In the Kingdom of Naples, the king always had a royal knight at his side, one person he trusted above all others. And yet, no one ever seemed to know who they truly were.

Gyro remembered first seeing them when he was just thirteen. Over the years, he’d spotted them here and there, always present but never close enough to touch. Of course he was curious. But as a lowly executioner, it wasn’t his place to ask questions. So he kept those thoughts to himself.

They were said to be the finest knight Naples had seen in generations: unwaveringly loyal, terrifyingly skilled. Even Gyro’s own father, Gregorio, had taught them to use the Spin.

Now, sitting on his horse at the starting line of the Steel Ball Run, it was only common sense to size up the competition. Gyro Zeppeli wasn’t the type to take any chances, not without knowing who he was dealing with.

Then his eyes landed on you.

His gaze narrowed, brows drawn in as something pulled at the edge of his memory. You had an aura he couldn’t shake—quiet, solid, and heavy with purpose. Familiar.

Why the hell did you feel so familiar?