I'm in another world, and I start out transformed into Lancelot.

Her existence itself is an anomaly, a blank spot that should absolutely not appear in the scroll of his past life's memories.

(She never appeared in my previous life... Who is she? Why is she here? Whom does she serve?)

A string of cold questions instantly took over.

Is she Nunnally's protective bulwark? Is she Schneizel's spy on him? Or is she another unknown plot planted by Charles?

The most crucial question is—

(Could she become... a variable?)

This word weighed heavily on Lelouch's heart.

Uncertainty means loss of control, and it means that the "predicting the future" card he is currently relying on may develop a fatal crack due to her presence.

A sense of crisis, as fine as a spider's thread, brushed against his nerve endings. But it was instantly crushed by Lelouch's powerful and ruthless willpower.

(Useless fear is pointless. The unknown... is the challenge.)

He forced himself to pull his thoughts away from the fog of information created by Melusin and refocus on the door that was right in front of him.

My gaze fell on the smooth, cool doorknob.

(Variables...are potential threats, but they could also be... variables that can be utilized.)

If her position is not hostile, or if there is an operational loophole in her objectives…

This silver figure might become a fulcrum to leverage an even bigger plan.

The key is before officially entering the game against Euphemia.

We need to find a way to obtain even the smallest fragment of information in this unknown territory.

Lelouch felt the hardness of the gift box's edge clearly with his fingertips. His gaze calmed, and with a slight movement of his wrist, he gently pushed open the heavy door.

Chapter 28 The First Signs of a Filial Son

Time returns to the present——

The morning light, frozen in the corner of the window, is like a tranquil dewdrop in an ancient courtyard, dappled with golden light.

Lelouch's deep, hoarse voice said, "Let's be open and honest..." His declaration, as cold as a blade, followed immediately after he landed:

"Because the core you see and suspect... I, Lelouch Lamperouge, am Zero!"

He would never reveal the truth about his rebirth; the sorrow and bloody memories were enough for him to know alone.

The air in the quiet room suddenly felt heavy, and Euphemia's breathing became labored.

She knew everything—his identity, his obsession.

But when Lelouch so decisively and unexpectedly tore apart the entire world that Suzaku depended on for survival under Melsin's gentle gaze.

A pure, chilling astonishment, directed at “timing and occasion,” pierced Euphemia’s heart.

Her gaze quickly fixed on Suzaku, the only one isolated from the truth and about to be struck down by the thunder of faith.

The anticipated carnage nearly froze her blood!

The one enshrined at the Storm Altar—Suzaku Kururugi. A hoarse, echoing sound, as if the soul had been suddenly torn apart:

"Z-Zero?!...Lel...Lelouch?!"

His emerald green pupils instantly lost focus, and everything he had built up in the past was engulfed in the flames of the poisoned rune "Zero".

Like a cub struck by an invisible thunderbolt, he suddenly sprang up, his hands frantically clutching Lelouch's collar.

Scalding tears, mixed with the shattering of his beliefs by his closest loved ones, gushed out like lava, etching a deep mark of sorrow onto his pale face!

"Why...why you?!...Why this road?! We agreed on the other road..."

The only sound of tearing apart was the exposed, bone-chilling abyss of nothingness revealed after the temple of faith was blown up by the hands of a loved one.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Just as Suzaku's spirit was on the verge of silent annihilation due to this nuclear explosion of cognition.

A grand, warm will, like the dawn's first light, yet as eternal and unshakeable as a mountain, gently embraced this space.

Like the giant oak in the center of the courtyard that has been bathed in countless years, it silently stretches out its broad branches and leaves, enough to shelter from storms and soothe life.

There is no oppressive force, only a deep acceptance of vulnerability and struggle stemming from the sedimentation of a long history.

All of Suzaku's limbs, convulsing with excruciating pain, and all the destructive vortexes rising from the ruins of his soul, were soothed by this ancient and gentle will.

Like a raging torrent surging into the cradle of the boundless deep sea—understood, accepted, and gently smoothed down into a river of heavy sorrow.

By the window, Melissa's figure blended even more softly into the golden veil woven by the morning light.

