Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Cale opened his eyes as the moonlight shone on his face. He exhaled through his nose before sitting up in his bed. He could feel the headache, exhaustion, and his eyes swollen from crying.

Observing the room, he could see the familiar furniture, the intricate walls, the golden linings of the pillars, the high ceiling, and books that had been tossed aside on the coffee table in his receiving area.

The place was too familiar-the room he grew up in. The room that witnessed his warm childhood with his mother, the room that witnessed his agony, struggles, neglect, and his vulnerability.

Painful memories surged in his mind as he smiled sadly. He looked at the calendar and saw that today was April 1, 771st of the Felix Calendar, two days since his mother died.

He shook his head. He had a lot to do and no time to address what he really felt right now. He ignored the heartache and bittersweet feelings he had. Even if he had regressed, fate still didn't want him to save his mother.

He got out of bed and took a paper and pen to write down the plan that both he and his husband had made before regressing.

Organizing his thoughts, he could feel that he still had his Record, which was both a blessing and a curse. So the guideline helped him see what he would prioritize.

"Love... Did you land safely? Any discomfort, wounds, or side effects?" He raised his eyebrow when he realized he still had the mindlink with his husband.

"Just exhausted and have swollen eyes. My younger self probably cried until he passed out from exhaustion." He was glad to find out he could still talk to Alberu just like in his second life.

"Are you... okay?" There was a hint of hesitation in his voice, probably because of the timing.

"I'll survive." A small smile crept onto his lips. A simple concern made him calm down and feel a bit of comfort. Alberu really had a knack for making him happy with simple things.

He remembered getting close to Alberu in their first life, when Alberu saw through his facade and recognized the brilliance of his mind. At first, they were using each other-Cale for revenge and Alberu for strategy-until he found out Alberu's secret by accident.

They got closer and fell in love, both dying in the final battle with the White Star.

He remembered their second life, when Alberu was Combat Medic Seo Soo Jin while he was Support Strategist Kim Rok Soo. Both of their memories were sealed for more than half of their lives until they reached their 30s. Still, even without the memories, they fell in love. Alberu helped him cope; he became his pillar of support and the reason he kept moving and surviving.

It was the memory he cherished the most. Something that gave color to his rather dull life, where he always needed to survive.

"We will talk tomorrow, okay? You should get some sleep." Cale looked outside and could still see the brightest light the moon could offer. It felt tranquil, like something that could calm his heart.

There were a lot of things to do. And he had no time to mourn again.

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

Early in the morning, Ron went inside Cale's new room. They had just moved him to the eastern wing yesterday as per the Count's order, which made him feel mad.

The eastern wing was the farthest wing from the Central Wing, where the traffic was concentrated since most of the important rooms in the castle were located there. This place rarely had maids and butlers, who deep-cleaned the area once a month. Only a few rooms, such as the biggest library, Kitchen 2, and the music room were located here, and they were rarely visited because the library mostly served as storage for old books. The modern and newest books were always located in the Central Wing, and there was also the main kitchen there. Nobody in the family was interested in the music room, so it had also just become storage for instruments.

Yesterday, Ron and Beacrox, his son, voluntarily assigned themselves to the eastern wing. His son took over Kitchen 2 and cleaned it thoroughly. Since nobody even used the kitchen, Beacrox practically owned it.

Ron could still feel the resentment in his heart, wanting to take his dagger and kill that cowardly Count.

But right now, his puppy-like young master needed him. Carefully, he prepared his young master's bath before waking him up.

Ron was taken aback when he saw his puppy young master's eyes. It made him want to dash out and beat that Count to a pulp.

They were emotionless eyes. Eyes that had given up the will to live, eyes that let fate dictate their destiny, eyes that had seen too much, eyes that belonged to someone who had experienced traumatizing situations. Ron clenched his fist but gave a benign smile, offering his hand.

"Young Master, the bath is ready. Would you like me to help you?" Cale nodded and accepted the hand. Ron carefully helped Cale bathe and helped him wear his mourning clothes.

"Is the funeral arrangement done?" Cale's voice was soft, with a hint of maturity in his childish tone. Ron's heart ached to see his young master in this state. He needed to monitor him more, as he might do something drastic.

"Count-nim hasn't yet gotten out of his room, Young Master," Ron answered. Cale sighed and looked at the mirror with dead eyes.

"Prepare the funeral ceremony as fast as possible. And Ron, I want you to investigate each of the rats roaming around. Take care of them efficiently," Cale said, walking out of his room toward the Count's study.

"Where are you going, Young Master?" Worry immediately flashed in Ron's eyes.

"Who else would take care of the matters regarding the territory? My father is unavailable at this moment. Even if Mama is... dead..." Cale clenched his fist and exhaled through his nose.

"The matters in the territory will still keep on going," he said. They reached the study, and Ron reluctantly left to take care of the matters Cale asked for.

Cale immediately immersed himself in the Count's work, with the help of his passive Record ability. It only took him a few hours to finish all the paperwork that normally would have needed at least three days to complete.

Cale put together the documents with shady financial calculations of their monthly spending and income. He wrote official letters to some of the guilds and departments like the merchant guild, construction guild, artistry guild, bureaucracy, and the knighthood, and prepared some new policies that he wanted to implement in the territory.

He found a good vassal family to take care of establishing orphanages, small schools for learning skills, and browsed the citizens of Rain City to see if there were hidden gems hiding in the haystack.

All of this was done within 12 hours of work.

"Young Master... did you eat already?" Ron asked the moment he entered. Cale looked at the time and found out it was almost 6 p.m.

"I... I forgot," he admitted, having really forgotten to eat lunch, which made Ron give a benign smile that looked vicious.

"No maid even came in to deliver food?" An unpleasant feeling surged through Ron's body. He had been too busy taking care of some rats and didn't even realize his young master hadn't eaten either breakfast or lunch.

"No one." Cale's stomach grumbled, making Ron sigh.

"I'll call my son to prepare some food for you, Young Master," Ron said benignly, bowing a bit.

"Oh, by the way, Ron, please trace these documents and see if there's any financial fraud. Summon them here tomorrow. If they don't comply to defend themselves, you are free to seize their property and send them to legislation. Bring this letter to the messenger to send to the people I want to talk with," Cale instructed.

Ron went back and checked the work of his young master.

He was shocked to find how efficient Cale was at doing the work. But he didn't ask, simply taking the documents before leaving to find his son.

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

That night, Cale slumped down on a couch near the window where the moon shone so brightly. Having a small body took a toll on him despite having a strong mental capacity.

"You should take a rest, Young Master," Ron said, tucking him into bed.

"Ron, would you believe me if I told you I regressed time and this is my third life?" Cale just blurted it out. To be honest, Ron had been more of a father to him than Deruth. And he understood the reason why he abandoned him in his first life.

As an assassin in hiding, after finding out that their chasers appeared a few kilometers away from where they were, they decided to leave so they wouldn't drag him into their mess. Still, he just wished they had left a letter before departing. He would have understood.

Cale felt anxious looking at Ron, who was staring at him with complicated eyes. But Ron sat down at the side edge of the table.

"Want to talk about it?" Cale looked at Ron's face. There was no doubt or hesitation. He believed in him.

Cale burst into tears as he anxiously played with his fingers.

"Everyone died. They won. We tried to resist, but it was futile. It was devastating and dragged everyone into this massive war. The world just led into doom." Sorrow surged within Cale's mind, emotions he tried to suppress.

And he was surprised to know he could still cry. He thought he had destroyed his tear glands from all the emotion he had bottled up. Clenching his fists, Ron pulled him into his embrace.

"Father... he will leave after the ceremony. He'll meet Lady Violan and Basen," he murmured.

"Do you want to do something about it?" Ron didn't break the hug and just continued to comfort his young master.

"No. I like them. They are nice and respect boundaries. And Father... he is happy with Lady Violan," Cale played with his hands, not looking at Ron's intense gaze.

"She saved me, died to protect me, and she's the kind of woman who didn't force herself to be my mother. She just respected my space but was still ready to help me in any way. She's... pretty cool, I guess."

They stayed silent for a while. Ron looked at the anxious appearance of his puppy-like young master.

A grim feeling surged within himself, and his emotions went into chaos. It only meant that there was more behind those emotionless eyes. He exhaled through his nose before inquiring,

"Did you regress with someone?" Ron observed Cale intently. He gently held his hand and gave his genuine smile.

"Alberu. The Crown Prince came back with me. He should be here tomorrow." Ron pulled the blanket up to Cale, seeing that he was really tired.

"Let's continue this tomorrow, okay? I need to process this information first." Cale nodded cutely. It didn't help that he had chubby cheeks and doe eyes, which made him look even cuter. He looked sleepy and tired, probably because of dealing with all the paperwork.

"Does that mean you believe me?" Cale asked.

Ron chuckled and gave a benign smile.

"While Young Master often hides things and lies here and there, you would never lie about something this big. So let's continue this tomorrow, okay?" Cale nodded again. He immediately fell asleep, probably having been suppressing himself from resting.

Ron smiled darkly as he looked at the bright moonlight.

'I should investigate this Lady Violan and talk to the Crown Prince.' He went out of the room lost in thought. He had a lot of questions, but he didn't want to force the young child.

Despite saying he was probably grown up already, from the few hints and information he gave, he probably didn't have time to develop his emotional maturity. Just thinking of the Count abandoning a child to take care of his work and returning with a woman made him want to march into the Count's room and torture him.

But it seemed like his Young Master had affection toward the new Countess, so he would let this happen.

He went to his son and had a discussion about what Cale said. Beacrox offered to help. They decided to enforce a strict rule when it came to eating and would monitor his mental state. They would talk to him for more information but would not force him to say anything until he was ready.

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

Chapter Text

The next day, the Henituse Mansion was decorated into a mourning house where they hung lanterns, black and white silk, and flower arrangements for Countess Jour's funeral ceremony. Many nobles came to give their condolences to the Count. They were shocked to find out he wasn't the one hosting the funeral, but his son.

Cale greeted everyone who came, coordinated the refreshments, took care of the priest, managed the travel arrangements—everything—while Count Deruth simply wandered around looking miserable. His eyes were red and swollen. He didn’t even dare look at Cale, who was busy entertaining the guests.

Ron could hear a lot of gossip that made him want to kill everyone who badmouthed Cale. Most of the nobles flocked toward the Count, giving their condolences and comforting him, while nobody even looked at Cale, who was handling all the coordination.

"Young Master Cale, my deepest condolences for your loss," a solemn voice rang out from the mourning hall, catching everyone’s attention. There, dressed in mourning clothes, Alberu appeared, sad yet regal enough to command his surroundings.

It was something he had learned to cultivate during his time as the King of the Roan Kingdom in their first life.

"It is my deepest honor for the sun of our Kingdom to attend this humble noble’s mother’s ceremony. I’m deeply grateful for your condolences," Cale said, looking at Alberu, who twitched slightly at his mild glibness. Ron observed the two’s interaction.

They appeared to converse using their eyes and gestures. It seemed what his young master had said was true. Murmurs erupted as the unfavored First Prince attended the funeral ceremony during a crucial point in the battle for the throne. He appeared nonchalant toward the nobles, which puzzled many.

Most were used to the First Prince trying to curry favor, often going toward them and engaging in small conversations. But this time, he simply sat on a couch, drinking tea, unbothered by the nobles’ stares. He wore a solemn smile as they continued to mingle.

When the auspicious time arrived, the carriages outside were neatly parked in the front yard of Henituse Castle. They were arranged with careful attention to detail and with the most effective system to accommodate the nobles. Many were shocked at how the carriages managed to retrieve the intended guests in the fastest way possible without much delay.

Another wave of murmurs followed when the Count chose to ride in a different carriage rather than with his son.

Cale stared blankly at the newly built tombstone of his mother. He stayed for a while as the other nobles returned to their carriages to go back to the Henituse Castle. There was still the post-funeral ceremony they needed to attend. He went back after an hour of staying within the vicinity.

After the long day, many of the nobles went back to their homes, and some stayed in the Henituse Castle as their departure would require more time, and it was already dark.

Alberu was one of those who didn't leave.

"You didn't contact me yesterday evening. Did something go wrong?" Alberu asked when there were only four people inside. He had found out that Cale told Ron, and Ron told Beacrox, that they had regressed.

"Had a lot of work to do," Cale replied, scrutinizing the lemonade he was drinking at that moment. Alberu chuckled and smiled.

"Hard to compare you to someone who likes to slack," Alberu's lips curved as he looked at Cale.

"I started to renovate the garden and lessen the parties I would and will attend. After that, I also started to secretly build a headquarters for the meetings we would conduct in the future. I systematically planned to integrate a new training regimen for the knights. In the future, I also plan to build a home for the mages we would take in as refuge when the civil war occurs," Cale put down his cup and smiled.

"That's good. It should lay your foundation. Make sure to minimize your interactions with any noble factions too. Start building your power internally first." Cale nodded.

"I'll pour money into you so you can start creating the intelligence network. I know this is your forte, so I'll hand this work over to you. Make sure to tell me or send me reports on the progress. For now, it would be good if we stay low-key," Alberu looked at Cale with a smirk, which was returned by Cale with a bright smile.

"Ron, tomorrow, find Freesia in the market town. She's disguising as an old woman who sells unique sculptures. She's an assassin who escaped her guild because she refused to kill an innocent child. I would love to offer her the position of Head Master of this intelligence network." Cale looked at Ron with a smile. Ron just nodded and took note of the order.

"We would need all the power we could get to deal with both the Arm and the Hunters." A vicious smile appeared on Alberu's lips, which was equally matched by Cale.

Both Tasha and Ron suddenly looked at each other. They both had a tacit understanding that they knew the secret of the two.

"Young Master, the head of the Valhali Household is requesting your audience." Ron, who served as Cale's personal secretary at this moment, had a lot of things to do. With the help of the three candidates for deputy butler, everything was going well.

Cale stopped working on the calculations of funding and taxes of the vassal family first.

"Let him in." He straightened his posture. He put his elbow on the surface of the table before interlacing his fingers and leaning towards his hands.

Ron opened the door, and a middle-aged man went inside. He looked quite honest with a respectful glance towards Cale. He bowed slightly before speaking.

"I greet the young master of the County, Henituse Household." A perfectly formal greeting was made towards Cale despite him being so young.

The middle-aged man had slicked-back long hair and wore a typical dress of a nobleman. He had a perfect mustache and had a lot of wrinkles on his face, a sign of early aging.

"Baron Valhali, it's nice to meet you too. You're here as I wanted to hand you a certain project that would help you in your predicament." Baron Valhali flinched upon seeing the young child in front of him. In his honest thought, this young master was far more intimidating than the Count himself.

And the fact that he knew his current situation meant that he could not take this young master lightly despite his age. Among the vassal households of the Henituse Family, Valhali was often ranked lower than the others because of one thing.

His morals.

He refused to use slavery. Slavery was not even legal in this era, but there were still a lot of nobles who used them. He often paid his workers a slightly higher salary than the norm, was fair in his approach, and honest when it came to work. With all the documents he looked at yesterday, the line of work of Baron Valhali was the one with no blemish of corruption. What was written in his reports—funding, projects, area of responsibility problems—had all been proven with factual evidence. He was an honest noble, which made him a bit of a pushover, thus the result of his household declining.

"I don't like to see a good noble be out of our vassals just because of being bankrupt. You have your own morals. That’s why I want you to supervise this project." Cale pushed a document toward Baron Valhali, who hastily took it and read.

He widened his eyes to see the project.

An orphanage for the children in the slum. There were a few clauses if he wanted to take the project, which included using people from the slum as laborers with their salary indicating a 20% raise from the norm, reporting daily with the financial expenses, not discriminating against any of the laborers, and of course, treating these people with respect. Fully equipped with a budget for their meals and plenty of rest. This was just one of the many projects that had been laid out, and the commission for the project was especially high.

Baron Valhali almost slumped to the ground upon seeing he could immediately get 30% of the entire commission when the construction started. Not only could he pay his debt to the lender in full, but he would still have plenty left. And that was just for the 30% of the commission.

All the clauses were within reason, and it wasn’t hard to do this at all considering his connections.

"I... I accept this project. Thank you, Young Master." Baron Valhali looked at Cale with a reverent gaze. He read the document repeatedly at the side multiple times.

While this was happening, the merchant guild, construction guild, and Minister of Work of Henituse County entered too. Cale laid out the projects within their skill and work-related fields. He let the Minister of Work relay the project to the subsequent persons.

"Go to the Finance Department and give this document to them. Tell them I would need all the daily reports of these projects as soon as possible. I would also want you to look over talents because this county badly needs them. Background doesn’t matter." Cale’s authority was not a joke. Despite having a small stature and young age, he commanded authority that no one could refute. These honest people just looked at him in awe.

Cale shivered and frowned upon looking at these people who looked like they were one step from worshipping him. He felt that his slacker life was waving goodbye again, so he dismissed them immediately. Baron Valhali also went out with these people and talked about the collaboration they would need to do.

These honest workers were just happy to do this work because it would make their county more prosperous. Plus, this project would soon get rid of the slums as the worker target of these projects was the people in the slums.

"Did you eat already?" Cale heard from his mind. He stopped and looked at the clock to see it was almost time for lunch.

"I haven’t, but I’ll eat now. How about you?" A small smile crept onto his lips.

"Currently eating. Almost finished half of my paperwork and would head to my training." Early in the morning, Alberu and Tasha departed back to the palace using a teleportation scroll. He knew that Ron and Alberu talked about something yesterday evening, but Ron never said anything.

"Time for lunch, Young Master." Cale immediately stopped and went to eat. Alberu and Cale just conversed in their minds until they finished eating.

He continued his work after taking lunch, and after relaying the subsequent tasks, he finished his work early to think.

Now that the groundwork was laid, he needed to also elevate the overall power of the military department of the county. While he had the backing of Alberu, at this moment, Alberu was nothing but the unfavored First Prince, nothing like their first life when he became the king amidst the war and His Majesty's untimely death.

He took a paper and pen, then wrote a pros and cons list of the plan he wanted to implement. Should he introduce the modern training routine to the knighthood? Should he introduce guns to this world?

If he did, then he would need to find a worker to do so. Maybe he could implement good precautions so this type of weapon would not fall into the hands of the wrong people. Having guns would elevate the overall combat capabilities of the military, giving them a long-range attack option aside from mages and daggers. But it would also garner a lot of attention, especially from greedy nobles or other kingdoms.

Which would probably be annoying.

He suddenly thought of Cage, the crazy priestess of the God of Eternal Rest's temple, who had been excommunicated after killing the assassin who murdered her best friend. She was the closest to what people here called the Holy Maiden or Saintess of God, as she could directly talk to the God of Death.

Utilizing this person meant he would have access to the Vows of Death. Cale's lips curved into a smile. The pros outweighed the cons. All he needed to do was find the right precautions for those buffoons.

As part of the internal members and team leader of the strongest group in Hope Company in Korea, he was adept at how guns were made. Even DIY guns — he knew how to make them because he had Record.

This ability was both a blessing and a curse, but it helped him gather more information to the point that others called him a human computer. Makeshift weapons were also part of the knowledge he had.

He was in deep thought when Ron placed a lemon tea in front of him, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"You should take a rest, young master. Don't think too much. This is just the second day you've been back," Ron said with a benign smile that looked vicious to Cale. He shivered and hastily took the lemon tea.

Cale's face scrunched at the first contact with the tea, which amused Ron, though he kept his benign smile.

"Is he punishing me for being overworked?" Cale shivered and peeked at Ron, who just kept on looking at him. He had no choice but to drink this abomination.

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

Chapter Text

After the grueling work at the county, Cale wrote down all the coordinates of the Ancient Powers' locations, both from what he got from the novel and from the diary of his mother that he found at her tombstone.

First is the Unbreakable Shield located at the man-eating tree. He would need to feed the tree until it was full to get the Ancient Power.

Second is half of the Annual Ring in Harris Village, the same Ancient Power that White Star obtained when the Harris Village massacre happened. He just needs to appear in front of the tree to get it, as he read in his mother’s diary.

Third is the Dominating Aura, located in one of the swamps in the Forest of Darkness, and fourth is the Super Rock, located at the boundary between the inner and outer areas of the forest. Both were mentioned in his mother’s diary. He doesn’t know the way to obtain them yet, but he knows he will need them.

Fifth is the other half of the Annual Ring at his mother’s tombstone. Just like the first half, he only needs to appear to receive it.

Sixth is the Vitality of the Heart, located in Puzzle City. He needs to place a rock into the rock tower and destroy it. He wrote down a note to obtain this Ancient Power first or second because he might explode.

He got this information at the deathbed of an ancient dragon he met in his first life.
Seventh and eighth are the Sound of the Wind and Dominating Water, both located in the Ubarr Territory. He would need to dive and break free the Ancient Power, while the other requires another Ancient Power from Mount Yelie to carry the Dominating Water.

Last but not least is the Fire of Destruction, which only appears in the Ten Fingers Mountain once every year in late summer. So he would need to wait until May to get it. Ancient Power is enough to deal with White Star, but not the Hunters. So he plans to ask his father, Butler Ron, to train him too.

He has a lot on his plate, but if he manages to pull this off, he could get his slacker life earlier.

The past two weeks were a blur to Cale. His mornings were spent finishing all his paperwork. After lunch, he received reports from various people to whom he delegated miscellaneous tasks. He even created a new department just to drop his trivial work and make time for his training in the afternoon, then took strolls to acquire Ancient Powers in the evening with Ron.

He would occasionally talk to Alberu through mind link throughout the day. And not once did his father leave his room.

Today was one of the rare days he could slack off, as it was the weekend—until Hans burst into the office, panting.

“Yo-young master! Bad news! The Count!” Hans panted anxiously, clearly panicking.

“Did he leave a letter?” Cale didn’t even look at Hans, who was shocked by the question.

“Y-you knew the Count would leave?” There was hesitation in his eyes as he looked at Cale, who was calmly reading a book.

“He’ll be back after a year, don’t worry. So, did he leave a letter?” Cale asked again.

“Y-yes, uhm, he just said that he needed space and would tr-travel a bit.” Hans suddenly felt the urge to drag the Count back upon seeing Cale doing the work of the Count. His young master was just eight years old and had just lost his mother, but here he was, doing the work of a noble.

He didn’t even have time to properly mourn.

“I’ll take care of it. Make sure no rumors spread about his absence. Continue working,” Cale ordered.

Ron, who had been listening to the conversation, felt an urge to kill. He smiled benignly, already expecting this much.

“Okay,” Cale dismissed Hans, who returned to his work afterward.

“Ron, start cleaning up the rats in the mansion. Make sure to do it quietly.” Ron bowed before retreating to follow the order.

“Ahh! This is life,” Cale slacked off for the rest of the day after that.

The rumors were contained within the territory walls. The disguised military strengthening, the sudden lack of underworld presence in Rain City, the slum residents rising to middle class, orphanages being built—the Rain City completely transformed into a beautiful place. But Cale made sure the territory appeared more like a tourist spot than a military base.

Cale offered the Flame Dwarves from the Eastern Continent a small territory inside the Forest of Darkness, completely safe for them to live in. In return, the Flame Dwarves would help Cale create guns that would blend into the fantasy world.

Of course, commissions were set, which made the Flame Dwarves grateful to Cale. They were given a lot of freedom to build anything within the premises of their new home. Cale smirked just thinking about snatching this tribe right under White Star’s nose.

He knew he needed a lot of money—not just for the territory, but to funnel into military force.

War is expensive.

It was one of the problems they had in his first life, to the point where he emptied the County’s treasury that had been built up by their ancestors for 1,000 years. Food, resources, weapons, armor, magic stones, potions, medical kits, bandages, and even basic necessities skyrocketed in price. Not only because demand exceeded supply, but also because ordinary workers could not work properly due to the frequent danger they faced, and merchants had difficulty traveling.

Everything became so expensive that gold almost lost its value.

He also needed to know what Ancient Powers White Star had. When they realized White Star possessed Ancient Powers, it was already too late. He had complete balance, and they had no idea what type of Ancient Powers he had, other than his mother’s.

Still, Cale wrote down the things he noticed while battling White Star.

Ancient Powers Notes:

• The fire seems to be from swords—something he used to cut Choi Han’s arm.
• Water is violent and seems to dominate the field (reason why Rosalyn died).
• His wood attribute is Annual Rings (from Harris Village).
• He has a power that causes irrational fear in others.
• He seems to also have the Dominating Aura (more confirmation needed).
• He has a strong plate that caters to all the attributes well.

ARM Notes:

• Has the Lion and Bear Tribes
• Possibly partnered with mermaids
• Flame Dwarves (confirmed via George during the Death Invasion)—already taken care of
Their base is in the Eastern Territory
• One of the bases is in the Molan Household
• Has black mages
• Controls the Empire
• Has contact with Marquis Stan
• INDOMITABLE ALLIANCE!!!

Few Notes:

• Stole World Tree branch (info from TBH)
• They have many crazy but smart people
• Took the sea route near the borders
• Messed up the marine ecosystem

The notes were extremely short when he wrote them down. He frowned upon seeing how little information they had against ARM. It showed how severely lacking they were in everything: power, manpower, money, information.

He knew that White Star had more up his sleeve than what was obvious. If only he had read The Birth of a Hero more. He only managed to finish five volumes before he fell asleep at his table.

"Cale, can I talk for a while?"
Cale stopped writing upon hearing Alberu in his mind. He relaxed himself and put down the pen because he knew what Alberu would say was something important.

"I'm listening," he answered.

"I'm planning for Alberu Crossman to not fight in the battle."
There was an underlying viciousness to that voice he heard, which made Cale not reply for a while.

He frowned before interlacing his fingers and resting his chin above the interlocked hands.

"So you plan to work on the front line too, but not as 'Alberu Crossman'?" Cale replied. He heard a chuckle of amusement on the other side.

"You know me too well, my dear headache."
Cale frowned upon hearing that nickname again.

"I'll send you a present then."
Cale remembered the swamp in the Forest of Darkness he went to with Ron last week. Cale's lips curved into a small smile, and he felt a bit excited to see the reaction of his husband.

Dead mana had been everywhere when the war happened in his first life. He remembered how the Caro Kingdom fell because they couldn't get out of the dead mana swamp that the Indomitable Alliance used. The Mogoru Empire used dead mana bombs in their battle against the Jungle and Whipper Kingdom, the black mages, and the lich. It was everywhere to the point that the Western Continent was overwhelmed and didn’t know what to do.

It didn’t help that Dark Elves couldn't move freely, or else they would die at the hands of enemies.

Cale had a feeling that White Star never revealed all his cards during the war, not because he was a coward, but because he didn’t need to. The few allies and manpower he revealed were already devastating enough, so what was the use of using the other cards?

He was smart enough to hide a few cards up his sleeve in case of an emergency or something unexpected.

When he was thirty as Kim Rok Soo and remembered his first life as Cale Henituse, White Star had been one of the case study materials he used. He compiled all the information, strategies, late-night lectures, and political maneuvers he learned primarily from Lee Soo Hyuk. The rest came from all the information he could find on the internet that had just been reestablished, and books they managed to save.

White Star was brilliant.

He was a strategist that you couldn't help but feel safe around if you were an ally, and dread if you were on the opposite side. The fact that he didn’t need to appear in forty years of war until the final fight spoke of how brilliant his mind was and how deeply he moved in the shadows.

The instinctual fear he carried, the cold and calculative eyes with which he looked at the battlefield as if it were a chessboard. Cale couldn’t help but shiver.

Even when he didn’t see him, he could still feel the fear, the fire that burned him, the tremble in his hands just remembering that person.

Cale clenched his fist, trying to calm his mind down. He would still need to face him. Face the person who killed him in his first life. Face the person who killed his entire family.

"Did you blank out? Cale!"
He heard an anxious voice through his head, which snapped him out of it. He didn’t realize that his mind had spiraled from dead mana to White Star.

"Nothing, just blanked out a bit."
He could still feel the tremors in his hands, but a smile appeared on his lips. This time would be different.

He would smack him in the back with full force, run away, steal their treasure, use their materials, technologies, and strategies against them.

Because this time, he was aware of the enemy while they were still in the dark.

"Are you sure you're okay? Do you want me to teleport there?"
He could hear the worried voice of his husband. It made him chuckle a bit.

"Don't worry, love. I will make sure you have no reason to step onto the battlefield."
Never again.

Clenching his fist, he remembered the tired posture of Alberu in their first life, as if the world rested on his shoulders. He would not let anything like that happen again.

He reached into the magic pouch and took out the dead mana of a dead dragon he collected in the Forest of Darkness. He would send this to his husband later after writing a magic circle.

"He came back."
Cale frowned at the voice. Who was that?

"I won’t let the past happen again, not anymore."
He might be tired, so he ignored it.

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

Chapter Text

The next morning, Cale woke up at 7 a.m., had his breakfast, and returned to the Count's office to take care of his father's work. It was the usual routine: vassals' daily tantrums, financial reports, weekly updates, data on incomes, taxes, project reports, permissions, and the outcomes of territorial disputes.

It was something he could finish within three hours, as he only needed to glance once at each document to understand its contents. This efficiency was the result of Cale's maneuvering over the past few weeks. He had cleared all the backlog, established new policies for the territory, issued ordinances for each ministry and department, and launched various projects aimed at improving the region. Of course, he had also implemented a new military training program, which he entrusted Ron to enforce strictly.

He even created a new department-Secretarial Services-to delegate trivial tasks so he could slack off. After all, what's the use of money if it doesn't make your life easier? That was why he could never understand his father, who buried himself in work despite having the money and authority to delegate. It wasn't as if most of the work was confidential enough to require his personal attention.

Naturally, Cale ensured that he investigated the people he appointed to positions of power. Those documents could still become a source of annoyance if they ended up in the wrong hands.

He was certain his husband had also implemented some Earth-based systems to aid in this transition.

Unlike the weak and naive thirteen-year-old Alberu who intentionally kept his palace as shabby as possible, this was Alberu Crossman-now a forty-five-year-old king who had survived twenty long years of war-and Seo Soo Jin, a forty-three-year-old combat medic who had survived an apocalypse. Two lifetimes' worth of experience, shaped by the harshest environments.

There was no longer any need to shrink himself or remain unnoticed. He no longer had to please the nobles or hide who he was. He would thrive even without the king's favor-especially without the king's favor.

Cale's lips curved into a smile as he put down his pen. He would take his lunch, rest a bit, and then train with Ron.

"Young Master, Miss Freesia is here," Ron announced as he entered with a woman in her mid-thirties. She had wavy, shoulder-length lavender hair and violet eyes. She was visibly tense and fidgeting with her fingers.

Cale used a bit of a dominating aura, his expression stoic as he met Freesia's eyes. He could see she was intimidated by his presence, which was good.

"You already spoke with my butler last week, correct? What's your decision?"

Last week, Ron had invited Freesia, who had just settled in the territory after fleeing from her pursuers. Cale remembered that she would remain in the territory for over a decade before dying during the Henituse War while saving children from the Bear Tribe. He remembered her name and background vividly, piecing it together from the remnants of that war.

At the time, they had been robbed of a large sum of money. Luckily, the secret stash had remained untouched, which Cale later used to rebuild part of the territory. He had erected a large stone monument in the central plaza of Rain City, inscribing the names of fallen citizens onto it as a memorial altar. It was the least he could do for the people.

He wanted to see the potential of this woman who had never abandoned her morals, even on her deathbed.

"I accept your offer, sir," Freesia said, her fists clenched. Cale smiled.

"I promise that you and your friends will have full autonomy upon joining. You can accept or decline missions without repercussions. I will provide a generous base salary along with commission-based payments. However, I want this organization to operate as discreetly as possible. Implement an invite-only system for guests who wish to conduct transactions," Cale explained.

He had already gone over the system with Ron, who would be responsible for overseeing operations. Freesia would serve as the face and representative of the organization. Ron would explain the details to her later.

"What will be the name of this organization, Young Master?" Ron asked benignly, causing Cale to shudder. Despite technically being older than Ron now, he still harbored an irrational fear of that smile.

"Soo'Ari..." Cale replied. He had been thinking about the name ever since Alberu told him to create a secret organization.

"Soo" was to honor his fallen hyungs, Choi Jung Soo and Lee Soo Hyuk. He remembered that the four of them-including Alberu-had been nicknamed the "Soo Quartet" in their company, as they all had "Soo" in their names. "Soo" could mean excellent, protect, or water/flow. "Ari" could mean song, grace, or path. He chose to interpret it as a flowing path, because no matter how difficult the road ahead, he would flow down it like a tide.

It was a name close to his heart, one with meaningful roots.

"Soo'Ari..." Freesia repeated softly. She relaxed a bit under his gaze.

"I'll send you a check, and you can use it however you need to lay the foundation of this organization. I want a place that gathers both rumors and intelligence. The broader the scope, the better. But let me know if any nobles wish to join. I need to evaluate them personally. Also, please address me as 'Crescent' within the organization," Cale said, smiling brightly.

Freesia was momentarily stunned by the expression. He looked more like his age with that kind of smile.

"Crescent" was another word for "Moon"-a nickname Alberu often used for him during their glib banter. Cale couldn't wait to see his husband's reaction when he revealed his codename.

The structure of the secret organization is a mix of the mercenary guild system and the system that they created in Korea.

There will be the "Head" the strategic Core and the minds of the organization. This division is where the intelligence division, Financial Department, Logistics, Engineering, Administration, and Archives would fall. It would be where the internal affair would happen. Of course there will be an internal security for the safety of the datas inside and would use the Vows of Death as a safety net.

The "Body" which is the operational manpower of the organization. This is where spies, assassins, healers, poison experts, strike team, mages, combat specialists, mercenaries, and anything that moves from one place to another would fall to this division. This would be the driving force of the organization. Cale made sure to implement training according to both of his experience and books he learned in his life as Kim Rok Soo. He made sure to create manuals in the past weeks he's been working and let someone duplicate it.

This is the time where he felt grateful for having the record ability. All the datas he got from his two lifetimes is definitely precious information now in this life.

And the last division would be the "Skin". Cale plans to open a lot of business; jewelry stores, clothing stores cafes, pubs, taverns, inns, bathhouses, spas, bakeries, weapon shops, and many more businesses across both continents. Of course, he won't let others connect those businesses to one another. So the naming would be random at best or let the "face" owner decide to themselves what their business name would be.

He was working on listing formulas, directions, recipes, ideas, and anything that could help the business flow and explode in popularity immediately.

This is how they would get immense wealth to spend for the upcoming war.

When Ron saw the structure of the organization, he couldn't help but to be surprised on how detailed the plan is. How it would be executed, how they would establish their name without being too loud. And even had a manual in case of emergency.

After getting the plan, even without his guidance in the future, the organization would run smoothly without so much interference from him personally and money would flow to his pocket naturally. Ron couldn't help but to feel that his puppy Young master grows up so fine.

"Thank you, sir." Cale could see Freesia slightly shiver upon listening to all the information she needed to do. She probably couldn't help but feel the pressure again. Cale knew why-because the fact that an eight-year-old made this elaborate plan would make her feel fear. After she received the documents for the plan, Cale gave her the check that Alberu used. Then Ron guided her out.

Beacrox came inside with a cart full of food, which made Cale excited as he felt famished.

"Hyung, I'll go to the palace later to deliver some reports and a gift for Alberu. Would you come with me?" Cale asked while eating.

"Hmm..." Beacrox immediately grumbled but didn't refuse, which made Cale satisfied.

After eating, they both left a note in case Ron returned early.

Both of them used a teleportation scroll on which the coordinates of Alberu's room were written. Cale had everything and excitedly tore the teleportation scroll. His face was still stoic, but his eyes were so bright they lit up.

"Welcome," Alberu, who had a smile, welcomed the two of them. He certainly looked like he had been waiting on his comfy couch, which made Cale chuckle.

"I guess the renovation is still ongoing?" The room was much smaller but cozier, probably because of the newly built wall between Alberu's office and his public receiving area. Alberu's office had soft, comfy long couches with a gold frame and sun carvings embracing the foam. The glass coffee table that faced both long couches had a golden frame too.

There was also a soft carpet beneath this private receiving area, intended to cater to his trusted people.

Laid out on the coffee table were teas and desserts arranged meticulously.

Cale widened his eyes upon seeing some familiar desserts he often ate as Kim Rok Soo-like dasik, yakgwa, bungeoppang, hotteok, and sweet rice mini bundt cakes. Of course, cookies and cupcakes were included.

"You prepared all of this?" Cale widened his eyes and smiled.

"After you called yesterday, I prepared this immediately. I can't let you go without sweets, or you'll pout again," Alberu said with a teasing smile, but Cale just scowled (pouted).

"I would not pout." He glared at Alberu, but Alberu just smiled because he found him cute. From his chubby but rosy cheeks and doe eyes, his glare only made him more adorable. Tasha, who was at the side, even secretly cooed upon seeing the adorable face of Cale.

"What are these desserts?" Beacrox looked at the unfamiliar desserts on the table with interest.

"Ah, did Cale already explain about our second life?" Beacrox nodded, which Alberu returned with a smile.

"These are desserts from Korean cuisine. I baked a lot in my second life as a coping mechanism-from cakes, cookies, cupcakes, to many Korean dessert recipes. I could write them down for you since Cale loves sweets a lot. Cale could give you some Korean dish recipes since he was the one who cooked for the four of us," Alberu said with a nostalgic smile that Cale completely ignored.

Beacrox looked at Cale with a raised eyebrow.

"I'll write you the recipes." Cale just chucked some dessert into his mouth. Beacrox looked more satisfied.

"What do you mean four?" Tasha moved next to them with curiosity in her eyes.

"Well..." Alberu sneakily peeked at Cale first. Cale just shrugged and looked away.

"We were known as 'Soo's Quartet' since all of us had 'Soo' in our names. Cale was Kim Rok Soo, and I am Seo Soo Jin. Cale was the youngest, while I was the second oldest. The oldest among us was Lee Soo Hyuk. He was... he was our leader. He taught us a lot about strategy, politics, manipulation, psychology, and how to move in the most tense situations. We learned a lot from him and considered him our hyung," Alberu said with a smile that looked like he was remembering many happy memories.

"The second youngest was just a few hours older than Cale. He was Choi Jung Soo. He was like a golden retriever-full of energy, a typical extrovert who liked to adopt introverts." Alberu chuckled a bit, as he was one of the people Choi Jung Soo adopted.

"Introbert? Extrobert?" Tasha frowned, looking confused.

"Ah, right. There's no 'science' here. Uhm, it's terminology we use to describe shy people and expressive people. It was part of psychology, which is the study of the mind and behavior of both humans and animals-how their brains work, their mental processes, behavior patterns. It's a field of study and research conducted by countless people over decades of data, because mana and magic weren't the norm in that world. At least, not before the catalyst," Alberu said with a sad smile-a mirror of his mental state.

It just turned into awkward silence after the explanation. Even Cale slowed down while eating, a bitter smile on his face.

Chapter Text

"Choi Jung Soo was well adept in ancient martial arts." Cale added with a solemn face, the weight of memory slipping into his tone. "One of the reasons why I have a solid foundation in both daggers and swords and why I know how guns work."

Tasha looked at the two with complicated eyes while Beacrox just watched with quiet understanding. The way they spoke about these people reminded him of how he spoke about his mother.

"I'm sorry for your loss." Beacrox blurted out without thinking. The two looked surprised for a second, then nodded and smiled.

"It's fine. It's been almost a decade since then." Alberu spoke softly. Cale simply reached for a pastry and ate it with calm enjoyment.

"I would like to know about this psychology you speak of. Seems to be useful to my specialties." Beacrox added casually. Both Cale and Alberu nodded, a silent agreement passing between them.

"I brought you a gift, Your Radiant Highness, Shining Sun of the Roan Kingdom." Cale said, voice flat, as he leaned back with a lazy smirk. Alberu squinted, then narrowed his eyes at the sudden change in tone.

"Oh? A gift for me? From the Moon and Treasure of Roan Kingdom himself? Should I swoon?" Alberu answered dramatically. Tasha blinked slowly. Beacrox paused mid-sip of tea, visibly questioning reality.

"You may." Cale reached into his coat and pulled out a small, unmarked box wrapped in dark cloth. "But only after you see it."

"My, what could this be? A royal decree? A marriage proposal?" Alberu held it up with mock reverence, like a sacred relic bestowed on the most dramatic prince. Beacrox frowned at the teasing tone.

"Close. It's something rare, dangerous, and depressingly familiar. Just like you." Cale's face didn't change, but his mouth twitched slightly. Alberu snorted in amusement.

"You found this in the Forest of Darkness, didn't you?" Alberu murmured as he began unwrapping the cloth. His fingers stilled slightly when he felt the distinct pressure of dead mana coiled inside.

"You've always liked ominous things." Cale shrugged, already chewing on another piece of pastry like the gift was nothing more than a passing thought.

"Well, yes. But I usually date them, not collect them." Alberu replied smoothly. Beacrox blinked. Then Tasha blinked again.

"What? I have standards." Alberu said, looking between the two with theatrical flair.

"Debatable." Cale didn't even look up as he grabbed another dessert with practiced ease.

"How dare you, you moon-faced traitor." Alberu gasped, scandalized. "After all the Dasik I baked!"

"And yet you didn't bring any in animal shapes this time." Cale replied flatly, poking at another plate. "Shame. You're losing your touch, my Beloved Shining Sun."

"I'll have you know, I once made you those animal-shaped cookies, and you bit the head off first without even blinking."

"Efficiency." Cale's voice was deadpan as ever.

Their rhythm hit peak absurdity, volleying comments back and forth like well-trained performers on a stage only they could see.

"Are they always like this?" Tasha muttered under her breath as she sipped her tea slowly, her eyes going back and forth like this was a never-ending royal drama.

"I don't know." Beacrox just shrugged, arms crossed, his face unreadable.

"Did you just use your glib tongue to change the atmosphere?" Alberu's voice cut through the air again, his eyes narrowing suspiciously at Cale.

"Who knows?" Cale gave a tiny smile. Just enough to confirm the suspicion without saying anything else.

"Did you make the mold for these desserts?" Cale asked as he took some Hotteok and began eating.

"Yeah. I commissioned someone using the usual molds I work with. They did pretty well, even if it was their first time making these molds. And I'm trying to get a few ingredients from Breck, Whipper, and Jungle too." Alberu answered with a smirk as he noticed the subtle gleam in Cale's eyes. His face remained neutral, but his eyes had always been honest.

"You're doing all of this under the King's surveillance?" Cale raised an eyebrow.

"I know the ins and outs of his surveillance network." Alberu chuckled. "I took over that asset when I became the King in our first life. It wouldn't be hard to manipulate that surveillance with a bit of a magic circle."

Cale remembered how many magic circles and spells were created during the war. And as the days passed, those spells grew more dangerous and destructive, made for taking lives. But there were also some magic circles and spells created for convenience, designed to maximize movement and efficiency.

"I just let him see what he needed to see. Of course I didn't fully cover the recording device. It would be suspicious if his surveillance was suddenly cut off." Alberu added.

Both of them gave each other wide smiles. If a certain black dragon was present, he would definitely say, "Are you going to scam someone, human? Let's show that to White Star."

"Here is the full structure of the Soo'Ari Organization. Complete with insignia and how the system will work. I started implementing this today." Alberu said as he passed a few documents forward.

"I'll take a nap for a bit." Cale yawned, already feeling the fatigue from the morning to early noon activities. Usually, he would train with Ron, but since Ron wasn't there, slacking off became an easy option.

He didn't wait for Alberu's reply. He headed straight to the bedroom and immediately drifted into sleep.

"What's your relationship with the young master?" Beacrox looked at Alberu suspiciously. Alberu just smiled awkwardly.

"Well... we became lovers in our first life. And got married in our second. Don't look at me like that. I know we're still minors, so no intimacy for the time being." Alberu simply observed Beacrox's expression. It looked like that of a protective older brother who would pound someone into the ground if they made his younger siblings cry.

Tsundere indeed.

"I will tell this to my father. Since you already established your relationship with the young master before you both went back, I would assume you know how to limit yourself?" Beacrox just glared, but Alberu nodded and smiled.

"I know." Alberu remembered almost the exact conversation he had with the Molan duo in his first life. Despite the two "abandoning" Cale, he knew they cared.

"Had the same conversation with you in my first life." Beacrox just nodded as Alberu walked to his table and handed him a book.

"I knew you'd want the recipe, so I wrote it down even before you asked. You can also take home the molds I used for those desserts since I commissioned two copies." Beacrox opened the book and saw a thick cookbook filled with many recipes. It also included a few utensil blueprints. It was detailed, which Beacrox appreciated.

Tasha smiled, seeing that despite being a dark elf that many people scorned and hated, Alberu had found someone who loved him for who he was. Even if they were the same sex.

