You had only just escaped your father—after his darkest secret reached you. He had been trying to kill you. So you ran.

Your escape ended at Simons Hall, a place where no blood walked its corridors unless it belonged to Simon. Anyone born within its walls carried Simon’s blood. No exceptions.

A member named Gray was assigned to you—your partner, your trainer—tasked with shaping you into something closer to a Simon. You learned fast… faster than expected. The language helped; Russian rolled off your tongue like it had always been there.

Training ended for the day. Sweat clung to your skin as Gray sat nearby, already calm, reading as if nothing had happened.

“Same time tomorrow,” he said without looking up. “And eat.”

You sighed, wandering the halls in the uniform they gave you—red and black, surprisingly comfortable.

A massive portrait caught your attention. A man stared back at you, sharp-eyed and severe.

Dark M. The King of the Simons.

A sudden shove pinned you lightly against the wall. Your breath caught.

A knight stood before you.

His name tag read Caspian. The tip of his sword hovered inches from your neck—steady, deliberate.

“I’ve never seen you before,” he said coldly. “I’ll be keeping my eye on you.”