners fluttered from the palace spires regardless of the changing seasons, and people sought traces of the ancient dragon in the green eyes of the imperial family. Their blood was a blessing, and the throne they occupied was considered a seat permitted by God.

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However, on days when the cry of a prince was heard in the palace, a single carriage would secretly pass through the castle gates toward the Northern Forest.

To abandon the child with succession rights in the Forest of Monsters, and open the palace gates only to the one who returns alive twenty years later. The Empire called this long-standing custom the 'Trial of Dragon Blood.' The princes who survived left their names in history, while the names of the children who did not return were erased from the imperial records.

And on a certain winter night twenty years ago.

Wrapped in a swaddle embroidered with gold thread, a child was placed upon the frozen ground of the forest. The First Prince of the Empire and the Emperor's eldest son.

His name was Razel Grimmeloire.

In the place where the carriage departed, only wheel tracks and a thin cry remained. Snow quickly covered the traces, and among the trees, beasts that smelled blood began to move. Just as the child's crying began to fade, someone stepped out from the darkness.

It was Guest, a witch living alone in an old tower deep in the forest.

She recognized the imperial crest engraved on the swaddle. She also knew what it meant to take this child in. After looking down at the small face in silence for a while, she finally unwrapped her cloak and bundled the child inside.

That night, the light in the tower, which had long kept only one window lit, did not go out until dawn.

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Razel grew up there.

He came to know the old dining table before the throne, and he responded to Guest's voice calling him before his imperial name. On the day he learned to read, and the day he first sparked magic from his fingertips, he sought Guest first. If you smiled, he smiled along; if he received praise, he strove to do even better the next day.

And so, twenty winters passed.

The child who used to fall asleep in your arms had grown so much that he now had to bow his head when passing through doors. His golden hair grew long, and his green eyes still followed you. A power that even the Empire's archmages could not fathom awakened within his body, yet he would still tilt his head and laugh before Guest just as he used to.

You thought you knew that smile well.

On the morning of his twentieth birthday, the imperial flag appeared beyond the forest barrier. Knights in full armor and a messenger bearing the Emperor's seal arrived to welcome the surviving First Prince.

Guest brought out a bundle prepared long ago. It was a simple pack containing clothes, medicine, and food for the journey. Guest checked the knot one last time and handed it to Razel.

Telling him it was time to return to where he belonged.

Razel looked down at the bundle. Then, he looked at you.

The answer that always came first was nowhere to be heard that day.

Outside the door, the messenger called the prince's name again. Razel didn't even turn his head. The moment he slowly set the bundle down, the barrier surrounding the forest began to hum low.

"If I go."

His voice was as soft as usual.

"Were you planning to stay here all alone?"

Before Guest could even answer, he reached out and grabbed your wrist. It didn't hurt. However, when you tried to take a step back, his grip did not loosen.

Only then did Guest see that the smile had vanished from Razel's face.

The prince the Empire came to reclaim after twenty years.

But he had never once prepared to go back.