He looked more confident and carried himself like someone who knew he had someone behind him. The way Alberu worked harder since he "came" back was noticeable. The renovation was still ongoing, especially the garden, and Alberu declined most of the nobles who invited him.

Tasha knew those noble factions who invited Alberu simply wanted to see him try to curry favor with them. It fed their egos to believe they were important enough for a prince to "beg" for their support.

But the thirteen-year-old Alberu still went and did whatever they wanted. Now? He even threw those invitations into the fireplace and gave a direct reply that he didn't have time to attend their banquets.

He opened a few charities and departments to help the slums in the capital, hiring commoners as laborers when he decided to build some of the buildings he needed-creating work for those living in poverty.

They gained the full support of the commoners, so Tasha was aware of the quiet rumors about the First Prince providing jobs to them, which gave him high approval among the commoner population.

Alberu was laying a solid foundation for his ascension-and for the future of the Roan Kingdom.

Cale and Alberu slept in the same bed and cuddled the whole night. Cale stayed and helped Alberu with his paperwork a bit before dragging him to the bedroom to rest.

That morning, they returned to Henituse Castle after having breakfast together.

They were greeted by Ron, who wore a benign smile that made Cale a bit scared.

"Did you have fun outside, Young Master?" Ron asked while sharpening the dagger in his hands. Cale just smiled awkwardly.

"Yeah. Let's go back to the Forest of Darkness to hunt?" Cale could see that Ron seemed aggravated, so he wanted to help release that frustration first.

"Wonderful idea, Young Master," Ron said, smiling again.

That was how they ended up in this situation.

Ron used the opportunity to train Cale more since he had skipped his training the day before. Cale was being attacked by both a monster and Ron himself, so it felt like he was fighting two versus one.

Still, with all his experience, Cale was calmer. His expression was more serious and stoic than usual, and he was becoming increasingly aware of the presence that surrounded him.

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

Clashes of daggers and howls of monsters could be heard. The rustle of dried leaves and the smell of blood filled Choi Han's senses. His heart was beating rapidly at the thought that there was a human in this rather large forest he had navigated for hundreds of years.

He swore to himself that he had heard it, but maybe it was just a fragment of his imagination. Even if it was, he wanted to check. He wanted to know if it was really possible. If he had really seen or heard a human other than himself.

He felt like he was slowly losing himself to this dark forest, acting like the monsters he killed or avoided.

"Ifvv fkfds!" Choi Han's heart beat frantically as he ran toward the voices, finding a glimmer of familiarity. He ran toward the voices, hoping he might feel free from this miserable life.

As he ran, he suddenly felt a dagger graze his cheek.

A dagger.

A human weapon.

"Gmcxs" He could not understand the words, which made him frown. It was not Korean, and he was unfamiliar with the language.

"I don't understand you!" His voice was hoarse from the long period of not using it.

Aside from repeating his name over and over again so he would not forget it, he had thrown away everything. His pride, his dignity, and his memories, all just to survive.

He saw another human. Another one, but much younger. The younger man spoke to the older man, who seemed to be threatening him.

"How about now, can you understand me?" the younger one asked. Choi Han widened his eyes and nodded.

"I... I'm Choi Han!" he trembled as he spoke his name. He wanted to slump and drop his guard. He wanted to cry, to rant about what had happened, but these two were strangers to him.

"Okay, Choi Han-ssi. I'm Cale Henituse from the Northeastern Territory. This is the Forest of Darkness that we have guarded since the beginning of our kingdom. This is my butler and mentor, Ron. Why are you here? This place is dangerous, as it is filled with monsters." Choi Han looked at the younger one with a chaotic expression. He was breathing rapidly, unable to process everything.

"I... I don't know. I just woke up and... and I was in the middle of this forest." He decided to be truthful, as these people were the only hope he had of getting out and finding a place to stay, or at least reaching a safer place.

He listened to them speaking and looked at the butler. He could not understand, but he decided to wait and see what would happen.

Chapter Text

Cale hadn't planned this at all. He didn't plan to meet these protagonists this early. He planned to meet him a few weeks before the incident in Harris Village, push him to his husband, and then slack for a bit.

He cursed the God of Death. It was all his fault. He wanted to just run, but seeing the desperate and frantic look of Choi Han, he stopped. Frowning after Ron threw a warning dagger at Choi Han, he stopped him from harming Choi Han further.

"Stop, Ron. I know this person." Cale grabbed Ron's arm to stop him from killing Choi Han. He didn't seem to notice as he was breathing heavily and his eyes were clouded. Cale could see that Choi Han was unstable.

"Perhaps another person you met in your first life?" Ron looked at this rabid dog with a frown, thinking how this wild animal met his puppy.

Cale smiled awkwardly, avoiding the memory of their first meeting. They had long since passed those grievances after his talk with Choi Han. Both were at fault and had understood and forgiven each other's errors.

"He is the one who led the army against the ARM. He is a swordmaster and a reliable ally." Cale tried to suppress his tremble just remembering how strong this person was. Not as strong as White Star but strong enough that he could kill hundreds of enemies in one fell swoop.

"I see. I'll trust the young master then. This Ron would retreat for you to talk to him." Ron bowed slightly before Cale took a deep breath first.

"Hey, calm down, will you?" Choi Han didn't seem to understand him. Cale cursed the God of Death again. He was really incompetent. He couldn't even bother to let Choi Han learn the Western Continent's language. He probably also didn't know how to write in that language.

"How about now, can you understand me?" Choi Han widened his eyes and nodded. He seemed to fill with more hope and his eyes were getting clearer. At least he was stabilizing. He didn't want this person to run rampant once they left this forest.

"I... I'm Choi Han!" Cale could see that Choi Han seemed to be in a chaotic mental state. His eyes were watery as if he would cry at any moment. He seemed to be letting his guard down in front of him.

Cale sighed. He needed to at least stabilize him.

"Okay, Choi Han-ssi. I'm Cale Henituse from the Northeastern Territory. This is the Forest of Darkness that we have guarded since the beginning of our kingdom. This is my butler and mentor, Ron. Why are you here? This place is dangerous, as it is filled with monsters." Cale could see the chaotic expression of Choi Han. As Cale observed him, he was breathing rapidly and seemed unable to process everything.

"I... I don't know. I just woke up and... and I was in the middle of this forest." Cale was surprised that this punk was more honest than what he expected him to be.

But oh well, it wasn't really that bad.

"Follow me!" Cale just said before walking toward the Super Rock Villa. The villa he got from getting the Super Rock. Ron and Beacrox cleaned up this place a week ago and equipped it with all the things they needed. From the mana circle for flowing water, magic circles for lighting up the whole place, activating the fountain again, and putting modern kitchen equipment.

They even filled the place with new beddings and set up a place for each room they would need. Cale also asked to arrange a laboratory for a mage and a large training ground. Cale didn't hesitate to spend money to make sure these villas could accommodate strong people. So the training ground had a large number of magic circles preventing a collapse from those strong people he planned to recruit to train there.

Cale looked at Choi Han, who seemed shocked that there was a villa in the Forest of Darkness and had been looking around.

"Pick a room and take a bath. I'll take you out of this forest after you clean up a bit. The fifth floor is entirely mine." Cale just waved to him, in which Choi Han nodded and went inside, still looking left and right.

"He looks like a wild animal, young master." Ron just gave a benign smile, in which Cale just looked away.

"The God of Death threw him here in the Forest of Death when he was 17. He had been living here for more than 150 years. It started by the time that monster stopped attacking the nearby village 150 years ago. While technically older than you, his mental state was stuck at 17 years old because all he did here was survive and he hadn't had the time to develop." Cale just looked at the door that Choi Han entered. Ron just silently observed the expression of his puppy.

"I assume you have a pretty complicated relationship with him? This Ron is curious." Cale looked up to Ron, who was still smiling benignly.

His ears went red and he looked away.

"You could say that. It's... complicated. We're not enemies but we're not close either. I could trust him to have my back and he could trust me to have his, but we rarely speak to each other outside discussing strategy. It was all because of our unconventional meeting." Cale sighed and shook his head.

He didn't want to remember those memories again.

"You wanted to see me?" Alberu looks at the person in front of him with amusement. He found it cute seeing him so humble, bowing his head like a proper knight.

"Yes, Your Highness, I wanted to support you with my whole heart." Alberu just chuckled as he interlaced his fingers on his table.

"Why should I accept you?" General Wetton felt the chill in his spine just hearing those cold voices. He sneaks a peek at Alberu, who was looking down on him.

"What could you offer to me that could help me?" He remembers this general. One of the spies that the Third Prince planted on his side. He offered his "loyalty" to him when he became the crown prince, which would happen three months from now.

He knew from the start he was his brother's spy, but he let him in to see what was on his brother's mind, not knowing he just put a huge red dot on his head.

The Third Queen sold very vital information to the enemy camp in exchange for her and his brother's safety, resulting in the death of his father and the fall of an entire platoon of knights. All because this person was on his side. He won't forget this motherfucker who just wanted fame and power, thus after seeing Roan on the brink of collapse, they went to the enemy's camp. He truly wanted to strangle him, but he couldn't.

"Your Highness, I am a person with power in the knighthood. I have a voice to persuade an entire platoon to serve you." Alberu just smiled. The diplomatic smile he often used when he was at the advantage.

"Why do you think I couldn't get any support from the military?" A chilling aura emanates from Alberu that General Wetton could feel, as if he were looking at His Majesty.

A true ruler that gives a different pressure he couldn't explain.

"You're not even worth using as a pawn. Someone like you, who values fame and title, is someone I do not want on my side. So go back to my dearest brother and report to him that I don't need useless junk like you. Knight, please escort General Wetton out of the palace." Alberu felt calm.

Too calm for the situation right now. His knight, a disguised dark elf, took out General Wetton, who started to scream.

"You ungrateful bastard! You should be satisfied that I favor you. It's your grace to get my favor. I am a general of the knighthood!" General Wetton just screams like Alberu wasn't a prince, as if he wasn't saying anything blasphemous against a royal.

Alberu just chuckled, then goes in front of General Wetton.

People perceived him as a useless and powerless First Prince during this time in his first life. That's why it was a shock to the whole kingdom, especially to him, that it was he who became the crown prince instead of the Third Prince, who was favored by many. It was all because he had the king's favor.

It was also the reason why the Third Prince sent General Wetton to his side. To know how he did that.

Alberu just smirked.

No, he was a bit wrong.

It was the Third Queen who noticed, just like today.

"Send him to the dungeon and punish him for lèse-majesté. Send this recording device with him. And tell them I have multiple copies in case someone loses the evidence. And please, don't let someone talk to him." Alberu smiles at General Wetton, who looks at him with a pale complexion.

"You just made my work easier. And it seems like you forgot, I'm still a legitimate prince no matter how powerless I am." Alberu patted General Wetton's shoulder before going back to his chair, nonchalantly continuing his paperwork.

Cale looked at a somewhat refreshed Choi Han. He stared at him for a while, making Choi Han seem a bit uncomfortable.

"He looks somewhat familiar for some reason," Cale just thought while looking at Choi Han. He shook his head before getting a teleportation scroll out of his magic pouch.

"Stand on the circle, we'll teleport." Choi Han was somewhat bewildered but followed him. They teleported back to the Henituse Castle immediately.

"Hans!" Choi Han almost took out the wooden sword he carved himself to attack, but Cale was fast enough to stop him. He knew Choi Han would be a bit jumpy, especially since he had just gotten out of the Forest of Darkness.

"Young Master, you called?" Hans frantically asked.

"Give Choi Han a room in the guest wing. He'll be one of my guards from now on. He can't understand you, so beware of talking," Cale ordered.

"Ahhh," Hans looked bewildered but nodded.

"Follow him. He'll lead you to your new room. We'll talk later once you settle." Choi Han looked hesitant but nodded.

Cale went back to the Count's office to do his work. It was almost lunch, so he decided to start his work first.

They only stayed for about three hours at the Forest of Darkness instead of their plan of staying for five hours.

Choi Han had become a variable at the moment, as this was not part of the plan. But it would not be bad, and Choi Han would probably grow stronger now that he would be able to assess his own strength in a safe environment.

A stronger Choi Han would mean fewer tasks. Fewer tasks meant victory against White Star and the Hunters. And victory meant retirement.

And retirement meant a Slacker Life.

He nodded in satisfaction. Right, that was the new plan.

Now he would just talk to Choi Han to have him as part of his guard. Or maybe have him become a core member of Soo'Ari. Having a Swordmaster on your side had a lot of perks. Especially from a Kingdom that does not have any specialty, it meant a lot to have one Swordmaster. Plus, he only knew that the only Swordmaster aside from Choi Han who stayed here in Roan was part of the King's secret guards.

He knew this because of the incident caused by the Third Queen's betrayal. It killed the King, but the King did not fall without a fight.

He had a Highest Grade Mage and a Swordmaster who protected him before fighting the enemies head-on. It was the talk of the town because they lost a large chunk of territory because of this incident.

He would not let that happen.

Chapter Text

Choi Han doesn't know what to feel. On one hand, he felt grateful for the young kid and his butler who saved him from that dark forest. On the other hand, he felt conflicted and couldn't calm his heart or drop his guard completely. It was uncomfortable, and he felt more jumpy with every sound around him.

Even the smallest rustle could trigger him.

He didn't understand anyone other than the young kid. Choi Han decided to just be shameless as he felt more desperate. This was clearly a different world, far from the one he used to know.

He realized it when he activated his Aura for the first time. Even with just wooden swords, the Aura helped him survive and provided him with a sturdy weapon in hand. He used his hands to carve, to polish, and to build a primitive arsenal. He used everything he could.

He had settled into a guest room before Hans guided him to a room that seemed to be a fancy office. Choi Han immediately noted his escape route and all the things he could use as weapons in case something happened.

It took him a few minutes to realize that the young kid he had met seemed to be working on paperwork.

"I can see you're more stable than you were a while ago. Please, have a seat," said the butler who had accompanied him earlier. He stood silently near the young kid.

Choi Han remembered that the young kid had introduced himself, but he couldn't recall the name.

They both went to the nearby couch where refreshments were laid out on the table.

"I will introduce myself again. It seems like you forgot my name." A smile appeared on the kid’s face, one that made Choi Han freeze for a moment.

Even as small and young as he was, this kid’s presence was no joke. From how he carried himself, so poised, so polished, so refined, Choi Han couldn't treat him as just a child.

Choi Han sat cautiously on the couch, every muscle in his body tense. The young boy’s smile disarmed him more than it should have. He studied the child again. There was nothing childish about him. Even in this pristine office, surrounded by luxury, the boy radiated an unnatural level of composure and control. Choi Han had never met anyone like this young kid. He was so unique that he seemed to be born as a natural leader.

"You can call me Cale Henituse," the boy said.

"I’m the first son of Count Deruth Henituse." A childlike smile appeared on his face, but Choi Han could feel pressure. He was strong, yet weak at the same time. That was how his instinct described it.

Cale. Choi Han filed the name in his mind, repeating it in silence, anchoring it. He didn’t want to forget again. Forgetting was dangerous. Being careless was dangerous. This world was unfamiliar. He needed anchors.

"I heard you don’t understand our language yet," Cale continued, nodding to the butler. The man stepped forward, placing a thick book gently on the table. Choi Han glanced at it. It looked like a dictionary—Korean to the local script. He didn't know why there was this kind of book in such a strange world.

Was this connected to Earth? But the book seemed to be newly published, as he could still smell the fragrance of a new book.

“This will help you learn,” Cale said simply. His voice was calm, but there was a firm undertone.

“In return, I’d like to make a deal.” Choi Han instinctively straightened.

His gaze flicked to the book again, then back to the boy. Cale didn’t flinch under his scrutiny. His eyes were steady, like someone who had seen far too much for his age. Choi Han couldn’t understand how an eight-year-old could look so composed. But he didn’t feel any deceit from him. It was strange, stranger than the monsters he fought or the oddest things that happened to him in the dark forest.

"I will give you food, shelter, safety." He was calm, like undisturbed water. Choi Han chose to listen.

"And a place to stay for as long as you need. In return, I want your sword." Choi Han tensed.

"Not your life," Cale clarified, lips curving slightly. It was the moment Choi Han knew this young child was someone he couldn't mess with. His instinct screamed that this was dangerous. But he forced himself to calm down.

This was a deal. It meant the other party saw him as an equal. He knew this, despite almost forgetting his memories from Earth.

"Just your sword. I want you to become my knight. And, if possible, teach me a bit of swordsmanship in your spare time." Choi Han blinked.

Was this kid serious?

"I won’t demand blind loyalty. You can walk away whenever you like. But while you stay under my roof, while you eat the food and rest your head here, I ask for your sword to serve me and only me." Silence settled between them. Choi Han’s hand had unconsciously moved toward the edge of the table, his fingers brushing the dictionary’s cover.

Its texture felt real. Concrete. Something to hold onto in this disjointed new reality.

He glanced at Cale again. Still calm. Still poised.

Choi Han felt the weight of the offer. A home. A purpose. A place that didn’t try to chain him, but gave him a role. And a voice.

He bowed his head slightly.

“I accept.” The words were choppy. He could tell from Cale’s soft laugh that his accent must have been strange. But he meant it. Deep down, he meant it.

For now, he would follow this strange, composed child who didn’t feel like a child at all.

And maybe, just maybe, he would find stability in this unfamiliar world.

Even if his hands still twitched at the sound of every soft footstep beyond the door.

The next day, Freesia and Chief Kenelle enter his office. It's been a while since he saw the chief of the flame dwarves, who looks much healthier than the last time he saw him.

"Greetings, young master-nim," Cale could see the rise of confidence this dwarf got after their last transaction. It was before they settled near the outskirts and a relatively safe place in the Forest of Darkness.

"Good to see you again, Chief Kenelle. I hope you settled well in your new home, I presume?" Cale could see a slight pride in Chief Kenelle's face upon hearing the word home.

"We are all happy in our new home, young master. All thanks to you," Chief Kenelle just smiled.

Freesia just stays quiet the whole time.

"Since both of you are here, I won't beat around the bush. Chief Kenelle, I wanted to offer you a position as the head of the logistics and engineering division of Soo'Ari. The secret organization that will support both the First Prince and the one who will face a powerful enemy. I knew you already have an idea who it was, isn't?" Chief Kenelle froze and remembered his past before this young kid saved them.

He closed his eyes and saw those memories, the bullying of the Bear Tribe and Lion Tribe. The false hope that when they worked hard, they would get their own territory, the slavery they experienced in the hands of those people.

But he realized something.

"You... You saved us because of them?" Chief Kenelle shuddered.

"Don't get me wrong, Chief Kenelle. I won't force you to be on the front line nor put you and your tribe in a difficult or dangerous situation. There are people I intend to employ for that position. But if you or any of your tribe would want to take revenge on those who wronged you, I will definitely welcome you," Cale put his elbow on the table and interlaced his fingers together.

"What my offer is for you to become the head of a division that would work in the shadows. Creating technologies, mechanical tools, unique weapons, and equipment that would maximize your talent in tinkering and crafting. You and your whole tribe would be employed based on performance and commissions. And of course, you'll get a chance to create more unique crafts than the weapons I'm currently commissioning you. What do you think?" Cale knew the weakness of this tribe.

They are a tribe that had been scorned by other dwarf tribes because they cannot make any magical tools or devices. They had been bullied by the Bear and Lion tribes and became their slaves.

But this tribe is proud of their mechanical skills. Something he obviously knew due to his skill set on Earth. And Earth's tools, equipment, and devices all had mechanical parts he could teach to this tribe. They would surely thrive under his leadership.

It also means this tribe is a useful pawn, and he knew how to entice these people. He could see that they were shaken by his offer.

"You can sit for a while to think or you could call a meeting with your council. I hope to get your answer tomorrow at the latest," Cale gave a gentle and reassuring smile. He knew these people would accept this offer.

Because they are greedy.

Greedy to prove themselves. Greedy for knowledge, greedy for a better life.

They would become volunteer slaves to his and Alberu's hands while making them believe that their fate wasn't predetermined the moment Cale saved them. That they chose that path themselves.

After all, he won't forget the indirect grievance these people caused because of the same mechanical devices he's presenting to them right now.

He knew they would also join the frontline when the war came.

After all, exploiting debt of gratitude is a scary type of manipulation.

Chief Kenelle went to the couch at the corner in a daze, so Cale didn't pay attention to him and looked at the silent Freesia.

"Report," Cale smiled when Freesia's posture suddenly straightened. She cleared her throat but looked at the chief first.

Cale immediately knew what she meant.

"Don't worry about him, Miss Freesia. Please start the reporting." Freesia nodded.

She put down the summary documents that she was holding.

"We conducted the census of the slums from the day before yesterday until this morning with the help of a few people. The first set of questions included name, age, race, clothing size, and familial connections to other people. As our foundation. Then in the second set, we included asking if they know how to read and write, the languages they knew, and their nationalities as the second round of questions. The third question is if they have allergies, injuries, illnesses, and their overall height and weight based on the instructions you gave me. This is the first document," Freesia pointed out the first stack of documents she put down. Then put down another stack of documents.

"The papers marked with black ink at the bottom are my comrades that you wanted to employ and who accepted the contract you gave them. The papers without one are the people with the right talent that you wanted to employ legally. And the papers with ink above are those with great potential to be part of the organization. I noted their talents and confirmed it on the spot. My lord, may I ask where would be the main headquarters of our group?" Freesia maintained her politeness throughout the reporting.

Cale felt satisfied with Freesia's efficiency.

He'd been thinking of this and immediately remembered the house that his mother built near Mount Aegis, the mountain where the berries that they use as the main ingredient for the Henituse's famous wine grow.

"My dear Cale. You would need this house in the future, okay. Once you are grown up and decide to create your group, use this place as your main headquarters." Cale smiled sadly, remembering those words his mother said.

He really would need it.

Chapter Text

Caught up by memories, the room went silent for a while before they dismissed it.

He smiled sadly for a moment upon remembering those memories.

"Even after death, you're still looking out for me," Cale thought before he looked at Freesia again.

"I'll give you access to the main base," Cale sighed before taking a parchment paper.

"Come here, Miss Freesia." Freesia immediately went next to Cale before Cale put up a sound barrier and started to draw the house that he remembered in his memories. Not detailed, just a sketch.

"This is the Villa Red Jewel in Mount Aegis in our vineyard. It’s a two-storey villa that my mother created when I was just born. This villa has a wide underground space that covers the entire mountain. You could almost say Mount Aegis is a hollow mountain because of this place. But it was fortified to the point that it's indestructible and wouldn't budge to earthquakes." Cale circled a place where a stack of barrels was placed at the back of the villa.

"One of the entrances is this place. It was made with the same mechanics used for hiding a secret room in Whipper Kingdom’s magic tower. The place is ready for operation but lacks necessities and won't function immediately due to the lack of ingredients and resources. But overall, it's a great place as the main base of our group." Freesia couldn't help but feel awe toward this young boy.

"I want you and the others to transform this place into a good main base. Include a strategy room, intelligence wing, finance hall, logistics and research lab, archives, combat training room, healing ward, weapon room, operative halls, lounges, spare rooms, and a center hall. Add more rooms if needed. Specifically, make use of the shell villa as a lounging or resting place. Money is not a problem. Just make sure the people who enter are all trustworthy." Cale went to one of the cabinets in the Count's room.

He remembered when he was just a kid in his first life, they hid a lot of things inside the office. That included this piece—a pendant that would access the villa his mother gifted him. The villa that would become his main base.

"Later, we'll go there together. Contact the people first." Cale took down the sound barrier, and Freesia nodded before leaving.

Cale had a lot of plans, and he wanted to build them together with Alberu and his family.

For the first time in his two lifetimes, he was looking forward to his future.

Cale continued his work for a week, and it all happened one morning when one of Cale’s informants reported a sudden influx of illegal human trafficking in the Southwest Region. Some of the victims had been kidnapped from different areas, including his own territory, which enraged Cale greatly.

He informed Alberu and launched a silent investigation, which eventually led them to a vassal household—Chryshi.

After reporting to Alberu, both of them looked grim.

"This is serious..." Alberu massaged his temple and sighed deeply.

"Singten Merchants Guild is from the Empire. They are selling our people to the Empire... Damn it, why didn’t I know this? How long have they been operating already?" Cale could see Alberu trembling.

Because it only meant that their enemies were much more powerful than they expected.

"I knew that white thing had a lot of cards up his sleeves. But having the Empire too? That means they already had a foothold on the Western Continent before we even noticed. Do you have full details about the Mogoru Empire?" Cale remained calm, sipping his daily lemon tea on the other side of the communication device.

"The official report says they aligned with the White Star seven years after the Henituse County fell. Aside from a brief war against the Jungle and Whipper Kingdom, and the time they sent 'help' to Caro Kingdom, which is still unaccounted for, the Mogoru Empire has remained neutral," Cale could see the frustration on Alberu's face.

"I knew that bastard was really a psycho. In the novel, the author wrote that he was the culprit behind the fire in the Jungle," Alberu frowned. He had never known this piece of information.

"It's hard to get intel during the 'calm before the storm' timeline. Everyone is tense and on edge," Alberu confessed. Cale completely understood. They had both experienced the helplessness and doubt that lingered during that time.

"It will not happen again," Cale put down his teacup and looked at Alberu's face with determination.

"I won't let that happen," Alberu smiled and nodded.

"I'll take care of this. Don’t worry. I’ll handle it as discreetly as possible," A plan immediately began to form in Cale's mind.

After compiling the documents, he took Ron and Choi Han and tore a teleportation scroll. They entered the Southwest Region incognito, heading straight to a bar.

Some people looked at them strangely, but Cale didn’t care. He immediately spotted the person he had been looking for.

"Hello, Auntie," Cale gave his sweetest smile, which made Choi Han and Ron exchange weird looks.

"Kid, you do know that children aren’t allowed in this kind of place? And thank you for calling me Auntie. You’re so sweet," the woman said as she gracefully sipped her alcohol, looking at Cale with a playful demeanor.

"I wanted to talk to Auntie about something in private. Would that be possible?" The woman was baffled but seemed to decide the kid wasn’t a threat. Oh, how wrong she was.

They went to a private area, and the woman still acted playfully toward Cale.

"Is this private enough?" Cale looked at Ron, who immediately tore another scroll—a sound barrier—which shocked the woman.

Cale’s innocent demeanor suddenly changed.

"My name is Cale Henituse, Duchess Sonata Gyerre. I came here on behalf of the First Prince," Cale gave a business-like smile that caught Sonata off guard.

Her eyes widened as she recognized the boy in front of her and realized it was indeed Cale Henituse.

"The Henituse family is now supporting the First Prince?" She looked at him warily. The Gyerre household supported the Third Prince. It was incredibly rude and appeared to be a political attack for Cale to show up here.

"The Henituse County will not officially support the First Prince for the time being. It will remain neutral until the right moment," Cale vaguely informed Sonata that the Henituse family currently supported the First Prince from the shadows.

"What do you want?" Sonata didn’t lower her guard.

She had a feeling that she had been locked as his target—and she was right.

Cale dropped a pile of papers in front of Duchess Sonata.

"These are documents that state one of your vassals is committing treason and running an illegal human trafficking ring. They include time stamps, lists of both confirmed and unconfirmed names of those who were kidnapped and sold to foreign merchant guilds," Cale placed a recording device next to the pile.

"This is a copy of the recordings our people collected during the investigation," Sonata stared at Cale in horror.

Cale dropped another pile of documents onto the existing stack.

"These documents show the payments, receipts, and the merchant guilds involved. They have close ties to Mogoru’s Imperial Prince. The First Prince wants you to clean up this mess as quietly as possible," Cale smiled warmly, making Sonata uncomfortable.

"What do you want?" she repeated, anxiety rising rapidly. Was he trying to force the Gyerre family to support the First Prince?

"The First Prince and I have no intention of pressuring you into supporting him. But the First Prince wishes for your household to train your military as if war could break out at any moment," Cale observed the deepening frown on Sonata’s face.

"For what? Are we going to war?" Sonata’s frown grew heavier. She was too sober for this kind of conversation.

"There’s a secret organization that has been moving in the shadows. They came from the Eastern Continent and are now making their way into the Western Continent..." Cale paused and smiled sadly.

"Because of the investigations we are currently conducting, we’ve gathered information that this secret organization is working with both the Empire and three of the Northern Kingdoms, for reasons still unknown. The First Prince doesn’t want to assume anything, but it’s better to be prepared. Feel free to investigate this information yourself, but please, don’t endanger yourself," Cale wasn’t sure of the Empire’s motives, but he had a strong feeling they were all connected.

"A war..." Sonata looked at the young boy in front of her. He stood up and gave a small bow.

"As a parting gift, I’m giving you this. Please open it in secret. If you need answers to any of your other questions, feel free to contact the First Prince," Cale handed Duchess Sonata a magic pouch and smiled before leaving her in a daze.

The magic pouch was filled with all the evidence she needed to give justice to her fallen family. Even without pressuring the duchess, Cale was sure they would support him.

A year later, Cale just went with the flow of his daily routine. Working with the Territory's paperwork for three hours, two hours of work to the Soo'Ari, lunch, four hours of meetings three times a week, two hours of reading and studying. Dinner, then three hours of training in the evening. Alberu had the same schedule for him and it worked really well for both of them.

Of course, Cale would occasionally slack off or Beacrox would force him to take a rest every single Sunday. That was his rest day.

The territory became a tourist spot and business was booming. Soo'Ari became bigger too, which meant Cale made his family richer than they already were and still had his own line of money. Cale opened a lot of businesses that targeted multiple demographics. From babies to old people, he really did not hold back.

Which meant, again, money flowing to him was like water. Cale would fund the project of him and Alberu but made sure his investment would return.

He found three mines in the Forest of Darkness and immediately made the Soo'Ari take over. It was a magic stone mine, a nickel iron, and diamonds. Alberu laughed so loudly when Cale told him about it.

After all, they would snatch some mages in the Whipper Kingdom when the civil war started.

Cale had his rare days of total rest. Just casually reading some novels while a communication device that did not need a mage was active beside his table. Alberu working on the other side just watching each other.

It was a habit both Alberu and Cale developed when they found out about the mines. Just letting the communication device activate even when they would not talk for hours because of work.

Choi Han was outside, training with the knights and some disguised members of Soo'Ari. He was now one of the core members of the group and had been doing well.

"It's funny how a lot of them are getting desperate," Alberu chuckled. Cale just looked at him with a smile.

"Let them be," just a casual remark from Cale.

The nobles had indeed been desperate. Nine months ago, Alberu was proclaimed by the King as the Crown Prince of the Roan Kingdom. It was shocking news to the whole noble society as they either supported the Third Prince who had the favor of the King and was the son of the current Queen, or the competent Second Prince who had strong backing from his maternal family.

The First did not even cross their minds.

But after the proclamation, they started to notice Alberu's movements. The silent project for giving the poor people a better life, the free training and seminars to create talents, the unknown influx of businesses in Huiss City that created more jobs.

Ordinances that made the lives of civilians much better. And the sudden popularity of the First Prince among the common folks. They realized too late that the First Prince was building his own foundation.

It was also a sudden shock for the nobles that the Duke Gyerre of the Southwest expressed their support towards the First Prince. It baffled a lot of them. How did it happen?

Of course, it was an entire scheme of Cale Henituse, his future husband.

The Gyerre really did see a pattern and traces of this secret organization, which deeply shook the Duchess because of how extensive the power of this group was. She stopped diving deeper once she confirmed what Cale had said.

The magic pouch was what brought the Gyerre to the First Prince's turf. The fact that the First Prince had already recognized a threat this significant while others remained ignorant spoke volumes about his dedication and power.

He wasn’t really the powerless prince others perceived him to be. But the magic pouch remained the nail in the coffin because, no matter how much money she had poured into investigations, she couldn’t find the culprit. Yet after receiving the magic pouch, she verified everything and got a lead immediately.

The gift the First Prince had given her was genuine, even including the details of the culprit and how they had committed the crime. And it turned out to be one of her most trusted subordinates—the very person she had placed in charge of the investigation.

She couldn’t help but feel enraged. Still, they conducted their business as discreetly as possible so as not to alert the snake.

Chapter Text

Choi Han smiled after three hours of rigorous training with the knights. All of them were slumped on the floor, but most looked satisfied because they had become stronger.

Choi Han couldn't help but feel even happier since he accepted the deal of becoming Cale Henituse's sword. He had found out that the crown prince and Cale were Korean in their previous lives. It shocked him, but he still felt more at home after the confrontation. He seemed to feel even closer to the two.

Choi Han would teach Alberu and Cale sword arts. Of course, Cale leaned more toward daggers, so they both had different training regimes.

He was in bliss when Beacrox started cooking Korean cuisine that Cale had gifted him on his birthday. He even added some famous dishes from other countries that he knew, like lasagna, spaghetti, burgers, sandwiches, pasta, dumplings, and more.

Beacrox had to make some dishes entirely from scratch because most of the recipes were hard to replicate due to ingredient issues. Still, Choi Han could now eat Korean food every now and then.

Choi Han also joined the Soo'Ari Organization and received the codename Orion. He still couldn't figure out his exact role, but Cale gave him the task of teaching knights and Soo'Ari members sword arts, and he was more than willing.

Choi Han felt more welcomed in Henituse County and was grateful to Cale.

After knowing that Cale and Alberu were now older than Ron, he treated the two as adults during serious conversations but treated them like children during casual meetings.

It had been hectic, but he still loved it.

While finishing his last move for today's training, there was sudden chaos outside. He saw Hans frantically running to their barracks.

"The Count is back!" Hans looked more anxious than usual. Suddenly, the knights' mood dropped, and Choi Han saw many of them frowning.

"Hilsman, what happened? Why do you all suddenly look gloomy?" Choi Han asked as he observed the others.

"The Count... after the late Countess died, he neglected our young master-nim!" Hilsman gritted his teeth and unconsciously clenched his fists.

"It was the young master who took care of the funeral ceremony, took care of the territory, while the Count just left without saying anything. It's frustrating because the young master was just eight and had to deal with adult matters because the Count couldn't do that himself," he said, genuinely upset on behalf of Cale.

"He is a good Count, since he never abused his power, but he is terrible at parenting."

"The young master looks more like the late Countess. The Count couldn't look at the young master without seeing her image. I understand he is grieving. But to completely neglect the young master, that's an all-time low," the knights whispered in hushed tones.

Some knights were summoned to welcome the Count back, and the place became a mess.

Choi Han felt worried and immediately went to Cale's study room, since today was his resting day.

Cale could feel the tremor of his body.

He was supposed to rest the entire day, but Beacrox went to deliver the snack and bad news, at least for them.

The Count is back.

Cale subconsciously grabbed Ron's sleeve as he trembled. He couldn't control his senses as if he were overwhelmed. All he could hear was the deafening static in his head. His fist was white from clenching.

He can't...

Cale felt like he couldn't face his family again. The corpse of them suddenly flashed through his mind.

The way Lady Violan used her body to shield him, Basen's limping body, Lily's blood she vomited before dying.

And the sincere apology of his father before falling.

It felt like a broken record that repeated over and over again in his head.

"Cale..." His senses returned upon seeing Ron hugging him and Alberu, who was supposed to be in the palace, squeezing his hand.

Beacrox was guarding the room but looked worried.

"You had a panic attack," Alberu squeezed his hand again, assuring him more. He tried to catch his breath, clutching so hard to Ron's clothes and not letting go.

"I... I'm sorry," Cale could still feel the tremors in his body.

"He seems to have a fever," Ron put his hand on Cale's forehead to check, but Alberu just shook his head.

"It's probably the Record. He'll be fine after stabilizing himself and releasing the tension from his body," Alberu took Cale from Ron’s clutch, carrying him to the nearest couch while Cale was stabilizing his Record.

Ron gave him a cold wet towel, and then Alberu carefully wiped Cale’s body to release some of the heat. Ron could see how practiced Alberu was, as if he had done this multiple times and could move with ease, unbuttoning the first two buttons of Cale’s clothes with one hand while his other hand kept squeezing his.

Ron could see the silent whisper of Alberu, keeping Cale stable like he was subconsciously doing everything.

After giving the towel to Ron, Alberu just pulled Cale into his embrace and squeezed his hand.

Cale fell asleep, which was the better outcome if Cale really could not manage his emotions.

“Cale seems to have had a flashback of what happened in the Henituse in our first life. Ron, please don’t let anyone go inside for the time being. He needs to adjust,” Alberu smiled sadly and sighed.

Ron just nodded and gave a benign smile.

He carefully made the towel cold again and put it on Cale’s forehead.

“Cale rarely has a panic attack...” Alberu felt like the two needed to know about this.

“He lost himself to the persona he made in his first life. Because he acted as a trash to make the vassals accept Lady Violan and Basen in the territory. So much for a barely 9-year-old,” Alberu chuckled, but Ron could feel the grief in that chuckle.

“Our second life made it worse... It took me 20 years for him to tell me about his childhood. He grew up emotionally stunned because if he expressed his emotions, he was either humiliated or beaten so badly that even a soft touch could make him flinch,” Alberu gritted his teeth as his eyes darkened. Ron had an itch to take his dagger out and go hunting.

“I tried to find that bastard, but lucky for him, he died at the hands of monsters. If I had found him alive, I would have made his life a living hell,” a vicious glint flashed in Alberu’s eyes.

“Clearly a person who didn’t deserve to live,” Beacrox seemed agitated too.

It was cut short when someone knocked on the door. Beacrox opened a small gap to see who it was and saw Choi Han, who seemed to have run there as he was breathing heavily. Beacrox frowned but remembered Choi Han had just finished training, so that must be the reason he was breathing heavily.

“What do you want, you punk?” Beacrox looked at Choi Han, who was also frowning.

“Is Cale-nim okay? I... I heard that the Count is back,” Choi Han deliberately lowered his voice as he assumed the topic about the Count was something sensitive.

“Guard the door and don’t let anyone in until we say so. Understand?” Choi Han immediately picked up that something had happened. He halted and stood by the door. Clenching his fist, something had happened to Cale.

And since Beacrox, who seemed to be close to Cale, told him to guard the door, it seemed like Cale didn’t want to see the Count immediately.

He anxiously led his lover, Violan, inside.

"Everyone, this is Lady Violan," he announced with a smile. It was a far cry from the almost dull look he had worn a year ago.

"She will become the new Countess of our territory. I want everyone to welcome her in a manner befitting her new title." Murmurs began to spread, but Violan stood there with the poise and grace of a noble. The staff greeted Violan, and she nodded in acknowledgment.

"This is Basen. He will be adopted into the family as the second son." The shy Basen hid behind Lady Violan, peeking out at the others before Deruth dismissed everyone.

Deruth tried to find Cale in the crowd but felt a pang of disappointment when he did not see him. Guilt immediately consumed him. He now realized how wrong he had been to leave Cale alone. He decided he would talk to him tomorrow.

He did not know if he could face Cale directly at the moment because of the guilt he felt. He did not know he would be forced to see the person he most wanted to avoid.

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

Chapter Text

Beacrox, sleeves rolled up and apron pristine despite the flour dusting the table, was calmly slicing carrots with his usual surgical precision. He looked more like he was handling a scalpel than a kitchen knife.

"You are doing that too perfectly again," Cale said from the stool, watching with a small pout. He had his own apron tied haphazardly around his tiny waist, slightly crooked. His sleeves were already dusted with flour, and a smudge of something creamy dotted his cheek.

Beacrox stared at him for thirty seconds before going back to his work.

"Precision is necessary," Beacrox replied without looking up. "A badly cut carrot ruins the texture." Beacrox secretly smiled while looking at his dongsaeng... young master. He seemed to be slowly healing despite having the ability to remember everything he saw.

He liked that Cale could hum in contentment at this rather mundane work.

"I like them a little uneven." Cale appeared to frown, but Beacrox saw it as pouting.

Beacrox raised an eyebrow and finally glanced at the boy. "You like things a little chaotic. You are really a menace." Cale grinned, proud of the title.

They worked in companionable silence for a while. Cale moved to knead dough, small hands pressing rhythmically into the soft mound.

It was not his first time doing this, and Beacrox did not correct him. In fact, the man only glanced over once to check the texture, then gave the slightest of nods, his version of high praise.

Beacrox slid the tray of evenly sliced vegetables toward the stove, setting them to sauté in a pan. Cale's nose wrinkled as the smell hit him.

"You added the garlic early."

"Just a bit. You will like it." Cale tilted his head, skeptical, but he did not argue.

While the vegetables simmered, Beacrox moved to check the small pot of cream on the other burner. He stirred it slowly, silently.

"You are being quiet today," Cale observed.

Beacrox glanced at him again. "You are always quiet when kneading dough." That made Cale stop. He blinked and looked at Beacrox, who had a small smile.

"That is very specific. Did you observe even my expression while cooking?" Cale looked at him suspiciously.

"You are predictable." Beacrox's tone was dry, but his eyes softened when he noticed the flour in Cale's hair. He moved over, flicked a bit off gently, and returned to his task without saying anything else.

Cale did not comment, but his lips twitched into a smile.

They assembled the dish together at the counter. It was a layered vegetable pie, something Cale had first eaten in one of his old lives and recreated from memory.

Beacrox had perfected it on the fifth try, muttering about ratios and oven temperatures until it turned out just right. Today, Cale was determined to make it from scratch, mostly by himself.

Beacrox only helped when asked.

"You are folding it wrong," he said bluntly as Cale tried to crimp the edges of the pie crust.

"I am doing it the way I like." Beacrox paused. He let him have fun even if he did not like being messy while preparing dishes. So he stepped back.

"As long as it does not leak." Cale nodded in satisfaction, as if he had won a fight.

They finished the pie and placed it in the oven. Cale leaned against the counter, arms crossed, tapping his finger idly.

"How long?"

"Thirty-five minutes."

"That is too long." Beacrox pulled out a small dish from the side cupboard.

"That is why I made extra filling earlier." He handed a spoonful to Cale, who perked up.

"You cheat," Cale mumbled with a full mouth.

Beacrox finally smiled again, just a little.

"Only when I know you will complain." They sat at the small table in the corner, eating bits of warm filling with toasted bread as they waited. Cale swung his legs idly, the tips of his toes just barely brushing the floor.

"Beacrox-hyung?"

"Hm?"

"If I became a chef, would you work in my restaurant?" Beacrox looked at him for a long moment.

"Are you serious?" Cale shrugged.

"I think it would be fun. You would be the scary sous-chef, and I would be the genius head chef. We would only cook food we like. We could wear disguises so no one would know who we are." Beacrox leaned back in his chair.

"Only if I get to throw out anyone who annoys me." Cale chuckled and nodded.

"That is what the manager is for."

"I will be both, then." Cale snorted, then paused, more serious now.

"Thanks for doing this with me." His voice was soft, and there was a smile on his face.

Beacrox did not respond immediately. He looked at the boy in front of him-flour in his hair, bright eyes behind tired shadows that did not belong on someone so young.

"You did not need to ask. You know, having you as a partner in the kitchen was not that bad. You are not as messy as I initially thought," he said finally.

"To be honest, my motor skills were off. I am still adjusting to my small body despite being in this body for a year. Sometimes I make movements that are too big for my frame. Partly because of my record. I was not really messy in the kitchen because I hate wasting food..." Beacrox had an idea why Cale stopped. He had a talk with Alberu about what their previous world looked like.

It would not be wrong to assume Cale experienced starvation. So he was glad when the timer rang softly from the oven.

They stood up together, neither rushing. Beacrox grabbed the mitts, but Cale tugged his sleeve.

"Let me do it." Beacrox hesitated a bit.

"I will be careful."

"All right." The oven door creaked open, and Cale reached in with practiced care, pulling out the golden pie. It smelled rich and warm and homey.

"Perfect," Cale said, looking proud of the pie they made.

Beacrox stared at it for a second.

"It is crooked." The pie's presentation was a bit odd. There was a little leak of cream on the side, and the middle had a huge lump that made everything look chaotic.

"I like it a little chaotic," Cale grinned.

And Beacrox, reluctantly, smiled back. Still, they sliced it with the right proportions. Both of them started to clean the kitchen when Violan suddenly entered the room.

"Lady Violan." Beacrox bowed slightly, and Cale just greeted her.

"Uhm... I just... wanted to invite you for tea?" Violan's sentence turned into a question when she saw the messy look of Cale.

Cale suddenly offered Violan a piece of pie on a saucer. It seemed like a pie made of vegetables.

"We made this. Would you like to try?" Violan saw the big doe eyes of Cale and could not help but think that he looked cute. She accepted the saucer and took a bite.

Violan could taste the cream in the pie, and the blend of vegetables inside. It was savory, and she could distinguish different flavors that blended together.

"It is... delicious," she murmured.

"That is a Vegetable Cream Pie. It could be a snack or a main dish depending on what vegetables you want to add." Cale's smile seemed infectious, and Violan smiled too.

