Ken looked straight into the eye slits of the guard's helmet. To the crowd, it looked like Ken was just staring at him bravely. But inside the guard's mind, a voice boomed with the authority of a god.

  "Release him. Forgive him. Walk away."

  The guard’s body went rigid. The glowing magic around his fist vanished instantly. His brain became foggy. The anger that was boiling inside him was suddenly replaced by a confusing desire to be obedient.

  The guard blinked behind his helmet. He looked at Ken. He didn't see a messy office worker anymore. For a split second, his mind was tricked into thinking he was looking at a superior officer, someone he had to obey without question.

  The guard’s grip on the old man’s collar loosened. He gently lowered the old man to the ground.

  "I..." The guard’s voice was no longer shouting. It sounded confused and mechanical. "I see. He... he is old. Yes. You are right."

  The crowd stared in disbelief. What just happened? Did the guard just calm down?

  Ken patted the guard’s shoulder again, acting like a friendly neighbor. "Exactly," Ken said with a goofy smile. "He just slipped. No harm done, right? You're a kind protector of the people, aren't you?"

  The hypnotic spell was doing its work. The guard nodded slowly. "Yes. No harm done. I... I forgive him."

  The guard stepped back. He looked at his own hands, wondering why his anger had disappeared, but the magic in his mind told him that everything was normal. He turned around and walked back to his post near the Prince's car, standing at attention as if nothing had happened.

  The 7th Prince frowned. He looked disappointed that there was no bloodshed, but he waved his hand for the driver to continue. The car began to move again.

  Ken quickly crouched down and helped the old man stand up. "Are you okay, sir?" he whispered.

  The old man was shaking, tears streaming down his face. "Thank you... thank you, young man. You saved my life."

  "Don't worry about it," Ken said, dusting off the old man's jacket. "Just be careful next time."

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Ken guided the old man back to his family behind the barrier. The mother was crying, hugging the grandfather tight. The people in the crowd looked at Ken with wide eyes. They whispered among themselves.

  "Did you see that?"

  "He just talked the guard down!"

  "Who is he?"

  Ken didn't wait for the applause. He felt awkward. He quickly picked up his briefcase and his noodles. He checked the bag—luckily, the noodles weren't crushed.

  "Safe," he muttered.

  He quickly pushed his way through the crowd, trying to disappear before anyone asked him for his name. He hunched his shoulders and made his face look blank and stupid, blending in with the other tired workers.

  To the world, it looked like a miracle. A brave commoner had used the power of kindness to stop a brutal guard.

  But in reality, it was a display of terrifying power. Ken Eliot, the man who just wanted to eat his dinner, had effortlessly hijacked the mind of an elite Imperial soldier.

  As Ken walked away into the darkening street, he rubbed his eyes and yawned. "That was too much work," he thought. "I hope the water for the noodles boils fast."

  He turned the corner and vanished into the shadows of the city, leaving the confused crowd behind. The 7th Prince’s convoy disappeared into the distance, unaware that they had just crossed paths with the most dangerous anomaly in the world.

  ----

  The smell of roasted chicken and warm spices filled the small dining room of the Eliot household. It was a comfortable smell, the kind that made you want to close your eyes and forget about the world outside. The television in the living room was humming quietly in the background, but nobody was really watching it.

  Ken Eliot sat at his usual spot at the rectangular wooden table. He was wearing his favorite house clothes: a loose, faded t-shirt that said "I Paused My Game to Be Here" and comfortable sweatpants. He looked completely relaxed. To anyone looking at him, he was just a normal guy enjoying his mother’s cooking. He took a large bite of a potato, chewing slowly with a look of pure bliss on his face.

  "This is the life," Ken thought to himself. "No magic barriers, no arrogant princes, and definitely no heavy armor. Just me and a potato."

  Across the table, his younger sister, Jasmin, was not relaxed. She was tapping her fork against the side of her plate. Tap. Tap. Tap. It was a rhythmic, annoying sound that signaled she was thinking about something serious. Jasmin was in her final year of high school. She was smart, organized, and very realistic. She was everything Ken pretended not to be.

  She stared at her brother, watching him slouch in his chair. Finally, she couldn't hold it in anymore.

  "Brother," Jasmin said sharply.

  Ken didn't look up. He was busy fighting with a piece of chicken. "Mmm? What is it, Jas?"

  "Stop making that face while you eat. I have a serious question," she said, putting her fork down. "Have you applied for university yet? The entrance exams for the Imperial Academy and the National Business School are coming up next month."

  Ken froze. He slowly lowered his fork. The tasty potato suddenly felt heavy in his stomach. This was the conversation he hated the most.

  "University?" Ken repeated the word as if it was an alien concept. "Ah, right. That thing."

  "Yes, that thing," Jasmin said, narrowing her eyes. "You finished college last month. You can’t just sit around the house forever. Mom and Dad work hard, you know. So, what is the plan? Are you going for a magic degree? Engineering? Accounting?"

  Ken scratched the back of his messy hair. He leaned back in his chair, balancing on the two back legs. "Well, you see, Jas... I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. Deep thinking."

  "And?" Jasmin waited, expecting a serious answer.

  "And I decided that the city life is just too fast," Ken said with a dreamy smile. "Too much noise. Too many cars. Too many people yelling. I think my true calling is... nature."

  Jasmin blinked. "Nature?"

  "Yes!" Ken exclaimed, waving his hand dramatically. "Imagine it. A small house in the countryside. A nice little farm. I could grow carrots. Maybe raise a few chickens. I would wake up at noon, water the plants, and then take a nap under a big tree while the birds sing. Doesn't that sound like paradise?"

  Jasmin stared at him in silence for a full five seconds. Then, she slammed her hand on the table.

  "Are you crazy?!" she shouted.

  "Whoa, easy," Ken said, nearly falling backward in his chair. "You’ll spill the gravy."