The interior proved to be far more spacious than its exterior suggested.

  Along the walls stood neat wooden bookshelves, interspersed with potted plants trimmed into curious shapes. A wooden staircase rose at the center of the room, leading to the upper floor. Scattered throughout the space were velvet-cushioned chairs arranged around small round tables.

  From the way everything was laid out, it was clear that the furniture had only recently been brought in, likely prepared solely for the purposes of this final trial.

  All the candidates for the final round were already gathered here, scattered throughout the spacious hall, around fifty people in total. The arrival of the last two candidates did not draw much attention. Everyone seemed absorbed in their own thoughts, sealed inside their private worlds.

  The two figures in white vanished almost the moment they stepped inside.

  Ferir adjusted his clothes, swept his gaze around the room in search of a seat, and noticed an empty chair positioned right in the middle of the hall while all the others had already been taken. Several people were standing nearby, yet no one showed the slightest interest in that particular chair.

  Ferir did not think much of it and walked over to sit down. The cushion beneath him had not even had time to warm before he realized that the people around him were staring at him with strange expressions.

  Flustered, Ferir instinctively looked himself over, checking if there was something odd about his appearance.

  Even after confirming that there was nothing wrong, the gazes did not turn away. Some people whispered with looks of awkward sympathy, others covered their mouths and snickered softly, as though they were watching some lunatic suddenly strip naked and dance in the middle of the street.

  Ferir turned to look at the person sitting beside him, and his eyes widened in shock. The murmuring around him immediately grew louder.

  Sitting right next to him was Prince Kevin K. Alaskark.

  He seemed completely unconcerned by the commotion surrounding him, calmly reading a book as if nothing unusual was happening.

  For a brief moment, Ferir hesitated, wondering whether he should stay where he was or quickly find another seat.

  Before he could make a decision, a solemn voice rang out:

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  “Candidates, please focus your attention here.”

  All the candidates immediately turned their gazes toward the staircase in the center of the room, where two individuals dressed in white had just appeared.

  “I will briefly explain the rules of this round,” one of them said. “Those whose names are called should proceed to the second floor. That is where you will receive your trial challege.”

  “As with the previous rounds, this is a direct elimination. There is no fixed number of candidates who will pass. As long as you can prove that you are qualified, you may advance.”

  “The results given are final. Objections will not be accepted. If anyone have any questions, please ask now.”

  Finishing his words, the person in white rolled the parchment back up and cast a brief glance around, waiting for a response.

  The candidates exchanged looks with one another. The examination was so vague that no one even knew what to ask.

  Seeing the silence, the person in white took out another sheet of parchment.

  “Then, the Trial of Manner will now begin. Those whose names are called, please proceed to the upper floor.”

  With that, he read out five names in one breath. Ferir’s name was not among them, nor was the Prince’s. The first five candidates quickly moved upstairs, their faces filled with confusion.

  “What do you think they’ll do up there…?”

  Ferir asked without thinking, before remembering who was standing beside him. Realizing his slip, he hurriedly added:

  “…Your Highness?”

  Having met once before only made this reunion more awkward, especially now that the noble status of the person beside him was no longer a secret.

  The young Prince glanced sideways at him, his brows knitting slightly, clearly uncertain whether the question had been directed at him. Seeing this, Ferir told himself not to expect any answer at all.

  “Here, you and I are both candidates. Don’t call me that.”

  Then he fell silent for two seconds.

  “Just call me Kevin.”

  Ferir hesitated for a brief moment, but still broke into a smile.

  “Then, Kevin, I’m Ferir Hakken. It’s a pleasure to meet you!”

  The surrounding space fell deathly quiet. People looked at Ferir as if he were a complete fool. A second passed before the young Prince replied in a flat voice,

  “Ferir Hakken. I’ll remember that.”

  At the same moment, hurried footsteps suddenly rang out from the upper floor. Immediately after, a group of people dressed like medical staff rushed down carrying a stretcher. Lying on it was a dark-skinned boy, unconscious and drenched in sweat.

  He was one of the first five candidates who had been called upstairs.

  For a few heartbeats, the room was silent enough to hear breath.

  Then the whispers rose all at once. The guards at the doors moved immediately, blocking any candidate who tried to rush out after the medical team. The doors were shut tight again with a heavy thud.

  The same question echoed from every corner of the room.

  This round was called Trial of Manner. What part of “manner” could possibly leave someone in that state?

  Do you decide whether to continue reading The Ruler? (I would be so grateful you could explain the reason in the comments.)