"Can I have some of this and share it with Basen? How about joining us for tea?" Cale nodded and looked at himself.

"I think I will need to change clothes first. I will tell Hans to prepare these in the garden." Violan smiled and nodded. Hans was called, and Beacrox continued to clean the kitchen.

Chapter Text

They talked about rather mundane things, like the upcoming wedding in three weeks. Violan asked Cale about his interests, especially his hobbies and favorites. Basen was a bit shy, but Cale included him in their conversation.

Cale felt as if he were dreaming, especially considering how strange his relationship with them had been in his first life.

"Basen..." The stern tone in Cale's voice made Basen jolt. He straightened his sitting position and looked at Cale.

"Hy-hyung?" He looked at him nervously.

"Remember this. You are now part of the Henituse household. No matter where you go, your family name is Henituse. Got it? Listen to me, unless you don't want to survive. People in the vassal families will not be kind to you. They will treat you as if you are beneath them. If this happens, do not hesitate to fight back. If you're overwhelmed, run and come to me. I will deal with them. Do you understand?" Cale looked at Basen, who almost cowered.

"But... I... I am not a Henitu-"

"You are. From the moment my father decided you would be adopted into this household, and from the moment you stepped foot in this castle, you became a Henituse. It is not about the blood that flows within you but about who you truly are. So I want you to stand firm and proud because you are above those vassals. Do not let their words ruin you, okay?" Basen nodded repeatedly.

Violan looked at the satisfied expression on Cale's face with a dumbfounded look.

But she smiled, seeing that Cale seemed to accept their presence in the house.

They talked for a bit more before Cale excused himself to go back.

He went immediately to Ron and began his training.

But the county had progressed so rapidly that the paperwork needing completion had doubled compared to the amount Deruth usually handled in a whole day.

"You mean, all of this? I need to deal with all this paperwork?" Deruth was in shock, overwhelmed by how tall the paper stack was. It was even taller than him when he stacked it together while standing.

"Er... The Young Master deals with that amount every day. Sometimes more, and he usually finishes it before lunch. Sometimes, just an hour after lunch," Hans said awkwardly.

"He didn't mix up the important documents?" Deruth asked again.

"Young Master managed to put fifteen staff members in the dungeon because of embezzlement of funds. He even stripped one of the vassal households of their privileges without any rebuttal working. And he seized more than five assets from other vassals due to malpractice and abuse of power. He puts notes on each report, especially in finance. So... I don't think he messed up anything?" Deruth was dumbfounded. How would he deal with this in one day when he couldn't even finish the stacks of documents he dealt with before?

"The Young Master created a few departments in the bureau to lessen the paperwork and filter it. Uhm... You could ask the secretarial department for help," Hans said awkwardly.

He was used to seeing the table clean before lunch and Cale out to train. So when Deruth started to deal with the paperwork, he got overwhelmed by everything.

Deruth rushed toward these new departments and asked for help, which made the others look at him strangely, but they complied.

Deruth had barely sat down in front of the towering stack of paperwork when the first staff member entered with a report.

"Count-nim, here is the report for the weekly expenses of our department," a young man said, his voice shaky from the nervousness of presenting to the new Territory Lord.

"We've managed to keep the expenses under control, but there were some unexpected costs due to the repairs needed for the eastern bridge. However, we've reduced the maintenance costs by a small margin with the new vendors as Young Master approved last month." Deruth nodded absently, trying to absorb the details.

This was nothing like what he'd been accustomed to under his father's reign. The sheer weight of responsibility was unlike anything he'd expected.

Another staff member entered, holding a thick folder.

"Count-nim, this is the summary of the materials currently being distributed to the southern farms. There was a delay in delivery because of the recent storm, but everything should be on track to arrive within the next few days. The southern district is expecting a slight surplus in crops this year, thanks to the irrigation project we started." Deruth's head swam. Crop surpluses? Irrigation projects? He hadn't even noticed any of this happening. When did this happen?

He was far too busy getting bogged down in the financials. He couldn't even start to sign some papers when someone entered again.

"Count-nim, the third quarter financial summary is here." A slightly older woman, who appeared to be in charge of finances, handed him another heavy stack of documents.

"We've also caught three separate cases of embezzlement from the vassals in the southern regions. The culprits have been detained and their assets seized, just as you instructed. The investigation is still ongoing, but this has definitely boosted our treasury by a small amount." Deruth felt his jaw tighten with the sheer amount of the paperwork.

He could barely understand how Cale had managed to not only oversee these departments but also take decisive actions like this. Every report left him feeling smaller.

"Count-nim," a young woman said, stepping forward with a small book.

"I have the update on the training program for the knights. There's been significant progress, and the recruits are advancing faster than anticipated. The new drills as young master recommended recommended are proving effective, but... the knights are asking for more rest days to avoid exhaustion. I've made a note of it in this report."

Deruth waved his hand in acknowledgment and sighed. He felt dizzy and just wanted to lay down next to Violan.

"More rest days, huh? I'll keep that in mind." He wasn't sure how much power he had to make those kinds of decisions, but he'd heard enough about Cale's approach to delegation. He would figure it out.

The next staff member to enter seemed almost apologetic.

"Count-nim, we've received complaints from the neighboring villages about the road conditions leading to the capital. It's become difficult to transport goods efficiently, and there's been an increase in accidents due to the worsening state of the roads. We could either allocate more funds for the repairs or consider outsourcing it to a construction company." He seemed so awkward upon looking at Deruth, who was swamped in stacks upon stacks of papers.

"Understood," Deruth muttered.

"Let's go with outsourcing for now. Keep it affordable." Another employee approached, this one with a report about the state of the local mine.

"Count-nim, this is an update on the iron mine. There's been an issue with the labor force-some workers have fallen ill, and others have been demanding better pay. The mine's output has decreased slightly, but it's still meeting quotas. The new supervisor that the young master hired has proven to be quite competent, though." Deruth sighed, rubbing his temple. Illness, labor disputes, and mine quotas.

It was like everything needed attention all at once.

Another report came, this one from the agriculture department.

"Count-nim, the newly implemented crop rotation system is showing great promise. The northern fields have seen a noticeable increase in yield, and we're beginning to expand the system to other regions. However, some areas are facing resistance from older landowners. They don't trust the new methods."

"Make sure they understand how this will benefit them in the long run," Deruth said absently, though his mind was racing. He hadn't realized how much work Cale had put into all these projects.

"Count-nim, we've successfully completed the construction of the new hospital, as per the previous directive. The medical staff is already moving in and preparing to assist with the local health issues. It should be open for public use by the end of this week." Deruth barely had time to take in all the new information before yet another staff member walked in with a thick, handwritten ledger.

"Count-nim, here is the report on the border patrol. There were a few minor skirmishes with nearby bandits, but everything is under control. The patrols are being increased for the next quarter." Everywhere he turned, there was something new to be dealt with.

Cale had made all of this look effortless, but Deruth felt his exhaustion creeping in. His old life had been simple compared to this.

Finally, a familiar voice called from the doorway.

"Your Grace," Hans said with a slight awkward smile.

"Would you like to take a break and get some fresh air? It seems like you're overwhelmed." Hans clearly wasn't used to the environment because Cale always kept one to two stacks at maximum on the table. Even with that peak hour of staff and in-charges swarming the office, never once did Cale get overwhelmed by the work.

Deruth let out a strained laugh.

"I don't think I have time for a break, Hans." He sighed and just started to read the documents. He felt like he would need a week to finish this all.

"Well, perhaps after you've finished some of that," Hans gestured to the ever-growing stack of paperwork.

"Your Grace still has to attend your wedding planner later."

"Right..." Deruth muttered, already lost in the pile of reports once more. His thoughts drifted to Cale's organized, flawless approach.

If he was going to survive this, he would need to figure out how Cale managed to do it all without losing his mind.

Since Cale doesn't have any work, he just stays in the study room doing some hobbies, with Ron by his side. Choi Han would usually be in the barracks training with the others. Just like usual, Cale activates the communication device and calls Alberu while both of them are just doing their work.

Cale is currently painting a detailed art piece of both Jour and Miranda, Alberu's mother, sitting in a gazebo having tea while smiling happily. It was based on the record he had and the portrait of the late consort that he saw at the palace.

But at this moment, Cale has just started and he is still working on the background.

He has a smile that Alberu often sees when Cale has done something mischievous.

"What did you do this time?" Alberu's voice is casual, as if asking about the weather outside.

Like he is used to his lover's antics.

Kim Rok Soo is, after all, a menace in society. This guy is someone who could casually stroll around and end up causing an explosion in the middle of a city. Or sometimes, make an entire illegal guild collapse internally.

They know it is him but don't know how and why it happened.

And this is also the person who slapped a prime minister's face in front of millions of people because it was live-streamed. And yet, the one who faced repercussions was the prime minister, who was impeached from his position.

"I did nothing. And that's the problem." Cale smiles brightly and sips a lemon tea, making him wince because of the sourness. Alberu immediately looks at Cale.

He stops working and has an enlightenment.

"Oh... OH!" Alberu suddenly feels pity for Deruth.

"But he should be lucky it wasn't drastic," Alberu thinks and shakes his head.

It is a mild pettiness, but he is sure the count would be buried in his office for more than a month just to deal with that amount of work that Cale could finish in one morning.

Ron smiles benignly and pours another cup of lemon tea, which makes Cale pout.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Early in the morning, the scent of ripened grapes hung in the air, a sweet, earthy perfume that most would associate with lazy vineyard strolls and vintage wine. The casual stroll of Freesia in the vineyard had been a normal occurrence in this area.

"Freesia-nim! Good morning!" one of the staff said with a smile. She gave a new harvest of fruit to Freesia while smiling.

"This is part of the harvest for today. We want you to send this to young master-nim. His program has been a huge help to the vineyard, especially the new irrigation plan."
Freesia accepted it with a smile.

"This old lady will certainly take this to the young master later." Freesia loved her job.

She wasn't restricted like when she was in the Assassin's Guild or forced to break her moral code. In fact, the vision of Cale and hers were almost aligned. That was what she loved in her job.

She was also paid generously and even had benefits in case something happened. Accommodation was also included in the benefits, so they really had nothing to worry about.

Money flowed like water in their finances, and they invested a large portion of the profit into other businesses.

Freesia could remember when they were just starting. She was overwhelmed by the work, and it felt embarrassing because Cale was the one who helped her learn how to manage everything.

Cale had been a good teacher, and she considered him a genius. He could learn and adapt at a terrifying rate if he didn't know something. His brain could analyze data in just a glance, calculate anything mentally in the shortest time, and plan anything even under pressure.

He bulldozed any obstruction that came his way.

Thus, all the staff and members of Soo'Ari were in awe of "Crescent," the persona Cale used when he was in the main base. Only a few really knew his real name and what he looked like.

To the farmers in the vineyard, Freesia was just one of the people under Cale who maintained the villa.

As she stepped out of the narrow stone corridor hidden beneath the eastern end of the villa's wine cellar, the cool underground air followed her like a whisper.

The illusion of Villa Red Jewel was flawless. A perfect façade carefully crafted even before the organization was founded.

To the nobles, it was merely one of Young Master Cale's indulgent summer estates - a picturesque villa surrounded by rows of grapes and guarded by wine crafters and estate staff who kept to themselves. Tourists didn't visit Mount Aegis, and no one questioned its quiet luxury.

But Freesia knew better.
This villa was a lie, and beneath it thrived the truth.

She entered a secret passage that had a concealed mechanism using both mechanical and magical systems. It was covered by a stack of barrels as part of the backdoor. She walked inside until she reached a thick, metal-plated door.

She pressed her palm against the small panel, and a brief pulse of light ran across the surface before unlocking with a muted click. A mechanism that was made by the Flame Dwarf Tribe.

Beyond this door was Soo'Ari's true face.

Clean, quiet, clinical.

The headquarters wasn't a military facility nor a palace. It felt more like a nerve center - walls lined with enchanted memory boards, stacked records sealed in fire-proof cabinets, and halls patrolled not by guards in armor but by silence and discipline.

A handful of staff moved through the corridors, dressed in subdued, non-descript clothes. Nothing flashy. No uniforms. Every movement was deliberate. They didn't speak unless necessary, and even then, the volume was low, not because they were suppressed but because it was part of their training - to be able to communicate using gestures, looks, and subtle hints.

They could still talk or use the villa itself to hang out, but it was a normal occurrence inside the headquarters. And it was a system that worked very well.

Freesia passed by the logistics division - two people working in tandem to cross-reference incoming reports from the other territory's operations and the eastern and western trade routes. They murmured updates to one another without breaking pace. She didn't stop them. She didn't need to.

Everything ran like clockwork.

She continued on, turning past a polished steel wall embedded with a discreet rune - a one-way scrying screen. Behind it was the Analysis Room. Inside, three operatives were quietly categorizing artifacts confiscated from recent black market raids. Each item was cataloged, assessed, then either sealed or rerouted for repurposing into other Soo'Ari functions.

The Healer's Wing was quiet but well-stocked. Two private rooms. Three field medics. Rotational assignments. No one here talked about "missions" openly. They used coded phrasing. "Harvest time" meant surveillance in various territories. "Bottling" meant extracting information from hostile agents.

She paused at the corner where the internal mail system connected, another craft of the Flame Dwarfs. Slim wooden tubes marked with colored wax sealed hand-written reports that would be distributed by runners on rotation. Some were meant for Villa Red Jewel's fake steward. Some went into a locked box destined for estate businesses across three territories.

There was no direct line back to Cale.

That was the point.

Each business - be it tavern, trade shop, auction house, or vineyard - had its own autonomous structure. Their documents were written in different handwritings. Ledgers bore different stamps. Even the parchment came from various regions. Freesia ensured none of it could be traced. That was her job.

She opened the door to her private office.

The room was plain. A desk, two chairs, a shelf. In the corner, a rune-sealed safe.

She sat down, pulled out a slim notebook, and began recording the day's summaries.

No breaches reported in other areas.

The shopfront in the South passed its quarterly audit.

An encoded message from Hilsman confirmed the arrival of new contacts in the West.

Surveillance on other nobles' backers continued, especially Venion Stan.

The candle flickered slightly. Freesia leaned back.

Soo'Ari wasn't famous. No songs. No whispers on the street. Not even rumors.

But that was exactly the point.

You didn't see them.
You didn't know they were there.
But when a corrupt merchant vanished, when illegal transport lines crumbled overnight, when black-market smugglers turned up half-mad from their interrogation and swore they had "been inside a wall that moved," that was Soo'Ari.

Efficient. Silent. Rooted deep.

Freesia closed her book, locked it, and returned it to the safe.

She would walk the perimeter again before noon. Inspect the northern watch tunnel. Confirm the shifts for the outer post agents.

The skin of the organization was seamless.
Its bones were strong.

And like all good predators, Soo'Ari had no need to announce itself. Just like how the Arm lurked in the shadows, they were doing the same thing.

What was more fascinating about their organization was the fact that they slowly infiltrated each noble household. From new recruits to maids and staff, they sought jobs in these noble households through various recommendations and by any means - enough to give them a higher chance of getting in but not high enough to attract unwanted attention.

These people were trained to look as normal and ordinary as possible but had the means to protect themselves in case they entered a bad household.

Of course, it wasn't limited to manpower. Accessories, jewelry, makeup, and even shelving products had tiny cameras that could be accessed anytime and constantly recorded everything. The feeds were sent to the giant "computer" in the headquarters.

Cale introduced a lot of ideas to the Flame Dwarfs, and they thrived on crafting a lot of advanced "technology," as Cale called it. Even factories that produced large amounts of equipment were introduced to the Flame Dwarfs, which was why they could mass-produce some of the unique products introduced in the market.

They also had access to the "eyes" of the king with the full help of Alberu, of course. So even if Zed had this really advanced surveillance, what was the point if Soo'Ari had access too? What was infuriating was that they only invested time and effort to gain access, while the king had to fund its creation.

In just a year, they had eyes on every corner of the Roan Kingdom and were pushing into nearby kingdoms.

They also selected a few nobles to partner with, especially the righteous ones from different kingdoms.

This was why, even if nobody talked about Soo'Ari, its influence was slowly seeping in without anyone knowing how it happened.

"Miss Freesia, good morning," Billos said. One of Cale's recruits in Soo'Ari, he is now the head of the Business Sector of the group. He gave up his position as the head of the merchant guild because Soo'Ari seemed to be more profitable for him and gave him more power.

He is greedy toward his goal and concluded that following Cale would make his dream come true. And he is right. Business is booming, money is flowing, he has significant power, and he has someone at his back.

Working in Soo'Ari made him question his creativity and how vast the world could be if Soo'Ari's advanced technology was introduced to it.

The young master, who is as young as eight, almost nine years old, is a monstrous genius. The way he manipulates market trends and comes up with marketing strategies is something Billos had never even considered but that terrifyingly works well in their field.

Billos wanted to learn these too, and to make more money in the future.

Freesia gestured for Billos to take a seat across from her as she closed the last ledger on her desk. Billos set down a folder filled with proposals, his expression already serious.

"I've reviewed the Empire's current economic state," he began, adjusting his coat.

"Their core markets are consolidated. A few families hold most of the trade routes and monopolize distribution. If we rush in too aggressively, we'll spark a backlash. They'll see us as a threat." Freesia tapped her pen thoughtfully.

"Crescent-nim was clear. He wants a subtle entrance. One that doesn't disturb the surface too much... but still lets us dig roots deep enough to hold." Billos nodded.

"Exactly. We can't look like competitors. We need to look like something they don't bother to notice. Or better, something they want to support." Freesia opened a drawer and retrieved a thin folder stamped with the seal of Soo'Ari's Research Division.

She slid it toward Billos. Inside were reports on the Empire's lesser-known border cities-those not heavily influenced by the major noble houses. Trade towns. Merchant hubs. Places with just enough autonomy to allow experimentation, but still tightly monitored from the center.

"Start with these," Freesia said.

"They're the soft points in the Empire's skin. Not vital enough to warrant defensive attention, but stable enough for quiet expansion." Billos scanned the contents which he immediately grasped the core component.

"I see. This one here-Bellucia-has had two failed merchant ventures in the last five years. High foot traffic, good port, but unstable leadership." Billos smiles at the document he is reading.

"It's perfect," Freesia agreed.

"We establish a front as a logistics support company. Offer to fill the vacuum left behind by those collapsed ventures. We'll even use different names and different faces. Just enough funding to seem small-scale, but competent. Locals will appreciate that. They're tired of outsiders who come in with fanfare and fail within a season." Billos just tapped a note and paused a bit.

"Do we send operatives or new recruits?" It was a sensitive infiltration after all.

"Mixed," Freesia answered.

"Three veteran handlers and five fresh recruits. Let the new ones blend in as ordinary labor. They'll get experience, and it won't raise suspicions if they don't act too polished. Veterans will manage the movement of goods and gather intel." She paused before continuing.

"Crescent-nim said something interesting last time. He doesn't want us to 'compete' with the Empire's merchants. He wants us to 'complete' the market." Billos blinked, then gave a short laugh. The young master is truly a ruthless person.

It seems like the Empire is a potential enemy. And Cale Henituse would probably destroy them inside.

"Complete the market? That's absurdly clever." Billos can't help but to be excited. The thrill of being able to manuever these moves would be satisfying.

"He wants us to create needs that only we can meet. Not force ourselves in, but become indispensable to the gaps they didn't realize existed." Freesia is equally excited about these plans.

"Create dependencies," Billos murmured, catching on.

"Not through dominance... but through necessity." Freesia's smile was thin but approving.

"That's the core of the strategy. And once we're there, we start introducing the new tech. Not all at once. Piece by piece."

"Like the new storage containers that preserve goods longer. Transportation crates that reduce spillage. Low-energy magic lights for dock workers. Small, helpful tools the locals start asking for. This is the oldest technology we had at the moment right?" Billos as and Freesia nodded.

"Those tools will come with minor enchantments tied to Soo'Ari's internal system. It will allow us to collect local trade data without drawing attention." It only means Cale would also have an eye to the empire's internal system.

Billos leaned back in his chair, grinning.

"By the time the nobles notice the shift in their trade charts, we'll already be everywhere. In the ports. In the warehouses. In their own counting books." Billos chuckle at the thought.

"But we'll still be invisible," Freesia reminded him.

"Small-scale. Regional. Fragmented. Like five or six companies that don't seem to be related, but are all under our umbrella." Billos reached into his bag and pulled out a scroll. He unfurled a sketched-out business model.

"I've already drafted the fronts. A textile distribution firm. A spice and herb collective. A parcel delivery service. They won't compete with existing guilds. Instead, they'll service the smaller tradespeople-markets that the major guilds tend to ignore."

Freesia glanced at the models. "Good. Make sure the names sound native to the Empire. And change the management styles just enough to seem unrelated." He nodded.

"We'll also need a back-end communication system. Something separate from our core." Freesia reached for another folder.

"Already under development. The Flame Dwarves created modified Whisper Stones that only respond to preset frequency markers. Short-range only. Limited to 30 minutes of use before needing to reset. But they're untraceable." Billos chuckled again.

"They really outdo themselves every time."

"Crescent-nim invested in their curiosity In return, they give us miracles." A genuine smile appear in Freesia's lips.

Cale simply unlock the passion of these tribe and they becomes a loyal subordinates of him. The joy of proving that they don't need to be able to make magic tools. And their mechanical tools are also superior to magic tools was proven by Cale's idea and their craft. They achieve their dream and would forever be grateful to Cale.

The air between them settled into a thoughtful silence.

Then Freesia asked, "What about the Empire's spies?"

Billos raised an eyebrow. "You think they'll notice?"

"Honestly? No," she replied, "but it's always best to assume they will. The Central Intelligence Unit of the Empire is not as idiotic as their nobles. They may not act right away, but they will investigate."

"Then we plant counter-narratives. Use our information network to float rumors about a new merchant league forming in the North. Something threatening to the Empire, but ultimately fake. Keep them looking the other way." Billos just sigh

"I'll send word to our operatives in the Northern regions. Let them plant the seeds." Freesia just nodded

"We'll need a full three-month buffer before any of our supplies cross the border." Billos stood, tucking the documents under his arm.

"Use the Eastern sea route then," Freesia instructed.

"Disguise the crates with the merchant guild's emblem. We've already secured their cooperation." Billos suddenly paused at the door.

"If this works-"

"It will work," Freesia interrupted, her voice calm but absolute.

Billos smiled again. "Then we'll own the Empire's heartbeat without them even noticing we touched their skin."

He exited the office.

Freesia stood, returning to her desk, and carefully lit the small candle at the far corner. Its flame burned blue-an indication that Cale's side had just received the encrypted report she sent earlier.

A small pulse shimmered through the surface of the wall, and she knew the system was still active.

Freesia just smiles as she is satisfied with their meeting.

Chapter Text

Every Thursday afternoon, the tea room in the Henituse estate was filled with the gentle sound of cups clinking, the quiet hum of warm conversation, and the occasional silence that spoke louder than words.

Violan sat at the head of the small round table, her posture elegant, eyes soft as she listened to her stepson talk. Cale sat to her right, his hand gently stirring the tea she prepared. Basen, always eager, filled the third chair. Sometimes, he brought papers he wanted to share. Sometimes, he just wanted to sit close and bask in the calm atmosphere.

It started simply. A quiet tea time with Basen. Then Cale joined, almost by accident, on a day he returned home too late to avoid it. He had planned to make an excuse, but Violan merely gestured for him to sit.

One time turned into two, then three, until it became a habit. An expectation. A fixed part of their week.

Violan never pushed, but she watched. Carefully. Observing the subtle layers of the young boy who didn't act his age. He didn't brag or seek praise. But one afternoon, while dropping off something he forgot in the study, she saw the painting tucked behind a bookshelf. It was a landscape-rich, textured, vibrant. Not something a child would make. It carried weight. Soul.

Then she noticed the shelves of novels. Some technical, some historical, but also fiction. Tales of knights, scholars, war, and peace. Well-worn, well-read. And beside them, neatly arranged notebooks filled with handwritten summaries, opinions, and analysis. Some written in elegant script. Others written hastily, as if he couldn't stop his thoughts from spilling onto the paper.

Then there were the occasional dishes. A strange pastry that looked burnt but melted on her tongue. A soup that smelled odd but made her stomach warm for hours. A bright blue cake that she hesitated to try but left her licking the fork clean.

Cale always delivered them casually. "Beacrox and I made this." Then he would walk away without explanation.

At first, Violan was skeptical. But the taste never lied. After the fifth dish, she stopped questioning and simply enjoyed it. When she asked Beacrox if he helped with the cooking, the man simply nodded once and went back to sharpening his knife.

Her eyes lingered on Cale more often. She saw the signs. He forgot to eat. He worked past midnight. His shoulders never relaxed. When praised, he brushed it off. When thanked, he acted as if it meant nothing. He didn't think he mattered. And that pained her more than she expected.

So, she told him. Bluntly.

"You matter."

"I care."

"You're doing more than anyone expected, and I'm proud of you."

Cale always looked confused when she said that. Sometimes he would quietly nod. Sometimes he would simply change the topic. But she saw the way his ears turned slightly pink. The way he always returned the next Thursday, no matter how busy he was.

Ron watched from the side with amusement. Deruth may be Cale's biological father, but it was Violan who truly built a bridge between them.

Basen adored the tea times. It was during these meetings that he first shared his growing fascination with territory management. Cale, of course, nurtured it without much fanfare.

He showed Basen documents, explained their significance, and asked questions that made the boy think. Basen always listened closely when Cale spoke. He admired his brother more than anyone.

"Each document has weight," Cale once told him, pointing to a contract. "Some may only seem like ink on paper, but every signature could shift how people live. Always imagine the real people behind every law, every project. That's how you protect them."

Basen nodded, determined to remember every word.

To make it more engaging, Cale introduced a game.

"Let's play a scenario," he would say, his tone casual but eyes sharp. "You are the Lord. A flood destroyed the farms in the southern village. There's only enough funds for one immediate solution. You can either fix the farmland quickly or build temporary homes for the displaced. What will you do?"

Basen would think, then respond. Cale would smile faintly and guide him through the implications of each choice. Then move to the next one.

These scenarios became Basen's favorite part of the week. It felt like a game. But it trained his mind, sharpened his judgment. And best of all, it meant he got to spend more time with Cale.

Cale never said anything when Deruth continued to avoid him. He acted like it didn't matter. But Violan saw it. She saw the small shifts in his expression whenever the Count walked past him in the hallway. The way his steps slowed for a second. The way his gaze dropped.

Violan never forced a reunion. She simply filled the space Deruth left behind. With warm tea. With quiet support. With words Cale didn't know he needed.

And with each passing week, she watched the boy who had once stood at the edge of her family... quietly, steadily... become the heart of it.

After finishing the painting of his and Alberu's mother taking tea, Cale decided to put it in his mother's study room. The room he rarely went into after his mother died. But he wanted to at least put that painting there.

After hanging the painting and feeling satisfied with his work, he suddenly heard those strange voices again.

"The bookshelf... I can feel that familiar aura," Cale frowned again.

"Al? Did you hear anything?" Cale wanted to confirm if he was right, so he asked Alberu through the mind link.

"Hear what? I only hear you," Alberu also seemed to be confused.

"Wait, Al, I think... I think the ancient powers are talking to me?" Aside from Alberu, the only possible beings who could connect to his mind were dragons. Which apparently would not happen because he had no plan to face a dragon.

But Cale remembered the voices of the Ancient Powers, which were the same as the one who was talking to him. It was the Super Rock who had been talking, even the first time he heard voices in his mind.

"Are you... the Super Rock?" Cale tried to test his theory.

"You can hear me?" Cale widened his eyes. It was really him.

"I hear it now. Who are you?" Alberu's voice seemed cold at the moment.

"I am indeed the Super Rock..." the voice said.

"Ancient Powers can talk?" Cale's heart beat so fast. Did that mean he could communicate with his mother? He had not taken the annual rings but secured them in a safe place, as he knew he needed to balance himself if he did not want to die.

Plus, he also needed a backup plan for the water attribute because the Dominating Water was consumable. While he was balanced at the moment, what would happen if he needed this water and he consumed it all?

His plate was not strong enough to handle the strain.

"I am sure this is uncommon, Cale. I have had my ancient power since my mother died and have not heard anything from it," Alberu replied.

"This must be an anomaly. Anyway, what do you mean by familiar aura?" Cale looked at the bookshelf and tried to see if there was anything unusual about it.

He went in front of it and tried to see if there was a mechanism or something inside.

"There is a familiar aura inside. I do not know what it is."

"Check it, Cale, but be careful."

Cale tried to find anything, and after inspecting the bookshelf, he really found a mechanism.

It suddenly opened up a storage area in which there was a big box inside.

"Did you find anything?" Alberu seemed anxious from his tone. Cale took out the communication device to call Alberu.

After accepting the call, Cale let Alberu see the box.

"I saw that mechanism in the shelf," Cale said as he took it out and put it on the table. Opening the box, he saw a lot of things.

A small rectangular red box that had intricate patterns of gold, a piece of clothing, and a notebook.

He took the diary first and opened it.

Cale almost crumpled the paper. He was right all along.

His mother had been indirectly killed because of an outside force. And the accident was not an accident at all.

And right now, he found out.

He found out that the Hunters killed his friend's mother. Not only did the Hunters help White Star to destroy this world, but they were also one of the reasons why both he and Alberu were motherless.

"Al... My mother said... your mom... your mom was killed by Hunters and your father is trying to hunt them down." Alberu almost destroyed his pen, and his face paled like a sheet of paper.

Cale immediately put the box in his magic pouch, then took out a teleportation scroll. He tore it after setting Alberu's office coordinates.

As soon as he entered, he immediately saw Alberu

Alberu was gripping the edge of his desk tightly, his knuckles white and his breathing shallow. Cale watched as Alberu's carefully built composure cracked—just for a second—before the crown prince clenched his jaw and lowered his head.

"I thought… I thought it was political," Alberu muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I thought she got caught up in the power struggles of the nobility. But hunters?" Cale sat beside him in silence, letting Alberu process the truth.

"I knew Father was hiding something," Alberu continued, bitterness creeping into his tone.

"He never spoke about her death. He never let me see the records. I thought he was just… grieving in his own way." Cale took the diary out again, fingers tightening slightly on the edges of the paper.

"She mentioned Zed was going to hunt them down. That his hands were tied back then." Alberu laughed softly. It was hollow.

"Tied? The king’s hands were tied? That’s a good excuse, isn’t it?" Alberu laugh but those laugh was hollow. It felt more sarcastic too.

Cale didn’t respond. He simply placed the diary gently onto Alberu’s lap.

Alberu’s hands shook as he picked it up. He didn’t open it yet.

"You said there was a whistle and clothes?" he asked after a pause and Cale just nodded. Yeah.

"She said I need them to receive the inheritance of the Thames. But she also said her brother is still alive. Hiding. Somewhere.”

"Do you think she meant to pass on more than just the ancient powers?" Alberu’s tone had steadied, but it was still cold. Controlled. Angry.

!Yes," Cale answered without hesitation.

"And I think she intended for me to find all of this only when I was ready. When I had strength. Allies. When I could face it all." Alberu leaned back on the couch, closing his eyes.

"We’ve been living under illusions, haven’t we?" A bitter feeling came to Alberu. They hadn't know these Hunter was so deep and more mysterious than they thought.

And they are the one behind White Star.

"Not illusions," Cale corrected gently.

"Just... the parts of the truth we were allowed to see." Silence stretched between them for a moment.

"I’ll talk to Father," Alberu said finally.

"I’ll make him tell me everything." Alberu clench his fist.

Cale didn’t argue. He knew better than to stop Alberu when he was like this. Focused. Determined. Dangerous.

"I want to go with you when you try to find the inheritance," Alberu said quietly, still staring at the ceiling.

Cale blinked. "Why?"

"Because I don’t want you to go alone." He turned his head, gaze steady now.

"And because the hunters… they took something from me too." The dark glint of something dangerous appears on his eyes

Cale looked down at his hands, the faint calluses on his palms. It all came from the time he trained with Ron and Choi Han.

"Then we’ll hunt them. Together." The two sat in silence after that, the weight of truth pressing heavy on their shoulders. But underneath it was a shared resolve.

They would not let the past bury their mothers in silence. Not anymore.

Chapter Text

Cale just stayed with Alberu. He sat beside him while Alberu continued his work, though slower than usual.

"I think you need to take a break. I'll call Aunt Tasha to take care of this," Cale firmly said.

"But—"

"No buts. Let's go to your room." Cale called Tasha first before pulling Alberu into his bed. Cale wrapped his arm around Alberu's head as Alberu leaned toward him.

"Everything made sense. For a bit, I think?" Cale suddenly blurted.

"Hmm?" Alberu felt more comfortable in Cale's arm, and he started to relax. Despite Cale's small body, it gave him a sense of security and comfort.

"His Majesty's maneuver. He spoiled the third prince and gave him everything to appease the Third Queen. But this spoiling would surely be detrimental to him in the long run. Because he was given everything from the start, he would grow up useless and wouldn't fit as a monarch. He let the second prince pursue what he wanted to divert him from taking the throne. And he put you in the harshest conditions to train you how to work hard and to have the capacity of becoming a king. While this is cruel as he is your father, as a king, it was a brilliant arrangement. He got everything to go according to his plan. And maybe it would also create an illusion that you would not be a good bargaining chip if the worst things happened," Cale softly explained.

Alberu thought about it and nodded with a bitter smile.

"He is really a great king," he murmured.

"But he sucks at parenting like my father." That made Alberu laugh.

"I think you need to go back. Ron might flip the Henituse Castle if he doesn't see you." Alberu smiled as he kissed Cale's forehead.

"What about you?" Cale looked worried, but Alberu just took Cale's hand and kissed it.

"I'll be fine, my dear headache. I just need a bit of time to think." Alberu's voice was soft, almost a whisper. Cale knew he couldn't change his mind, so he nodded and tore another Teleportation Scroll.

He was greeted by Ron, who had a benign smile while holding a kettle of lemon tea.

"May this Ron know where Young Master went?" Cale almost jumped in scare, seeing the vicious look of his butler. Cale smiled awkwardly before looking away.

"Young Master just said you'll just hang the painting. But this Ron didn't see the Young Master after looking for you here." Ron immediately poured a cup of lemon tea and offered it to Cale.

Cale winced but accepted the drink.

"Uhm... I found a new clue about the Hunters... and uhm... they... they killed Al's mother and indirectly killed my mother in the process," Cale murmured, fidgeting with his thumbs.

Suddenly the smile on Ron's face vanished as he put the kettle on the nearby table.

"Do you want a hug, Young Master?" Ron made a hug squat, then opened his arms a bit to offer it.

Cale seemed to hesitate but hugged Ron back, resting his head on Ron's shoulder. Cale tightly hugged him for comfort while Ron rubbed his back gently.

Cale stayed like that, seeming to find Ron's shoulder more comfortable than he expected. He did not realize he had fallen asleep.

"The Young Master was probably overwhelmed with emotion. He might be older inside, but his body is still young to handle those emotions," Ron thought.

He picked him up and carried him so he could tuck him in his bed.

While walking, Ron met Violan and saw Red sleeping in his arms.

"Did something happen?" Ron looked at the countess and saw that she looked worried. Ron smiled. While he appreciated the countess, there were things that Cale should be the one to tell her. So he did not tell the truth.

"Found the Young Master sleeping in his study, so I carried him to tuck him in his bed." Violan seemed relieved as she smiled.

"I was about to invite him to tea, but I guess he's a bit tired. Just tell him I came by." Ron nodded and bowed slightly before going to Cale's room.

He sighed.

Not in exasperation—but in quiet acceptance of the ache he couldn’t name.

Cale was right. He had always known, in some buried part of himself, that his father’s treatment of the royal children had been strategic. Calculated. Cruel, yes, but purposeful. He had just never heard someone voice it with such clarity, especially someone who understood the weight of such decisions from the outside.

“…Brilliant arrangement,” Alberu murmured again, echoing Cale’s words. He let the bitter taste sit in his mouth for a moment.

A good king. A terrible father.
He chuckled, but it came out more like a tired breath. "Aren’t those supposed to be opposites?"

He let his body fall back against the bed, arm covering his eyes. For a second, he let himself just feel—feel the injustice, the bitterness, the exhaustion of carrying a throne’s worth of expectations with no one to lean on until recently.

“You're mother...” Cale had said it so gently, but it had struck Alberu like a blade through the fog. He had never dared hope for a solid lead about what truly happened to her. The court had always been silent—his father even more so. Now, with one careless whisper, the Hunters had made the list of unforgivable enemies.

He lowered his arm, eyes narrowed as he stared at the ceiling.

“The Hunters,” he said aloud, as if saying it would solidify it in the air.

He didn't know who the Hunters were. Or what kind of organization they were. All he knew was they were the group behind the arm.

The mastermind of all the things that happened in their first life. Not a single piece of information was told or found, even during the process of extracting information in different locations using the Soo'Ari.

That was why they were terrifying. Because it was always the unknown you feared.

He could already feel his priorities shifting. What had started as a need to solidify his influence and protect his people was now something far more personal. They had taken his mother. They had taken Cale’s mother. They had embedded themselves into every corner of power like a disease, manipulating events from the shadows.

And they had underestimated him.

“No more.” Alberu sat up slowly, then leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His hands were clasped tightly together.

His thoughts drifted to Cale—his weary eyes, the firm tone he used when he dragged Alberu to bed, the way he held him without expecting anything in return. The quiet comfort. The sense of calm.

“…My little headache,” he whispered, a small smile curving his lips despite the storm in his mind. “You really are troublesome.”

But it was that same troublesome person who grounded him, who reminded him that he was more than a prince, more than a puppet molded by a kingdom's will.

He stood and walked toward the window. The moonlight had dimmed slightly, cloaking the capital in shades of gray. Somewhere far off, he imagined Cale already asleep, Ron no doubt fussing over him like a mother hen.

Alberu touched the windowsill and let the chill seep into his fingertips.

“If the Hunters want to break us,” he said softly to the night, “then they should’ve never left us standing.”

A glint returned to his eyes. A quiet, burning resolve.

For his mother.

For Cale.

And for everyone else the Hunters thought they could erase.

Chapter Text

A few weeks later, Alberu finally gathered enough strength to confront Zed.

The night was quiet. The palace halls were dimly lit by flickering sconces, and the air carried the faint chill of early spring. Alberu walked through the corridors with steady steps, but his heart was pounding in his chest. Each step felt heavier the closer he got to the King's private study.

When he finally stood before the grand doors, he paused for a long moment. His fist hovered, trembling slightly, before he knocked.

"Enter," came Zed's deep voice from the other side.

Alberu pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Zed was at his desk, reading documents under a warm lamp. He didn’t look up right away. "I assume this isn’t about state affairs at this hour," he said evenly.

"It’s not," Alberu replied quietly. His voice didn’t carry its usual strength. It was raw.

His eyes were complicated because this was the first time he saw his father again face to face. The ceremony of picking him up as the crown prince was not part of the counting, as he didn't need to directly talk to him.

But now? He needed to face his father because he wanted the truth. And he wanted to know what kind of enemy they were facing.

The fact that his father had information about the hunters baffled him.

Zed finally looked up. His eyes briefly widened before settling into a calculating calm.

"Then speak." Alberu stepped forward, until only the desk stood between them.

He pulled up all his strength and exhaled before asking, "How did she die?"

Alberu trembled in raw anger. His fists were clenching, veins were popping as his eyes turned blood red. His body was too tense and he felt that he was in a state of hyper-focus.

Zed froze. His fingers stopped moving. His expression didn’t shift, but Alberu saw it. The way his father’s shoulders tensed. The subtle tremble in his jaw. He could see the tiny detail and the sudden shift of atmosphere around.

But neither of them backed down.

Zed's aura was not even comparable to White Star's ancient power. So he could compose himself. He looked at his father's eyes without any fear his 13-year-old self always felt.

The intimidation his father gave to his young self was intense. To the point that sometimes, he felt his father hated him for some reason.

"You told me it was illness. That she was weak. That her body couldn’t hold on." Alberu’s voice cracked, and he had to clench his fists to steady himself. "But you lied."

Zed’s silence was answer enough.

"I deserve the truth," Alberu said, more forcefully this time. His voice rising with every word. "She was my mother."

Zed finally stood, slowly. "It was to protect you."

"From what?" Alberu demanded. His eyes were shining now. Not with anger, but pain.

"From knowing the woman who held me, who told me stories when I couldn’t sleep, who kissed my forehead every morning... was murdered?" The word echoed in the room, sharp and heavy.

Alberu could not distinguish the emotion in Zed's eyes. But he could see madness and lunacy.

It made him realize that his mother's death probably affected his father more than he initially thought.

Zed looked away.

"Don't snoop your nose into a business you can't handle. Go back to your room," a firm voice just echoed in the room.

Alberu smiled, a smile that also showed lunacy like his father. He survived both war and apocalypse but he knew, he wasn't totally sane anymore.

Alberu chuckled as he went closer to his father.

"What? I would be killed by them? Tortured? Made into a sacrifice to a false God?" Alberu laughed like he went crazy. Which surprised Zed and almost made him look at Alberu with a frown.

"Father... I dealt with worse than that," a simple word that made Zed realize something.

"Are you... a variable now?" A flicker of surprise in Alberu's eyes was shown a bit but quickly replaced with the perfect prince persona he developed since before.

It was too fast that Zed thought he was hallucinating.

"Father is wise," the smile of Alberu hid more craziness than Zed thought.

He sighed while looking at him with hesitation.

"How... how old are you?" Zed murmured.

Alberu thought that Zed knew something about the Variables. Something that Cale explained to him when he first got the diary under a sound barrier. Cale probably shared that information with him because he was also now a variable.

He was both a regressor, reincarnator, and transmigrator.

They regressed from when he was 13 and Cale was 8, he reincarnated as Seo Soo Jin in Korea, and he transmigrated to his younger body. He was not really sure if they were really transmigrators or how it worked, but he knew they were variables.

"Probably close to 90..." Zed sighed as if he resigned to his predicament.

"She was targeted. By a group older than you can imagine. The same group behind the fall of a lot of dimensions and worlds. The same group that our family and the Thames once were part of. I made enemies when I turned away from their offers after knowing I was part of the Ancient White Star's bloodline. And she... she paid the price." Guilt flashed in his eyes as Zed smiled bitterly.

"They wanted me to become their second seed because I had a close attribute to our ancestor," he murmured.

"Ancient White Star?" Alberu's mind got complicated.

Did that mean they were facing their ancestor? How was he alive then?

"He is the person who turned this land into a mess. Someone who wanted to become nature itself. A cursed presence that plunged this world into chaos in the ancient time. I do not know much about the information," Zed explained.

"Why... did you let me grow up thinking she was just... weak?" Alberu whispered. "All these years. And you let me carry that shame. That anger. You let me think it was fate. When it was murder."

Zed’s voice was low. "If you had known back then, what would you have done? You were a child, Alberu."

"I would’ve remembered her with honor!" Alberu shouted. "Not as someone who died quietly, but as someone who was stolen from me."

Zed closed his eyes, his expression unreadable. "I am sorry. For what it’s worth."

"It’s not enough," Alberu muttered. His chest rose and fell rapidly. "But thank you... for finally telling me."

Alberu turned and left before his voice could break further.

"I wanted to know more about the hunters." A firm voice resounded around the room.

"Alberu, it's not something yo—"

"These world face destruction because of those hunters. Thirty years from now, this land would be covered by despair and chaos. So you better tell me everything you know so I would at least be prepared," Alberu growled to Zed as he looked directly at Zed, which caught Zed off guard.

Because of that, Zed told Alberu everything he knew.

"Red Blood and White Blood, huh," Cale sighed upon hearing everything Alberu said. He just nodded in affirmation.

"Crazy... really crazy," Cale murmured.

"I fought with that White Star. I never thought there's more story beyond what we know," a gentle voice of an old man said in both of their minds.

"We fought with that Darkness, but we all died in the process," a woman's voice added.

"You're the priestess?" Cale asked.

"Yes, Cale! Please eat more. The food is so delicious!" Alberu laughed awkwardly on the other side.

He seemed tired from the confrontation he had with his father, but at least now they had a few pieces of information about the Hunters.

They had been around since ancient times, so they were probably a bigger organization.

"Choi Han... he seems to be a single lifer." Alberu sigh again.

"So much problem to solve," Alberu just murmured.

"We will help with whatever we can."

"We can just burn them with my fire, kwahahaha!"

"Just don't get hurt. Sob. Sob."

Cale felt the headache coming.

Chapter Text

Violan is someone who wants to be hands-on with Lily. But as a first-time mother of a girl, she does not know what to do. The wet nurse is with her to guide her, but the most unexpected help she received came from both Ron and Cale.

Cale seems to know a lot about the technicalities of raising a baby, like changing diapers, making baby formula, making the baby laugh, or getting her to stop crying. Sometimes, Violan would see Cale and Basen hovering around to play with Lily.

