The silence was suffocating.
"You are Trey."
The name felt unfamiliar.
Sharp.
Empty.
"Trey, the one who has renounced the throne."
There it was.
My life, neatly reduced to a sentence.
"You have until sunset to gather your belongings and prepare for departure."
The Emperor struck the floor three times with his sword.
Then he rose.
Walked down from the throne.
And stopped in front of me.
Without hesitation, he reached for the imperial crest embroidered onto my clothes.
Ripped it free.
And threw it onto the floor.
I couldn't breathe.
My hands alternated between burning hot and ice cold.
My whole body felt the same.
I didn't remember how I made it back to my room.
Only fragments remained.
People staring at me from all sides as if I were some strange beast dragged out for public display.
A rare curiosity.
Something ugly, but interesting enough to look at.
I wanted to scream.
To break something.
To let all of it out.
But what exactly would that solve?
Nothing.
So all I could do was accept it.
Or pretend to.
Back in my room, I collapsed onto the bed without even changing clothes and shut my eyes, clinging to one pathetic hope.
That this was all just another dream.
A cruel one.
But when I opened my eyes again—
nothing had changed.
Some time later, a servant entered my room carrying clothes prepared for travel.
No crest.
No embroidery.
No decoration.
Just simple black garments.
Trousers.
A shirt.
A coat.
Beside them lay a small sack for my belongings.
Apparently, even packing for exile was now my personal responsibility.
I let out a long breath.
I had no idea what I was supposed to bring to an academy.
Or what kind of life was waiting for me there.
Still, I began packing.
Because what else was there left to do?