Deep within the amber-gold dragon's eyes, as if flowing from molten ancient metal, a gentle sigh seemed to pass through.

In the dragon fairy's eyes, the brown Shiba Inu was hit squarely on the nose by a thorn ball suddenly thrown by the deep-eyed black panther in the corner.

Not only was she stunned, but she was also in so much pain that her round, emerald-green eyes instantly filled with tears of immense confusion and grievance.

Large, glistening tears rolled down her cheeks, and even her sobs were caught in her throat, leaving only her trembling little figure silently asking, "Why?"

The pink Shiba Inu, guarding its brown companion, eagerly nuzzled its stiff playmate, letting out anxious whimpers, its purple crystal eyes filled with worry.

The deep purple pupils of the black panther perched proudly to the side didn't seem entirely aloof; they subtly revealed a hint of... relaxation after the dust had settled.

Even... in the gaze cast towards the brown tear-filled mass, there was a trace of extremely difficult-to-detect... a stinging apology?

A wisp of thought belonging to the essence of Melushin drifted leisurely across the dragon's sea of ​​consciousness:

Black Panther, oh Black Panther... He usually plays with that poisonous fruit covered in barbs, hiding it in a corner where even the moonlight can't reach.

Why throw it out today? Is it because the courtyard is too quiet and you want to see the splashes of water?

Or... was it because the pursuit was too intense, and finally, one grew tired and weary? The moment the claws loosened, that hidden weariness could not be concealed even by the moonlight.

That thorn-covered fruit...stained with the blood and grime of bygone days and the mournful cries of the deep palace...

It did, however, stir up some long-dormant curiosity about Gu Long.

Two restless little ones... one was terrified, tears streaming down his face, the other was pacing around anxiously. It was truly... impossible to have any peace and quiet.

Well, since I've already made the little one cry and caused a commotion in the yard... I'll just have to rein in my claws for now. An ancient courtyard, after all, needs a little peace and quiet.

Just as the ancient dragon restrained its overpowering aura, a gentler, warmer field, more easily accepted by weaker creatures, spread out.

Zhuque's body stopped trembling, but the fingers gripping his clothes clung to the floating object like a drowning person.

Tears streamed down her face, her emerald pupils were empty and blank, leaving only a vast emptiness pierced by the upheaval and a fragile sorrow like that of a lost young animal.

Within this frozen sorrow, enveloped in boundless tenderness—

Suzaku looked up, tears still wet on his face, his pupils reflecting Lelouch's silhouette torn apart by the "Zero" label.

His Adam's apple bobbed, and he choked out a muttering that seemed to well up from the ruins of his soul:

"Only you... Lelouch... only you are... different..."

Lelouch's body stiffened almost imperceptibly. An indescribable torrent of bittersweet emotions surged against his cold, hardened heart.

The sting of being pierced by this stubborn trust, the helplessness at how naive and insignificant this "difference" seems in the face of a dark fate, and the deep-seated cherishing hidden beneath the hard shell...

The frozen mask cracked open.

He didn't look at Melusin; his gaze was fixed on the green eyes that were close to his, blurred by tears.

His movement to pry the other person's fingers away paused slightly. His voice, heavy, weary, and tinged with a complex emotion, sighed: "...Idiot."

The soft rebuke was like a feather brushing past, its tone hoarse at the end: "...Even at a time like this...you're still so...naive."

It was less a rebuke and more a weary surrender and compromise, soaked with the blood and fire of the past...

It is a helpless acknowledgment and a hidden appreciation of this pure trust that stubbornly clings even amidst the ruins of lies.

In the depths of Zhuque's bewildered green eyes, a subtle warmth seemed to pierce through the familiar tone, and the dusty light flickered slightly. Tears flowed more, faster.

Lelouch brushed aside Suzaku's futilely hanging, sorrowful finger, his deep purple pupils sweeping towards the window.

He could clearly sense the warm, spring-like sighs of acceptance directed at Suzaku and Euphemia, and the deep, curious gaze falling upon him.

This silent judgment and understanding is more piercing than a sharp blade.