Lily seems to adore Cale in particular. And for some reason, Cale would go out and return with a lot of baby essentials.

Ron mostly helps by picking up baby clothes, preparing the materials for anything Cale wants to do, and of course, being a guide to both her and Violan. Deruth seems to be as clueless as she is.

She did not struggle this much when she took care of Basen. He was more quiet and reserved, preferring to sleep and only crying when he needed something.

But Lily is a challenge.

She cries a lot, throws tantrums often, is picky about who can carry her, and needs constant care that overwhelms Violan.

She is hyperactive and wants to be out of her crib all the time, which leaves Violan with no time to focus on her work. That is why she is grateful for Cale, Ron, and Basen’s support. Deruth only sees Lily in the evenings because he is always too tired from the amount of work he has to deal with.

Their territory, after all, is booming. It is now considered the safest territory in the Roan Kingdom.

The underground of Rain City vanished when Cale took over the territory, and so did the slum. There is always work available, regardless of one’s education.

It is known to Violan that Cale created a unique system within the territory that feels like it is from another world.

Rain City is a territory that welcomes people without asking questions. Cale purged the underground across the entire territory, but he did so without shedding a single drop of blood.

He held secret meetings with these people, gave them legitimate identities, and allowed them to stay in the territory. He employed them through Soo'Ari as part of the "Body," offering generous salaries based on their skills. He never questioned their pasts, though most of them confessed their crimes in order to start a new life.

The system continues through specially trained knights who can identify fake documents. They are trained to check the texture, the stamps, the paper, and even the Bidle, a new language Cale introduced for the blind. Machines hidden inside the Knight Stand posts at the gates help verify documents. All of this was developed by the Henituse family with the help of the Flame Dwarf Tribe.

Of course, the knights still allow those with fake identities to enter, but they are marked for "Look Out." Knights place a mark on individuals with questionable backgrounds, but they do not take action unless those individuals present a threat. Their history, however dark, is never questioned.

After staying for a certain period, those who are willing to confess and submit an application can be certified by the Henituse County. This makes their papers official and grants them citizenship in the Henituse Territory and the Roan Kingdom.

That is, if they manage to survive.

After all, they are under surveillance. Every movement is watched, not only by the knights but also by the citizens themselves. Especially those who were part of the ex-underground. You never know if the person serving your food or chatting casually with you is a pardoned ex-criminal.

In terms of protectiveness, they are far more vicious than anyone else could ever be. These are masters of their craft who now want stable, peaceful lives and a place to settle, far from their past mistakes.

This system also feeds manpower into Soo'Ari. It spreads through word of mouth, a quiet recruitment within the shadows, whispered only when they deem someone trustworthy.

By keeping these actions out of public view, tourism in the territory increases. This also opens the door for criminals to sneak in. But only those involved in the system know what truly happens in the shadows. It is a mutual understanding built on respect.

When Deruth discovered this system, he was baffled. But seeing that it worked, he allowed it to operate independently. It was a stroke of genius and a brilliant move that posed no threat to the territory.

Violan heard of this and began to view her stepson in a different light. As a result, she made special consideration of Cale's opinion regarding the territory.

To the public, the territory is a paradise where everyone is happy. But the work behind it all makes it nearly impossible for Deruth to be present in Lily’s life. She understands, knowing that he is trying. Even when he comes home tired at night, he still takes care of Lily so Violan can rest.

The only thing that makes Violan quietly displeased with her husband is his cowardice toward Cale.

It was early morning, and the winter sunlight filtered softly through the nursery window.

Violan hadn’t even reached for her tea before Lily began wailing again.

She exhaled slowly and reached for the baby. “It’s alright, darling,” she murmured, though her voice was laced with exhaustion. “Mama’s here.”

The wet nurse beside her looked over, calm as ever. “She’s been stirring every hour,” she said gently, watching as Violan attempted to soothe Lily.

But the tiny girl was having none of it.

“I think she’s gassy,” Violan mumbled, rocking her daughter. “Or perhaps she’s just… upset. Again.”

Before either woman could try something else, the nursery door opened without a knock. Violan almost told the person off—until she saw that familiar head of red hair and a small bundle in his hands.

“Formula?” Cale said casually, stepping inside. “I warmed it. It’s not too hot.”

Violan stared at him for a beat, blinking. “You… how long were you waiting outside?”

“I was passing by,” he lied without blinking. “I heard her crying.”

Lily stopped for half a second at the sound of his voice.

Violan exchanged a glance with the wet nurse, who now looked more amused than surprised.

“She responds to your voice better than anyone,” Violan said quietly as she watched him pass the bottle test on his wrist before handing it over to her.

Cale didn’t say anything.

“She likes being held upright,” he added, moving to open the curtains just slightly more, letting in soft light. “And if you pat her lower back in intervals of three, she burps easier.”

Violan looked at him again. “How do you know all this?”

“Reading,” he said flatly, then shifted to glance at the baby, who was now suckling the bottle with far less distress.

“Reading,” Violan echoed skeptically. “You’ve always had your nose in books, but still—”

“He’s good,” the wet nurse interrupted, smiling. “Sometimes I think he should have trained to be a caretaker instead of a noble.”

That earned a faint scoff from Ron, who had just entered with a small crate of folded baby clothes. “Young master Cale would not survive the gossip if he did,” he said dryly. “But he is better than most professionals I’ve seen.”

Behind him, Basen peeked into the room.

“Is she calm now?” Basen asked, tiptoeing in.

“She is,” Violan said. “Thanks to your brother.”

Cale moved to the crib and adjusted one of Lily’s blankets with practiced ease.

Lily cooed suddenly, letting out a sound that resembled a giggle.

Basen lit up. “She laughed!”

“She’s starting to,” Cale said, not looking up. “Smiles come easier after the fourth week.”

Violan raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “I should just make you her personal nanny.”

“No thank you,” Cale replied instantly.

But his hands lingered on the edge of the crib a second longer than necessary.

Later that day, Violan found herself standing beside Ron in the hallway just outside the nursery. Lily was napping. Cale had gone out again—no doubt to return with more supplies they didn’t even realize they needed.

“How does he know what to get?” she asked, not hiding her curiosity anymore.

Ron merely smiled. “He pays attention.”

Violan gave a small sigh. “He’s supposed to be learning about territory finances or knight distribution. Instead, he’s memorizing feeding schedules and baby formulas.”

“He’s doing both,” Ron replied. “You just only see this side.”

There was a beat of silence between them.

“I didn’t know how hard it would be,” Violan admitted, arms crossed over her chest. “Lily is... spirited.”

“She is,” Ron agreed, almost fondly. “But she will be strong. Just like her mother.”

Violan smiled faintly, but it faded just as quickly.

“She adores Cale. Always turns her head when she hears him. Sometimes I think she looks for him more than me.”

Ron looked at her then. “Is that such a bad thing?”

“No,” she said honestly. “It’s not. It just surprises me.”

She paused, then added quietly, “It makes me want to see what kind of person he’ll be ten years from now.”

Ron’s answer was simple. “Someone Lily can always rely on.”

That night, as Violan prepared to sleep, she peeked into the nursery one more time.

She wasn’t surprised to see Cale there, seated beside the crib with a book in hand. He didn’t notice her, eyes focused on Lily’s face as the baby shifted softly in her sleep.

“Don’t grow up too fast,” he murmured under his breath.

Violan closed the door without a word.

She’d let him stay. Again.

And again, if Lily continued to sleep that peacefully.

Chapter Text

Cale watched as Lily—no, Lilian Henituse—grew into a cheeky two-year-old girl.

He had never seen how she grew up in his last life, but now he did.

He was there when she uttered her first word: Mama. He was there when she first crawled, when she took her first step, and now, she could utter a few phrases, laughing brightly as she wiggled in happiness.

Violan noticed early on that Lily seemed fascinated with swords, especially whenever she told stories about princesses and knights. She couldn’t help but recall what Cale once said—that Lily would wield a sword.

It didn’t bother her. If anything, she found it endearing. She wanted Lily to grow up into whoever she wanted to be.

Cale recorded every one of Lily’s “firsts.” Violan had copies of those precious moments, and Deruth often watched them during his free time with a soft smile on his face.

Basen, too, had changed. He grew more reliable by the day. From a timid little boy who used to hide behind Violan’s skirts, he became someone who could dissect the words of noble children as if it was second nature. He began his training as the heir at the age of eleven.

Deruth officially announced Basen as the heir of the Henituse family, shocking many nobles. But the people of Rain City had already expected it—especially the staff of the manor.

While Cale was technically the better candidate, everyone in the territory knew he despised paperwork. The department heads remembered clearly the times when he took over the territory’s affairs. He would grumble, sigh dramatically, and on more than one occasion, mutter about burning the entire stack of documents.

They saw his tantrums often, but they also saw how he still did the job excellently.

To them, it wasn’t surprising that he wasn't named heir. They believed it was simply the result of early and full exposure to the demands of managing a territory. It only made sense that Cale didn’t want the position.

Still, the people of Rain City were fond of their young master.

He appeared among them from time to time, always knowing their names. That simple gesture made them feel seen, made them feel valued. They respected him deeply—and were quietly protective of him.

The Henituse territory had thrived under his influence.

Several nobles attempted to investigate, hoping to dig up dirt, but they found nothing.

Henituse was the only territory without a slum or any traces of an underworld. Any attempt to stir trouble was swiftly handled with clean, precise legal action. Every movement was calculated and within the bounds of reason.

By the age of fourteen, Cale handled occasional affairs related to Soo’Ari and focused mostly on training in swordsmanship and dagger arts. Choi Han, ever loyal, remained by his side, pushing him to his limits with sincere care.

At fourteen, Cale was already a high-grade swordsman. Alberu, at the same age, had reached mid to high grade.

Cale’s only challenge was his muscle memory. Though he fully understood the fundamentals taught by Choi Han and had built a solid foundation through theory and practice, his physique wasn’t suited to rigorous, heavy training. He had a lean, muscular build—one shaped by efficiency rather than brute strength, unlike some with exaggerated, bulky frames.

That morning, the clang of blades rang crisply through the Henituse training ground.

Sweat beaded down Cale’s neck as he parried another fast strike from Choi Han. His footing skidded slightly on the worn sand, but he quickly adjusted, pushing forward with a diagonal strike. Choi Han blocked it easily, his calm expression betraying nothing of the power behind each of his measured blows.

Their sparring was intense but not brutal. It was more of a sharpening of skills, two swordsmen gauging distance, rhythm, and response. Cale had long since developed a sense for where Choi Han would push him, how far he could go, and when to push back.

He grunted as their swords locked again, steel grinding against steel.

"Focus," Choi Han said, soft yet firm.

Cale smirked, “You’re starting to sound like Ron.”

“You could do worse.”

Speaking of Ron—

“I see your reflexes haven’t dulled, young master,” Ron's amused voice came from the side of the training ground.

He just threw a dagger in the middle of the intense fight, and Cale subconsciously dodged it even if he was focused on fighting Choi Han.

Ron had been quietly observing from the shade, arms folded behind his back, expression unreadable as ever.

Cale huffed. “You’re all too invested in my muscle memory.”

The two knew Cale despised training. But he still kept pushing himself because they didn't know the power of the other parties. Both the Hunter and ARM were groups whose exact power they could not fathom. So Cale wanted to be overprepared rather than caught off guard by the other party.

Before Choi Han could respond, another presence entered the grounds. This one with the cold precision of a blade sheathed in black silk.

Freesia stepped forward, silent and swift. Her usual aura of composed calculation wrapped around her like a second skin. She bowed slightly toward Cale, who stepped back from Choi Han, lowering his wooden sword.

So everything stopped from doing anything.

Cale reached for the towel Ron offered, wiping the sweat from his face and neck as his eyes locked onto Freesia’s.

“You wouldn’t come in the middle of training unless something happened,” Cale said simply.

Freesia nodded, her voice level. “We have a development. High-priority, Crescent-nim.”

Choi Han's stance subtly shifted beside him, the easy calm of the spar giving way to quiet readiness.

Cale straightened, tossing the towel aside. “Speak.”

“We've tracked movements in the Tolz Territory.”

Cale’s eyes sharpened. He guessed it must be the time the other party moved in the shadows.

Freesia continued. “ARM delivered something—small, but heavily guarded—to a mansion near the mountain range. We initially believed it was a smuggling route, but what we saw changed that.”

“How many?” He wiped his sweat as he listened to Freesia.

“Close to a hundred armed forces, all came from Marquis Stan's illegal manpower,” she replied.

“Ten high-grade knights. The rest are mid to low-level knights. Marquis Stan seems to put importance on these deliveries.” Cale immediately knew the situation.

“Ten high-grade knights?” Choi Han echoed, brows furrowed. “That’s excessive. For a delivery?”

Freesia nodded. “That’s not all. Magic devices have been arranged around the mansion—mid to high-tier artifacts.”

Cale’s brow furrowed slightly.

"Any mages?” Ron asked with a furrowed brow.

Freesia’s lips pressed into a thin line. “No, most of them black mages.”

A chill ran through the air.

Choi Han looked confused, his head tilting slightly. “Black mages? I’m unfamiliar with that term.”

Ron’s calm voice filled the silence. “They are mages who use dead mana and black magic. These mages have a dark attribute. They also can imitate nature and use magic, which is why they are dangerous.”

Choi Han nodded as he understood.

Freesia’s eyes narrowed. “I only saw a few black mages wearing the uniform of ARM, but they are walking freely under ARM’s banner.” Freesia knew the inside information about ARM.

And she despised these people. She remembered when they cleaned up the Gyerre Territory of the illegal human trafficking. And some reports from the Eastern Continent that they made dead mana facilities. She was trying to gulp her anger because she knew they were still weak at the moment.

Still, she loved the fact they often interfered with the business of ARM. Every now and then.

Cale’s fingers twitched at his side.

“And the item they delivered?” he asked, his voice lower now, measured. He wanted to be sure.

Freesia opened a thin folder she’d tucked beneath her coat, pulling out a sketch—clearly drawn by one of her spies. It depicted a small black egg, encased in a glowing magical array.

“We couldn’t get close,” she said. “The mansion is heavily warded. But our agents caught a glimpse of the egg before they reinforced the barriers.”

Cale’s eyes locked onto the image.

A black egg.

Dark scales, faintly pulsing with energy that seemed alive—too alive.

He knew what it was.

His mind went quiet for a second as the implications sank in.

A black dragon.

ARM had acquired—or stolen—a black dragon’s egg. He didn't know how ARM got the egg and honestly, he didn't care. What he needed to do was snatch it under their noses and wreak havoc on their "hideout." Then let Alberu deal with the cleanup.

Ron stepped closer, his voice still quiet. “Your thoughts, young master?”

Cale slowly lowered the sketch. “It's a black dragon.”

Choi Han looked between the sketch and Cale. Ron looked at Cale, almost caught off guard by what he said. Freesia widened her eyes in shock.

"A... a dragon?" Freesia almost went pale with anxiety.

Cale didn’t answer immediately. Then he nodded, slow and grim. “Yes, a black dragon.”

Freesia blinked. “That egg… is a dragon?” She seemed to be unable to process what Cale said, repeating her question.

“Yes.” Cale’s voice was flat. “The worst possible kind in their hands.”

Dragons... They are existences that stand in a class above all other creatures in their world. They are the guardians, the rulers of mana, and it’s quite well known that they are rare, as there are only twenty dragons on both the Eastern and Western Continents.

They are extremely smart, prideful, and individualistic.

“They must want to tame a dragon…” Ron trailed off. Since it’s totally impossible for an adult dragon to be tamed, they would probably want to start when the egg hatches.

“That child would be tortured until its death. They will use their life force to go berserk to get their freedom, only to have their dream in the embrace of eternal rest." Cale said solemnly. He couldn't tell Choi Han it was him who killed the black dragon.

And these three people inside the training ground knew he had regressed from the future.

The training ground fell silent.

“Why deliver it to a mountain mansion?” Choi Han finally asked. “Wouldn’t a hidden laboratory or fortress make more sense?”

Cale shook his head. “Mountains give natural mana concentration. And isolation. Enough space to anchor large-scale magic formations. And probably, this is one of their 'experiments.' They might force the egg to hatch because of the mages’ presence.”

All of them looked grim.

“So, they plan to forcefully hatch it using magic..." Ron said quietly. “To artificially bind it to their cause?”

"Probably..." Cale didn't know the reason. It wasn’t written in the book The Birth of a Hero, and the rumours back then were not trustworthy.

Freesia added, “They’ve brought in torturers and twenty-three random laborers.”

Cale’s grip tightened on the folder.

ARM was getting bolder.

Too bold.

He let out a slow breath and looked up at Freesia. “Keep your agents at a distance. Do not engage. Have them rotate shifts frequently so they don’t trigger detection. Prioritize magic resonance patterns and communication routes.”

Freesia nodded. “Understood.”

"Didn’t mages worship dragons for their affinity to magic?" Choi Han asked suddenly.

"The black mages are probably more loyal to White Star than letting their adoration affect them, probably. After all, black mages were hunted down because of their dark attributes. There’s too little information about them," Ron explained.

Cale sighed and turned to Choi Han. “We’ll prepare for a rescue mission. You and I will go.”

Choi Han nodded instantly.

Ron raised an eyebrow. “And myself?”

“You’ll stay and guard the family,” Cale said firmly. “If they’re bold enough to move in Tolz, they may try something here.”

Ron gave a small bow. “As you command, young master.”

Cale’s voice dropped to a whisper. “We’re not letting them hatch that egg forcefully or let the others torture the child.”

His eyes burned with quiet fury, the calm before a storm.

Because no child—dragon or human—deserved to be born into chains.

Not again. Not on his watch. They failed in his first life, not in this life.

Chapter Text

The quiet rustle of papers filled the lord’s office.

Deruth Henituse looked up from his desk when he heard the soft knock. Before he could respond, the door opened, and Cale stepped in without preamble.

Deruth smiled gently. “Cale, is something the matter?”

Cale walked in with a composed expression, his usual lazy air missing. He stood before the desk, gaze steady.

“I’m leaving for a while.”

Deruth blinked, caught off guard. “Leaving?”

“Yes.” Cale’s tone was final, not aggressive, but firm. “It’ll take around two to three weeks.”

Deruth put down his quill, studying his son’s expression. “Where are you going?”

“I can’t say.”

A pause settled between them.

Deruth frowned slightly. “Is it dangerous?”

Cale didn’t answer directly. “I’ll return in one piece.”

That only made Deruth more uneasy. “Cale—”

“I’m not asking for permission, Father. I’m informing you.”

Cale’s voice was calm, respectful, but held no room for refusal. He met Deruth’s eyes without wavering.

Deruth sighed quietly. He recognized that look—he’d seen it a few times before. It wasn’t stubbornness; it was resolve.

“I see,” Deruth said softly, after a moment. “Then at least take enough guards with you—”

“No guards.” Cale shook his head. “But I won’t be alone.”

Deruth leaned back in his chair, gaze thoughtful.

“I can’t stop you, can I?”

“No,” Cale said. “But thank you for worrying.”

Another pause.

Finally, Deruth gave a small nod. “Come back safe. That’s all I ask.”

Cale nodded once. “I will.”

He turned and left without another word, leaving behind the weight of unspoken truths and a father’s quiet concern.

He sighs as he can't stop his son. Because he knew, he couldn't.

Cale informed Violan of his departure. She looked at him with sharp eyes before firmly stating, “Take some money from the treasury.”

Cale blinked, surprised, then smiled. “Gladly.”

He said goodbye to Lily and Basen that same day. Lily pouted, demanding he bring something back for her, while Basen nodded with a serious face, wishing him a safe return.

The next morning, Cale departed using a low-key carriage. The group heading toward Mount Aegis included Choi Han and Hans, who had recently become part of the Soo’Ari. Cale also gave instructions to Hilsman, another Soo’Ari member, to stay alert in case something happened in the territory during his absence.

After a long journey, they arrived. Freesia was already waiting for them at the entrance of Red Jewel Villa.

Cale stepped down from the carriage, now in disguise. His hair was stark white, and his eyes were a sharp blue. A black veil covered his face, hiding any trace of his identity. Both he and Choi Han wore black clothing from head to toe.

“Everyone is inside already, Crescent-nim. A small number of elite squad members were prepared for this mission,” Freesia said, leading them inside.

The meeting room was already filled. Several individuals stood in silence, their presence radiating strength. Among them were dark elves chosen by Freesia, including Shawn, one of the elite warriors of the dark elf race.

Cale stepped forward and placed a folder on the table. He stood with a serious expression, his presence commanding. Nobody commented on the fact that he was only fourteen years old. They all knew how capable he was.

“I received a report that ARM, a group that was marked in the Priority Chart, moved something into Tolz Territory. They have a shipment heading into the mountain. They are accompanied by one hundred of Stan’s illegal manpower,” Cale said, pointing to the map and documents.

Gasps and murmurs spread throughout the room as he continued.

“The shipment,” he paused, “is a dragon egg.”

Most of them gasp in shock and some even murmur about the situation.Shawn stiffened and raised his hand.

“Are we going to take the egg then, Crescent-nim?” His voice carried a hint of anxiety.

“No,” Cale answered, shaking his head. “It’s too dangerous for all of you, especially since this might be the hatching period. Our plan is simple.”

He smiled. A few in the room immediately felt a bad premonition.

“Isn’t it better to let another dragon deal with them?” His bright smile deepened.

“Then what… what’s our role?” one member asked, sounding confused.

“All you need to do is evacuate the people near the mountain quietly. If you need to bribe them, do so. What we need is to ensure no civilians are in the vicinity. We cannot let them get caught up in the operation,” Cale explained.

Most of them nodded in understanding. The situation was more serious than they had expected.

He then presented a backup plan. If the dragon refused to help, they would proceed with a rescue mission themselves. He added more contingency plans in case the worst happened, such as if someone discovered their operation.

The meeting ended with everyone clear on their roles and next steps.

The three arrive at the foot of Mount Yellia. It was the home of an Ancient Dragon that told Cale about blowing up if he had two clashing ancient powers. It's the reason why he took the Vitality of Heart as his second ancient power and is still trying to find a more permanent Water Ancient Power.

He felt nervous, but he knew what he wanted to do with the dragon was something that he would want to know more about.

Geared up in thick clothes, they all hiked near the top. Cale remembered the trail he used when he was running toward this part in his first life.

After three hours of hiking, Cale and the others reached the cave, which made Cale smile a bit.

He met Eruhaben on his deathbed. He was hiding from a group of enemies who wanted to kill him because he had some sort of information that the base of ARM was, in fact, in the Molden Kingdom.

It was crucial information, which was why he was hunted. His arm was bleeding and he was trying to just disappear when he was swallowed by the cave. Eruhaben took him in because he knew who was hunting him, and he was already on his deathbed.

Apparently, the ARM had ransacked his lair, and he found out that his friend, the green dragon, had been killed by the ARM and his corpse had been lying in his own lair for 400 years. He had just found out not long ago when he wanted to say goodbye, as he knew his long end was near.

The three of them just stood outside the cave.

"Young Master, are we not going in?" Hans asked while rubbing both of his arms in the cold. After all, Mount Yellia was known for its cold terrain.

"Just wait, it won't take long," Cale muttered.

It did not take long before the stone suddenly moved. Choi Han instinctively touched the handle of his sword. The three of them immediately felt the dominating aura that made them want to kneel down, but Cale used his own dominating aura to counter a bit of the dragon's fear, even though he was still sweating from the aura the Ancient Dragon released.

"Hm...?" A beautiful golden elf suddenly appeared in front of them. The two were awestruck by the dragon's beauty that seemed to shine so brightly.

"Interesting. Are you a dragon slayer?" A cold smile appeared on his lips, which made Cale more scared.

"N-no..." Cale stuttered, trying to gasp for air as he tried to channel the dominating aura more.

"How are you still alive?" He looked at Cale with interest.

He did not reply, as he was focused on countering the dragon's fear. When Eruhaben stopped the dragon's fear, Cale took a deep breath and tried to catch his breath.

"What do I owe you a visit, human?" Eruhaben asked with interest. Cale had probably gotten his interest because of the ancient powers inside him.

"Can we talk to you in private, Dragon-nim? It's... it's important." When Eruhaben decided that they were weak, he let them in.

The inside of the cave looked like the interior of a house, but it was all made of gold. The two looked at the shiny room around them. Everything was just gold. You would occasionally see another color, but the room was dominated by that golden color.

They went to the living room and Eruhaben sipped some tea. Hans asked for permission to serve tea to Cale, which Eruhaben nonchalantly granted.

Cale did not know if Hans was just brave or stupid.

"What do you want, human?" Cale expected Eruhaben to be blunt, just like the last time he met him.

"Since Dragon-nim is blunt, I won't beat around the bush. I wanted to ask for your help to rescue a dragon's egg. It will hatch anytime soon." Cale just told him what he wanted.

"Rescue? A dragon's egg? A dragon's egg is something precious. It would be protected by their parents," Eruhaben said while his brow furrowed.

"That's the problem, Dragon-nim. We assume that it was stolen or that its parents were killed. But the dragon's egg is in the hands of a human. We don't know if its hatching would affect the nearby town and the innocent people who do not know about this. And we don't know how to take care of the egg. That's why we ask for your help." Eruhaben looked grim and angry at what Cale said as he was now frowning.

"Which insolent did this?" he asked darkly.

"They are called ARM... They are trying to replicate what happened in the Ancient Times." Eruhaben's jaw clenched as he heard that.

"A human, playing God, huh." He smiled darkly.

"We also found out that they are slowly killing dragons. We found a dragon bone in the Forest of Darkness and one corpse in the Eastern Continent. It seems to be the green dragon." A swift dragon rage was suddenly emitted by Eruhaben.

He was now angry. Hans almost jumped in fright while Choi Han was sweating profusely.

Eruhaben tried to calm himself down, but he was still frowning.

"Let's deal with the dragon's egg first. And then, I will confirm this information you have. If I find out you're lying, I won't hesitate to kill you. Understand?" Eruhaben's stern voice said.

"Understood, Dragon-nim." Cale saluted and smiled.

"Eruhaben... Call me Eruhaben." Eruhaben looked at him as Cale nodded.

"Yes, Eruhaben-nim."

Chapter Text

Eruhaben doesn't know what to think. At this moment, the more urgent task is to rescue the egg that was about to hatch any moment according to this young kid.

"Tell me the coordinates. We'll teleport immediately."

Cale nodded and immediately gave Eruhaben the coordinates of the nearby forest.

As soon as they teleported, they met with Freesia who bowed to Cale as soon as they appeared. The air was filled with dense mana and Eruhaben immediately could feel the fluctuation of that mana. A sign that there's indeed a nearby egg that was about to hatch at any moment.

"Young Master Crescent-nim, we quietly moved the commoners in the vicinity."

Eruhaben didn't pay any attention to what Freesia was saying. It's all because he was more focused on the fact that there's a dragon egg in the vicinity.

"I'll take care of this, no need for you to help," Eruhaben said while his face darkened.

"We'll control the external issue then, Eruhaben-nim."

Without any hindrance, the Rage of the Golden Dragon finally had a channel to release.

The forest was silent, but the tension was loud.

Eruhaben stood in the clearing, his golden hair fluttering as the dense mana continued to rise. The magic was pulsing from deep within the thickets. He turned toward the source and with one step forward, the trees bent slightly, reacting to the pressure of an ancient being.

Cale kept his distance. Freesia, Hans, and Choi Han were stationed just behind him. His eyes didn't leave Eruhaben, who had not spoken since arriving. His expression was dark, and Cale knew that was never a good sign.

The ancient dragon walked forward alone.

“Stay back. Do not interfere,” he warned, not even glancing behind him.

His footsteps were slow but heavy with mana. Dust particles danced around him unnaturally. They weren’t falling, they were floating, orbiting around him like he was a star they couldn’t resist. Cale narrowed his eyes. The Dragon’s attribute was becoming clear now. Dust. It wasn’t just earth. It was the remnants of things destroyed and decayed. A quiet death.

Within minutes, they heard it.

Screams.

Wails.

The sound of wind cutting through bodies. It didn't even take half an hour but they just stayed nearby.

And then silence.

No explosion. No flashy magic. No chaos. Just silence.

But the horror of the other members of Soo'Ari seeing how the Ancient Dragon dealt with the Black Mages, is a pure horror to them. Cale just stayed in his usual stoic expression as Choi Han guarded him who had a blank look at the scene.

When the breeze returned, it carried with it particles of ash and blackened earth.

Cale inhaled slowly. He could taste the residue of mana in the air.

“...He’s done... Just like that.”

Moments later, Eruhaben returned.

In his arms was an obsidian egg. It pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat. His expression was unreadable. His usually pristine robe was lightly dusted with black ash. It didn’t seem to bother him.

He gently placed the egg onto a cloth that Hans quickly unfolded on the ground.

“The black mages are dead. All of them. There were ten. Four were attempting to cast an ancient barrier. It was pitiful,” Eruhaben said plainly. He could see that the egg seemed to be vibrating a lot.

Cale, though slightly pale at the sheer efficiency, gave a respectful nod.

“Thank you for your work, Eruhaben-nim.” It was a sincere gratefulness that made Eruhaben huff.

He finally looked at Cale.

“You said there were knights involved?” Eruhaben frowned a bit.

Cale nodded. He stepped forward.

“Yes. They were there to assist the black mages. However, they are also part of a political faction that must be dealt with... delicately.” Cale gave him a charming smile that made Eruhaben’s eyes narrow.

“They were protecting black mages who were torturing and experimenting on a dragon’s egg.” A gasp was heard among the others.

"The-they already started experimenting?" Freesia asked in shock.

"They were forcing these eggs to hatch for some reason," Cale frowned as it wasn't written in the Birth of a Hero. But it seems like there's more into these situations than he thought.

“And if it were up to me, I would’ve crushed them already,” Cale admitted.

“But?”

“But I need them alive. Not for mercy. There are schemes laid by His Highness. He intends to use this to officially remove Marquis Stan from power and instate Taylor as the new Marquis.” Cale decided to be truthful.

Taylor Stan, the nineteen-year-old eldest son of Marquis Stan and the only sane member of Stan March. He was crippled by Venion a year ago when Taylor became eighteen. While Cale wanted to save Taylor immediately, they needed the expertise of Taylor Stan in the ancient times and ancient powers.

While it's cruel to wait for a year to save him, he did gain something after being crippled. He got a loyal best friend, which is Cage. They are probably still researching for the ancient power to save his legs.

But now is the right timing to address his situation. Not only could they get Taylor Stan on their side, they could give the baby dragon stability by giving him to another dragon.

Eruhaben tilted his head.

“A political move? In a time like this?”

“Yes. ARM isn’t publicly known yet. If we make a move too early, they’ll go underground completely. His Highness needs a reason, one backed by evidence and law, to move against Stan. These knights will be key witnesses and evidence.”

There was silence.

Eruhaben looked back at the forest. He sighed and just shrugged.

“Do what you want.”

“Thank you,” Cale said sincerely.

“They will live, but you owe me. If any of them escape justice, I will handle it personally.” That stern voice had some dragon’s fear which made Cale smile warily.

“Understood.”

Eruhaben knelt by the egg. The surface had small cracks now. It was truly close to hatching.

“I’ll take care of the egg. There’s no other who can raise a dragon. Especially not one like this,” he murmured.

"Huh?" Cale frowned at that sentence.

"What do you mean, Eruhaben-nim?"

"This egg had stayed in its egg for nine thousand years at minimum. Dragons are stronger depending on how long they stay within their eggs. For instance, I stayed in my egg for fifty years. This little dragon would surely become the next Dragon Lord." Cale's breath almost hitched just like the others.

The egg still kept on vibrating as if it was asserting some dominance to something unknown. Cale definitely could feel the fluctuation of the mana.

“Will you keep him in your lair?”

“For now.”

He stood.

“Now tell me, what do you know of ARM’s other movements?”

Cale hesitated.

He knew this was only the beginning.

He glanced at Choi Han, then at Hans, and finally at Freesia.

“We’ll brief you at Red Jewel Villa. I'll give you the coordinates. I have something you’ll want to see. About the Green Dragon… and more.”

Eruhaben did not respond. He merely began walking again, the obsidian egg now floating in a gentle sphere of golden dust.

And behind him, the trees of the forest stood still, unnaturally silent, as if mourning the death of something unseen.

He carefully released a bit of mana to stop the vibration of the egg.

"Little kid, calm down, you're now safe. I'm a dragon as you are." It was a gentle gesture which made Cale smile a bit as he looked at the egg.

At least in this life, this baby dragon would not experience the horrible fate he should have.

"This little kid would hatch by the end of the week. I'll then investigate the second information you gave me." Cale didn't even manage to reply before Eruhaben vanished in an instant.

Cale sighed.

"I guess we're here to clean up the aftermath."

The whispers began, as they always did, not in the polished halls of nobility, but in the bustling alleyways behind bakeries and in the lines at the well.

At first, it was just vague rumors.

“They say Marquis Stan's knights were involved in something shady near the west forest...”

“Heard a group of his men got detained. Something about a forbidden experiment?”

“Didn’t the mountain tremble the other night? The stars dimmed too, they say.”

No one could say for certain what happened. But people noticed that the royal knights passed through without fanfare and returned with prisoners whose armor bore the Stan family crest. The local militia were ordered to clear certain parts of the town. Commoners were paid handsomely to vacate without questions. And a few who lived too close to the affected areas were relocated with unexpected generosity.

Something was going on.

But the news that truly sent the streets humming was what followed the next morning: a royal decree issued in the name of Crown Prince Alberu Crossman.

“Serves him right. That man taxed the southern merchants to their bones.”

“I always said there was something foul about that family. Too much arrogance.”

“Aren’t they the ones whose second son crippled his own brother?”

The nobility, on the other hand, weren’t so quick to speak.

Behind the closed doors of marquis estates and noble salons, the topic was incendiary.

“How could they touch a Marquis house?”

“If Marquis Stan can fall… what does that mean for us?”

“They’re shifting the old powers.”

Indeed, that was the undercurrent no one dared to say outright. The Court’s balance was shifting, and it was Crown Prince Alberu at the helm.

In the royal court, three days later, a formal assembly was held.

The nobles came dressed in their finest. The rumors had reached them, and everyone expected a grand political performance. The marble pillars of the throne room glowed gold under enchanted light, but tension buzzed beneath the shine.

High mages sat beside swordmasters. The High Priest of the God of Death gave a small blessing. And when Crown Prince Alberu entered, clad in black and red with the royal sigil shimmering faintly across his cape, the room fell into an immediate hush.

His steps were measured. His posture is unyielding. A man born to sit upon a throne.

He raised one hand and spoke clearly.

“Today, we gather not for celebration, but for responsibility.”

His words carried the weight of restrained fury.

“For too long, certain noble factions have forgotten the reason their titles were granted. Nobility is not entitlement. It is stewardship. It is duty. And when duty is forsaken, the throne will respond.”

He stepped down from the dais.

A path was cleared as he walked toward the center of the court.

“Marquis Granite Stan,” Alberu’s voice boomed, “has committed grave crimes against the Kingdom. These include the unauthorized use of ancient relics, the sanctioning of illegal experiments on magical artifacts, and the endangerment of civilian populations under his jurisdiction.”

There were murmurs. Carefully veiled surprise and poorly hidden triumph danced behind the composed faces of rival houses.

“Let it be known,” Alberu continued, “that this action was not taken lightly. Evidence has been presented. Witnesses have been heard. And now, the House of Stan will be judged.”

At that moment, the side doors of the court opened.

And the murmurs turned into stunned gasps.

Because walking into the throne room—walking—was Taylor Stan.

No longer seated in a chair.

No longer broken and bowed.

He stood tall. Dressed in noble black with a steel cane that he did not lean on. His steps were controlled, regal. Each movement declared, I am not done.

At his side was Cage, robed in silver-gray with her hair neatly slicked back and her eyes glowing faintly with divine light. She did not wear the holy robes of a Death's God priestess. She stood not as a servant of the church, but as a guardian.

The stunned expressions of the nobles were proof enough. Many thought Taylor Stan would hide away forever. That Venion had eliminated his only competition for inheritance.

But here he was.

Restored. Silent. Alive.

And dangerous.

Alberu gestured to Taylor.

“This is Taylor Stan, rightful heir to the Stan household. He has come to stand as witness, victim, and now—rebuilder.”

Taylor bowed his head, but not deeply. His expression was calm, but Cale—standing in the background, in a robe together with Choi Han in his side—knew exactly what kind of fire burned behind those eyes.

Alberu didn’t stop.

“By royal decree, the title of Marquis will be stripped from Granite Stan. He is to be exiled permanently, his assets liquidated to support the victims of his crimes, and his political rights annulled. The Stan title will now fall to Taylor Stan, who has agreed to restructure the territory under the guidance of the Crown.”

There was clapping, polite but tense.

Nobles processed what this meant. That a crippled heir had returned. That the Crown was no longer idle. That the invisible threads behind the throne were being cut and rewoven by Alberu himself.

Alberu raised his hand one last time.

“To those who have watched the throne with suspicion—watch now with clarity. I do not move for power. I move for the safety of this Kingdom.”

He looked at Duke Orsena and Marchioness Elhaire, Marquis Stan's wife without blinking.

“There will be no mercy for betrayal. The world is changing. And so must we.”

Taylor’s eyes met Cale’s briefly from across the court.

A single nod passed between them.

It had begun. Cale's lips curled up seeing Alberu's showmanship of his power.

He found him hot and handsome just looking at his future Husband that showed his authority. He lowered his robe as leave.

"Lets go, Choi Han. Our work here is done," Choi Han just quietly follow his leige.

Chapter Text

At the dining area of the Henituse estate, it was the first time since the wedding banquet that the entire Henituse family had gathered to eat at the dining table. Lily was seated on Violan’s lap, quietly eating soft solid food, while Basen focused intently on his plate, clearly trying to maintain his composure.

Cale had just returned from a trip to a location none of the Henituse family members were informed about. The atmosphere was tense, with the others observing the subtle tension that lingered between Cale and Deruth.

“Cale...” Deruth spoke, his tone anxious, eyes fixed on his eldest son.

“Yes, Father?” Cale responded. His tone was extremely formal, almost distant, and it made Deruth wince.

“Did you hear about what happened in the Tolz Territory?” Deruth asked, trying to read Cale’s expression as he stared at him.

“I got some reports, but I didn’t pay much attention. Do you need something?” Cale asked, his eyes meeting Deruth’s calmly.

“The fight for the throne is going to escalate. Be careful. We might get dragged into the power struggle. They found an opening,” Deruth warned quietly, his tone calm yet heavy.

Cale’s lips curled into a slight smile.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he replied, already understanding what his father was truly saying. Since the Henituse household was part of the neutral faction, they had to be even more cautious now. Supporting Alberu outright was impossible—not without consequences.

But that had always been the point.

That was the reason why the Soo'Ari was created. It was so Alberu could build his own faction in secret, one not bound by court or blood.

Cale recalled the moment when Cage and Taylor approached him during his stay in the Stan Territory. He had been handling unfinished matters before traveling to the capital to witness Alberu’s announcement.

It was then that they mentioned the intervention of the God of Death.

The God had offered help to them. Direct, tangible help.

And Cale, who doesn't like the gods before, had decided to curse the God of Death in his mind more.

Dressed in simple, nondescript clothes — a plain brown cloak worn with fraying gloves and dust-coated boots — he didn’t look like the famous eldest young master of the Henituse County or even a minor noble. He looked like an unremarkable traveler, or at best, a tired merchant's assistant. It was easy to blend in when he purposefully made himself unremarkable.

He crouched in front of a dilapidated wall, slipping out carefully folded papers from a hidden compartment inside a worn leather bag. It was a collection of financial ledgers and slave trade records — documents that would expose Marquis Stan’s collaboration with illegal black market brokers, as well as detailed timelines of knight movements and “experimental transfers.” They weren't just evidence. They were polished daggers, ready to stab the Marquis from multiple angles.

He was planting evidence at the alleged underground bases of criminals in Stan Territory. Cale was sure that the official investigators from the Royal Court would be here tomorrow or the day after.

Cale, now checking over forged signatures and subtle trail markers, narrowed his eyes and muttered, “Just a bit more, and this will be enough to start a controlled collapse.”

He could let his subordinates handle these trivial things. But Cale wanted to see the process with his own eyes, as this was a pivotal moment for Alberu — an opportunity to gain another faction to his side. The Stan Territory happened to support the third prince, just like the Gyerre household before.

After planting those pieces of evidence, he quietly exited that inconspicuous place, carrying himself as if he were just a commoner.

He did not expect footsteps behind him.

Two shadows cast over him, but he did not move. Not until one of them spoke.

“You’re the eldest young master of the Henituse household, aren’t you?”

Cale stilled. Heightened senses took over as he observed the surroundings, checking for escape routes.

He slowly stood, hand drifting toward his inner coat pocket where a blade was hidden, eyes sharp as he turned to meet the speaker. His expression was unreadable — a blank mask of irritation and quiet caution.

The speaker, a woman in white priest robes with silver embroidery, smiled easily, unbothered by the sharp look he gave her. She looked holy, smiling politely as she pushed the wheelchair of someone he knew very well.

“You must be mistaken, Priest-nim. I’m simply running errands for my master,” Cale said, deliberately acting anxious. He fidgeted with his hands and avoided eye contact. His head bowed slightly, as if afraid of offending them.

He looked convincing — especially with how naturally he carried himself in a servile manner. It was a careful act that Cale, no, Kim Rok Soo, had perfected when he lived in Korea. It was deliberate — from gesture to posture to speech pattern. Something he had studied like a holy bible in his last life.

It looked so natural that both Cage and Taylor seemed doubtful, as though they had found the wrong person.

But the constant whispering of the God of Death in her head kept Cage certain.

“I’m Cage. High Priestess of the God of Death,” she said politely, as if they were in a formal setting — far from their current surroundings, which sat between the slums and the underground bases of the Stan household’s criminals.

Beside her stood a young man with pale platinum hair and a calm, observant expression. Though his clothes were plain, there was a firmness in his posture and an elegance that only someone raised in nobility possessed.

Cale paused, feigning ignorance. He really didn’t want to deal with these two right now.

“Do you need something from me, Priest-nim? Eldest Young Master?” he asked, his tone nervous, his body language awkward.

Acting was something Cale had done since he was young in his first life. Backed by two lifetimes, his proficiency was top-notch. It almost fooled the two — if not for the God of Death repeatedly confirming his identity, they might have truly believed he was someone else.

The woman continued.

“Young Master Cale, pardon my rudeness, but the God of Death told me who you are. He confirmed it repeatedly in my head. He said you’d be here... fixing things. I’d like to say I was surprised, but he described you as a ‘swearing and back-talking headache who does good things despite himself.’” Cage spoke awkwardly, her smile a little stiff.

Cale blinked, then muttered under his breath, “The motherfucking God,” before he could stop himself.

Taylor seemed a bit surprised but smiled gently.

Cage, on the other hand, looked like she was beaming. No — she was gloating.

“Oh, I like you already,” she said, amused.

Cale sighed and dragged a hand down his face. His expression shifted in a blink from awkward commoner to stoic young master.

“Of course. A literal god had to open his mouth. Just my luck,” Cale thought, mentally groaning.

He studied them more carefully now. Cage was obviously a wild card, but her divine power couldn’t be dismissed. And the man beside her...

“You must be Taylor Stan,” he said quietly. A polite business smile formed on his lips — not demeaning, but also not submissive despite Taylor’s higher standing.

Taylor gave a light nod.

“I am. Though most assume I’m just a crippled disgrace locked away in the family’s back corner.”

His voice was calm and steady. There was no bitterness, only quiet resolve. Cale appreciated that.

Still, he remained wary.

“What do you want?” he asked bluntly. “I’m busy.”

Cage lifted her hand, hesitating slightly. The two of them clearly looked desperate.

“The God of Death said you might know how to fix something.”

Taylor, for the first time, showed a flicker of emotion — a subtle tightening of the jaw, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

“I want to walk again,” Taylor said.

Cale was silent for a long moment.

He wasn’t surprised. It wasn’t hard to guess where this conversation was going. The God of Death wouldn’t send someone to him without a reason.

“You’re asking for a miracle,” Cale said flatly.

“We’re not demanding anything,” Cage interjected gently. “But we heard from the God of Death that you... that you know a way. Young Master-nim, please... help us.”

Cale’s mind immediately turned to Alberu Crossman.

The Star of Healing.

A one-time-use ancient power that could restore something utterly broken — physically, magically, and spiritually. Cale hesitated.

He never wanted to expose his connection to Alberu too early. But Taylor Stan... Taylor could help uncover secrets of ancient times and the ancient powers. And Cale needed him alive, healthy, and indebted.

