"From what I've heard, the Absolute Judge is chosen by the Queen… was there no one she chose before her death?"
"Ah, you seem quite knowledgeable," the Prince replied as he sat beside the grave. "That must be the result of your ageless soul. You are correct—the Judge is chosen by the Queen. However, the last Judge was the Queen herself. And just as two kings cannot exist at once, neither can two Judges. She could not pass on her title."
His gaze lingered on the name carved into the stone.
"My mother was chosen by the previous Queen—the woman you met at the entrance—to become the Absolute Judge of this land. She intended to pass on the role in time… but it seems my father had other plans."
I remained silent, trying to piece together everything he had said. With the Queen gone, the title of the Judge had vanished with her.
"Is there another way into the castle?" I asked. "I must enter. That much will not change."
"It is unfortunate," he said, rising to his feet, "but I cannot help you. I do not possess the authority to invite anyone inside, and even if I did, sneaking you in would be no different from sending you to your death. The Knight Order would erase you without hesitation." There was a faint shift in his expression. "I do not have the power to usurp the throne. I cannot end my father's rule. I am a Prince… in name alone."
"I see. Then I thank you for your time." I bowed slightly and turned to leave.
"Do not attempt to enter by force," he said from behind me. "It will not end well for you. Not for anyone."
"…With respect," I replied without turning, "I don't believe they can stop me. I have fought and defeated the four knights sent to kill the Queen of Eden. I have faced what this kingdom calls its best… and survived. I believe I've earned the right to say I can do it."
There was a brief silence.
"We shall see," he said.
There was no anger in his voice—only certainty.
He turned and walked away. I did the same, stepping out beneath a sky that had grown heavy. The sun that once watched over us was now hidden behind thick clouds, darker than the night itself.
"Did you get what you came here for?"
The frail voice stopped me.
"Yes," I replied.
The old woman stood before me, having appeared without a sound. She must have been waiting for the Prince to leave.
"That boy… he misses his mother every day," she said softly, her grip tightening slightly on her staff. "I hope you didn't make him relive those memories."
"…About that…" I hesitated, then spoke. I told her everything—why I came, what I asked, and what I learned.
She listened without interrupting. When I finished, she exhaled quietly.
"I see… You carry something heavy," she said. "But not everything you carry belongs to you. And yet, you walk forward with it anyway."
She turned and began to leave.
"Is that meant to be admirable," I asked, "or foolish?"
Her steps didn't slow.
"In a place like this," she said, "there is no difference."