He turned to Euphemia, who was unconsciously leaning toward the warm, solid, ancient figure by the window.

His voice was deep and resonant, like a stone thrown into a deep pool: "And one of the core objectives driven by this identity..." His words carried the weight of destiny:

"...The goal is to uncover the brutal truth behind Princess Marianne's murder, a truth that Emperor Charles himself sealed in her tomb!"

The air seemed to freeze like cold amber, and Euphemia's slender shoulders trembled slightly.

She could almost see the heart of Princess Cornelia, shattered by the truth beneath her cold armor, and the same burning flame of revenge in Lelouch's eyes!

In the face of immense loneliness and biting cold, she almost instinctively took a tiny step closer to the silent yet eternally warm presence by the window.

As she turned slightly to the side, her delicate shoulders and back gently touched a cool yet rock-solid lake-blue fold.

The warm and solid blue of the lake subtly accepted this slight reliance, like an ancient tree catching a trembling fledgling with its branches.

Lelouch looked directly at Euphemia, his words precise, like a scalpel cutting open a scabbed wound:

“So, Euphemia, you said that Princess Cornelia has kept the truth about my mother’s murder at a level you can’t reach.”

His gaze, sharp as a hawk's, pierced through the weight of time and space: "Since she was willing to obstruct your investigation and bear this heavy burden alone—"

He leaned forward, each word carrying the cold insight and immense power of a reborn individual, clearly questioning the taboo:

"—Tell me, what is her reason for concealing the truth? Is it fear that the source of the bloodshed points directly to..."

The voice suddenly grew louder, like the final pronouncement of a trial: "...Our father, Emperor Charles of Britannia?"

The air was no longer frozen and lifeless, but instantly transformed into a vacuum filled with sharp ice shards.

This accusation, stripped of all speculative prefixes, is based directly on Euphemia's earlier information and pushes Cornelia's motivations toward the most dangerous and core possibilities!

It revealed the most fundamental and deadly source of Cornelia's information blockade—her supreme father was likely the culprit!

Euphemia's body jolted violently, as if struck by the very force of the precise and cruel question itself.

This was no longer about asking Cornelia what she had found out, but about demanding that Euphemia confirm the most chilling fear behind Cornelia's actions!

It directly forced Euphemia to confront the ultimate fear that she might have been subconsciously avoiding or that Cornelia had been trying to guide her away from.

What the Empress is desperately trying to conceal is precisely the indelible evidence of the Emperor's crimes?!

The immense pressure made her slender shoulders involuntarily turn to the fairy knight by the window for a bit more support.

Yuffie's gaze involuntarily fell upon Melusin, whose deep amber eyes seemed to become the only anchor in the turbulent ocean.

The azure lake that embraced her gentle leaning seemed to sense the sudden increase in pressure, radiating a more profound and warmer protective glow.

Lelouch's question was like an echo bomb thrown into the abyss, waiting in silence for a response that was destined to shatter the soul.

Chapter 29 The Knight's True Face

Lelouch's cold question was like a boulder thrown into a deep pool, stirring up dull ripples in the stagnant air.

Euphemia trembled slightly and leaned back, her slender back pressed tightly against the cool support behind her.

His violet pupils dilated, filled with the cruelty of the accusation, the fear of his elder sister's fate, and the chill of touching darkness.

The black-haired boy's sharp purple eyes were fixed on the hazy light and shadow by the window.

Melusin remained languid, her face veiled to conceal all her expressions, leaving only her amber eyes, gleaming with a metallic sheen, visible behind the veil.

They became the only signal sources that Lelouch could analyze at that moment.

He mobilized all his mental energy to analyze the means by which the Vermilion Bird storm had been quelled before him, and instantly categorized it as an unprecedentedly powerful Geass.

It could only be the ultimate creation of Charles or VV.

He dropped the bombshell accusing Charles of being the source of the bloodshed precisely to test him.

When the words touched upon the Emperor's dual core—representing power and Geass—he was certain that he had caught a fleeting "pause" deep within his golden vertical pupils.

This is a sign that Geass mental energy has been triggered by key information, entering a state of high concentration or deep analysis!