After all, the current White Star had been seduced by the legacy of the ancient White Star — or so Super Rock’s theory suggested.

But Cale also needed insurance.

“I’ll consider helping you,” Cale said slowly, “but you’ll swear not to reveal my identity, involvement, or the information I’m about to give you.”

Cage raised a brow. “You want a vow?”

“Not just any vow. A vow of death.”

Cage nodded without hesitation. “That’s fine.”

Taylor echoed her. “I swear it. I won’t speak a word of this to anyone.”

The air thickened slightly as the vow took root. Cale could feel it — the invisible tether of divine enforcement. A vow of death was absolute.

Satisfied, Cale crossed his arms.

“There is a person. A once-forgotten prince, in fact. He holds the Star of Healing. A one-time-use power that can undo even the cruelest of injuries. But he’ll never hand it over for free.”

Taylor did not flinch.

“We’re prepared to make a deal.”

Cale watched them carefully, then slowly gave a nod.

“I’ll arrange the meeting. But not now. Not until I clear the path. There are things in motion, and your return to the world has to be done with precision,” Cale said, giving a subtle hint about his close relationship with Alberu.

Taylor’s calm expression did not waver.

“I’ll wait.” A small smile appeared on Taylor’s lips.

Cale studied him again. Taylor did not grovel, did not beg, did not cry. He held himself with dignity. There was power there — potential.

Cage, still smiling, tilted her head.

“You know, for someone who curses the gods, you’re doing the work of one.”

“I’d prefer if the gods stayed out of it,” Cale muttered.

Cage laughed. “Unfortunately for you, the God of Death likes sticking his nose into trouble. And you, Cale Henituse, are the most delicious kind of trouble.”

Cale rolled his eyes and turned away.

“Just don’t get in my way,” he groaned as Taylor and Cage chuckled.

“Young Master Taylor, aside from your legs, everything else is still normal. You have hands, a mouth, intelligence. You are still alive, so you can turn the tables — as long as you know when to seize opportunities,” Cale said.

The two looked shocked at first, then smiled widely.

“We’ll forever be grateful for this, Young Master. How about we drink?” Cage pulled out a bottle of wine from her robe, which made Cale freeze for a moment.

“Stop giving alcohol to a minor, Cage. Young Master Cale is just a minor,” Taylor reminded her with a sigh.

Cage looked genuinely guilty. “Sorry... I forgot you're a minor because of how you carry yourself.”

Cale chuckled. “It’s fine. Why don’t you come with us? We’re heading to the capital anyway.”

With that offer, Taylor and Cage agreed to the arrangement. They reached the capital in just a second, thanks to the teleportation scroll in Cale’s possession.

Chapter Text

Inside the heart of Mount Yellia, where the air shimmered faintly with condensed mana and the walls glowed with ancient magic, Eruhaben's lair stood still in quiet anticipation.

The large, obsidian egg sat on a nest of woven gold threads and layered cushioning spells, pulsating with a faint, deep hum. Cracks began to form, delicate lines spreading from the center of the shell like spiderwebs.

Eruhaben stood nearby, his tall figure bathed in the soft light of the lair's crystal sconces. His long, golden hair was tied back in a loose ribbon, and his brows furrowed in both concentration and silent worry.

The dragon egg trembled again.

He stepped closer, extending a single hand, letting a gentle flow of gold-infused mana envelope the egg. The cracks responded, widening steadily. The air thickened, charged with both power and life.

"You hatch earlier than I expected," he murmured quietly, voice carrying both fondness and solemnity. "But I suppose dragons never wait when it is time."

The shell caved in, a piece falling away with a soft clatter. A small claw, jet black and gleaming with natural magic, pushed through. Another piece broke, then another, until a tiny snout emerged, followed by trembling wings that were still too soft to lift.

Eruhaben lowered himself onto one knee.

The newly hatched dragon let out a weak, high-pitched cry, blinking his large blue eyes at the world for the first time. His scales were pure black, like polished obsidian, absorbing the light around him. Mana clung to him, reacting instinctively as if nature itself recognized him.

The old ancient dragon observed in silence.

He did not touch him. Not yet. Instead, Eruhaben guided more mana into the surroundings, making the transition from the egg to the world outside less jarring.

"Breathe," he said softly, more command than encouragement. "Feel your body. Feel the world."

The small dragon took a shaky breath, then another. His limbs trembled, but he managed to pull himself free from the broken shell. His wings dragged behind him, still wet and limp, but alive.

Eruhaben let out a long breath of his own.

"It's a miracle," he said under his breath, watching the dragon look around with cautious curiosity. "Even in this decaying world, miracles still happen."

Eruhaben just observed the young dragon who stayed in his egg for 9000 years. A dragon that could potentially become the next dragon.

Eruhaben doesn't know what kind of miracle this little hatching would do when he gets older.

The young one sneezed suddenly, a spark of black mana puffing from his nostrils. It dissipated in the air without harm. Eruhaben chuckled, a rare and soft sound.

"You'll grow into that mana soon enough."

He finally moved, lifting a hand and slowly placing it on the hatchling's head. The black dragon leaned into the touch.

Eruhaben closed his eyes, sending a small blessing through his palm, a rite of protection only the ancient dragons could give. The hatchling chirped quietly, as if responding.

"Olliene is gone," he said quietly, as if explaining to the young one. "And we don't know what happened to your parents. But I am here. I will teach you what it means to be a dragon."

The small one looked up at him. He did not speak, but in his azure eyes, there was understanding.

Eruhaben stood, allowing a moment of silence to stretch between them.

"Rest now. Grow. The world you will see soon is not kind, but it will need you."

His voice was low, but firm.

"You were born in an era of turbulence. And that means you have a role to play." He remembered the information that the unlucky bastard kept on updating him.

He supposed that kid is resourceful and knows what he was doing. He had already confirmed the death of his friend, which he mourned silently.

He would not forgive whoever had done that to Ollienne. He would make sure that he would get his justice, even if it meant cooperating a bit with humans.

Behind him, the golden mana threads shimmered like sunlight on still water. The lair felt warmer, alive.

The black dragon curled into the remaining shell pieces, eyes fluttering closed as he nestled into the golden nest, a small puff of dark mana rising from his breath.

Eruhaben watched over him with silent vigilance, the weight of centuries heavy on his shoulders, and a strange, unfamiliar hope blooming in his heart.

"Aigoo," he muttered again, turning away slightly. "Why do I always get involved with troublesome children?"

But he stayed.

And the mountain remained quiet as the wind blew gently through the ancient dragon's lair.

The world was warm.

That was the first thing he had learned.

Not just warm like the shell he once lived in, but warm in many different ways. Warm light from the golden threads under his body. Warm air carrying the scent of glowing stones and mana. And warm... touch.

The large golden dragon, Eruhaben, had a hand that felt like safety. His voice was strange and rough sometimes, but it never frightened the black dragon.

Eruhaben spoke to him a lot. Not always with words. Sometimes with quiet looks, gestures, or waves of mana that guided him gently.

And the black dragon listened.

He listened and learned.

By the third day, he had walked the length of the lair on unsteady legs. By the fourth, he learned how to steady his wings even though they were still too small to fly. And now, a week after breaking his shell, he was no longer crawling, but bouncing.

Literally.

"Goldie Gramps!"

Eruhaben twitched. His teacup nearly slipped from his long fingers.

"...What did you call me?" the ancient dragon asked, voice calm but carrying a faint trace of disbelief.

The black dragon beamed, if dragons could beam, with pride, his little claws tapping against the smooth floor as he trotted over. He had heard that phrase from Eruhaben once, muttered under his breath when reading a letter sent by some human child.

So he said it. Because it sounded funny. And also because Eruhaben did have gold everywhere. Hair, eyes, lair. Even his pillows shimmered.

"You are gold. You are old. So... Goldie Gramps!"

Eruhaben closed his eyes and let out a long sigh.

"I'm an ancient dragon, you disrespectful brat."

"But you're kind," the black dragon chirped.

Eruhaben stared at him, mouth slightly open.

"...Are you really a dragon?" he murmured.

The black dragon tilted his head, then grinned. "Of course, yes. I'm a great and mighty dragon like you." The black dragon was puffing and huffing at the moment.

Eruhaben muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, "Troublesome hatchling," before waving a hand.

"Go practice breathing mana properly. No more pestering me during my tea."

But the black dragon didn't go immediately. He crept closer and curled his tail around Eruhaben's foot, nestling against his side.

"You're warm," he mumbled.

Eruhaben stilled.

The young one continued, softer this time.

"I thought dragons were supposed to be alone. That we were cold. I heard the world is full of people who worship or wanted to get us tamed because of our power."

He blinked his big azure eyes, looking up.

"I wanted to see the world, Goldie Gramps." There was pure curiosity in the black dragon's eyes as he fluttered his wings.

Eruhaben looked away. He carefully set his cup down.

"You're too cheerful for your own good."

"I know."

"You'll get hurt out there." There was a hint of concern in his voice as he looked at this young dragon.

"I'll be careful."

"You'll still get hurt."

The black dragon paused. Then, he nodded.

"Then I'll come back here when it hurts. Because you're warm."

Eruhaben rubbed his temple.

"I raised dozens of younger dragons in my time, but you," he glanced down at the small one clinging to his leg, "you're going to be the worst of them."

"Best of them," the black dragon corrected with a proud grin.

Eruhaben sighed again. Then, after a pause, he reached down and gently placed a hand on the black dragon's head.

"You're still a hatchling. Don't act like you know the world."

The young one leaned into the touch, purring softly. "But I'm learning fast."

"Yes. That's what worries me."

The two remained like that for a moment, one ancient, one newly born.

The lair was quiet, save for the gentle humming of mana and the distant wind brushing against the mountain.

"Goldie Gramps."

"What?"

"I think I want to see the world one day. Maybe I would see that warm light." Eruhaben closed his eyes.

"I know."

"And when I do... I'll protect it."

Eruhaben opened his eyes and looked down again, truly looking. The black dragon's scales were smooth and glossy, his aura already thick with potential, and his heart, innocent and bright.

Perhaps too bright.

"Aigoo," the golden dragon muttered, resting his head against the cool stone wall behind him. Eruhaben knew what that light was.

"Just don't grow up to be another unlucky bastard."

"Who's unlucky... Bas?" Eruhaben didn't let him finish as he stared with a warning.

"No one important," Eruhaben lied quickly.

The black dragon raised a brow. "You're lying."

Eruhaben looked down.

"Now how in the world did you learn that already?"

The black dragon just grinned wider.

"Because I'm smart."

Eruhaben let out a huff of reluctant laughter and flicked the young one's forehead gently.

"Then use that brain to go practice your mana breath."

"Yes, Goldie Gramps."

The small black dragon dashed off, tail swishing behind him with excitement, little wings fluttering even if they didn't lift him yet. Mana rippled from him like echoes of a storm yet to form.

Eruhaben leaned back, watching with narrowed eyes.

"So cheerful," he said under his breath again.

"And yet..."

He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to.

Because deep inside, he knew.

This child would one day stand in the middle of a storm greater than any they had faced before.

And he would choose to protect it.

Even if it hurt.

Just like a certain red-haired headache did.

The world was bigger than he had imagined.
And louder.

The first time the young black dragon followed Eruhaben beyond the main cavern, he nearly tripped over his own tail. The ancient dragon's lair stretched like a sprawling maze: sunlit galleries carved into crystal, narrow tunnels lined with dusted relics, and one enormous chamber that smelled of parchment and ink.

Books.

Stacks and stacks of them, volumes piled high on carved stone shelves, delicate scrolls bound in silk, and thick tomes so heavy they required magic just to lift. The instant the hatchling peeked in, his eyes widened until they filled half his face.

"Wow... Goldie Gramps, what is this place?"

Eruhaben paused at the threshold, turning with mild surprise.
"My archive. A collection from two thousand years of wandering. Thought I had locked this tunnel."

"You did," the hatchling answered, wings fluttering. "Locks break if you breathe mana on them the right way."

Eruhaben pinched the bridge of his nose.
"You were hatching one week ago."

"I learn fast."

The golden dragon's sigh echoed through the shelves.
"Knowledge is heavy. Do not lift more than you can carry."

But the hatchling was already inside, sniffing ancient vellum and pawing at leather spines. He found a ladder of conjured light, one of Eruhaben's convenient tricks, and scampered upward, claws clinking on invisible rungs.

He chose a slim volume first. Gold-edged. Faded title:
Basic Rune Structures for Apprentice Mages.

He flipped it open with careful claws. Lines of symbols glowed faintly, reacting to his mana signature. They rearranged themselves into simpler diagrams. He tilted his head, curious.

"Four fundamental rune circuits... Mana flow stabilisers... This is like breathing," he whispered.

By the time Eruhaben finished warding the broken lock, the hatchling had already bounded to a second shelf. That one held atlases, shifting maps of ley-lines, continents, and planar gates. Each time he tapped a location, the parchment flashed, projecting tiny illusions of flowing mana orbits.

He memorised twenty in minutes.

When Eruhaben returned, he found the hatchling balanced on a stack of stone manuscripts, scribbling shaky copies of rune patterns in the dust with his claws.

"You have not even moulted your first scale," the ancient dragon muttered, equal parts annoyed and impressed.
"And you are learning runes."

"They glow when I touch them. They explain themselves." The hatchling wiggled happily.
"It feels... easy."

"Arrogance," Eruhaben warned. "Runes can kill the unwary."

"I will ask if I am unsure," the hatchling promised. Then he frowned, trying to draw a perfect mana circuit. His line wobbled. He rubbed it out and tried again.
"Like this?"

Eruhaben looked closer, then raised a brow.
"Correct ratio. Wrong orientation. But for the first attempt, not bad."

The hatchling's eyes sparkled. Praise felt warm, warmer than the nest. He tried again, tail swishing.

Days passed that way.

In the morning, he had mana-breathing exercises.
In the afternoon, he would be reading until his head buzzed.
In the evening, Eruhaben quizzed him, tapping the floor with a golden claw each time he answered too quickly.

He discovered that dust had memories.

All the microscopic particles swirling around Eruhaben obeyed subtle commands. When the old dragon exhaled, dust drawing near him crystallised into flecks of gold, then drifted away like glittering snow. The hatchling tried mimicking it, shaping specks of black dust into tiny swirling spirals. They fell apart, but he kept practising until they formed a shaky ring.

Eruhaben said nothing, though a small smile tugged at his lips.

Books taught the hatchling about other dragons too. Blue dragons that rode lightning storms. Green dragons that sang with forests. Ancient white dragons that once tried to swallow the sun. The world was vast, brimming with stories, and he wanted to see every page.

One evening, after hours spent deciphering draconic grammar, he pressed close to Eruhaben's side.

"Goldie Gramps, why do books smell like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like old rain and quiet nights."

Eruhaben laughed, deep and soft.
"That is the scent of time, little one."

The hatchling nodded solemnly, as if storing the answer for later.

In only a week he learned to read draconic glyphs, identify basic constellations, and stabilise a child-grade mana shield. Eruhaben watched, both proud and wary. Such speed was unheard of, even for prodigies.

"Are you truly a dragon?" the ancient dragon teased again one night.

The hatchling blinked.
"I think so. I hatched from an egg, did I not?"

"Sometimes I wonder."

The little dragon tilted his head.
"Because I talk a lot?"

"Because you ask too many questions."

A grin split the hatchling's face.
"Then I will ask one more."

Eruhaben sighed into his cup.
"Go on."

"When may I visit outside?"

The ancient dragon set down his tea. Golden eyes reflected the lair's lamplight.

"Soon," he said at last. "When your wings can bear you, and when you understand that the world outside is not as kind as these shelves."

"I will be ready," the hatchling promised, tail thumping.

"I suspect you will," Eruhaben murmured.

And the lamps burned late into the night as the small black dragon copied runes, sketched maps, and dreamed of skies he had never seen.

Chapter Text

The grass was cool beneath his back. Cale Henituse, the fifteen-year-old eldest son of the Count, Rain City's golden boy no matter how much he denied it, was lying beneath the shade of a crooked tree in the far west garden.

One hand rested behind his head. The other held a half-eaten green apple he had been slowly, lazily chewing for the past twenty minutes.

For once, he wasn't doing anything. He was just observing the clouds under the shade of the tree with a solemn face.

He wasn't doing what he did in his first life, pretending to be trash. He was much more laid back in this life compared to both of the lives he had lived before.

Aside from his daily training, he often spent time with both of his siblings and made sure the two of them were doing what they were passionate about. Of course, he taught them from time to time, disguising it as conversation or games so they wouldn't get bored.

He had occasional cooking sessions with Beacrox and let Violan taste the food they made. He went out of the manor to stroll around and did the work that needed him.

But if you compared this work to how much effort he put in both his first and second lives, this was not much, and he could slack off by the end of the day. A luxury he never had in either of the lives he had lived.

In his first life, he was constantly acting like trash. Making sure his reputation stayed the worst while simultaneously keeping the county relatively safe by constantly picking fights with gangsters and thugs. Making sure even Ron wouldn't find out, which took a lot.

He also had to keep the vassal households in check if they tried anything funny. From the time he woke up to the time he slept, he was constantly observing and maintaining the image of trash.

Then the war happened. He had to constantly work and had no time to mourn the death of his whole family. He had to make sure the territory had at least some normalcy, even if he had to move without rest.

It wasn't unusual for him to pass out from exhaustion just to keep the people safe.

In his second life, everything started well, but when he turned eight, his parents died. This time, he had to constantly move as if he wasn’t even there. He had to make sure not to make noise, not to make mistakes. He had to mature immediately to observe his uncle.

After getting out, he had to survive in an orphanage with a low budget due to corruption. He had to compete with other children for basic needs and was isolated by his peers because they thought he was a jinx.

Then the cataclysm happened. And it felt like hell had descended upon them. Everyone lived in constant fear and had to work hard to survive. Sleep was a luxury.

So yes, compared to those two lives, his third life was like paradise. He had a large support system. He was slowly accepting that he was loved, even if he often questioned it. He could rest, slack off, and just sleep and eat whenever he wanted.

He liked it very much.

He was just lying there, in the green, beneath an unhurried sky. And that was enough.

Footsteps approached. But Cale didn’t move.

Ron.

Of course it was Ron.

"Young Master." Cale didn’t answer immediately. He let the silence hang a little longer, feeling the warmth of the filtered sun on his eyelids.

"Didn't know this spot was in your patrol route."

"It isn’t," Ron replied. "But the servants said you disappeared. Again."

Cale smirked without opening his eyes. "I didn’t disappear. I just happened to rest here."

"To the part of the estate overgrown with weeds and bees?" Ron asked benignly, and Cale flushed in embarrassment.

"The weeds mind their own business. And the bees are polite," he replied.

There was the faint sound of fabric shifting as Ron settled onto the nearby bench—one of those old stone ones that had cracked slightly down the middle.

Neither spoke for a while.

The wind stirred through the trees. In the distance, the faint hammering of the forge echoed across the grounds. It was a peaceful noise, steady and unthreaten.

"Something on your mind, Young Master? This Ron could help with anything," Ron finally said, breaking the silence.

Cale looked at the clouds again, staring at them as he raised his hand and seemed to want to grab them.

Cale finally opened his eyes. He looked up at the tangle of leaves and light above him.

"I think... it's easier to talk when it's not about me," he admitted.

Ron hummed. Not agreement, not disapproval. Just... listening.

Cale stared at the sky for a long time. Then he asked quietly, "Do you believe people can be born tired?"

Ron turned slightly. "Not tired in the body."

"No," Cale agreed. "In the bones. In the... inside part."

His voice wasn't trembling. It wasn’t theatrical. It wasn’t desperate.

It was calm.

Too calm, maybe.

"In my previous lives," he said slowly, "I sometimes felt like questioning why I still wanted to survive, despite the world seemingly giving me more and more reasons to just stop. Questioning if my decisions were right. Or if I just made it worse."

"Worse?"

"It got lonelier," Cale admitted again. "Colder, like no one cared. And I didn’t care, either." He looked at the clouds again. And the tiredness he carried was in full view of Ron.

Ron didn’t interrupt. He only watched him closely.

Cale continued, almost absently. "I had no family. No name that meant anything. Just work. Survival. And a rooftop with no railing."

A pause.

"I think... I think I fell once. Not sure if I’m beyond repair. It's just tiring," Cale smiled bitterly.

"Sometimes I envy the clouds... They are so free, devoid of human emotion."

Ron’s expression didn’t change. But his fingers tightened ever so slightly where they rested on his knee.

"And this life?" Ron asked, voice steady.

Cale rolled the apple in his hand, eyes following its slow turn.

"This life is warm. It makes me nervous."

"That’s normal." Cale looked at him with deep eyes.

That was when Ron realized, Cale might not have fully developed his emotions. He was young when he started acting as trash in his first life, and he had to suppress those emotions because showing a bit of emotion might get him beaten.

He also realized Cale couldn’t believe he was worth being loved, or that he mattered too. He felt grim.

"Is it?"

"Yes. For those who didn’t grow up with warmth, comfort can feel like a trap." Cale went still.

"...I never said I didn’t grow up with warmth."

"You didn’t have to," Ron said simply.

They sat in silence again.

The clouds shifted above them, slow and soft. The kind of day that felt like the world was trying not to disturb him.

"I don’t want to be that person again," Cale said eventually.

"The one who always survives while everyone dies, leaving me alone." Ron pulled Cale gently to his shoulder so he could lean into him.

"You don’t have to," Ron replied.

Ron stood, stepping beside him. He crouched slowly, then reached out and pressed a firm, warm hand to Cale’s head.

It wasn’t affectionate, not quite. It was grounding. Solid. Real.

"If you feel alone," Ron said, "we’ll still be here."

Cale blinked.

Ron added, "Your two lives don’t have to fight your third life. It just needs to be lived."

Cale scoffed, but it was soft. "That was almost poetic."

"I’m old. I’m allowed to be." They both smiled.

Cale let his head fall back onto the grass and stared up again at the sky.

"Sometimes," he murmured, "I lie here because the sky doesn’t ask anything from me."

"And if it did?"

"I’d tell it to mind its own business."

Ron chuckled. "Then rest while you can, Young Master. Before the world starts knocking again."

Cale shut his eyes.

And, for once, he allowed himself to believe the world could wait.

Two years later, in the Eastern Continent, Mount Nex.

Two cats escaped from the cage their fellow tribesmen had locked them in, seizing the only opportunity left to flee the land they once called home.

It had been a year since their parents died, and everything since had been a personal hell. They were treated as pariahs, mutants, and a plague.

Worse still, they had become human targets. Many cats used them as personal punching bags, tearing down their sense of worth with cruel words and brutal hands.

But now, On and Hong, the two unfortunate children of the Fog Cat Tribe, were running like their lives depended on it.

"Noona!" Hong’s voice cracked from exertion, his breath fogging in the freezing air.

"I know!" On shouted back. Her feet barely touched the forest floor as she ducked low, silver hair flying behind her like a comet’s tail. Her ears twitched. She leapt across a half-collapsed root bridge. "They’re flanking us from the right!"

Behind them, a dozen pairs of glowing eyes glittered with hatred.

The Fog Cat Tribe had once been feared across the Eastern Continent. Agile. Silent. Ghosts of the highlands. Now, they hunted their own blood.

Mutants. Cursed spawn. Descendants of a traitor’s line. On and Hong had been called worse by their pursuers.

Hong coughed hard, paws barely shifting into his combat form. His claws scraped against bark as he vaulted over a fallen log.

On caught him mid-stumble, gritting her teeth. His side was bleeding again.

"Just a little farther. The ridge is near. The river too."

"But the mist—"

"I’ll use it," On said, her eyes briefly glowing with eerie purple mana. "If we get to the river, I can cover us."

A scream echoed behind them. One of their cousins had triggered a buried trap.

A cruel part of On didn’t feel sorry.

They reached the cliff’s edge just as more shadows burst from the brush. Arrows whistled through the air. One grazed Hong’s shoulder. He hissed but didn’t fall.

"You can’t run forever!" one of the warriors shouted, his voice savage with hate. "You two should’ve died with your filthy parents!"

"Shut up," On growled. She turned and hurled a crystal shard into the undergrowth. Mana pulsed around it, dark and coiling. A cloud of illusory mist exploded outward, thick and sudden.

"Now, Hong!"

The two siblings jumped.

The river below roared like a beast. Winter fed it well. Snowmelt and mountain runoff churned together into a maelstrom of freezing death. But it was better than the spears behind them.

They hit the water.

Pain tore through them. The river was cold like razors. It swallowed them whole.

Gasping for air, bodies trembling, they fought to stay together. The current battered them, tore at their limbs, threatened to drag them into the abyss.

But they held on.

Because this pain, this cold, this chaos—none of it compared to what they had endured in the home that had turned against them.

They survived the river. Barely.

On dragged Hong from the freezing current with what little strength she had left. Her limbs trembled, her breath came in short, ragged bursts, and her vision blurred at the edges. A few cracked ribs. Dozens of bruises. Cuts that refused to stop stinging. Her body was near collapse.

But her grip on Hong never loosened.

She tried everything to warm them. She shook their small bodies, coaxing out the river water trapped in their fur. Her own paws were bleeding from the rocks and ice, but she kept going.

They didn't dare light a fire.

So they moved only by night. Slept curled together under twisted roots or buried in snow-drift dens, hidden from hunters and the cold alike. They stole food from traveling merchants when they had the chance. Fished in half-frozen streams when they could. The meat was raw and the water colder than pain, but it kept them alive.

Winter was unrelenting. It bit through their fur, through the tattered coats they found and wrapped around themselves. It dug into their bones, whispered doubts in their sleep.

They didn’t speak much anymore.

Words took energy.

Each step westward was survival.

There were times On wanted to cry. Times she wanted to stop walking, curl into a ball, and just let the snow bury her. But she couldn't. She wouldn't.

The Eastern Continent was not safe. Not for them.

She could still remember the eyes of their tribesmen. Burning with hatred. With betrayal. As if she and Hong had committed a crime just by breathing.

They would find them wherever they went in the Eastern lands. No cave, no village, no forest was safe anymore.

That was what On feared the most. Not for herself. But for her little brother.

"I'm scared, Noona," Hong whispered once, voice hoarse and small under the starless sky.

On said nothing at first.

She only held him, pulling him close, burying her face into his shoulder as tears finally fell. She wept without sound. No screams. No sobs. Just a silent mourning for the life they lost and the pain they carried.

"Don't worry, Dongsaeng," she whispered into his matted hair, voice shaking. "Everything will be fine the moment we escape the Eastern Continent. We'll figure everything out."

She told herself this again and again.

Not just for Hong.

But for herself too.

They boarded a ship at a shadowed port, slipping into the cargo hold when no one was looking. It was a desperate plan, barely thought through. But desperation was all they had left.

Maybe, this time, their tribe wouldn't see them again.

They hid in the basement of the ship, deep where the stacked crates of food and supplies lay. The smell of salt, metal, and preserved grain clung to everything. On had wanted to avoid stealing, her conscience gnawing at her with every breath.

But they hadn’t had a decent meal in days.

So she stole.

Just a little. Just enough. A piece of bread. A sip of water. Barely enough to fill their stomachs.

Her hands shook the first time. Her eyes kept darting to the stairs, expecting heavy boots to thunder down and drag them out.

Her conscience screamed it was wrong.

But the hollow ache in their bellies was louder.

One week in, a storm struck.

The ship groaned like a wounded beast. Waves slammed into the hull, and the floor pitched violently under them. Crates shifted and crashed. Barrels rolled, nearly crushing their small forms. They clung to the shadows, eyes wide, hearts pounding.

Sleep became a luxury they couldn't afford. They stayed awake, trembling, listening to the chaos outside and above. Every creak of the wood made them flinch.

The temperature rose with the storm. The air in the hold turned thick and suffocating. Their breaths came harder, shallower. They began to sweat even in the cold.

Then, the storm passed.

But On didn't wake up for two days.

When she finally stirred, she was burning with fever, curled beside Hong like a ragged doll. Her skin was pale, and her breathing came in soft, dry gasps.

Hong held her hand tightly, as if afraid she'd vanish.

"You said we would make it," he whispered.

She didn’t answer right away. Her cracked lips moved slowly.

Then, hoarsely, "We will."

Hunger gnawed at them worse than any enemy they had known. It wasn't sharp or immediate like fear. It was slow and dull, clawing at their bones from the inside.

Hong hadn’t spoken in a day.

His eyes were sunken. Lips dry and split. He reached into his coat and pulled out the last piece of bread they had. He tried to offer it to her.

On slapped it back into his hands and turned away, trembling.

Her whole body ached. But more than anything, it hurt to see her brother trying to starve for her.

They sat in silence. The only sound was the groan of the ship and the occasional screech of a seagull overhead.

Every now and then, On would whisper memories.

Stories of their parents. The time Hong got stuck in the laundry basket. The way the moonlight used to shine on the lake outside their old home. She whispered them softly, almost as if to herself, because silence made the hunger feel bigger.

Each day was a struggle. Each breath, a decision.

But they endured.

They had escaped the cage.

And though this ship was no paradise, and the journey ahead remained dark and cold, they were free.

That was something.

And for now, it was enough.

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*
   
They arrived on the western shores like ghosts-pale, thin, and trembling. Just like how they board is how they leave. Nobody even found out the two cats who boarded with them. And the two are grateful for that.

On kissed the ground and Hong collapsed beside her.

They were safe. Maybe.

But their tribe's hatred still burned in their memories. Their mother's blood still stained their dreams. They had been hunted for existing-for being the children of the last rightful chief. The rebellion had stripped them of family, home, and name.

But not of each other.

"We'll find it," On said, staring at the distant forests.

"Find what?" Hong murmured, eyes closed.

"A place that won't hate us just for being born."

He didn't reply. He just squeezed her hand.

They lay there under the grey sky, listening to the cold wind.

Two orphans. Two survivors.

Alive. But not whole.

Not yet but maybe someday.

Chapter Text

Three weeks later, at the outskirts of the Roan Kingdom

The wind had changed.

It smelled cleaner, sharper. Less like salt and rot, more like cold stone and pine trees. The kind of air that reminded On of cliffs and highland forests. Of danger, yes, but also distance. Safety, maybe.

She shifted beneath the tarp, feline ears twitching. Her silver tail curled tighter around Hong's small, sleeping form. His breath was slow, heavy, curled in on himself against the cold in the corner of the cart.

They hadn't shifted into their human forms for the past two days. Not since slipping into the merchant's wagon with the cover of night and hiding among the crates of pottery and sacks of barley. They only moved when it was safe, only ate when they were starving. Even now, her stomach growled angrily. She flattened her ears against her head to ignore it.

The merchant was a man with thick hands and eyes too tired to notice two extra shadows in his cargo. He muttered to himself when he drove, stopped only when needed, and never checked the back of the cart unless it was to rearrange something. He didn't ask questions.

On liked that.

Two nights ago, in the last port town before crossing into the western borderlands, she had crouched behind a broken crate while Hong fished crusts of bread from the trash. She had overheard two mercenaries talking near the inn.

"Henituse County," one said, wiping ale from his mouth. "Roan Kingdom's little miracle. I heard you could sneak in easy, if you look harmless. Guards don't care about papers as long as you're not stirring up trouble."

The other snorted. "You're gullible to believe that. Rain City has the highest safety record in the central region. You think they got that way by letting strays through the gate?"

On didn't listen to the rest. She had heard enough.

A gamble.

After months of hunger, cold, and silence, a gamble was better than waiting to freeze. Or worse, be caught again.

The merchant's cart rolled on, wheels crunching over gravel. The scent of pine thickened. On's whiskers twitched.

She gently nudged Hong with her nose.

"We're close," she whispered, soft and feline. He stirred, his golden eyes blinking open.

"Are we there?" he asked, voice dry and cracked.

"Almost."

The road curved ahead. Through the gaps in the tarp, she could see the outline of a distant city-a curtain of soft mist curling around stone walls. Lanterns glowed along the outer path, steady and golden.

Henituse County.

They would arrive before sunrise.

On just had to keep Hong quiet and make sure they didn't move until the cart stopped inside. Once they were in, they could shift back, find shelter, and disappear into the crowd.

They would find a way.

She had promised him. So she would.

No matter how much her paws ached, or how heavy her eyes felt, or how loud her guilt clawed every time she stole food from someone else's stores... she would keep her word.

Because they were still alive.

And they were going to stay that way.

Even if it meant hiding in crates and biting down their pride.

Even if it meant trusting a whisper overheard in the dark.

Even if it meant gambling everything.

On closed her eyes and listened to Hong's breathing beside her.

They would survive this.

Just a little farther.

They both heard noises, a clang of armor, that made the two of them tense up.

A guard peeked inside, brows raised at the crates and sacks. On was sure she met the eyes of one of the guards, which made her heart beat so fast.

"Pottery and grain?" the guard asked.

"Barley from Ipsel," the merchant muttered. "For the northern inn and the bakeries."

The man nodded and stepped aside.

On sighed in relief when the guard did not seem to mind their presence. Just a brief checking of the cart and documentation before getting them inside.

They were through, which made On sigh in relief.

They waited until nightfall to slip out.

By now, they were half-starved again. Their stolen food had long since dwindled. Their paws were raw from staying hidden too long in form. But neither transformed. They could not-not yet.

The city was unlike any they had known.

Far from the environment. A place full of gore and violence since their uncle took over.

Instead, they passed between people humming while tending flowerbeds. Children running to bakeries. An old woman scolding a teen for muddy boots.

It did not feel real. It felt like a paradise.

On caught Hong pausing near a fruit stand, eyes locked on a pile of ripe peaches.

"Don't," she warned sharply.

He flinched and pulled back, ears folding.

They slunk past an alleyway and down another lane, finally stopping beside a squat building with a sun-faded sign above the door.

They tried to find a place to stay, trying to find the slums in the city, but there were none. On took another gamble and shakily transformed into her human form.

A few adults immediately saw them looking ragged and lost. So someone immediately approached them.

"Little kid, are you lost? You want me to accompany you? Where are your parents?" The rapid questions made On and Hong curl up in fear.

"These might be children who sneaked inside, Miss. Why don't we send them to the orphanage? They could help with these poor children's needs," the other adult said.

"Don't worry, little kid. We will help you, okay?" With the kind gesture of a few adults, they reached the Hopeful Future Orphanage. The orphanage that Baron Valhali runs with honest intention.

The scent hit her first.

Soup. Fresh sheets. Warm wood and books.

"Kid, just go inside and ask for help. They would welcome you..." The adults were patient as On and Hong refused to go inside.

"Would you like us to accompany you and observe the place first?" the elderly woman asked.

"Th-thank you..." On whispered. The elderly woman smiled as she sat in the chair of the nearby cafe.

Home. But she did not know what that meant anymore.

"Should we go in?" Hong whispered beside her.

On narrowed her eyes. "Not yet."

She watched the building for two hours from the shadows, noting every child that came and went. A woman with a kind face opened the door three times, always smiling. A boy with mismatched socks waved at a passing deliveryman.

Still no signs of guards. No shackles. No collars.

Finally, when the moon dipped low, On turned to her younger brother.

"We'll wait until morning. Then..." she swallowed. Her voice dropped, brittle. "Then maybe we knock."

Hong looked up at her, eyes wide. "Do you think they'll let us stay?"

On did not answer at first.

"I don't know," she whispered.

"They would," the elderly woman said. She really had not left despite it getting dark. Because they felt safe even for night walks.

"Just try it, child. You would lose nothing, and you can just leave if you do not like to stay there." On was grateful to this elderly woman as she patiently accompanied them while observing the orphanage.

Then, almost too softly for even Hong to hear.

"But if they don't... we'll find another place. We always do." The elderly woman only left when the two got inside with the staff.

Early in the morning, when the merchant's carriage rolled past the checkpoint without incident.

No inspections, just a glance and a wave-through.

But high above, perched behind a wind-carved stone tower overlooking the crossing, two figures watched with narrowed eyes.

"Did you see the tail?" one murmured.

"It is silver and red fur of a cat."

"Not native. And definitely not wild."

A silent look passed between them. Neither needed to speak further.

They had seen many things pass through Henituse borders over a year-runaways, spies, petty thieves-but nothing triggered a protocol like a flagged bloodline from the Fog Cat Tribe.

There are some people in the system who have a special protocol. One of them is the Fog Cat Tribe from the Eastern Continent. Partly because this tribe is one of the most dangerous tribes, as they specialize in stealth and assassination. So having the presence of a tribe that had no reason to go all the way to the Western Continent other than killing a target, they immediately flagged it.

The late afternoon sun filtered through the frost-dusted windows of the Henituse County orphanage, casting long golden lines across the wooden floors. The scent of warm soup clung to the air, faint but comforting.

Cale stepped through the door, hands tucked in his coat pockets. His red hair caught the sunlight, making it glow like embers. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes scanned the room with a deliberate calm.

The matron, a middle-aged woman with tired eyes and a soft smile, walked up to him.

"Young Master Cale. This is unexpected," she said, bowing slightly.

"I was told you had two new children arrive last week. A brother and sister," he said, voice even. "Strays with no papers. Had silver and red hair."

The matron stiffened, surprised. But she nodded. "Yes, they haven't spoken much. Shy. Skittish. Unusual colors..."

"Where are they now?"

"In the backroom. Reading by the stove."

Cale didn't respond immediately. He merely walked past her, boots quiet on the wooden floor, until he reached the doorway.

Inside, the room was small and warm, filled with books stacked on low shelves and a pot of stew simmering near the hearth. Two children sat in the far corner on a patched rug. The girl had silver hair braided back and sharp violet eyes that watched everything. The boy, younger, with deep golden eyes and hair like dusk, was curled against her side, half-asleep.

They looked up the moment he entered.

On didn't flinch, but her arms tightened slightly around her brother. Hong blinked slowly, trying to sit up.

Cale studied them quietly.

"You knew I was coming," he said after a moment.

On's ears twitched.

"Someone was watching us for days," she replied. Her voice was low and wary. Not frightened. Just alert.

Cale didn't smile. But something in his expression softened.

"You're from the Eastern Continent."

On's eyes narrowed, but she nodded.

Cale stepped further into the room and crouched a few feet away from them. Close, but not enough to make them feel cornered.

"I won't ask you to tell me your story. Not unless you want to."

On said nothing.

But Hong peeked up from her shoulder. "Are you... here to take us away?"

Cale looked at him, eyes meeting the boy's gaze evenly.

"I'm here to offer you something better than hiding in crates and stealing scraps."

On's shoulders tensed.

"And if we say no?" she asked.

"Then you'll stay here," Cale answered. "Safe. Fed. Watched by people who won't ask questions. That's already been arranged."

"Then why come?"

"Because I know what it means to grow up just to survive," he said simply. "To think the world wants you gone just because you were born different. I also know how to build places where the world can't touch you."

On's breath caught.

"You want something," she said.

"Maybe I do," Cale said, standing slowly. "But not from you. What I want is to make sure no one else gets used and discarded just because they were born into the wrong story."

He turned toward the door.

"I'll return in two days. If you want to leave this place and come with me, I'll make sure you're protected. You'll have food. Warmth. Training, if you want it. And a name that no one will try to erase."

He stopped just at the doorway and looked over his shoulder.

"But if you stay, that's fine too. You'll still be under my protection. I don't save people just to leave them behind."

With that, he walked out.

Two days later, just as the first snow began to fall again, Cale returned.

They were waiting at the gates.

On held Hong's hand tightly, both of them wearing donated coats that didn't quite fit, their eyes fixed ahead.

Cale paused when he saw them. "You've made your choice."

On nodded.

"We don't want to run anymore," she said. "We want to live."

"And protect each other," Hong added quietly.

Cale opened the carriage door without another word.

They climbed in.

There were no grand speeches. No tears. No dramatic promises.

Just silence.

And then, when the wheels began to turn and the orphanage faded behind them, Hong leaned lightly against Cale's side and murmured, "Do you... do you really not mind having us?"

Cale looked out the window.

"I didn't come to mind," he said.

On didn't say anything, but the way she let herself rest for the first time since crossing the sea said more than words ever could.

They didn't know yet, but from that moment on, they were no longer strays.

They were now Henituse.

Chapter Text

Years and years of preparation, the start of the novel's timeline "Birth of a Hero" is finally starting. Alberu and Cale did have a meeting with the core people of the Soo'Ari two weeks before the first attack. Ron, who is the head of overall operation, Freesia, who is the representative and face of the group, Billos, who takes care of the "Skin," and Chief Kanelle, who is the head of the logistics and engineering division.

Beacrox, who is the head of internal security, Hilsman, who is the commander of internal and external territory patrol, and Hans, who is the head of civilian intelligence and liaison.

Choi Han, who is the head of the vanguard of the group, and finally, Alberu, who is one of the external strategists and the highest political patron and backer of their group. And of course, On and Hong, who are now the in-training successors of Ron.

The Soo'Ari becomes a huge group but still stays out of the radar of any powerhouses. They still operate like a merchant guild rather than a group with so much going on at the back door. Still, you could hardly connect businesses under them as each business is always in a different industry.

They slowly penetrate the lives of not just the commoners but nobles too. From food, to jewelry, to everyday necessities.

Then there is a high-end restaurant, tavern, pubs, coffee shop, libraries, and even some training centers.

They also have a portion of the ports. Other merchants wanted to copy them. But a lot of the Soo'Ari's products are made by machines that the Flame Dwarfs created. Thus, mass production is something they can do while others still rely on hands or with some help of magic devices which are very expensive. Thus, they could not really make their prices lower than the Soo'Ari's products as their businesses introduce both highly affordable things for commoners and premium luxury that the nobles are obsessed with.

Alberu and Cale introduced capitalism in this world without any shame and exploited it to the fullest. Just looking at their high customers' retainers, you'll see how much money enters their treasury compared to the money they invest.

It is the reason why they could expand quietly but aggressively. And every investment returns to them tenfold.

It is one of the reasons why they told Choi Han that they once lived as Koreans in the first place.

These core members got the gist of the timeline of what would happen in the future.

The attack in Harris Village was particularly prioritized because of Cale's speculation that White Star might go to the vicinity. Cale remembers that White Star had his mother's other half of the ancient power before he died in his first life.

So he speculated that the time White Star went to the Harris Village is when he took the ancient power that had been buried there.

A week before the attack, the people living in Harris Village were relocated to a new location still in the remote part of Rain City but much closer to the center. With newly built houses and complete help of what they needed. While the residents were a bit confused by this bizarre situation, they accepted it because the offer was greater than what they had.

Cale also planned to use the Harris Village in the future, that is why he relocated those people out. He still does not know what to do, but he felt like he had some use for this place.

Of course, the Soo'Ari temporarily occupied the place for appearances.

The attack on the Blue Wolf Tribe was also flagged as important because of Super Rock's advice. He said that the Blue Wolf Tribe is a tribe that had been abandoned by gods. Those tribes are excellent ingredients as sacrifices and they produce more dead mana than normal people.

They saw the memories of Cale, thus they concluded that the current White Star is imitating the White Star they once fought.

So they have two goals in the Harris Village: one is to observe White Star and the other is to get information from the assassins.

The night of the attack, everyone was tense. Cale, Alberu, and Ron were in the nearby area of the red tree where half of Cale's mother's ancient power was buried. Just like how the red tree blossomed at the tombstone of his mother, the red tree also blossomed here in Harris Village.

Cale never really took the annual rings in the diary. Partly because he could not as he might blow up from having two wood attribute ancient powers, and partly because he was scared that he might hear her voice again.

They were far enough, but there were a few mechanical devices in the area to know what they would be talking about while supposedly taking his mother's ancient power.

It was not the right time for confrontation.

Just a few hours later, they saw someone in an ARM uniform. But this time, the symbol on his uniform was not the usual white star that is surrounded by five red stars, but just a plain red star.

Alberu subconsciously held Cale's hand as they observed four people going near the red tree. He saw White Star. He seemed to look like him. Red hair, reddish brown eyes, and a white mask. He was accompanied by a lion and a bear that they did not know who they were, as they looked a bit weak but strong.

Beads of sweat formed on their foreheads and hands. The instinctive fear kicked in as they saw him. This was the person who killed both of them in the final battle. A person they both thought had become a god because of his overwhelming presence and strong powers. They could not breathe properly.

Ron tried to stabilize the two as they might be panicking. He looked toward the potential leader of ARM with a grim expression.

White Star seemed annoyed and used his fire swords to slice the red tree in frustration.

"WHO DARES TO TAKE MY ANCIENT POWER?" Alberu and Cale flinched but their eyes suddenly became sharp, filled with hatred.

White Star looked like he was throwing a tantrum as he destroyed the place where the ancient power was supposedly buried. The lion and the bear seemingly tried to calm him down. They talked, but they could not hear them clearly, though they would later.

They then teleported with the black mage. They could hear an explosion in Harris Village, which meant the battle had begun. The two sighed in relief and looked at the trees that were currently burning.

Cale used a bit of the Dominating Water to stop it from becoming wild.

"We need to check the Harris Village," Cale said grimly.

The three of them put back on their masks and went back to the Harris Village.

The village was silent. Too silent.

Choi Han's boots hit the edge of the stone well near the center of Harris Village as he scanned the fog-covered streets. A cold wind blew past him, rustling the old wooden signs of shuttered homes. The villagers had been relocated days ago, and the only living souls supposed to be here now were part of Soo'Ari's elite team.

Yet he felt it.

The scent of iron and smoke on the breeze. The heaviness in the air. The sensation that eyes were watching, waiting, slithering just beyond sight.

Everyone was ready to attack, tension rising as they observed the place.

He drew his sword.

A glint of steel flashed across the street and disappeared.

"Formation B," he ordered calmly. Behind him, the vanguard team shifted into motion in silent signals and synchronized steps. These men and women weren't just guards. They were shadows who trained under Soo'Ari's blade program. They understood what was coming.

Choi Han moved ahead.

He passed by the back gate. His heart stirred, but he pressed it down. Now wasn't the time.

A whistle cut the air.

He ducked.

A dagger whirled past his cheek, embedding itself into a wooden post behind him. The blade was coated with something greenish-poison, likely.

And then they emerged.

From rooftops, from behind barrels, from inside chimneys.

Figures cloaked in black, faces hidden, movements sharp and deadly. They didn't speak. No taunts. No demands.

They came to kill.

"Neutralize the target, not slaughter," Choi Han commanded as he moved. His blade met another mid-air. Sparks flew. The enemy was trained-probably elite tier too. Each strike came with intent. These weren't bandits. They weren't mercenaries.

They were assassins.

His sword danced, moving faster than the eye could follow. He ducked under a spear and disarmed the wielder with a sharp twist, then swept the leg and struck a pressure point with the hilt. The man dropped with a muffled gasp.

Three more replaced him.

He moved like water, weaving between the blades. His strikes were precise. Not to kill, but to disable. Ron's training had taught him efficiency. Cale's strategy taught him patience. They learned from each other's specialties.

Then he saw it.

One of the black-clad figures was not attacking. He seemed to be looking for something. This made Choi Han frown.

The ancient power should be where the others were. It was outside the vicinity of the Harris Village. So there might be another thing they wanted to find.

"He's looking for something," Choi Han realized.

Which meant the other assassins were distractions.

He whistled-a sharp two-tone signal-and the archers hidden in the rooftops responded. Arrows rained down-not lethal, but enough to scatter the enemy's coordination.

He moved toward the digger.

The man must have sensed the danger because he stood, brandishing a blade that glimmered with black mana.

Choi Han's eyes narrowed. A black mage? No, it was a warrior infused with cursed mana. Even worse.

Their blades clashed. The cursed mana sizzled against the edge of Choi Han's purified steel.

He stepped in. Fast. Unrelenting.

The assassin was skilled, but not enough.

With a final blow, Choi Han knocked him unconscious, not dead. His breathing was shallow, and blood pooled around a broken rib, but he would live. That was enough.

He turned back to the others. The battle was tilting.

Some assassins had fled into the forest, vanishing like ghosts.

But they had captured six. Two were unconscious. Four were restrained. One of them had a broken jaw.

Choi Han wiped his blade and turned to the others.

"Secure the perimeter. Lock down this site. Call for Umbra (Ron) and Crescent-nim. We're done here."

He glanced once more at the scorched remains of the red tree.

"They were looking for something," he muttered. "And they didn't find it."

He looked toward the east, where the rising sun peeked over the horizon.

Their cloaks fluttered slightly with the breeze, masks concealing the weight in their expressions. Cale, Alberu, and Ron moved with quiet purpose, boots pressing into the ash-covered ground where once the red tree had stood tall and whole.

Cale's gaze immediately fell on the tree's ruined remains.

Charred bark. Split roots. A crater at its base where someone had frantically dug. The surrounding earth was still scorched from the fire, steam rising faintly from patches of disturbed snow and melted frost.

He said nothing at first.

Alberu stood beside him, his hands clenched tight inside his sleeves. Ron, ever silent, swept his eyes across the perimeter, already memorizing the positions of the archers and vanguard members still stationed around the area.

Choi Han approached quickly, his sword at his side but unbloodied. His clothes had ash and a few scuff marks, but he stood tall.

"Report," Cale said.

"They arrived just past midnight. Around twelve, based on the bell tower in the east field. No insignias. All dressed in black. A total of fourteen. Eight retreated when the leader failed to secure the dig site. Six captured."

Cale's eyes flicked to the side. "Alive?"

"Barely. All disabled non-lethally. The one who led the excavation resisted the hardest-cursed mana. He's stable but unconscious."

Alberu raised a brow. "Cursed mana?" His voice was low, almost a growl. "That's not just a throwaway asset."

"Affirmative," Choi Han confirmed. "Whoever sent them wanted results. Not a test run."

Cale walked forward slowly.

He stared at the small crater at the tree's base, his breath visible in the cold air. The red tree had always symbolized something sacred to him. In both lives. It had blossomed where his mother's soul once lingered.

And now... it had been desecrated.

Ron moved closer to inspect the depth of the digging. "They got close."

"But they didn't find it," Cale murmured.

"How can you be sure?" Alberu asked.

Cale glanced up, his green eyes cold behind the mask. "Because if they did, they wouldn't have left it like this. He was angry. White Star."

Alberu stiffened.

"You saw him?" Choi Han's voice was sharp.

Cale nodded. "Him. The lion and bear beside him. Red Star insignia on their clothes. He sliced the tree in fury and shouted something."

Choi Han waited.

"He asked who dared take his ancient power."

A thick silence fell.

Choi Han lowered his head slightly, brows furrowed. "Did you know more information about him, Crescent-nim?"

"Hardly have an information about him. We only frought him in our first life in the final battle..." Cale didn't add that there's no information about him in the 'birth of a hero' too.

Ron turned to Cale. "So what now, Young Master?"

Cale's hand curled into a fist at his side.

"Now, we interrogate the ones we caught. Quietly. No torture. We do it smart. Layered questioning. Isolation cells. We separate them. Let them break themselves apart."

Ron nodded.

Alberu looked at the scattered vanguard soldiers checking buildings and rooftops. "And the site?"

"Preserve it. Cover the damage. Replant if you can. But don't remove any fragments from the crater."

He paused.

"Burn whatever they touched. Salt the soil if you have to."

Choi Han turned to go carry out the orders, but Cale called out quietly.

"Orion (Choi Han)." Choi Han suddenly paused.

"You did well. Again."

The faintest smile touched Choi Han's lips. "Not well enough. They still slipped away."

"They didn't get what they came for," Alberu said firmly. "That's a win."

Ron crossed his arms, looking toward the forest where the rest of the assassins had fled. "We'll let them think this was a loss. Let them stew. That's when they start making mistakes."

Cale finally turned back toward the direction of Rain City.

"We're not giving them another chance."

He walked ahead, voice quiet but firm.

"Prepare for their next attack."

Chapter Text

The air shimmered.

In the center of the Soo’Ari conference room, beneath the massive circular skylight that filtered golden sunlight across polished marble and thick maps, mana pulsed like a heartbeat.

They were discussing what to do at the two upcoming attacks. They did not rely too much on the novel or the memories they got in their first life. Because first, some of the information in the novel might already have changed because of their movements in the past.

Second, some of the information they got in their first life was limited. So they all got ready in case the worst happened.

After the discussion, a sudden flicker of gold flared into existence.

“Someone’s teleporting in,” Ron murmured from the wall, already tensing.

“No, wait,” Cale said calmly, raising a hand. “I know that mana.”

The space rippled, then cracked open like glass, shattered light folding in on itself until a portal spiraled outward, and from its depths emerged a tall, elegant figure with golden hair flowing behind him like liquid sunlight.

Eruhaben.

The Ancient Dragon stood with his usual grace, wearing a fine coat embroidered with sky-thread runes, though his sharp eyes were already rolling with exasperation.

“I told you to let me introduce you properly.”

But the figure beside him leapt out before he could finish.

“Human!”

A blur of obsidian and silver lunged across the room. Cale instinctively stepped back as a small, black-scaled dragon pup with shimmering wings and bright sapphire eyes skidded across the table, sending several strategy documents flying in the process.

“I knew it was you! You’re there, your smell is the same!” the dragon declared proudly, puffing up his chest.

Cale blinked. “…What.”

Choi Han chuckled softly. “I thought I sensed dragon mana.”

The little black dragon tilted his head at him. “You too! You were there. You gave off warmth. And her!”

He spun toward Freesia, who stiffened on instinct.

“You smelled like sharp things! I thought you were a sword!”

Freesia slowly blinked at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“I’ve been alive for only a few years, but Goldie Gramps taught me everything,” the dragon said, tail wagging slightly as he leapt down onto the polished floor. “Now I’m ready to see the world! And I wanted to start with you, strange human!”

Cale rubbed his temples. “Why me?”

“You’re interesting. You always had strange aura and smell when I was in the egg,” he said simply. “Also, Goldie Gramps said you’d give me real-world experience. And dragons learn best through adventure!”

Eruhaben sighed as he stepped beside the energetic hatchling. “He is yours now. Congratulations.”

“What?”

“I taught him all I could in theory. But dragons are not meant to grow up locked away in lairs in their first few years. He needs experience, stimulation, real conflict, and you, unfortunately, provide plenty of that.”

Cale scowled. “I’m not a babysitter.”

The black dragon narrowed his eyes. “I’m not a baby! I’m a great and mighty dragon.”

“You’re four years old.”

“Four years old and brilliant.”

Ron coughed lightly, lips twitching.

Alberu, who had just walked in with a folder of foreign reports, paused in the doorway.

“What the?”

“I’m a black dragon. Hello. Your hair is shiny,” the dragon said brightly.

Alberu blinked. “…Thank you?”

Choi Han stepped forward, kneeling slightly. “May I ask your name?”

The dragon blinked. “Oh. I haven’t chosen one yet. I was waiting to see the world first.”

The black dragon huffed so cutely that Cale just stared at him blankly.

“You! Strange human! If you give me a name, I’ll grant you the honor of letting me use the name you give me. Isn’t that great? You’ll name the great and mighty me?”

Then he looked at Cale again with an arrogant look.

Cale groaned. “What did I do to deserve this?”

Eruhaben’s voice was amused as he headed for the tea corner. “If you need help, don’t ask me. I’ll be taking a long vacation now.”

“You’re ditching him with us, aren’t you.”

“I call it delegation.”

The dragon climbed onto the strategy table, curled his tail around a map of the Roan Kingdom’s western territories, and declared grandly, “Hehe, we’ll travel together from now on, humans.”

Silence.

Cale looked at everyone in the room.

Then looked at the dragon.

Then sighed.

“Welcome to Soo’Ari,” he muttered.

The dragon beamed.

The door to Count Deruth’s office creaked open.

Cale stepped in first, hands lazily tucked in his sleeves, followed by Basen, who had a clipboard in hand and a faint ink smudge on his cheek.

“You called for us, Father?” Basen asked, ever polite.

Deruth glanced up from the scrolls on his desk, adjusted his monocle, and smiled. “Yes. Sit down, both of you.”

Cale dropped onto the nearest cushioned chair with the enthusiasm of a man walking to his execution. Basen, ever the proper one, sat straighter.

Deruth cleared his throat. “We received a letter from the capital this morning. A royal summons.”

Cale groaned immediately.

“Cale... It’s not that kind of summons. The King is celebrating his 50th birthday in a few weeks. The Crown is inviting all major noble houses to attend the celebration. Naturally, the Henituse family was included.” Deruth said with a chuckle

Basen brightened. “Ah. A formal event.”

Cale narrowed his eyes. “A royal formal event. Sounds even worse, this should be Basen's work right?”

“I would normally send Basen, as he is the heir.” Deruth gave Basen a nod. “But he informed me that he has a rather important agricultural council meeting lined up that week. It’s a three-day seminar on hybrid wheat strains, isn’t it?”

Basen nodded, pushing up his glasses. “Yes, Father. I’m presenting the results of the crop rotation trials. It’s too late to reschedule without affecting the spring cultivation plans.”

“Right.” Deruth looked at Cale. “So that means you’ll attend in his place.”

Cale stared.

“What.”

“You’ll represent our household.”

“No, I definitely heard you. I just didn’t expect to be volunteered.”

“You're the eldest son,” Deruth said with a calm shrug.

“I’m the unofficial spare.”

“still my son and you're still a noble.”

“Regrettably.”

Deruth smiled patiently. “Cale.”

Cale sighed, tipping his head back dramatically toward the ceiling. “Do I at least get to drink there?”

“There will be wine. And speeches.”

Basen helpfully added, “And probably hours of standing.”

Cale grunted. “So, basically torture in a fancy suit.”

“It’s just for a few days,” Deruth said. “You’ll be fine. Take Ron with you. Maybe Beacrox.”

Cale gave him a blank stare. “You’re sending me into the heart of the capital full of nosey nobles, suspicious crown officials, and scheming heirs to other houses. And your only advice is ‘Take Ron.’”

Deruth offered a completely unbothered smile. “Ron is effective.”

Basen looked over, clearly trying to hide a grin. “You’ll be fine, hyung. Just don’t start any political wars.”

“No promises,” Cale muttered. “I might ‘accidentally’ insult a duke.”

Deruth ignored that. “The invitation also includes the right to bring a small retinue. I suggest choosing carefully. And maybe not dressing like you just rolled out of a tree.”

“I like this coat,” Cale grumbled, tugging at the hem of his slightly wrinkled outer robe.

Basen sighed and reached out with a handkerchief to wipe the ink smudge from Cale’s own cheek. “You’re the one rolling out of trees again, not me.”

“I was resting.”

“In weeds.”

Cale frown (pouted) as he is resting under the shade of tree again.

Deruth chuckled again and set the scroll down. “You leave in ten days. The carriage and paperwork will be arranged. Try to look presentable.”

Cale slouched further in his chair. “You just want me to suffer.”

Deruth gave him a fond look. “That’s a father’s right.”

Cale grunted, defeated.

Basen gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “You'll be fine, Hyung! You did well when you were 8 and I learned a lot from you.”

“Great,” Cale muttered. “Can’t wait to socialize.”

Deruth simply poured himself tea and said with a smile, “Think of it as... Occasional socializing.”

Cale groaned again.

Basen gathered his papers and stood, he gave Cale a small, knowing look. “Don’t burn anything while I’m gone.”

Cale waved him off lazily. “No promises.”

With a polite bow to their father, Basen exited the office, closing the door softly behind him.

Deruth looked up from his desk as silence settled over the room, expecting Cale to stand as well. But his eldest son remained seated, arms crossed, gaze steady.

“You’re not leaving?” Deruth asked, curious.

“No,” Cale said simply.

Deruth raised a brow.

Cale reached into the inner pocket of his coat and produced a thick folder, its seal broken but still crisp. He placed it on Deruth’s desk with a deliberate motion.

“You should upgrade all security protocols in the territory. Borders. Guards. Merchant checkpoints. Even the manor, my lord.”

Deruth blinked and tense up. “That’s quite a sudden shift in tone. Why?”

Cale opened the folder.

Inside were reports, charts, photos, and documents—some of them stamped with markings Deruth didn’t immediately recognize, but all of them detailed, clean, and organized. The Count leaned forward, pulling a few pages toward him. His eyes scanned swiftly.

“The Northern Alliance of the three northern kingdom,” Cale said calmly. “The ones behind the Wyvern Brigade. There’s also growing unrest along the borders of the Empire. You’ll also want to pay special attention to Whipper Kingdom.”

Deruth’s eyes narrowed as he read, his fingers tightening slightly on the parchment.

“a civil war?” he muttered, recognizing the crest on one of the attached images. “And this…”

He stopped at the photo of a wyvern perched atop a rocky ridge, its rider masked but clearly uniformed.

Cale nodded. “The peace won't last. I’m not sure if it’ll break in a few years or a few months, but it will break.”

Deruth looked up sharply. “Where did you get this?”

“I have my sources.”

Deruth exhaled slowly, sitting back in his chair. His expression shifted—no longer the calm, easygoing noble, but the sharp-eyed head of the Henituse household.

“The Crown doesn’t know this yet, do they?”

“Not all of it,” Cale said. “I’ll be presenting this to the Crown Prince during the royal celebration. I’m not attending to exchange pleasantries.”

Deruth stared at him.

“You’ve been preparing.” Deruth massage his temple. He knew Cale was always brilliant. But this? This is another level.

“I always prepare.”

A silence passed.

Finally, Deruth gave a low hum, eyes now focused and serious. “How much time do we have?”

“I can’t say. But if we wait until there’s smoke, it’ll already be too late.”

Deruth nodded once. “I’ll begin adjustments immediately. Quietly.”

Cale stood and gave him a small, approving nod.

“I’ll keep you updated. Just be ready.”

As Cale turned to leave, Deruth’s voice stopped him.

“…You’ve grown, Cale.”

Cale paused at the door, glancing back.

“Don’t get sentimental now,” he muttered, then slipped out.

Deruth smiled faintly at the closed door before returning to the reports—his expression now completely focused. Deruth sighs. It seems like his eldest still can't forgive him fully.

Cale stepped out of his office, his head pounding slightly from the long meeting. He barely had time to take a breath when two small figures darted toward him from the hallway.

“Papa!” He looked down just in time for On to halt with a respectful bow while Hong crashed into his side, arms flung around his waist.

Cale blinked. “...I told you not to call me that in the manor halls.”

“But the servants already know,” On said with a tilt of her head, silver ears twitching. “They call us young miss and young masters anyway.”

“We’re your kids,” Hong added proudly, still clinging to his coat.

Cale sighed but raised a hand to gently pat Hong’s hair, then On’s. “Did you finish your lessons with Ron?”

On nodded immediately. “We finished early today. Hong didn’t miss any marks on his tracking drills.”

“I’m getting better!” Hong beamed.

Before Cale could reply, he felt a sudden shift in the air behind him. A light pressure pressed against his back.

“I was here too,” came a smug voice—young, haughty, and clearly pleased with itself.

Cale turned slightly to the side. “I know you’re there.”

The invisible black dragon let out a pleased hum. “Of course you do. You’re not as slow as other humans.”

“Your tail brushed my coat.”

“That’s because I wanted to be acknowledged,” the dragon said cheerfully, still unseen.

On and Hong exchanged glances with a small smile.

“You’re really not naming him yet?” On asked.

Cale stared ahead. “No.”

“He said he’ll name himself if you won’t,” Hong whispered.

The dragon scoffed. “But it’s more meaningful if my first name comes from the one I recognize as interesting.”

Cale looked at the hallway ceiling for patience. “Let’s go. Lunch is waiting.”

With Hong holding one hand and On walking beside him, the three walked down the corridor.

Somewhere above, unseen but very much present, a proud black dragon floated, invisible wings lightly brushing the air.

In the Henituse manor, this was now a normal day.

Chapter Text

The wind at the base of Ten Finger Mountain carried the scent of frost and pine, even as summer clung to the lowlands. Choi Han adjusted the hood of his travel cloak and took in the terrain ahead. His sword rested on his back, bound in worn leather wraps that disguised its edge. Beside him, the mercenary group trudged forward with steady, if uninspired, footsteps.

They were a simple group — gruff but not cruel. No formal formation. No real discipline. But they were honest workers. Hired to escort a merchant caravan bound for the outskirts of the Blue Wolf Tribe’s territory.

Choi Han had joined them under the guise of needing coin and travel. In truth, he had a different reason.

It was rare to find merchants who traded with the Blue Wolf Tribe, as this tribe was known to be elusive.

But these merchants had a long-standing deal with a splinter faction of the tribe. According to Soo’Ari’s intelligence, these merchants had a bit of connection to some underground groups, and their leader was connected to Billos.

Thus, he was tasked to act according to his instinct, and Choi Han decided to be a bit friendly.

He joined seamlessly into the group. As they introduced themselves to each other, he had not expected to find someone else.

She introduced herself as "Lyn." A brown-haired mage with a quiet confidence and warm smile, she had joined the mercenary group on a whim — or so she claimed.

Choi Han recognized the way she moved, the way she glanced at the stars when she thought no one was watching, the way her magic hummed like restrained lightning. She was one of the people Cale had marked as important when they extracted information in the Breck Kingdom.

She was no ordinary traveler.

They spoke little at first. But over the campfires and long days on the trail, a rhythm settled between them. She did not ask questions she shouldn't, and he did not pry beyond her name.

But when they fought off a sudden bandit ambush near the edge of a ravine, her magic burst forth like a tidal wave of fire and compressed air. It was controlled, sharp, and lethal.

Choi Han smiled slightly afterward.

“I thought you said you were just a passing mage,” he said quietly.

Rosalyn, still disguised as Lyn, smiled back. “And I thought you were just a highest-grade swordsman?”

They didn’t press further.

Not until they reached the forest perimeter bordering the Blue Wolf lands.

The merchant was growing nervous. There was no sign of the usual scouts who would greet their arrival. The trail was untouched, the markers undisturbed.

Choi Han felt it first — the tremble in the air, the faint scream carried by the wind.

Rosalyn's expression hardened.

“We’re too late,” she murmured.

“No,” Choi Han said, eyes narrowing. “We’re early.”

Smoke rose in the distance.

Without another word, they abandoned the caravan and dashed through the trees. The merchant and mercenaries remained behind, unwilling and untrained to face whatever waited ahead.

They burst through the treeline

And into a massacre.

The village of the Blue Wolf Tribe was burning.

Scattered bodies lay crumpled in the open, fur matted with blood. The air was choked with magic — raw, volatile, twisted. Choi Han saw him first.

Redika.

The mad fire mage stood in the middle of a blackened clearing, laughing as he lobbed spheres of compressed flame toward a group of injured Blue Wolf warriors. He was part of ARM and probably held a high position.

Behind him, a dozen mages stood in a loose ring formation, casting barrier spells and sealing circles. Dark magic. Not standard formation. Experimental.

They were trying to extract something from the dead bodies.

Rosalyn’s face turned pale. “They’re using divine items. This tribe will not be able to fight against them. If they succeed—”

Choi Han vanished from her side.

He crashed into the closest mage with a single swing, cutting through their barrier like cloth.

“Don’t let them finish!” he called.

Rosalyn raised her staff, eyes blazing. The sky lit up with a lance of thunder that struck one of the sigils mid-cast. The circle shattered.

Redika turned, his face twisting with glee. “Oh? Company!”

He threw a barrage of flame straight at Choi Han.

But Choi Han was already moving.

He ducked low, blade whistling as it deflected the fire sideways. The ground hissed where the magic struck.

Rosalyn formed a barrier just in time to block another bolt.

“I’ll handle that divine item!” she shouted.

Choi Han nodded and charged toward Redika.

The battle blurred. He clashed with mages left and right. Some were clearly low-level, collapsing after a single blow. Others lasted longer, enhanced by Dead Mana. There were both mages, assassins, and black mages in this group. But Choi Han did not falter.

Behind him, Rosalyn moved like a tempest — runes flaring in the air, fire and wind dancing at her fingertips. Her spells were controlled destruction. A dome shattered because of her devastating power.

But Redika — Redika laughed louder.

“You’re ruining everything! How dare you! Do you know what this place holds?” he screamed.

Choi Han did not answer.

He drove his blade into the ground and drew on his aura. The air shivered. His foot launched him toward Redika with a burst of speed.

The mad mage’s grin faltered.

The clash sent a shockwave through the clearing.

Redika stumbled back, bleeding from his side. “Sword Master...”

Choi Han said nothing. His eyes burned with cold fury.

Behind him, Rosalyn landed with a thud beside a battered young Blue Wolf scout. She stabilized him with a quick healing spell, then raised her head.

“The others are getting weaker because of that divine item. Most of the tribe's warriors are powerless.”

Choi Han’s blade hovered inches from Redika’s throat.

“Retreat,” Redika hissed, clutching his wounds. His subordinates began teleporting out one by one.

He vanished in a flash of flame and smoke, leaving only scorched earth behind.

Silence fell.

Choi Han turned to Rosalyn. “We saved them.”

She nodded, exhausted. “But they were never supposed to be the sacrifice.”

He looked toward the burning remains of the village.

“There is still a large portion of the Blue Wolf Tribe that died.” Choi Han's hatred toward ARM intensified.

And somewhere far away, the true plan moved forward.

The flames finally began to die out.

Only ash remained of what used to be homes. The air hung heavy with blood and mana, the cries of the injured buried beneath the crackling of burnt wood. Choi Han stood amid the charred remains of the Blue Wolf Tribe’s settlement, his sword dripping blackened blood and soot.

Rosalyn approached, her cloak singed at the edges and her cheeks streaked with dirt. She had cast her final barrier spell minutes ago, protecting the last cluster of injured survivors while Choi Han drove the last of the enemy mages into retreat.

“Too many dead,” she muttered, surveying the remains.

Choi Han knelt beside the crumpled form of a warrior who had once stood at the front gate. His blue-grey fur was matted with blood, but his hand still clutched the broken spear he had fought with.

Rosalyn crouched next to him, eyes grave. “They didn’t come for conquest.”

Choi Han slowly nodded. “It was a collection.”

Rosalyn looked at him.

“Dead mana,” he said grimly. “That much death… the ritual circles… they weren’t just random killings.”

She closed her eyes, lips tightening. “And the children.”

Choi Han's jaw clenched. “We only found fourteen hiding beneath the food store.”

Rosalyn’s voice was hoarse. “The chief’s son is missing. And two more from the healer’s family.”

A gust of cold wind swept past them, carrying the acrid scent of burnt fur and corrupted mana.

“The Blue Wolf Tribe…” Rosalyn whispered, “They were once blessed by the God, weren’t they?”

Choi Han nodded slowly. “Until the divine mark was revoked. The ancestors broke a covenant. The God abandoned them.”

She swallowed. “That’s why the mages took the children? Do you know what they want?”

He stood, and she followed.

"Those people would use them as sacrifice." His gaze swept over the corpses, then toward the faint trails leading out into the northern woods.

“Children born under a cursed bloodline,” he said. “No divine oversight. Their souls are unprotected. Prime material for sacrificial magic for summoning something sinister.”

“And dead mana conversion.” Rosalyn’s voice shook. “It’s cruel.”

“It’s that crazy blood mage Redika.”

They stared at the desecrated village in silence for a moment longer.

“Should we pursue them?” Rosalyn finally asked, fingers tightening around her staff.

Choi Han exhaled through his nose. “No. Not yet. We need to report this.”

Rosalyn’s brows furrowed. “To who?”

"To the crown," Rosalyn widened her eyes as she looked at him.

"Yo-you know anyone from the Roan's royalty?" Choi Han nodded.

"I serve as one of the high-ranking agents to the organization behind the crown prince." Choi Han was ordered to be truthful to Rosalyn but just answer her question and not add any extra explanation.

“This wasn’t random. Redika targeted this tribe for a reason. Dead mana, sacrifice, and... a site like this could be used to awaken something worse.” Rosalyn looked worried as she looked at Choi Han.

“And if they’re experimenting on divine abandonment…” Rosalyn trailed off, horrified.

Choi Han glanced back at the children huddled beneath the makeshift shelter the mercenaries had thrown together. One boy had cried himself to sleep, clutching a charm necklace carved from bone.

“We’ll bury the dead,” Choi Han said softly, voice firming. “Protect the living. Then we move.”

Rosalyn inhaled shakily and nodded. “I’ll start the perimeter spells. Just in case they left a marker.”

As she walked off, Choi Han turned toward the blackened center of the village—the ritual site where the soul circle had cracked under his sword.

He could still hear Redika’s laughter.

“I’ll find you,” he murmured. “And I’ll make sure none of them scream again.”

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

"Get ready human! I'll teleport everyone to the coordinates you give me. This is just easy," the black dragon said with his usual cute expression that he thought looked arrogant and majestic.

It did not even take a while when a brilliant ripple of black light tore through the air with a hum that made nearby birds scatter into the sky.

In the next breath, space folded upon itself, and with a low pop, ten carriages, over thirty knights on horseback, and a pair of covered supply wagons materialized on the cobbled royal road that led directly toward the Capital’s southern gate.

"...What the—?!"

One of the knights at the front clutched his reins in panic as his horse neighed and stumbled back in shock.

"S-sir! Did we just teleport?!"

Cale Henituse adjusted the cuffs of his sleeve with practiced calm, seated inside the lead carriage that bore the Henituse crest. He looked out the window at the flustered expressions of his knights, then spoke with a mild tone. He was stroking the fur of Hong as he lazily replied.

"Relax. We’re closer now. Just continue the journey as planned."

"But, Young Master—"

"Continue. I made someone teleport us to reduce the time of travel."

His voice was firm but not sharp. It was enough. The knight realized that this was their young master, who had done so many impossible feats. So he looked at him with reverence and awe.

"As expected of Young Master. It seems like Young Master has an archmage as one of his subordinates," the knight thought, and Cale suddenly shivered as he frowned.

"I felt like someone is cursing me?" He just ignored it.

"He is really an unlucky bastard, just like what that ancient dragon often calls him. Bwahahaha."

"Those tarts seem delicious, Cale. They might improve your mood."

He also ignored his ancient powers.

The knight saluted and turned back toward the rest of the convoy. The carriages began to roll forward again, the clatter of hooves echoing down the mostly empty royal road.

A few travelers on foot gawked openly from a distance, whispering as the crest of House Henituse glinted in the morning light.

They had just become the first noble house from outside the Capital to arrive for the King’s upcoming birthday celebration.

Cale leaned back with a sigh.

"I should’ve brought something to help with the noble nonsense."

"Like a barrier?" came a cheeky voice of the black dragon.

Cale turned his head toward the corner of the carriage.

On one side, Hong was curled up like a cat in his half-shifted form, clutching a dried peach snack. They were now in their human form.

On the other, On, ever-watchful and composed, held a handkerchief and calmly dabbed at her brother’s smudged cheek.

And smack in the middle, sitting proudly on the cushioned bench like he owned the continent, was the small black dragon.

"Human, when are you giving me a name?" the dragon asked, tail flicking.

Cale raised a brow. "You’re still thinking about that?"

"I have waited for four years and one week for you to name me," he huffed. "It is a moment of great importance."

"We just met again a few days ago." The black dragon grabbed his shoulder and poked his cheek.

"Come on! This great and mighty me gives you the honor of naming me!"

On and Hong both looked up, ears twitching slightly in curiosity.

Cale sighed and reached into his inner coat pocket, pulling out a folded note.

He handed it to the dragon.

The black dragon blinked. Then carefully unfolded the parchment with his claws. His eyes scanned the words. Then again. Then a third time.

"'Raon Miru'?" he read aloud.

Cale nodded and smiled. "It’s from a language that is not known in this world. I came up with this name because it really suits you."

Silence.

"R-really? Wh-what does that mean?" Cale could not see the black dragon, but he still smiled.

"It means you..." Despite being invisible, Cale could feel Raon's presence as he hugged him from behind.

Hong blinked. "That’s so cool…"

On nodded approvingly. "It suits you."

The little dragon—Raon—froze. His blue eyes were wide. His wings twitched slightly. Then—

"Raon Miru... Raon Miru!! RAON MIRU!!" he shouted, practically bouncing on the seat. "That’s me!! That’s my name!! The great and mighty Raon Miru!!"

He launched into the air, spinning midair inside the cramped carriage, accidentally knocking over Hong.

"Human!! This is a glorious name!! I shall protect it with all my might!"

Cale calmly caught the squirming dragon mid-air before he could shatter the lantern on the carriage wall.

"Don’t break anything."

Raon clung to Cale’s arm, tail swaying.

"I won’t! It is your honor because I’ll be using this name from now on! Raon Miru!" Raon huffed as he looked at Cale.

Cale patted his head lightly.

On smiled faintly and pulled Hong upright again as he munched another peach snack.

Outside, the knights straightened their armor, the horses trotted with purpose, and the convoy began to turn heads as they neared the Capital gates.

Inside the carriage, the black dragon’s laughter filled the air as he chanted his new name with pride, nestled between two cat-tribe children who now called this place home.

And Cale… allowed a very small, quiet smile.

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

Chapter Text

The Capital’s largest marketplace was already alive with noise by the time Cale stepped through the stone archway that opened into a wide plaza of colorful tents, merchant stalls, glass-paned boutiques, and food carts steaming with fresh pastries.

He wore a simple, elegant coat and gloves that spoke of quiet nobility, enough to command respect but not enough to draw immediate stares. Beside him, Ohn walked gracefully, eyes calm and alert. Hong bounced at his other side, human-form fingers wrapped around a fruit skewer already half-eaten.

Ohn had never seen this kind of scene where everyone looked peaceful and solemn. Hong was the same. They looked left and right, asking Cale what the things they did not know were.

Cale was happy deep inside to see the three acting like how children should be. Cale was in a good mood that he did not mind being pulled by the three to who knew where.

They had the day off. And Cale, after stacking a week’s worth of political and strategic meetings, had finally granted himself a break. For once.

He was with Hilsman and Hans at the moment, tailing the four of them.

"You two," he said without preamble, hands in his pockets, "pick anything you like today."

Hong’s eyes widened. "Really?!"

"Within reason," Ohn added, already narrowing her eyes at her younger brother’s twitching ears.

Cale shrugged. "Even unreasonable is fine. Just not dangerous."

Hong pumped his fist. "We’re gonna buy the whole street!"

Ohn did not smile outwardly. Her cat ears even appeared and twitched once in pleased agreement.

They started with clothes.

A boutique draped in silks and gentle instrumental music welcomed them in. The shopkeeper nearly fainted upon recognizing Cale Henituse, but composed herself admirably. After all, Cale was the darling of the Rain City, even if he did not know.

Cale let Ohn and Hong choose, but he occasionally nodded toward a coat or scarf that caught his eye. Soon, Ohn was fitted in a long cream coat with silver linings and warm inner fur, and Hong picked out a dark navy tunic with hidden pockets and paw-print stitching.

Then came books.

The large bookshop smelled like parchment and dust. Ohn gravitated toward a section of strategy games and magic theory, while Hong darted straight to the illustrated stories and creature encyclopedias.

Cale watched them browse in silence, then added a few titles to their growing stack, one about world geography, another about the constellations, and a small journal for Ohn.

When Hong was not looking, he also bought a picture book about baby dragons.

Next stop was puzzles and toys.

"Papa, can we get this?" Hong held up a wooden contraption with rotating gears and magical etched runes. "It looks like a treasure trap!"

Cale tilted his head. "As long as it won’t explode."

"No, sir!" the merchant stammered. "It’s just an illusion box. The child has to solve it to reveal a hidden picture."

"...Buy two."

Ohn picked a 3D mechanical puzzle made of interlocking rings. It looked simple. It was not.

At this moment, Cale felt a bit fatigued and wanted to go back to the manor and take a rest. But once he looked at the energetic and smiling faces of the two, he decided to accompany them.

"Why don't we take a snack first?" Cale was now sweating and chasing his breath. The three looked at Cale with amused faces.

"Meat! Meat! Meat!" the duo suddenly chanted.

They paused briefly for lunch, meat skewers, fruit slush, and cream buns eaten on a shaded bench by the fountain. Hong ended up with frosting on his nose, which Cale wiped with a tissue, mumbling about "bad habits."

"I want to buy something for Raon too. I'm sure he'll like to experiment with some magic tools," Cale said after sipping his tea.

So they headed to a magic tool workshop.

It was a cozy little place run by a pair of dwarf siblings. They were not part of the Flame Dwarf Tribe, but they were still dwarves. Cale explained what Raon liked, flying, reading, shiny things, and the dwarves enthusiastically offered several items.

He purchased so much that Hilsman and Hans called a few guards to carry the things. Cale did so without batting an eye at the prices.

As long as it was good and the children wanted it, he would buy it.

A floating light orb that would follow Raon around like a firefly.

A temperature-regulating bed stone that warmed up or cooled down to comfort the user.

A compact bookshelf that magically resized depending on how many books it held.

The dragon was spoiled. Cale did not regret it. The two were still energetic after hours and hours of walking.

The merchants caught wind of Cale's unrestrained spending. That he bought anything the children liked made a wave, and they tried to lure and entice the children to their store. Cale did not mind and just continued buying anything.

They wandered more.

He picked up something for others.

A set of rare ink, pen, and parchment for Basen, along with a handcrafted leather journal embossed with the Henituse crest using a magic tool.

A pretty silver brooch shaped like a feather and a new storybook for Lily, a tale of a princess knight who saved a mountain village, and a sword that Cale personally picked after comparing it to multiple stores.

A rare vintage sword maintenance oil and a quiet rain chime that matched Choi Han’s quiet nature.

An elegant tea tin and a high-quality hair comb carved from black jade for Ron.

A steel sharpening block for Beacrox, engraved with flames and his initials.

And finally, a beautifully stitched handkerchief embroidered with tiny crowns and a tiger for Alberu, hidden in a box with a note: For when politics gives you a headache. And you can't throw your crown. He personally asked for that handkerchief from one of the stores under the Soo’Ari.

"Are you done, Papa?" Ohn asked as Cale sat down on a shaded bench again, massaging his temple.

"I bought half the market," Cale muttered. "How do I always end up doing this."

"You like giving people things," Hong said through a mouthful of candied fruit.

"No, I don’t."

"Yes, you do," Ohn replied calmly.

Cale sighed and looked up at the bright sky, tired but satisfied. A quiet moment passed. Then—

POP!

A small black dragon materialized in the air, blinking at them.

"Human! Where were you?!" Raon seemed anxious as he looked at him. Cale could feel Raon's gaze, but he was still invisible.

Cale blinked. "...Shopping."

Raon Miru sniffed. "Did you bring me anything? Why didn't you let me come?"

"You seemed tired after teleporting a large group of people that you fell asleep. So I let you continue your sleep. Don't worry, I brought you several things."

Raon’s tail swished, then he spotted the gift bag clutched in Ohn’s hands.

"Wait! What is that! Is that for me?! Did you really shop for me? Human, you’re the best human! I’ll protect you forever!"

"You already said that yesterday."

"I’ll say it again!"

He dove into the bag, pulling out the floating orb, which promptly began glowing and drifting around him like a firefly.

Raon grinned. "I love it!"

Ohn and Hong sat beside Cale as Raon played with the light.

They were full. They were warm. They had bags upon bags of thoughtful gifts.

And for once, nothing was trying to kill them.

Cale leaned back on the bench with a small, tired smile, surrounded by his strange, growing family.

"Maybe," he muttered to no one, "today was a good day."

They continued to shop together. Some of the guards even went in and out of the manor as the things that Cale bought kept piling up. Cale decided to fill the Super Rock Villa with some necessities and entertainment too. That was why he bought a lot of things.

They occasionally rested on benches while eating street food. Of course, the guards also got their share.

Cale was halfway through a quiet stretch of cobbled road just beyond the bustling plaza when Raon suddenly froze in mid-air, wings flapping hard.

"Human! Danger! No, wait. I smell something familiar. I smell that smell on you, but it's faint. But it was stronger on one of them!"

Cale was aware that he had a faint smell of Death. Because in some ways, the God of Death was connected to him. So that meant the possibility that it was Cage was high.

Cale’s brow rose. "...Cage and Young Marquis Taylor?"

Raon spun in the air. "I think? They’re over there!"

Just then, a familiar loud voice rang out.

"Young Master Cale! Is that you?!"

Cale turned to see a woman in loose traveling clothes and clerical beads jogging toward him with one hand waving wildly. Beside her, a man in a dark coat moved more steadily, cane in one hand, but his smile was unmistakable.

"Cage. Young Marquis Taylor."

"Fancy seeing you here," Cage grinned as she reached him. "We just arrived in the capital an hour ago."

"I heard there would be food," Taylor added dryly.

"We were literally heading to eat," Hong said brightly.

"Papa promised us a full lunch after buying the whole market!"

"I did not buy the whole market," Cale muttered.

"He kind of did," Ohn said, expressionless.

Taylor chuckled. "That’s just like you."

Cage threw her arms over both Cale’s and Taylor’s shoulders. "Well then, we’re joining you. I am starving."

Raon floated in front of Taylor. "You! Human with a broken leg who’s not useless anymore! I remember you! You're in that picture!"

Taylor blinked. "...Thank you?" He looked around and did not see anyone, which confused him. Cale sneakily pointed to where Raon was.

"It's a dragon. I could feel it," Cage whispered. Taylor was shocked, and Cale sighed.

"Raon, next time please don't let others see or feel you immediately until I say so. It's too dangerous. Okay?"

"But I’m a dragon, and we're strong." Cale could hear Raon huffing, which made Cale chuckle.

"I know. Raon is great and mighty, but you still need to be cautious. Remember, never underestimate anyone, especially your enemies, as it could lead to a fatal situation you would not expect. Okay?"

Raon huffed again but agreed.

"Sorry about that, but that’s high praise coming from Raon," Cale said as he pushed open the door of a cozy restaurant.

The warm scent of roasted meat and herbs wafted out, and the host nearly tripped over himself when he realized a Count’s son, a priest of the God of Death, and a Marquis were now requesting a private room.

They settled into a rounded corner booth padded with velvet. Ohn and Hong took seats beside Cale, while Cage immediately ordered a massive meat platter for the table.

"We were just heading to check in with our local temple contact," Taylor explained. "But Cage insisted she’d faint without food first."

"You try walking all morning with no breakfast!" Cage huffed, sipping on something fruity. "Besides, I had a feeling we’d bump into someone familiar. My instincts were right!"

"You’re lucky," Cale replied dryly, watching Raon try to use his magic to float a bowl of soup. The good thing was that they were in a private room, so Cale let Raon be visible.

"No magic at the table," Ohn reminded.

Raon deflated and sulked, until the food arrived.

There was laughter.

Cage teased Cale about how soft he had become, watching him tuck extra napkins into Hong’s lap. Taylor quietly handed Ohn a small book of regional philosophies he had picked up earlier, and she gave him a rare genuine smile.

Raon declared the roasted potatoes "worthy of a dragon’s hoard."

They shared stories of their travels, how Taylor had gained a bit more mobility with his new brace, and how Cage had successfully made two noble heirs cry during a theological debate.

"Felt great," she said cheerfully, sipping her third cup of tea.

Cale just shook his head and smiled.

When they finished the meal, the sun was just beginning to dip lower, casting soft gold through the windows.

Hong leaned sleepily against Cale’s side. Ohn was skimming the book Taylor gave her. Raon was curled on the backrest of the booth like a cat, his tail twitching with contentment.

And Cage said, almost too softly for anyone but Cale and Taylor to hear:

"You’ve built something nice, Cale. This… family of yours."

Cale did not reply.

But his hand gently rested on Hong’s head, and he did not move it.

Chapter Text

In a private room of one of Cale's restaurants under the property of Soo'Ari, a cozy scene was unfolding. The food was warm. The mood was easy. Everything was casual, like this was just an ordinary gathering.

But for many of the staff, who did not know that Cale was "Crescent," the leader of their group, this was a highly tense situation.

It was because of the people’s identities inside.

Cale was the darling of Rain City, known for his intellect even at a young age. He had taken over the County at age eight and turned this unassuming territory into one of the tourist destinations of the Roan Kingdom. It was also known for being crime-free and for its extensive system that allowed the people to feel safe.

If a crime was committed, it would not take long for the local knights to apprehend the suspect. The security system of Rain City was both simple and intricate, one that other nobles had tried to replicate but could not. It had only been a year and two months into his reign, but many things had already changed, and everyone was happy in that territory.

Then there was Marquis Taylor Stan, the youngest titleholder who had risen to fame after his legs healed for an unknown reason. The once gentle and pushover eldest son of the former Marquis had become the embodiment of their emblem—a snake that bites with venom at the right time—and overthrew the previous traditions of their family.

He had revolutionized their family, and his territory had also undergone a drastic reform. While it was not as exaggerated as Rain City, Velstan, the Stan territory, had also seen a booming economy now that corruption was almost impossible to occur. Their territory adhered to transparency.

Marquis Taylor Stan, at age nineteen, had proven his leadership, and all his citizens were content and satisfied with his reign.

Then there was Cage, one of the most popular priestesses of the God of Death, known for being free-spirited and someone who abided by the rules she set for herself and not the church she served. She was infamous for speaking bluntly and for her curses, which struck fear into many people—especially during the early months of Taylor's reign.

Assassins had been sent to Taylor multiple times in an attempt to swallow the Northwest Territory, only to be left speechless after their subordinates returned insane and refused to speak of what had happened, other than saying they had been cursed.

They were both pillars and supporters of the Crown Prince, whom others had once thought foolish like the Gyerre family, only to be proven right when the Crown Prince continued to rise in power.

Hong was humming while munching on steamed dumplings, On was quietly skimming through Taylor’s book, and Raon had just polished off his third bowl of roasted chestnuts and was now dozing like a curled-up cat on the windowsill.

Meanwhile, the grown-ups had moved on from food to politics over post-lunch tea.

"So," Cage leaned back with a grin, resting her arms on the chair’s edges. "How are things at the top of the food chain these days? Rumors say the royal court’s heating up more than usual."

Cale exhaled slowly. "That’s putting it lightly."

Taylor nodded, swirling his tea with slow, thoughtful circles. "Well, as we know, the balance between the three princes has gotten more complicated since last winter. The First Prince gained the capital’s main aristocratic bloc. The Second Prince tightened ties with the Northern military branches. And now..."

"High Royal Highness," Cage added, tilting her head, "has the West. All of it."

"Northwest and Southwest," Taylor confirmed, eyes thoughtful. "After the Duchess of Gyerre passed on most of her titles to her eldest grandson, Antonio, the Southwest started pulling toward His Royal Highness's camp with surprising speed. And of course, the Northwest..."

He gestured to himself with a faint smile.

Cale raised a brow. "You make a good lord, Taylor."

The young man chuckled. "I try."

"More than that," Cage said. "The people trust you. That’s what’s rare."

"But it’s His Highness who’s taking real advantage of the momentum," Taylor noted. "He’s not just forming alliances. He’s building things. Infrastructure, food stability programs, civil education."

Cage stretched with a groan. "You have no idea how annoying it is to keep hearing the priests at the capital cathedral go, ‘Did you see the public library the Crown Prince funded?’ or ‘The roads in the west are so clean!’ I love the guy, but let me tell you, the man’s PR is flawless." There was a mischievous smile on Cage's face, even if she uttered such teasing.

Cale allowed himself a small smirk. "That’s intentional."

He was pleased with the work of Soo'Ari, who was behind the influx of positive comments about the Crown Prince.

Taylor looked at him. "I figured as much. The timing of every project feels too... precise. Always launched just after another faction tries something flashy."

Cale lazily swirled his tea. "They’re not just counterplays. They’re reminders. His Highness doesn’t need to make noise. He just shows the results."

"That’s what makes the nobles frustrated," Cage chirped. "They can’t pin him as arrogant. He doesn’t make scandals. Doesn’t throw around power like the others. And somehow the people love him more every year."

"Because they benefit directly from him," Taylor murmured.

Cale looked between the two, then offered simply, "This year will push that love even further."

Taylor narrowed his eyes slightly. "Do you mean the King’s birthday?"

Cale nodded. "After the celebration, things will shift."

"You say that like you’ve already seen the pieces fall," Cage noted with a sly look.

Cale did not answer at first. He took a slow sip of his tea and smiled mysteriously. Raon, who had finished eating, felt sleepy next to Cale, and he subconsciously rubbed his scales slowly in repetition.

Then he said, "I’ll make sure they do."

Taylor gave him a long, measuring look. "You’ve always been close to the Crown Prince. I knew that. But... I didn’t realize you were that involved."

"I’m not his shadow nor his subordinate," Cale replied coolly. "But I help him win quietly."

Cage grinned. "Is this the part where you tell us you’ve been pulling strings behind the court’s tapestry this whole time?"

"No. Just tying the loose ones no one else bothers with."

Taylor laughed. "You haven’t changed, Young Master Cale."

"I have two kids now," Cale deadpanned, glancing at On and Hong. Cale suddenly realized something.

He had not told Alberu that he had officially adopted two children, which would make him the other parent. But he shook his head and decided to tell him that later.

"They adopted you," Cage said.

"You’re not wrong," Cale sighed.

Taylor leaned back with a thoughtful hum. "Do you really think one event—this birthday banquet—will be enough to solidify a clear frontrunner in the succession?"

"It won’t declare a winner," Cale admitted. "But it’ll draw the battle lines clearer. Nobles are waiting to see who looks stronger. The King’s favor, even if unspoken, will be measured by who he lets take more of the stage."

"And if His Royal Highness takes it," Taylor said slowly, "he’ll gain the swing regions."

"And the moderate factions," Cage added. "The ones waiting on the fence."

Cale nodded.

Taylor folded his hands. "So, what’s our role in all this?"

Cale looked him straight in the eye. "Just do what you’ve been doing. Rule the Northwest well. Show results. Build trust. His Highness’s strength isn’t in nobles who shout. It’s in allies who quietly reshape the land."

"Mm," Taylor mused. "That, I can do."

Cage leaned forward, resting her chin in her palm. "And what about you, Mr. Loose-Tie Henituse? Going to pull another miracle out of your coat?"

"I’m going to drink tea and not die."

"Liar."

Cale grinned.

Raon, still half-asleep, mumbled from the windowsill, "Human’s planning something again..."

"Just continue to sleep, okay."

Raon snored louder in protest.

They all laughed.

And just like that, the conversation returned to normal things—lighter things. Cake, the new play showing at the plaza. How Hong wanted to try seaweed soup, and how Cage once threatened a noble for calling her robes dirty.

But underneath it all, they knew that the chessboard was set. The pieces were moving. And Cale Henituse had already begun the first plays of the final game.

Chapter Text

Cale Henituse, sitting on a velvet settee with tea he had not touched, lazily opened the envelope.

Amiru Ubarr.

Eric Wheelsman.

Gilbert Chetter.

The three Northeastern noble representatives had invited him to a private gathering the next day to discuss “a strategic collaboration with the Crown.” It was clearly phrased with political delicacy, but the undercurrent of urgency was obvious. Cale could not help but brush off his hands delicately over the seals of the people he considered friends in his first life.

The three people who did not give up on him no matter how stubborn he was. Even if he cast everyone aside. Beacrox saw this emotion when he served some of the snacks to the kids.

"Did something happen before?" Beacrox asked with a frown.

"These people... They never gave up on me when I cast everyone out of my life... Still sending letters, still asking for my well-being, still trying to help when I did not want to see them. And... one of my support systems after... after the Henituse completely fell..." A nostalgic expression appeared on his face as he smiled at these letters.

"Cale... it would be hard to see them. But I think, for you to heal and accept that everything that happened in your past is not your fault, you should meet them," Beacrox patted the back of Cale.

Cale looked at him. Beacrox probably gave that advice as a brother and not as his servant.

Cale folded the letter, mentally filing it away. “Then, I’ll go,” he murmured, reaching for his pen to scribble a simple reply.

Cale made up his mind once more. He then turned on the magic music box in the corner. Beacrox gave a small but warm smile before leaving.

Cale completely relaxed his body on the couch as he smiled.

“This is great.”

‘Now this is living.’

Cale had a relaxed smile on his face. At that moment.

Raon immediately turned invisible again, while the kids were pretending to read or color on a paper.

Cale got up to head to the door.

“Ah.”

Clang.

Suddenly, the wine bottle that he wanted to drink later broke, which made him frown.

‘I have a bad feeling about this.’

Cale suddenly had a bad feeling for no reason. He quickly headed for the door.

‘Why do I have such an ominous feeling? Did something big happen? It should not be, as I gave multiple plans if the worst comes to worst.’

Cale could not figure it out. His heart was racing at the moment, worried that there might be variables that happened in the process.

After all, you cannot really ignore the butterfly effect.

‘Is it Choi Han? No, it cannot be. Unless he travels like a lunatic, there is no way he arrived here already. He will not be here for another three days.’

There was no way someone like Choi Han would force an injured Lock to move faster. Even though Choi Han had potions that Cale had given him, the wolf tribe was disowned by the gods. Since potions were made with divine power, they did not work on them.

And there was also no way that Rosalyn, the careful and cautious person who hid her magic abilities at first in the novel, would use advanced magic to transport them all to the capital.

But, most importantly, Cale had told Choi Han that he would be staying at a specific hotel in the capital. He was going to meet Choi Han there once before leaving Ron and Beacrox to take care of the rest.

But he did tell Choi Han that if he thought the situation was out of his control, he was allowed to use the resources of Soo'Ari that were scattered all over the two continents.

Cale calmed himself down before vigorously opening the door.

“You.”

Cale’s heart sank as soon as he opened the door. An urgent and desperate voice quickly reached Cale’s ear.

“Cale-nim. I am sorry. You were the only person that came to mind. I... I do not know what happened... Everything was going well until...”

A desperate Choi Han was standing in front of him. He seemed to have rushed here as quickly as possible, as he looked like a total mess. Cale snapped at Choi Han with his usual calm and stoic face.

Seeing Cale calm, Choi Han started to calm down.

Meanwhile, Cale felt like he had seen the scariest thing in his life. Next to Choi Han was the deputy butler Hans, who had a similar expression as Choi Han, but with a bit of confusion mixed into it. However, the moment Cale saw the person who came with Choi Han, as well as the person on Choi Han’s back, he quickly opened the door.

“Come in for now.”

The person on Choi Han’s back was none other than the Wolf Tribe member, Lock.

“Bring him with you.”

Lock of the Blue Wolf Tribe, the successor of the Wolf King, seemed to be in a dangerous state.

Lock was currently going through the pain before transforming into berserk mode for the first time in his life. Cale did not know why this state, which happened a year later in the novel, was already happening.

However, he looked around at everybody and said just one thing.

“Do not worry.”

Choi Han and Lock. Behind Choi Han was Rosalyn. These three people walked into Cale’s room.

“Hans. Go bring something to drink, for the kids too.”

“Excuse me? Ah, right away!” Hans scrambled but immediately did what Cale asked.

Cale closed the door without letting deputy butler Hans into the room. Cale then pointed to the bed for Choi Han, who was looking at him, to put Lock down.

“Lay him down first.”

“Got it.”

Choi Han carefully put Lock on the bed. Cale slowly approached Lock. Lock definitely had the purest of pure blood, making him look like a weak human. However, he was pretty tall for being a young boy.

“Haaaah, haaaaa, haaaah.”

Lock was huffing and trying his best to open his eyes. He had a deep frown on his face, and his body was limp, like he could not put any strength into it. It was already too late to prevent the berserk state from arriving.

Cale looked at the tall, but still young boy in front of him, who was doing his best to keep his eyes open, and told him to relax.

“Just keep your eyes closed. No need to strain yourself.”

There was no strength in Cale’s stern tone, but it had a way of making people listen. Lock slowly closed his eyes. The voice of this man, whom Lock did not know, flowed into Lock’s ear.

“Everything will be okay.”

Lock was huffing and quietly calling for someone. He was calling for his uncle, the chief of the Blue Wolf Tribe, and the man who died for the tribe, even though he was one step away from becoming the Wolf King. His uncle had made sure Lock was hidden before rushing toward the invaders.

‘Everything will be okay.’ Cale was sure that Choi Han made it to the area early. The book does not specify the time of the attack. But Cale obsessively calculated everything and even rewrote the book in Korean. He dissected the book word for word so that Cale had an outlined timeline of events that happened in the book.

Of course, Cale also made multiple scenarios if things went wrong somewhere in the middle. Possible outcomes, midnight strategy with Alberu, everything to make their plan perfect. So while Cale was cautious, he was still calm at the moment

Meanwhile, in the mind of Lock, it was what his uncle had said to him. Lock started to frown after thinking about his uncle. Cale just ignored him as he turned away.

“Cale-nim, why is Lock like this?”

Choi Han still looked anxious and desperate. Originally in the novel, Choi Han had only slightly opened his heart to Lock by this point.

‘Just what could have happened?’ He looked at Lock's overall symptoms.

Cale was not an idiot. He knew that Choi Han’s situation had changed a bit because of him. He left the Forest of Darkness early, had emotional support for almost a decade, and a tie from his previous world which was him and Alberu.

So this Choi Han was far from what he became in that book. He learned a lot from talented people and experienced a stability that Cale gave him.

“Potions do not work either. According to Rosalyn, the wolf tribe is one that cannot use potions. Healing magic does not seem to work either. I am not sure about what to do. I need to protect him. I am supposed to protect him.”

“Calm down.” Cale was worried that it would be Choi Han who ended up going berserk if he continued like this.

That would be just as scary as that dragon in the corner of the room going berserk. Maybe it was because he lived for tens of years in solitude. Actually, even though he lived for tens of years in solitude, Choi Han’s personality remained one where he was a nice guy who cared a lot for things like friendship.

“Cale-nim.”

“If you trust me, just leave him to me.”

“… I trust you.” The sincerity in Choi Han's eyes was visible, like how a loyal knight looks at his liege.

“Good.” Cale confirmed that Choi Han had calmed down before turning his gaze over to Rosalyn.

Rosalyn Ashwyn.

She was the first successor to the throne in the Breck Kingdom. However, this genius mage was ready to throw all of that away. Rosalyn reminded Cale of a red rose. She had red hair that was even brighter than Cale’s, as well as beautiful red lips that currently had their corners lifted up with curiosity.

Although she may remind him of a rose, her personality was closer to that of the sun.

Rosalyn did not put Lock, Choi Han, or even Cale in her eyes. She was focused on the corner of the room.

“This aura, this strong aura of mana.” Rosalyn was accurately looking at the chair that Raon had used earlier, while her hands were shaking and clenched tightly.

“Sigh.”

A sigh came out of Cale’s mouth. It seemed like the dragon was curious about this mage. Raon mischievously sent some mana over to Rosalyn, seemingly trying to test her and showing off some mana skills that Rosalyn could not even dream about.

Throughout history, dragons had a tendency to hate humans but like mages quite a bit.

Raon was doing that because he was happy.

Cale looked toward the table that seemed empty and quietly started to speak.

“Stop it. Stay still.”

Almost instantly, Rosalyn took a deep breath and quickly returned to normal. The dragon seemed to have removed his mana. Rosalyn could not stop shaking as she looked toward Cale.

“Just what—”

Cale cut her off and pointed to Lock.

“This is more important.”

“Ah.”

Rosalyn’s expression quickly calmed down. She looked at Lock, who was lying down with his eyes closed, and asked Cale.

“What is going on with Lock right now?”

Cale looked at the small staff in her hand. The reason they were able to arrive at the capital in just three days was probably because Rosalyn used teleportation magic. Contrary to Cale’s expectations, Rosalyn had already revealed the extent of her abilities.

“You are a mage, right?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Have you heard anything about the berserk mode of Beast tribes?”

“Ah.”

Rosalyn let out a small noise. However, her face quickly filled with confusion.

“I have read about the Wolf Tribe’s berserk mode in books. However, I have never read anything about heating up like this and being in pain.”

“It is because it is his first time.”

“Excuse me?”

Cale continued to speak to the people in the room who were all looking at him.

“Beast people lose their sanity during their first time entering berserk mode because of the physical pain from their bodily transformation. If they can persevere past this first painful transformation, they will be able to use the berserk mode as a weapon.”

Beast people were at their strongest when they were in berserk mode. Cale observed Lock’s situation before continuing on.

“He will go berserk very soon.”

He then turned to look at Rosalyn. Rosalyn nodded her head at his gaze and sternly answered.

“I do not know what kind of person you are, but I am able to read the situation.”

Although her tone was stern, her eyes were still gentle.

“He is a young boy.”

“I know.”

She was asking Cale for help, and Cale was agreeing to help.

At that moment, the two kids appeared between the two of them and followed Cale. Ohn and Hong were staring at Lock when…

“Ugh.”

Lock revealed his teeth and started to growl at Ohn and Hong. His instincts were in control over his rationality right now, making him react to other beast people. He looked so vicious that even Choi Han was worried. However…

Hong used his hands to smack Lock’s growling mouth. Despite it being a human hand, sharp nails appeared on his fingers like how a cat's claw would appear when threatened.

He then looked toward Cale with eyes that seemed to be asking Cale to hurry up and help Lock.

“He is fine.”

Cale responded to Hong when there was a knock on the door. When Cale opened the door, Hans had brought drinks as well as wet towels. Cale gave Hans another order.

“Hans.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Bring something to carry him with.”

“Ye… excuse me?”

Cale pointed to Lock on the bed.

“Put him on it and take him to the underground training arena. Oh, make sure all of the knights are out of the arena and that nobody is in there.”

Hans’s expression seemed to be asking why Cale would move a sick boy to the arena, but Cale just ignored it.

“Hurry up.”

“… Yes, sir.”

Hans had a ton of questions and was looking at Cale weirdly, but he still did his job. He quickly left to grab something to carry Lock with, while Cale turned around to look at Choi Han and Rosalyn.

“Choi Han. And you.”

“It is Rosalyn.”

“Yes, Rosalyn.”

The two of them looked away from the bed to look at Cale.

“Yes, Cale-nim.”

“What is it?”

Concern, worry, despair, and sincerity. With all those emotions on their faces, Choi Han and Rosalyn looked more like simple good people rather than heroes. Cale bluntly started to speak to the two of them.

“You two will need to get beat up a bit.”

“… Excuse me?”

After a few seconds of silence, Rosalyn seemed shocked, while Choi Han just quietly waited for Cale’s continuing words.

“Normally, when beast people with wild beast blood like the Wolf Tribe, Tiger Tribe, and Bear Tribe experience going berserk for the first time, their parents and siblings help take care of it. They take all the attacks of the berserk individual and protect them to make sure they do not get hurt. That is how they protect their children.”

Choi Han and Rosalyn’s expressions turned sour almost instantly. Lock did not have any parents or siblings now. Cale peeked over at Lock before continuing to speak.

“I can tell that is not an option for this child.”

Clap.

Cale clapped once before pointing at Choi Han and Rosalyn.

“That is why we will pretend to be the older brother and older sister. Any family member. You two will need to figure out how to protect him.”

Cale had his Indestructible Shield, but he did not want to take care of Lock’s berserk state. Why should he step in when there were people stronger than him right here?

Rosalyn and Choi Han looked at each other.

“He will tire out on his own, and the berserk state will slowly disappear. It is important that his consciousness returns during this first berserk transformation. That is the only way to make him retain his consciousness and rationality the next time he transforms into the berserk mode.”

That would be when his rationality beats out his natural instinct. It was important for beast people to reach that state. Choi Han debated it for a moment before asking Cale a question.

“Cale-nim, how long will he maintain his berserk mode?”

“He has the purest of pure blood.”

“… So you mean it will take a long time.”

“Yes. Probably about two hours.”

Cale approached Lock’s bed and patted Choi Han’s shoulder.

“It will be difficult for other people, but Choi Han, it should be easy for you. I trust you.”

“… I will succeed. I am Lock’s hyung.”

Rosalyn looked toward Choi Han with an odd expression. Choi Han had manically killed the assassins to protect the living. During their journey, he was always alert and observing his surroundings. However, such a person seemed extremely relaxed, even though this was a very urgent situation.

She then heard Cale’s relaxed voice while she was still watching Choi Han.

“Yes, yes you are. Let us eat something delicious after it is done.”

Cale was thinking about the food and wine he did not get to finish.

The door opened at that moment, and Hans entered with Ron and something to carry Lock.

“Young master, the arena has been cleared.”

“That was fast.”

Cale ordered Choi Han to move the now continuously growling Lock onto the stretcher before saying the following.

“Let us go."

Chapter Text

Meanwhile, Cale just kept eating some snacks that had been prepared, completely relaxed about the current situation.

After two hours, Lock finally regained his consciousness, and the fight ended. Lock was placed in a guest room while Cale gave Rosalyn the highest-grade potion.

After the commotion had settled and Lock had been moved to a guest room, Rosalyn approached Cale, who was seated once again with a cup of tea in hand. The children had gone off to rest, and Choi Han was still checking on Lock.

"Young Master Cale," Rosalyn spoke with a calm tone, her expression thoughtful.

Cale looked up from his teacup and gave a small nod.

"Yes, Miss Rosalyn?"

Her eyes glanced briefly toward the empty space in the corner of the room, where she had felt the strange mana earlier.

"If it is not too much trouble, may I have a moment to speak with you in private?"

Cale gave a slight glance at the hallway, then set down his cup.

"Of course. Shall we speak here, or would you prefer another room?"

"This room will do," she replied softly, then hesitated for a second. "It is about the mana I sensed earlier. The one that was... unusually dense and powerful."

Cale's eyes narrowed just a bit, but his tone remained neutral.

"I see. That must have been noticeable."

Rosalyn shook her head.

"Not at all. I am simply... curious. I have never felt such an overwhelming mana before. It did not feel like a mage's. It was too pure. Too vast."

Cale tilted his head slightly, then sighed.

"Raon."

The moment he spoke the name, the air shimmered. A spark of light flickered into view before revealing a small black dragon, floating in midair with his wings proudly spread.

Rosalyn's eyes widened, her mouth slightly open.

"A dragon...?"

Raon flapped his wings once, then soared in front of her face with a curious expression.

"You are a mage. What is your name? Where did you study? What grade are you? How much mana can you hold? Have you read about dragons? Why is your hair so red? Is it magic? Is that staff yours? Is it ancient?"

Rosalyn blinked rapidly as Raon bombarded her with question after question, his eyes sparkling with pure excitement.

"Ah... um..."

She was overwhelmed at first, but after a moment, her lips slowly curled into a smile. Her posture relaxed.

"I am Rosalyn Ashwyn, the first princess of the Breck Kingdom. I studied at the Royal Magic Tower in the capital, and I am currently a high-grade mage. My mana capacity is... well, a bit larger than average. I have read extensively about dragons, yes, and while I never imagined meeting one so soon, I would be honored to learn more. My hair is naturally red, and yes, this staff is mine. It is not ancient, but it is a personal creation."

Raon's wings fluttered as he stared at her in amazement.

"Wow. You're great."

Rosalyn flushed in embarrassment and tried to laugh softly so as not to be overly enthusiastic. Raon seemed to be really curious about her, which she felt flattered by.

"I do try my best."

Cale, watching from his seat, simply sipped his tea again.

"I suppose this answers your question about the mana."

Rosalyn looked back at Cale with a respectful nod.

"Yes. It does. Thank you for showing me."

Raon flew a few loops in the air before settling on the table beside Cale.

"She is nice. I like her."

Cale smiled faintly.

"I am glad you two are getting along."

After answering Raon's stream of questions, Rosalyn let out a quiet breath, the corner of her lips tugged upward. Raon, satisfied and content, fluttered back down toward Cale and plopped himself onto his lap with a quiet hum.

Raon suddenly nudged Cale's hand, asking for pats, and curled his tail around himself. Cale suddenly felt as if Raon were behaving like a kitten demanding attention.

Cale calmly raised a hand and began gently patting the young dragon's back without missing a beat.

Not long after, two pairs of eyes peeked from behind a nearby chair. Ohn and Hong, still in their humanoid forms, stepped forward. They stared at Cale with faintly tilted heads and silently watched his hand.

Cale blinked.

Then both twins crouched down and, with soft pops of mana, transformed into small kittens—one silver, one red—and leapt onto the couch. They both looked up at him with patient, expectant eyes.

Cale gave a soft sigh and used his other hand to start patting Ohn and Hong alternately. Raon snuggled deeper into his lap, purring contently.

Rosalyn, watching the scene, could not help but let out a small laugh.

"You seem to be very popular with children and... esteemed beings alike, Young Master Cale."

"I am not certain whether I should take that as a compliment or a warning," Cale replied dryly, though his hand did not stop moving.

Rosalyn smiled before her expression turned thoughtful. She hesitated for a moment, then raised her gaze to meet his.

"Earlier, when we were preparing for Lock's berserk state... Choi Han mentioned something in passing. About you being connected to the Crown. May I ask what he meant by that?"

Cale's hand paused briefly before resuming.

"I suppose it was inevitable that would come up." He had told Choi Han to utilize every resource they had. And a connection to the Crown was also a resource he could use. So technically, Choi Han had just followed his order.

Rosalyn waited patiently.

Cale met her eyes, his expression unreadable.

"I am indeed connected to the Crown. More specifically, to the Crown Prince of the Roan Kingdom."

Rosalyn's eyes sharpened slightly at that.

"That is quite the connection."

"I would prefer not to speak further on the matter," Cale said with measured politeness. "It is not public knowledge, after all."

"I understand," Rosalyn nodded slowly. "But thank you for confirming."

"You are welcome."

There was a moment of silence, filled only by the quiet sound of fur being patted and a dragon mumbling happily in Cale's lap.

Rosalyn looked at the three creatures nestled around him and gave another quiet smile.

"I think I will stay a little longer in this city."

Cale nodded once.

"You are welcome to stay as long as you wish."

The warmth in the air from Raon's cheerful barrage of questions slowly faded into a still, gentle quiet. The kitten siblings curled into each other beside the dragon, who was now dozing lightly in Cale's lap with a pleased expression. The cozy scene filled the drawing room with a rare sense of peace.

Rosalyn, however, remained seated with a thoughtful look on her face. Her fingers idly tapped against her staff before she turned toward Cale once more.

"Young Master Cale," she began with a deliberate calmness, "may I ask you something a bit... personal?"

Cale, without looking up, simply replied, "Go ahead."

Rosalyn tilted her head slightly. "You did not even flinch when I revealed my identity earlier."

He gave her a side glance, lips twitching faintly. "You mean as the First Princess of the Breck Kingdom?"

Rosalyn's eyes narrowed, amused. "Exactly. Most people react. Some fawn, some panic, some stare like their minds have left them. You did not even blink. Why?"

Cale gave a quiet chuckle.

"I thrive on information, Rosalyn-nim."

There was a pause. Then, a smile crept across her lips. "That so?"

"I like to be prepared. I had my suspicions when I heard the name Rosalyn Ashwyn, and your unique magic signature confirmed it not long after. You did not exactly go out of your way to hide it once you started casting large-scale spells."

Rosalyn gave a low laugh and leaned back in her seat, red eyes gleaming. "You are dangerous, Young Master Cale."

"I do my best," he replied flatly.

Then, her expression darkened, not hostile, but curious in a way that carried the weight of personal stakes.

"Then tell me this," she said, her voice lower now. "If you are as good with information as you claim... do you know who tried to kill me?"

Her tone was casual, but there was a glint in her eye and a smile that did not quite reach her cheeks. It was the kind of smile that preceded retaliation.

Cale met her gaze steadily. Then he raised his voice, calm and clear.

"Hans."

"Yes, young master?" The door opened a second later. Hans must have been standing just outside, waiting.

"Get the black leather file from the second drawer in my room."

Hans did not even blink. "Understood."

He bowed once and closed the door quietly behind him.

Rosalyn arched a brow. "So you do."

"I do not keep files for amusement," Cale said mildly, reaching for a small piece of fruit from the platter nearby. "And I have long since learned it is wiser to keep an eye on powerful individuals who move under disguises while traveling foreign territory. His Highness, after all, needs to keep an eye on his kingdom, does he not?"

"Sounds like you have been keeping an eye on me since before we met."

"I have been keeping an eye on everything."

Rosalyn gave a hum of interest. "Then I look forward to reading that file."

"Once it is in your hands," Cale said, tilting his head slightly, "I expect you will want to confirm a few names. But I advise patience. Acting on that list before you are fully prepared could tip the wrong pieces on the board."

"Oh?" Rosalyn smiled again, this time with amusement. "And what do you recommend, Young Master Cale?"

"Why do we not make a deal?"

The door opened again.

Hans stepped inside, holding a black leather file with a crimson ribbon tied around it. He handed it to Cale without a word and bowed out quietly.

Cale placed the file on the table and slid it across to Rosalyn.

She looked at it, then at him.

"Thank you."

"I trust you will be discreet."

"I'm a princess, not a fool," she said smoothly.

Cale's expression did not change. "The difference is often very thin in noble society."

That earned him a laugh.

Rosalyn untied the ribbon, her face now composed but her eyes burning with purpose.

"Then allow me to prove I'm worth keeping an eye on."

Hans returned quietly after a short while, carrying a sealed envelope thicker than before, its edges weighed slightly by the amount of documents inside. With a respectful bow, he handed it to Cale.

"Everything is in order, young master."

"Good work," Cale replied.

He did not hand it to Rosalyn immediately. Instead, he took his time breaking the wax seal and flipping open the folder. A calm hush filled the room, broken only by the soft rustling of paper as Cale quickly scanned the contents, page by page, verifying details with narrowed eyes.

Rosalyn waited silently, her expression still pleasant, but her grip on her staff tightened ever so slightly.

After checking the last photograph and aligning the edges again, Cale finally slid the report over to her side of the table.

"Here. Everything we gathered, clean and organized. The summary is on the first page. Cross-referenced statements, photographs, coded correspondence, diplomatic schedules, and guard rotation logs are attached at the back."

Rosalyn calmly pulled it toward her and flipped the cover open.

She read the first page, and her pupils contracted. Her previously elegant composure began to shift. She continued reading, flipping slowly through the report.

The House of Richardson.

The only Archduke’s household in the Breck Kingdom.

That house’s history could be traced back about two hundred years. The king at the time had two children. The second child, who had shown special talent, was made king while the first child was given the title of Archduke Richardson.

It was said that the first child accepted that situation at the time. However, the situation changed as the generations passed.

The current Archduke’s House of Richardson was the leader of the noble faction and was always in political conflict with the king.

He had colluded with the Minister of Foreign Affairs and two high-ranking diplomats, creating a plan to drug her during a routine inspection trip before "removing" her quietly under the pretense of a bandit ambush.

There were notes of bribes paid to certain knights to "miss" the moment of the attack. A set of forged reports was already prepared, painting her as a reckless noble who defied protocol.

Pictures were attached. Letters were deciphered and translated. One included her full name as the target.

Rosalyn's hands stilled on the edge of the page.

The heat from her magic flared faintly across her shoulders and arms, subtle and restrained, but enough to cause the nearby air to feel dry.

Her jaw clenched.

"...So it was him," she said softly, almost in a whisper.

Cale remained quiet, his eyes on her, neither interrupting nor consoling.

Rosalyn shut the file slowly, her palm resting atop it. She took a moment to breathe, closing her eyes before exhaling once. When she opened them again, her gaze was sharper than before, more focused.

"They really thought I would never find out."

"No," Cale said calmly. "They thought you would not survive."

That made her eyes narrow even further.

A long silence passed between them.

Then Rosalyn slowly nodded. Her voice, when it came, was quiet but firm.

"Thank you... for this."

Cale leaned back in his seat.

"I only provided the pieces. What you do with them is your choice, Princess."

Rosalyn gave a small, mirthless smile. "Oh, I plan to do something."

The kitten siblings had curled back into Raon's side again, but all three small creatures now peeked up at Rosalyn, quietly sensing the shift in atmosphere.

"I'll need to go back soon," she murmured, almost to herself. "But not without finishing what I came here to do."

Cale nodded, as if that was exactly what he expected.

"I will have a second report made," he added casually. "With everything the diplomats involved did outside Breck's borders. It might be useful for leverage. And... do not forget, the Archduke was not allowed to have a private military."

Rosalyn let out a soft, surprised breath, and the corner of her lips curved upward.

"You truly are dangerous, Young Master Cale."

"So I have been told."

They made a deal that both of them had something to gain.

Chapter Text

The next morning arrived quietly, with golden light slipping through the curtains of Cale’s room.

Cale stood near the window, finishing his tea in silence as the sound of light footsteps approached. The door opened without a creak.

"Young master," Ron said with a slight bow, a familiar bundle of clothes in his hands. "May I assist you in dressing for the meeting?"

Cale gave a brief glance, then nodded.

"All right. I will leave it to you."

Ron moved with practiced efficiency, helping Cale out of his casual robe and into the formal, yet subtle, attire appropriate for a private meeting among nobles. The dark green overcoat with a silver trim suited his hair and eyes, and the simple but elegant brooch pinned to his collar bore the Henituse crest.

Ron adjusted the cuffs with precise care, then stepped back to inspect him.

"You look appropriately refined, young master."

"Mm."

Cale gave a noncommittal hum and turned toward the living area, where he could already feel three pairs of eyes staring at him.

Ohn, Hong, and Raon were sitting in a line on the sofa, eyes wide and full of suspicion.

"You're going out," Raon declared flatly, his wings tucked behind him.

"You're going without us," Hong added, tail twitching.

"You didn't even mention it at breakfast," Ohn said calmly, but her ears were slightly drooped.

Cale sighed and walked over to them.

"I’m going to meet the Northeastern nobles. It’s not a place for children or dragons."

"But I can go invisible," Raon muttered.

"And I can hide in your coat," Hong offered quickly.

"We can stay quiet," Ohn added. Their pleading eyes made Cale look away which made Ron slightly chuckle.

Cale crouched down in front of them, his tone patient but firm.

"I know all three of you are capable. But this is not a situation that calls for strength or stealth. It’s boring politics and subtle games. I’ll be back in a few hours."

Raon’s shoulders sagged, and Hong let out a tiny huff. Ohn simply lowered her gaze with a resigned sigh.

Seeing their reluctance, Cale added, "When I return, I’ll bring back something good. A meal. And gifts. How does that sound?"

The atmosphere shifted.

Raon’s eyes brightened slightly. "Will it be roasted meat with honey sauce?"

"And fish pie with fruit glaze?" Hong perked up.

"I would like a new silk ribbon," Ohn said politely.

Cale nodded.

"All of that, if you behave and stay inside. Miss Rosalyn and Choi Han will be here if anything happens."

The three exchanged glances, then gave slow nods of reluctant acceptance.

"All right," Raon said with a huff. "But come back quickly."

"Do not talk too long," Hong added.

"And be careful, Papa..." Ohn finished.

Cale stood and gave each of them a pat on the head.

"I will."

Then, without further delay, he turned to Ron, who gave a respectful nod. The two left the room, the door closing gently behind them.

Inside, the three children watched the door for a long moment before curling back onto the sofa together.

"He better bring the meat," Raon muttered.

"He will," Ohn said confidently.

"With dessert," Hong grinned.

As Cale settled into his seat, the scent of warm pastries and tea surrounded him.

The butler just led him in the meeting room and he was greeted by the sunlight coming in through the tall windows illuminated the small motes of dust in the air, creating a tranquil and nostalgic atmosphere.

Eric pushed the tray of sweets closer to him with a grin. “Cale! Good to see you! Try the custard tart. It’s new.”

Amiru nodded eagerly. “And the citrus biscuits. They’re from the southern coast—we ordered them just in case you joined.”

Cale blinked at the display, then slowly reached for a tart. As he took a bite, the subtle sweetness bloomed on his tongue. He chewed slowly, his gaze drifting to the three familiar faces.

Eric, with his ever-talkative nature and restless legs. Amiru, bright and unrelenting like the tide. Gilbert, always calm and rational, but with a sharp tongue when needed.

The last time he had seen them, he had been a completely different person. In his first life, they were among the few who had stayed beside him when the name "Cale Henituse" was nothing more than a shell.

Unconsciously, a faint smile tugged at his lips.

"Its really been a while since we met again." Cale smile warmly looking at these three.

The three paused.

Then Amiru’s eyes softened. “It does feel that way, doesn’t it?”

“I thought you were going to push us away again,” Gilbert said plainly. “You tend to do that when things get hard.”

Cale met his gaze but said nothing.

“But you’re here,” Eric added with a smile that wasn’t quite as playful as before. “So we’ll take that.”

Cale leaned back in his chair. “Thank you. For waiting.”

They didn’t reply with words. Instead, they picked up their cups, drank in quiet unison, and let the silence speak for them.

After a few minutes, Amiru set her cup down and adjusted the folder she had brought with her. Her expression became more serious.

“Well then, let’s move on to the main reason we invited you.”

Eric straightened. “You know about the whirlpool along the Ubarr shore, right?”

Cale nodded. “It’s infamous. Even fishermen don’t go near it.”

“Exactly,” Amiru said. “But that’s what makes it special.”

She leaned forward, tapping a finger against the folder.

“There’s no other natural phenomenon like it in the region. We’ve been considering developing it into a tourist destination. We want to build an observatory platform near the cliffside, with guided tours along the safer routes, and a sea museum that showcases maritime legends and studies of the whirlpool itself.”

Eric added, “And, of course, a portside plaza to attract merchants and craftsmen. We want the town to grow around it. A hub of trade and culture.”

Gilbert pushed a map toward Cale. “We’ve already done some studies on the area’s stability. It’s possible, but we’ll need funding. That’s where we hoped you could help. Hopefully, this could get a permission..."

They all looked at him with hopeful eyes.

Cale, who had been listening quietly, took a sip of tea. Then he placed the cup down and folded his hands neatly over his lap.

“You put a lot of thought into this,” he said sincerely.

Amiru smiled, encouraged.

“But,” Cale continued gently, “the Crown Prince would not approve of funding such a project.”

The room fell silent.

“I mean no offense,” Cale said politely. “But from the Crown’s perspective, investing in a tourist attraction with limited long-term strategic value—especially in a dangerous area—would be considered a waste of resources.”

Gilbert’s brows furrowed slightly, but he didn’t object. Because they knew deep inside that Cale is right.

Eric leaned back in his chair. “That’s... fair. But still disappointing.”

Amiru lowered her gaze briefly, then looked back at Cale. “Then what would you suggest?”

Cale tapped a finger on the map, his expression thoughtful.

“If I may be frank,” he said, “you’re looking at the potential of the Ubarr coast from a civilian point of view. But what if you looked at it from a military one?”

They blinked at him.

Cale continued, “That coastline is naturally difficult to navigate. The whirlpool makes it treacherous, which means it’s not easily invaded. I'm sure we have expert navigators on our side. And with the proper reinforcement and infrastructure, it could become a secure naval base. One that would be strategically invaluable.”

Gilbert sat up straighter. “You mean... turn it into a defense point?”

Cale nodded. “Yes. Especially with the way things are progressing in the Whipper Kingdom.”

Eric’s eyes widened slightly. “You think the civil war will break out soon?”

Cale met his gaze evenly. “The border tension has been escalating. And Whipper isn't the only kingdom growing restless. Peace among the western nations is strained. The Crown has already begun preparing contingency plans.”

Amiru’s brows drew together. “You really think the peace is that fragile?”

Cale answered, “I know it is.”

Silence followed his words. None of them spoke, their expressions turning serious. They all know Cale is smart. And he wasn't the type to lie about this big and serious issue.

Eric muttered under his breath, “We’ve heard rumors. Quiet whispers... nothing concrete.”

Gilbert looked at the map again, this time with new eyes.

“A naval base,” he murmured. “That... would change things.”

Amiru looked toward Cale. “Would the Crown Prince fund that?”

“He would,” Cale replied. “Because it wouldn’t just protect your territory. It would serve as a vital defensive barrier for the entire northeastern border and would become a vital point for the entire kingdom.”

The three nobles exchanged glances, their minds now racing through logistics and implications.

Finally, Amiru gave a small nod.

“We’ll consider it.”

Cale leaned back again, resting against the chair as he picked up another tart.

“I’ll draft a proposal with the details I know. If you want this to succeed, you’ll need to prepare both a public narrative and a military plan. The Crown will need both.”

Eric whistled softly. “So much for a tourist attraction.”

Gilbert gave a rare chuckle. “Or maybe both, in time.”

Amiru’s eyes sparkled. “Let’s build something that will last.”

Cale looked at them, the corner of his lips twitching slightly.

“I believe you can.”

And so, with tea growing cold and the sun slipping down the sky, a new plan was quietly born—one that would reshape the northeastern coast not as a place of passive beauty, but as a fortress of strength in an uncertain future.

As the three nobles continued to mull over the possibilities, Cale set his teacup down with a soft clink and added calmly, "Of course, should you choose to go through with this path, the Henituse territory would also extend its support."

Eric blinked. “Your family?”

Cale nodded slightly. "Yes. As you know, the Henituse household has long maintained its neutrality within the kingdom. We rarely take political sides, but that neutrality gives us a certain strength. Supporting a project that reinforces national defense—without directly aligning with either the royalist or noble faction—would still fall within that boundary."

Gilbert folded his arms, thoughtful. “So by assisting, the Henituse family would help stabilize the region without becoming a political target.”

“Exactly,” Cale confirmed. “And if other neutral families follow, it would solidify the northeastern region as a reliable buffer between the more volatile areas of the kingdom. That in itself holds strategic value.”

Amiru slowly smiled, realization dawning. “It’s not just about protecting the border… it's about reinforcing the strength of the neutral nobles. If the war does break out, neither side will dare look down on us after all we don't have a Duke or a Marquis' support.”

Eric leaned forward with a grin. “It would give us more leverage, too. If we build this right, we’re not just a footnote in royal politics. We’re a wall.”

Cale gave a soft nod. “And walls tend to hold strong when the kingdom starts to shake.”

The room grew quiet again, but this time it was filled with resolve. The air had shifted.

They weren’t simply discussing the economy anymore.

They were shaping a vision.

One that could define the future of the northeastern nobles—and keep them protected in a kingdom teetering on the edge of conflict.

Cale leaned back in his chair, eyes half-lidded, his tone mild.

“So, will you build a port for sightseeing?”

He looked at each of them in turn.

“Or a fortress with a view?”

The three nobles glanced at each other.

Then Amiru exhaled deeply and nodded.

“A fortress,” she said. “One that will protect our people and prove the worth of our neutrality.”

Eric grinned. “But maybe with a sightseeing deck on top.”

Gilbert rolled his eyes. “Only you would say that.”

Cale smirked faintly.

“Then let’s get started.” every falls to what he expect.

The meeting concluded in just over two hours, with all three northeastern nobles visibly energized by the new direction. Cale bid them farewell with a polite smile and light words of encouragement, stepping into his carriage with a mind already drifting elsewhere.

He glanced at the sky through the window.

Still some time before dinner.

Rather than return immediately, he instructed the coachman to take a detour toward the local market district. Once there, Cale walked the cobbled streets alone, his gaze drifting across the stalls.

He chose a rare honey-glazed fruit pastry for Ohn, a delicately embroidered red ribbon collar for Hong, and a hand-crafted wind-up mana toy shaped like a soaring bird for Raon. Something sweet, something playful, something charming—tokens of comfort.

They’ll behave better if bribed properly, he thought mildly, though the soft curve at the edge of his lips betrayed more fondness than manipulation.

After finishing his purchases, he returned to the residence quietly, letting Ron take the packages for storage before heading to his own chambers.

Only—

“...You’re late.”

A familiar voice greeted him the moment he opened the door.

Cale blinked, then stared.

There, seated leisurely in an armchair near the window, was a man with dark brown hair loosely tied behind his shoulders. His skin, a deep and rich bronze, seemed to glow under the slanting rays of the afternoon sun.

The light caught the sharp lines of his face—cheekbones smooth and defined, eyes a warm, steady brown that shimmered with quiet intelligence. Draped in sleek black robes that hugged his frame like shadow, he looked almost ethereal—glancing, radiant, and far too dazzling for Cale’s daze eyes.

Cale frowned.

“Why must you look like that every time I enter a room?”

Alberu Crossman, Crown Prince of the Roan Kingdom, raised a brow. “You’re the one who always looks like he’s about to faint when I use this form.”

Alberu knew how much Cale loves his Dark Elf form and exploited it.

Cale sighed, genuinely tired. “You’re doing it on purpose.”

“I’m not,” Alberu said with mock sincerity, resting his chin on one hand. “It’s just unfortunate I’m this good-looking in every form.”

Cale stared for a long second.

Then, without a word, he walked to his couch, sank into the cushions, and mumbled, “Give me five minutes. I need to recover.”

Alberu’s laughter echoed lightly through the room. “You’re worse than the court ladies.”

Cale reached for a pillow and covered his face.

“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood after finishing one job, so I could slack off.”

“Ah. Then you’ll survive what I came here to tell you.”

Cale peeked out from under the pillow. “...What now?”

Alberu gave him a slow, amused smile.

And just like that, Cale's peace was over.

Chapter Text

There, seated leisurely in an armchair near the window, was a man with dark brown hair loosely tied behind his shoulders. His skin, a rich bronze, caught the soft gleam of the afternoon sun filtering in through the drapes. The light highlighted the sharp edges of his features—smooth cheekbones, a strong jawline, and warm, intelligent brown eyes that shimmered with faint amusement.

He was dressed in sleek black robes, the fabric catching the light like water over stone. The way he sat—relaxed but regal, distant but striking—made him seem like a portrait rather than a person. Radiant. Graceful. Inconveniently handsome.

Cale could only sigh.

“Let me guess,” he said, rubbing at his temple, “You’re here to dump more work on me.”

Alberu didn’t respond right away. Instead, he leaned forward, still smiling with that unreadable royal calm.

Then, with a dramatic flourish, he reached into the small spatial bag beside him and placed several containers on the nearby table, one after the other.

Clink. Clack. Thunk.

Each one released a rich, warm aroma as soon as it was unsealed—spicy, sweet, savory… undeniably familiar.

Cale’s brows furrowed.

“…What is this?”

Alberu finally gave him a full grin. “Korean food.”

Cale blinked.

“What.”

“Don’t look at me like that,” Alberu said cheerfully. “I’ve been experimenting with ingredients for months. Today, I managed to at least replicate spicy ramen noodles and a few of your other favorites. That one’s kimchi stew. And this… this is close enough to bulgogi.”

Cale’s legs moved before his brain did. He stepped over in a daze, crouched beside the table, and opened one of the containers to inhale the scent.

Familiar smells of their previous life suddenly surged to Cale.

“…It smells right.”

“I know.” Alberu looked quite pleased with himself. “I even found a way to make the broth spicy without the pepper powder from Earth. You’ll like it.”

Cale stared at him, then let out a low, dramatic sigh. “You… are truly the most infuriating person I’ve ever met.”

Alberu raised a brow. “Is that gratitude I hear?”

“No,” Cale said flatly, though his hand was already reaching for the custom chopsticks that Alberu brought from who knows where.

“I’m out here working like a dog—doing you a favor, dealing with political tides, bribing children with toys—and you’re in a kitchen, making noodles.”

“I’m the Crown Prince. I delegate well,” Alberu said smugly, sipping tea as if he weren’t being accused of culinary betrayal.

“You’re the Crown Prince,” Cale snapped back, though his tone was more amused than angry, “so why do you even have time to recreate Korean food from another dimension?!”

Alberu shrugged, relaxed. “I needed a break. And besides, someone has to keep your morale up.”

Cale scowled, but it was betrayed by the gleam in his eye as he took his first bite.

“…It tastes right.”

“Told you.”

Cale grumbled half-heartedly between bites. “Still unfair.”

“You’ll live.”

"Did you make something for Choi Han too?" Cale suddenly asked.

"Gave the recipe to Beacrox. Including the technique. He'll probably try to recreate these," Alberu said and took some dishes with chopsticks.

And for the first time that day, the two men shared a rare, easy quiet—filled with the aroma of old memories and the comfort of shared understanding, sealed over bowls of food that didn't belong in this world… yet still somehow fit.

Suddenly, Cale went back to the time when they were still Seo Soo Jin and Kim Rok Soo. The rather mundane but domesticated life.

When the two of them would split chores, experiment in cooking and baking together. Helping each other like they were in a choreographed dance. Something that gave him enough reason to live the next day.

There were times where he would feel scared that Alberu would suddenly vanish, either leaving or worse, him dying.

He lost a lot and didn't even remember how many funerals he attended, how many goodbyes he made just because he got attached.

Cale suddenly remembered when they first met in their second life. They were the newbies of the Company together with Choi Jung Soo.

Then the incident in the City Hall with the spiders happened. The two of them fell into a strategy mode and left the premises unscathed. That’s how they clicked.

Of course, both of them got adopted by Choi Jung Soo as their friend and lived three years together.

They were just silently eating a familiar food that they almost forgot.

The meal continued in relative peace, with the occasional clink of chopsticks and low hums of approval. Cale, for once, looked content, actually eating with an appetite rather than poking at his food like usual.

Alberu, leaning back in his chair, looked satisfied with himself—until he suddenly paused, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

“Wait.”

Cale didn’t look up, still focused on the bowl of noodles. “Hm?”

Alberu’s voice sharpened a touch. “Earlier—you said something about bribing children with toys.”

Cale glanced up briefly, blinking once. “…Yeah?”

Alberu folded his arms. “Cale, I’m aware of exactly one child in your vicinity. A very small black dragon. Who, last I checked, was living with the ancient dragon in secret.”

Cale slurped up the last of his noodles with a long draw and casually wiped his mouth. “Ah. Right. About that.”

The Crown Prince leaned forward, suspicion growing like a storm cloud. “What did you do?”

Cale calmly reached for the side dish of replicated radish kimchi. “Nothing drastic. Eruhaben-nim… dropped Raon off, did you forget? He literally called your hair shiny.”

Alberu blinked.

Suddenly remembered the fiasco in the Soo'Ari headquarters.

"Oh... OH!"

“He said he wanted to travel.” Cale scooped more food onto his plate. “So, the dragon stayed with me.”

“…I thought it was just a temporary one-time only? I must have been dazed at that moment? For how long have you already adopted him?”

“Few months. Maybe more.”

Alberu’s face twitched. “Cale.”

“And I may or may not have adopted two fog cat tribe children a year ago.”

The silence that followed was immediate.

Alberu froze, halfway to sipping his tea, hand hovering midair. He didn’t even blink—his jaw slowly dropped open as he stared at Cale in utter disbelief.

“…You what.”

Cale turned slightly to look at him, then tilted his head. “Well, I found them after their tribe was wiped out. They escaped from the cruelty of their tribe.”

The Crown Prince's mouth opened, then closed. Then opened again. He looked like someone had unplugged his brain.

“I…”

He blinked.

He blinked again.

“…I have children?”

Cale coughed into his hand, suppressing a laugh. “Technically, I have children.”

Alberu slammed a hand over his chest. “We’re romantic partners in three timelines, lovers in the first, married in the second, and future married in the third. That makes them ours.”

“…I wasn’t aware time-space jurisdiction extended to guardianship rights.” Cale fondly laughed and teased him.

“It absolutely does!” Alberu declared, his voice rising an octave. “Why didn’t you tell me?! That’s the kind of thing you send a message for! We literally have a mind link, my dear headache, and have multiple communication devices. Or, I don’t know, mention it in passing!”

Cale finally let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he leaned back. “I wanted to see your face.”

Alberu stared at him.

“You… you planned this. You were waiting for the right time and then casually dropped ‘I have kids now’ like it’s the weather.”

“Worked, didn’t it?”

Alberu groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “…What are their names?”

“Ohn and Hong,” Cale replied easily. “They’re a bit clingy, but smart. Good instincts. Raon treats them like siblings.”

“I am a father,” Alberu muttered, sounding both overwhelmed and strangely delighted. Then his eyes narrowed again. “Wait—do they know who I am?”

“Nope.”

Alberu gasped, scandalized. “They don’t know about their other father?!”

Cale shrugged. “They’ll find out eventually.”

Alberu stood dramatically, pointing an accusatory finger. “Cale Henituse, you cannot keep important emotional developments from me just because it’s funny.”

“It was funny.”

Alberu sank back into his chair and let out a long, soul-weary sigh. He looked up at the ceiling like it had wronged him personally.

“I’m going to need time to process this.”

“I’ll prepare a fruit platter for when you meet them.”

Alberu grumbled, “And toys. I need to get them toys. Something impressive.”

Cale smiled faintly. “Now you’re thinking like a father.”

That made Alberu pause. Then slowly, a soft chuckle escaped him.

“I suppose I am,” he murmured, almost to himself.

There was a short silence, warm and companionable.

Then Cale casually added, “Raon calls me his human. Good luck competing with that.”

“Oh, it’s on,” Alberu replied immediately, eyes glinting. “I’m going to be the most beloved parent in the house.”

Cale just laughed again, softly this time—genuinely, like someone who had already won.

Outside the window, the sky had begun to dim, casting golden-orange hues across the landscape, light glinting off the glass like a second sun fading in reverse.

Cale sat lazily with his elbow propped on the armrest, fingers idly tracing the edge of his now-empty teacup. Across from him, Alberu leaned back with an ease he rarely showed in public—his legs crossed, his expression soft and thoughtful, the curtain of his dark brown hair catching the descending sunlight.

He's almost breathtaking that he seems to shine under the afternoon glow.

Cale broke the silence first, voice quiet.

“They’ve grown fast.”

Alberu raised an eyebrow. “The children?”

Cale nodded. “Ohn's observant. Sharp. She’s already picked up on my habits. Hong’s bolder than I expected. He’s clever when he wants to be, and he’s a terrible liar when he doesn’t. Raon…” Cale’s lips curled faintly. “He’s… the kind of kid who never got to be one.”

Alberu watched him for a moment, his eyes softening.

“You sound like someone who’s… fond of them.”

“I don’t know if I’d call it that,” Cale said, shrugging a shoulder. “But for now, I don’t mind having them close.”

Alberu let out a breath, the sound closer to a hum than a sigh.

“You’ve always done that,” he said, tilting his head toward the window. “Pretending you haven’t changed, when you’ve already shifted three steps forward before anyone could catch it.”

Cale chuckled under his breath. “And you’ve always insisted on pointing it out.”

There was a pause.

Then Alberu, quieter this time, said, “Do you remember... after Choi Jung Soo and Lee Soo Hyuk died?”

Cale stilled.

Of course he remembered.

His fingers curled slightly around the armrest, the grip subtle but tight.

“I remember,” he said finally.

Alberu’s voice grew softer. “You didn’t sleep for four days. Barely spoke. Ate maybe once. Moved in autopilot when you handled their funerals.”

“I didn’t want to break in front of the others,” Cale said, almost absently. “I was… the replacement. That’s what they needed. Someone stable. Someone who wouldn’t crack.”

Alberu nodded slowly. “That’s why I locked you in my apartment for a week.”

Cale looked at him then, eyes narrowing. “You told them I was recovering from a cold.”

“Sure, and that’s exactly what I told the others,” Alberu smirked. “But you couldn’t walk five steps without looking like your whole world was collapsing. You can hide your emotion from others, but not from me. You weren’t going anywhere near the office, not like that.”

Cale let out a short breath, the closest thing to a laugh. “Kim Min Ah ratted you out.”

“She did,” Alberu said easily. “Told you I threatened Director Ma.”

Cale blinked. “Did you actually say you’d resign?”

Alberu looked at him.

“No,” he said with a little grin. “I said we’d resign.”

Cale frowned. “You, Min Ah, and...?”

“Everyone,” Alberu said simply. “I told Director Ma that if he was such an asshole as to nudge you back into that chair before you were ready, he’d lose the whole division. The entire team agreed to that and promised to follow wherever we would settle. He shut up after that.”

Cale went quiet again, his gaze shifting toward the golden sky outside.

“You were always better at protecting me than I was.”

“Someone had to be,” Alberu replied, a bit too fast, a bit too fond. “Jung Soo and Lee Soo Hyuk were gone. Someone had to be the net.”

There was silence between them again.

Not awkward you would immediately feel if something wasn't right.

Just full and weighty with memory.

Then Alberu added, “Choi Jung Soo used to hide sweet rice cakes in the document cabinet. Did you know that?”

Cale raised an eyebrow. “So... he's the one who kept on putting that there?”

Alberu grinned. “He’d say he was keeping morale up, but he really just didn’t want you skipping meals.”

Cale huffed. “He was the one who said sugar rots the mind.”

“And then gave you brown sugar ginger tea every time you looked like you were going to collapse. Because you like sweets.”

Cale stared at the ceiling for a moment.

“…I missed that tea.”

Alberu looked at him, really looked.

“I can try making it again.”

Cale smiled faintly, eyes half-lidded. “You’ll mess it up.”

“Probably,” Alberu said, laughing under his breath. “But I’ll mess it up in the spirit of an old friend.”

The sun had almost fully set now. The sky outside was tinged with indigo and the last flickers of gold clinging to the edges. Their reflections faintly shimmered in the glass—two figures seated close, framed in fading light.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Cale said, not quite whispering, not quite speaking loudly enough for it to echo.

Alberu didn’t respond right away.

Instead, he leaned back in his chair again and said softly,

“I never left.”

And in that moment, neither of them needed to say anything more. Those words hit harder than they should have. As Alberu really didn't leave. Not on his first, not on his second. And definitely not this time too.

They simply sat there, quiet, surrounded by the scent of warm food, the echo of memory, and the calm of a friendship that had outlasted time itself.

The silence between Cale and Alberu lingered, comfortable and full of unsaid thoughts, both of them bathed in the quiet hues of the setting sun. Their chairs sat close together—close enough that Cale’s shoulder had brushed Alberu’s arm more than once. Neither had moved.

And then—

BANG!

The door flew open.

“Papa!”

“Human!”

Three very different voices overlapped as the peaceful atmosphere shattered like thin glass.

Raon soared into the room like a missile, wings flapping excitedly, while Ohn and Hong rushed in behind him in their human forms—Ohn with her silver hair bouncing, Hong with his messy red locks sticking out from his nap.

Cale blinked, momentarily frozen.

So was Alberu.

The children, halfway into their greetings, suddenly stopped dead in their tracks.

Their gazes fell on the two men sitting far too close, the last rays of sunlight casting a soft outline over their slightly flushed faces. The warmth in the air, the soft tea scent, and the lack of space between their seats—none of it went unnoticed.

Raon hovered in midair, blinking furiously.

Ohn tilted her head, golden eyes narrowing in calculation.

Hong squinted suspiciously.

“…Were we interrupting something?” Raon asked slowly.

Cale cleared his throat sharply and immediately stood up, gesturing toward Alberu as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“No, you're not. By the way, this is Alberu. My lover.”

A beat of silence.

Then, Alberu flinched.

Flinched. The Crown Prince of Roan. The most poised man in any room. The terrifyingly competent, cool-headed dark elf—

His shoulders actually twitched. His lips parted slightly like he was trying to say something, but no words came out.

Cale stared. That was new.

Alberu cleared his throat, schooling his expression back into something calm, though the tips of his ears were slightly red.

“…Ahem. Yes. It is a pleasure to meet you.” His voice was calm again, rich and measured. “I am Alberu. Your papa’s partner. Which, I suppose, makes me…” He hesitated for a second—only a second. “Your other father. Uhm... yo-you can call me Dad or Pops?”

Raon, Ohn, and Hong all froze again.

Then—

Pop!

Ohn and Hong instantly shifted into their small, fluffy kitten forms. Silver and red fur swirled as they jumped up onto the couch and padded over to Alberu with cautious curiosity.

Raon hovered down, watching his feline siblings closely before doing his best impression—fluttering to land lightly on the armrest, nose twitching.

Alberu remained perfectly still as the silver kitten (Ohn) stepped delicately onto his thigh, sniffing his robes. She narrowed her golden eyes thoughtfully.

Hong, the red kitten, leapt to his other side and sniffed at his arm. Then, without warning, nudged his head against Alberu’s elbow.

The three of them sniffed again.

They could smell the faint spice, lingering roasted meat, and a dash of something sweet.

And—distinctly, unmistakably—Cale.

The scent of his magic, his clothes, his calming presence—it was all over Alberu.

Raon blinked. “He smells like the human.”

Ohn gave a tiny nod.

Hong purred faintly and curled up beside Alberu’s hip, tail flicking in approval.

Alberu blinked down at the small red ball of fur now making himself comfortable on his robe.

Ohn sat down neatly on Alberu’s other leg, tail wrapped around her paws with a silent stare of judgment that eventually softened.

Raon, still perched on the armrest, finally gave a little nod.

“...We accept him as Papa’s mate.”

Cale exhaled, shoulders relaxing. “That’s good to hear.”

Alberu, meanwhile, still didn’t move, unsure whether he’d been accepted, claimed, or tested.

Cale chuckled under his breath at the sight of the ever-composed crown prince slowly being covered by a dragon and two fog kittens like a warm blanket of affection.

Alberu finally glanced at him, expression caught between resigned and amused.

“You could have warned me.”

“You could’ve knocked,” Cale retorted with a smirk.

Raon looked between the two of them and declared proudly, “Now we have two papas! I shall write it down in my journal.”

Cale gave a mock glare at Alberu. “You see what you’ve done?”

Alberu sighed deeply. “I suppose I should get used to it.”

Ohn gave a soft meow.

Hong snuggled closer.

Raon flapped his wings once and landed on Alberu’s other shoulder.

Alberu blinked. “...Is this what being a father is like?”

Cale just grinned and picked up his empty teacup again. “Welcome to the family.”

As the sun fully sank below the horizon, the amber light faded, replaced by the soft glow of the enchanted lanterns lining the corners of the room. The golden haze that had warmed the space earlier gave way to a cozy twilight blue, settling a comfortable stillness around the five of them.

Cale leaned back into the sofa, watching quietly as his three little companions slowly and almost imperceptibly pulled Alberu into their fold.

Hong, having fully claimed his spot nestled at Alberu’s side, began purring contently—tiny, rhythmic vibrations that could be felt through the dark fabric of Alberu’s robe. The young red kitten occasionally stretched his paws and tapped gently at Alberu’s belt, clearly testing the elasticity of its weave.

“Papa’s lover,” Hong said softly, “do you know how to sew?”

Alberu looked down, slightly surprised. “I… know how to mend tears in clothing. Is that… relevant?”

Hong’s golden eyes sparkled. “Good. Then you can fix the pouch on my cape next time.”

Before Alberu could respond, Ohn—elegantly perched on his other knee—lifted a dainty paw.

“Do you cook too?” she asked, her tone regal and curious.

Cale chuckled before Alberu could answer. “He doesn’t just cook. He recreated Korean food.”

Raon, still clinging to Alberu’s shoulder, chimed in eagerly. “He made spicy ramen! And something that smelled like garlic chicken!”

Ohn and Hong gasped simultaneously.

“You made food from Papa’s world? Did you come from there too?”

Alberu blinked. “Ahh, yes... Uhm, well, not perfectly. The spices here are… lacking nuance. But yes, I experimented with the ingredients available and recreated a few things I remembered.”

Raon tilted his head. “Then, as the other papa, can you cook it again for us too?”

Alberu’s brows rose. The word ‘papa’ seemed to still catch him slightly off guard each time—but he didn’t reject it. He simply gave a small sigh, brushing his fingers across Raon’s head as if conceding to fate.

“…If I can find more of the right mushrooms. And if your first papa lets you eat spicy food.”

Cale gave him a sideways glance. “So I’m the boring one now?”

“Not boring,” Raon said loyally. “You're still my great and mighty human. But I wanted to try something with fiery taste. It must be delicious!”

Alberu grinned, his dark brown eyes catching the lantern glow. “Then we’ll eat with fire. Carefully.”

Hong looked up again. “Can we sleep in your room tonight, Papa?”

Cale raised an eyebrow. “Mine or his?”

Hong blinked. “Both?”

“We’ll need a bigger bed,” Ohn added calmly.

“Dragons don’t need beds!” Raon declared. “I can make a nest!”

Alberu glanced around the room slowly, eyes landing on the couch, the rug, the table scattered with empty dishes and tea cups.

“We’ll need a bigger everything,” he murmured.

Cale huffed a quiet laugh and got up to open the windows. The evening breeze carried in the sound of cicadas and distant bells ringing from the market square below.

He turned back toward the room and saw something that made him pause.

Alberu sat in the armchair like he always had—with effortless grace, noble and unshakable—but now, there were three small beings curled or clinging to him in various ways. Raon on one shoulder, Ohn on one knee, Hong draped across the other leg. And yet, Alberu made no move to push them off.

He wasn’t just tolerating it. He had accepted it.

More than that, he looked… at ease.

“You’re getting comfortable,” Cale noted.

Alberu lifted his eyes. “You’re the one who called me your lover in front of three lovely children. What choice did I have?”

“You could’ve run.”

Alberu scoffed softly. “Why would I run when I’ve already been caught?”

Raon beamed. “You mean you’re staying?”

Ohn looked up. “You’re not leaving tonight?”

Hong yawned. “Good. I don’t like when people leave right after saying they’ll stay.”

There was a long pause.

Then Alberu answered, voice quieter now.

“No. I’m not leaving tonight.”

Cale said nothing, just moved back to the couch, settling beside them with a quiet sense of contentment warming his chest. The air outside had cooled, but the room glowed with soft light and affection.

Raon fluttered down from Alberu’s shoulder to nestle in between Cale and Alberu.

Hong crawled onto Cale’s lap and curled up instantly.

Ohn moved beside him and stretched out across both men’s thighs, closing her eyes with a little huff.

Alberu raised a brow at the full pile of warmth surrounding them. “You realize we’re going to fall asleep like this.”

Cale yawned. “Probably.”

“You used to be so composed.”

“Can you even refuse this kind of expression?”

Cale looked at the pleading eyes of the three and looked away.

“…Touché.”

As the last light of the day slipped away, the room finally grew quiet again—this time not out of awkwardness or fatigue, but peace. Real peace.

The kind that didn’t need to be questioned.

And from a place in his chest he rarely acknowledged, Cale felt something stir—something soft and rooted. A sense of home that wasn’t tied to buildings or beds.

But to these moments.
To these people.
To this quiet, foolish, warm collection of strange, magical souls.

And somehow, that was enough.

Chapter Text

The banquet starts at 9 a.m. the next day. Alberu woke up early, which made Cale wake up too.

"I have to go, Cale. I still need to get ready for the banquet," Alberu said. Everything was still dark outside, which made Cale sleepy.

"Hmm..." The kids also stirred and Alberu softly said his goodbyes to them. He kissed Cale's forehead before taking out a teleportation scroll.

They never crossed the line beyond kissing foreheads, cuddles, pecks on the lips, holding hands, and hugs.

Not only because they knew their bodies were still young, but also because Ron and Beacrox had been monitoring them and would only allow a proper intimate relationship when Cale reached his twenties, regardless of whether they were already in their nineties, or had lived for decades mentally due to their two previous lifetimes.

The two respected those rules since it seemed like Ron and Beacrox approved of Alberu. He did get a shovel talk from the two, and that was a memory he didn't want to remember.

The ornate carriage of the Henituse family rolled to a smooth stop before the palace's grand banquet hall. The sunlight filtering through the tall windows cast a warm sheen over the glossy black finish of the carriage doors, which bore the golden crest of a turtle—elegant, enduring, and distinct. The Henituse emblem.

A moment passed before the door opened, and Cale Henituse stepped out.

His outfit for the royal banquet was dominantly black, yet not entirely devoid of color. A high-collared tunic of dark velvet clung neatly to his frame, embroidered with intricate gold patterns that shimmered faintly with each movement. A deep crimson lining peeked out from under the black cloak draped over his shoulders, fastened with a subtle brooch bearing the turtle crest. His gloves were of a softer gray leather, and his boots shone, polished to a military gleam.

It was simple, regal, and unmistakably noble.

He did not wear any magical tool, as he knew that the banquet would be filled with recording and surveillance devices. It was one of the things that Alberu prepared for this day. Of course, just in case the attack happened earlier, they would be ready.

It was better to be overly cautious when it came to White’s scheme. Since they had already destroyed his two movements in the Roan Kingdom, he might already be aware that someone was against them and knew of their presence and some of their plans.

White Star could just change his tactic, and that was what they didn’t want to happen. They may think they are a small fry or they may think they are a big group too.

Cale was eighty percent sure White Star was aware of their presence but still had no idea who they were.

He sighed and focused instead. Nestled beside him in an invisible state, Raon floated with practiced silence, his mana signature masked beneath expertly conjured concealment.

"Human," Raon's voice echoed inside Cale's mind, serious but calm. "There are five surveillance-type magic devices hidden around the banquet hall. I can feel their mana flow. Three are on the upper pillars of the entrance arch, and two are embedded in the chandelier above the main staircase. No alarms have been triggered, but they are watching everything."

Cale offered a slow blink as he subtly adjusted his gloves, appearing to the world as if he were simply brushing off dust.

"Got it," he murmured back, his lips barely parting.

Raon continued, "Our mighty group members are patrolling disguised as knights. Twelve so far, and I think three of them are from the Information Division. Ohn-noona noticed them first. She's on the third-floor corridor, in human form. Hong-hyung is in the west wing garden. The gentle wolf is checking the kitchen supply entrance. Gentle Beacrox is stationed near the wine cellar."

"And Choi Han?" Cale asked as he began walking toward the arched entrance.

"On the banquet floor already. By the northern columns. He’s watching the nobles... blending in well, wearing an official knight uniform." Raon's tone turned slightly smug. "He looks very knightly today, human."

Cale made no response to that, though one corner of his mouth tugged slightly upward for a brief moment.

Rosalyn had arrived before him, disguised as one of the mages of the Royal Family, having dark brown hair and eyes, and wearing robes for official mages.

The golden carpet lining the steps glinted beneath his boots as Cale descended toward the door. The guards stationed on either side of the grand entryway bowed in practiced unison and called out loudly,

"Announcing, Young Master Cale Henituse, representing the Henituse County of the Northeast!"

The voice echoed down the expansive staircase, catching the attention of many nobles already mingling below in the hall.

Cale's eyes swept the crowd as he descended slowly and deliberately, posture loose, expression unreadable. He let the glimmering chandeliers and soft perfume of aristocracy wash over him without reaction. All eyes were on him, dazzled by how magnificent he looked—so elegant and refined that ladies around were blushing and trying to hide their blushing faces with fans.

The elusive and mysterious eldest son of Henituse County. The darling of Rain City. Some even thought he was a myth because of how rarely he faced crowds.

"Still nothing unusual yet," Raon reported, gliding just behind him. "No major shifts in mana. Everything looks like the attack won't happen until tomorrow like you predicted, human. You're really great just like me!"

As he reached the base of the staircase and stepped onto the polished banquet floor, Cale’s gaze locked onto a pair of familiar faces.

Or rather, one familiar and one… unexpected.

Neo Tolz.

Cale’s steps slowed just slightly, enough that only someone watching him closely would notice. Neo Tolz stood near the southeastern side of the banquet hall, beside the heir of Marquis Sand Ailan—he could recall the face now. That house managed the city of Graymist, known for having the strongest and largest knight brigade in the kingdom. It was known for being the greatest martial arts household. They had chosen the best land in the kingdom's southeast region, far from the northeast's approach.

Neo had once been a known lackey of Venion Stan in his first life—greedy, crude, and entirely too ambitious. In his first life, Neo’s name had surfaced time and time again whenever underhanded dealings took place in the shadows of noble society.

Their family had never liked Cale's family. Despite only being separated by a single mountain, Cale’s family was much wealthier. That family should have been part of the northeastern neutral alliance, but they aligned themselves with the former Marquis Stan.

He didn’t know what happened to their family after Taylor took over. The report was probably in the archive of Soo’Ari’s information hub, but Neo wasn’t that important for Cale at this moment.

And yet, there he was—head lowered slightly, seemingly demure, while listening intently to Derrick Ailan’s quiet words.

Raon hummed darkly in Cale’s mind. “That human makes a funny expression.”

Neo was behaving himself. Standing still. Laughing at the appropriate moments. But Cale could read the tilt of his shoulders, the way his eyes flickered too often around the room. Something was off. He didn’t look like a guest. He looked like someone testing the waters.

Cale took a glass of white wine from a tray offered by a passing servant but did not sip. Instead, he stood quietly, letting himself be seen but not approached just yet.

The banquet was in full swing now. Nobles of all ranks in their finest attire scattered like colorful chess pieces across the marble floor. Some danced. Some gossiped. Some schemed.

Cale Henituse simply observed.

"Hong-hyung said he is allowed to play hide and seek with Noona so they could train their stealth a bit. Ohhh! I wanted to play with them, but I won't let you be alone. You're weak, Human! And this great and mighty Raon Miru is here to protect you!"

Cale nodded once, barely. It was good for them to play a bit. And if something happened, he was sure Alberu would clean up the mess, so he wasn’t worried.

The guards at the entrance stood straighter, their voices ringing out clearly across the banquet hall.

“Announcing, Duke Antonio Gyerre representing the Gyerre Duchy of the Southwest.”

“And Marquis Taylor Stan representing the Stan March of the Northwest.”

Heads turned subtly across the hall as two distinct figures descended the grand staircase side by side. Duke Gyerre walked with practiced ease, his brown hair neatly combed back, the silvery sheen of his eyes sharp and assessing beneath the golden light. His outfit was layered in dark green and bronze, the colors of his house, paired with a long coat that gave him an air of restrained authority.

Beside him, Marquis Taylor Stan drew attention in an entirely different way. His pale blond hair flowed past his shoulders in soft waves, framing a youthful face with sharp green eyes that flicked across the room with careful interest. He wore muted golds and deep navy—refined, but not extravagant.

The two nobles spoke to each other quietly as they walked, their words lost beneath the murmuring crowd. But as their eyes landed on Cale, they paused just briefly. A subtle nod passed between them and Cale.

Cale returned nothing, his expression unreadable, but his sharp gaze followed their movement. The Duke and Marquis peeled away silently from each other once they reached the banquet floor, heading toward their designated seats without lingering.

“Both of them behaved naturally,” Raon whispered from beside him, still cloaked in invisibility. “But their footsteps matched exactly. Their movement synced up briefly when they nodded. I think they’re in communication.”

“They’re our allies,” Cale murmured. “They just briefly acknowledged us. I wonder if they get along.”

He continued scanning the banquet hall, eyes flicking past idle nobles and rising laughter.

Then another name echoed through the vast chamber.

“Announcing, Lady Karin Orsena, representing Orsena Duchy of the Central.”

Cale’s eyes narrowed slightly.

A woman in soft lavender and gray descended the staircase, the hem of her gown trailing behind her in elegant waves. Karin Orsena held herself with the grace expected of nobility, her hair pinned with silvery ornaments, her expression neutral and distant.

Cale's frown deepened.

Orsena.

He searched his memory for anything—an event, scandal, alliance, or fall—about the Orsena family in his first life. But all he could summon was… nothing. A vague blankness. No news. No rumors. Not even their downfall.

Which was odd.

Cale remembered even the smallest changes in territory power, the smallest whispers about the fall of small houses. But the Orsenas were a blank page.

“Raon, tell Soo'Ari to focus a bit on the Orsenas. Use the overall method,” he said quietly, brows furrowed.

“I know,” Raon answered instantly. “Got it, Human! I'll tell Fierce Freesia your order!”

The young dragon’s voice shifted in tone, more serious. He seemed to be delivering information to someone.

“Human! Fierce Freesia just replied and told me something,” he said. Cale looked at Raon even if he was invisible. He knew exactly where Raon was. “She said there’s new information.”

Cale’s gaze did not move from Karin Orsena as she gracefully joined the southern nobles' section.

“About what?”

“About your uncle,” Raon whispered. “And… about the Thames inheritance. She said it’s related to both the Ubarr Coast or something? She said she'd report later after the banquet.”

Ubarr Coast. It was the coast where he took the Sound of the Wind and the Dominating Water. He did not have any reason to go there, but it seemed like he needed to now.

Cale’s eyes widened a fraction, a flicker of recognition—shock—flashing across his otherwise composed face.

The Thames inheritance. The question that had sat at the top of every priority list for over half a decade.

It was still unmoving, unresolved, and unanswered.

Since the confrontation with the king years ago, Cale had never stopped trying to find where those items his mother left would be used. And he still had a lot of questions for his uncle. His breath almost hitched, but he immediately calmed down.

And now, it had stirred.

“Tell Freesia,” he said under his breath, “I’ll take the report after the banquet ends. In person.”

“Yes, Human.”

Cale’s expression relaxed back into neutral control, but his heart had shifted. The banquet continued in waves of sound and music, but now the air around him felt charged.

Something was beginning to move.

Cale had only paid half a mind to the process, content to remain still, sipping from his glass while mentally mapping out the positions of hidden knights, disguised Soo’Ari operatives, and the surveillance systems Raon whispered about.

But then—

“Now welcoming the representatives of the Northeastern Region.”

Cale blinked once. Ah.

Their turn.

Beside him, Eric Wheelsman flinched slightly in his seat. The always-exuberant young noble was uncharacteristically quiet, fiddling with the hem of his sleeves.

“I don’t think I’ve ever spoken to the Crown Prince directly before,” Eric muttered under his breath.

Cale, calm as ever, tilted his head and murmured, “Just breathe. He doesn’t bite.”

“…You sure?” Eric’s eyes widened. “Because I heard from a cousin that he made Count Halder cry last year.”

“That was because the Count called him a ‘soft prince’ just because he had a soft heart for common people and then insulted the military,” Cale said blandly. “You’ll be fine if you avoid stupidity.”

Eric swallowed. “Right.”

One by one, the members of their group approached the platform.

Baron Luton of Veile was first. A middle-aged man with a soft gut and a softer voice, he offered a well-rehearsed bow.

“Your Highness. The northeastern region offers its continued support and loyalty.”

Alberu smiled graciously, voice velvet-smooth. “Baron Luton. Your lands in Veile are known for their fine glasswork and calm leadership. I thank you for preserving that stability. It is nobles such as you that make the eastern winds steady.”

Baron Luton flushed, murmured his thanks, and moved aside with a quick step.

Next came Viscount Deron from Mistia Territory. A younger noble, stiff with nerves but determined not to show it.

“Your Highness,” he said as he bowed deeply.

“Viscount Deron,” Alberu said, eyes glinting. “I’ve heard Mistia boasts the most efficient grain transport routes in the northeast. I must ask, what secret are you hiding from our Ministry of Transport?”

There was a polite ripple of laughter as Viscount Deron gave a strained smile. “Ah, just hard-working horses, Your Highness.”

Alberu’s smile widened. “Then perhaps I must recommend the Ministry hire a few of your horses.”

Viscount Deron bowed and nearly tripped over his own feet as he stepped aside.

Then came young Viscount Tallian, whose estate bordered near the sea cliffs. He approached with Eric Wheelsman close behind, fidgeting.

Alberu greeted the Viscount with the same gracious warmth, complimenting the sea routes and remarking on the fresh seafood that always came from Tallian’s coast.

Finally, it was Eric’s turn.

He stepped forward with a too-fast bow and stammered, “Your Highness, I—uh—bring greetings from the Wheelsman family in Leebet—”

“Young Master Wheelsman,” Alberu cut in smoothly, his voice warm and welcoming. “Your father spoke once about your ideas on woodwork systems. Have you pursued that further?”

Eric froze. Then blinked rapidly.

“…Y-Yes, Your Highness. We’ve started construction on the revised model this spring.”

Alberu gave a nod, pleased. “Innovation and ambition in young leaders is what keeps Roan breathing. I look forward to seeing the finished result.”

Eric bowed again, this time more steady. His face was flushed as he stepped back toward Cale.

“He… remembered,” Eric whispered to Cale like he had just been personally blessed by the gods.

Cale hummed. “He remembers a lot.”

Alberu's lips curved slightly at each exchange, his tone perfectly tailored—soothing, promising, subtly flattering, and laced with carefully placed praise that boosted every noble’s sense of importance. It was political finesse at its finest, and he wielded it like a blade dipped in honey.

Cale stood at the edge, waiting for the rest of the delegation to finish. He kept his gaze calm, posture composed, and his observations sharp.

So far, no misstep had happened. But Cale wanted to see how Alberu planned to handle him.

Raon whispered faintly in his ear, invisible and tucked close. “The Crown Prince’s expression just changed, Human.”

“…Of course it did,” Cale murmured. “Let’s see how well he pretends.”

As the last of the northeastern nobles stepped back into formation, all eyes subtly turned toward the final representative.

Cale Henituse moved forward.

Every eye was focused on him. Having these two dazzling men together was too much for the eyes of the young ladies. Their contrasting aesthetics and overall demeanor blended seamlessly, as if they were a magnificent painting in front of the others.

But those eyes did not bother Cale. Instead, he focused more on Alberu as their eyes met.

He paused at the foot of the elevated platform and gave a deep, flawless bow, posture relaxed but respectful.

“Young Master Cale Henituse of the Henituse Territory,” the herald announced.

Alberu, seated at the highest point of the royal dais, regarded him with practiced composure. There was no recognition in his eyes beyond what one would offer any distant noble. His expression was courteous, smooth, and polished.

"He's really well versed in this kind of showmanship," Cale thought.

“Young Master Cale,” Alberu said, his voice pleasant and even. “It is always an honor to receive one of the most promising young lords of our northeastern lands. Your leadership of the Rain City has brought remarkable prosperity. The Kingdom recognizes your economic innovations and civic contributions.”

A few murmurs of agreement stirred in the background. Cale’s expression remained unreadable, but his lips curled into a slow, easy smile.

He straightened.

“Your Highness flatters me,” Cale said with that familiar, glib tone, pleasant and silky, but laced with too much charm to be entirely humble.

“To stand before the sun of the Roan Kingdom,” he began, eyes sparkling with mock reverence, “is both a blinding honor and a curse. For now I must accept that no slumber will reach me tonight, having glimpsed the brilliance that lights the path for us all.”

There was a pause.

A long, thin pause.

Alberu’s smile twitched.

“…Indeed,” the Crown Prince replied smoothly, though his eye visibly ticked at the corner. “It humbles me to know that my presence has caused such… celestial insomnia. Your devotion to the kingdom’s radiance is noted.”

Cale gave another respectful bow, voice honeyed and far too polished. “It is only right that we, as loyal subjects, recognize the future dawn of our Kingdom. And if the sun himself acknowledges our meager efforts… well, who are we to not offer our lives and labor to such light?”

Alberu’s jaw flexed just slightly. “Then let us hope your generous words shine as brightly on your estate’s ledgers, Young Master.”

Cale smiled wider. “Oh, I daresay they already do, Your Highness.”

For a moment, the entire room was bathed in nothing but pleasantries, so flowery, so expertly delivered, and yet so obviously laced with sarcastic flair that it went over most of the nobles’ heads. But no one even realized.

Raon snickered invisibly in Cale’s ear. “Human, the crown prince’s eye twitched again. This is fun! I learn a lot!”

Alberu’s gaze flicked briefly, and then he inclined his head.

“Please, return to your seat, Young Master Cale. Your presence graces this hall.”

Cale bowed again, as if the comment was not a dismissal wrapped in sugar.

“And may Your Highness’s light shine long and far.”

Cale turned, cape trailing behind him as he walked back to his place, all while the corners of his lips betrayed the barest smirk.

Alberu’s serene smile remained in place, but his fingers drummed once on the armrest.

“…That little fox,” he muttered under his breath, inaudible to the crowd.

But Cale? Cale heard it through Raon’s delighted whisper.

And he was thoroughly pleased.

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

Chapter Text

From its narrow alleys to the bustling market squares, celebration filled the air like incense, thick, sweet, and intoxicating with cheer.

Banners of crimson, gold, and ivory streamed from rooftops and lampposts. Each was embroidered with the royal crest and fluttered proudly in the morning wind. Garlands made of freshly picked flowers, woven together with colored ribbons, were draped over balconies, shop signs, and even between trees.

Children ran barefoot along the roads with wooden swords and paper crowns, playing games that mimicked the knights they had seen in picture books.

In the open plazas, tents were erected in neat rows, offering roasted chestnuts, golden-crusted pies, jugs of mulled cider, and sweet confections dusted with powdered sugar. The scent of roasting meat lingered in the air, mingling with spices, sweat, and laughter.

Minstrels strummed lyres and lutes in rhythm with flutes and tambourines, their music forming a symphony of celebration that echoed from block to block.

It was the 50th birthday of King Zed Crossman, and the Kingdom of Roan had spared no expense.

Even the poorest corners of Huiss had not been forgotten. Nobles had donated barrels of rice, bread, and salted meats to the lesser districts in honor of the King’s longevity.

Street orphans huddled on crates, nibbling meat skewers and sticky buns, wide-eyed as they watched performers juggle fire and acrobats tumble through the air.

Excitement buzzed in the streets, shared by commoners and merchants alike. An elderly vendor wiped tears from her cheeks as she sold candied fruit. “May the King live another fifty years,” she whispered. “For all his faults… he's kept the kingdom safe.”

“He’s the only ruler I’ve known,” said a butcher, carving thick slabs for a festival stew. “Three decades of reign is no small feat. Let His Majesty have his moment.”

“He’s still strong for his age. Look at all the lords gathering,” a young woman in a baker’s apron said as she craned her neck toward the royal plaza. “They say even the Young Duke of Gyerre and Young Marquis Stan came. That's rare.”

Indeed, the main plaza, the heart of today’s event, had been sealed off to the public, but that did not stop civilians from flocking to its edges, peeking between guards and gathering behind cordoned barriers to catch any glimpse they could of the noble guests.

The area had been transformed into a palace courtyard, open under the sky. Silken white and gold pavilions rose like regal sails, housing elegantly arranged seating for high nobility, foreign dignitaries, and elite guests. The fountain at the center of the plaza had been filled with rose petals and enchanted so that the water glimmered with an almost starlike glow, even beneath the morning sun.

And just outside the security perimeter, quietly stationed and disguised, stood the members of Soo’Ari.

Wearing merchant cloaks, servant uniforms, wandering minstrel attire, or even posing as pickpockets and street performers, they were invisible to the untrained eye, but ever present. Each had memorized their position down to the pace of the patrolling guards and the timing of the bell chimes.

You wouldn't even realize how alert they are and ready to cast a defensive shield if anything happens. They were tense but unnoticed because of how Cale trained them to blend with the crowd.

Every alley had one of them. Each rooftop had a shadow. Each food tent had a pair of watchful eyes. They watched not only the crowd but the very air itself, ever wary of any shifts in mana that might signal the use of artifacts because mana would not be useful.

Among them, a silent tension thrummed, especially in the presence of the Mana Disturbance Tool, already embedded beneath the plaza. It was calibrated to disrupt teleportation, mask detection spells, and delay large-scale magical attacks. But even that was a gamble.

Their hidden communication network remained open. A communication device that did not use magic for this kind of scenario.

“South quadrant stable.”

“North alley secured.”

“Mana remains calm. No distortion.”

“Civilians have not noticed the barrier layering.”

“Second team disguised as royal kitchen staff. In position.”

And yet, the common folk saw none of this.

What they did see, however, were the noble carriages arriving one by one at the heavily guarded side gate of the royal plaza. Each was a masterpiece, polished black, blue, silver, or ivory, bearing emblems of various Houses across Roan. The designs gleamed under sunlight, pulled by horses so well-bred they looked sculpted from marble.

A little boy on his father’s shoulders pointed at a deep green carriage with golden trim.

“Papa, look! That one must be the Duke’s!”

His father chuckled. “Could be. Or the Crown Prince himself. Don’t move so much or you’ll miss them.”

Each arrival sent a fresh ripple of awe through the crowd. The noble passengers stepped down in graceful pairs or alone, their robes and tailored uniforms catching the wind. Some carried ornate fans, others were escorted by guards in ceremonial armor.

The civilian crowd collectively leaned forward.

“Is that the young master of Henituse?”

“He’s real?”

“Look at that red cloak, do you see it? So elegant.”

“They say he turned Rain City into a jewel of the Northeast…”

“More handsome than the rumors!”

They whispered, watched, and admired Cale. They saw his side profile and almost relapsed because of how ethereal he looked. It was so magnificent and breathtaking.

A lot of ladies were looking at him with dreamy eyes. He even managed to make men blush even if they tried to hide and look away.

They had no idea that these carriages did not just carry noble heirs and provincial lords.

They carried chess pieces.

And the board had just been set.

Though cheers echoed around, laughter bounced off the walls, and music lifted high into the sky, below the surface, a storm was waiting to be caught.

But for now, in this moment of celebration and carefully orchestrated peace, the Kingdom rejoiced. And all its actors took their places.

Cale just looked at all of this in cold detachment. Right now, he was with Amiru, Neo, Taylor, and the invisible Raon, heading towards the Huiss Plaza where the once forgotten prince would show a bit of his power.

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

The gentle sway of the carriage did nothing to ease the tension inside.

Cale sat with his legs crossed, eyes half-lidded as he leaned back against the velvet-lined seat. Outside the ornate window, the streets of Huiss blurred into streaks of celebration and color, yet inside, the air was thick with carefully measured silence.

He could hear Raon’s soft breathing beside him, invisible and quiet, but alert.

Across from him, Amiru was the only one acting as if this were a casual outing.

“So,” she began with a polite smile, folding her gloved hands neatly over her lap, “this is certainly a grander procession than I expected. The decorations this year are rather impressive, don’t you think, Young Master Cale?”

Cale gave her a slow blink.

“They are acceptable,” he replied mildly.

Amiru laughed softly. “Always so generous with your praise.”

Beside her, Neo Tolz had the posture of a man trying very hard not to breathe too loudly. His fingers drummed nervously against his knee, and every now and then he would glance at Cale, only to look away again like he had been caught peeking at something sacred.

It seemed like Derrick Ailan had delivered a quiet number of blows to his self-esteem. He remembered how haughty this person was in his first life. Despite being afraid of Venion, he could still hold his head up high.

Cale narrowed his eyes just slightly, then Neo fidgeted.

And then, as if he had timed it with a lightning strike, Taylor Stan cleared his throat and extended a hand toward Cale with a bright, practiced smile.

“I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced,” Taylor said smoothly. “Taylor Stan. Of the Northwest March.”

Cale stared at the outstretched hand for a beat too long, the corners of his mouth twitching.

He knew this game. Cale gave a faint smile and took the hand.

“Cale Henituse,” he replied, voice calm. “Of the Northeast County.”

Taylor nodded once, expression innocent and composed. “A pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard of the Henituse territory’s rise under your direction. The Rain City, is it? Fascinating work.”

Neo coughed into his fist.

Amiru smiled brightly. “Oh, you two really don’t know each other? That’s a surprise. I had assumed everyone from our generation of nobles ran in the same circles.”

Taylor gave an apologetic shrug. “I’ve been rather secluded. Health issues in the past. You know how it is.”

Cale raised an eyebrow. “I also do not like crowds. I prefer to stay indoors. And Lord Taylor, despite those predicaments, you are still here.”

“Well,” Taylor said, eyes glinting, “the King’s birthday is hardly an event one should miss. Especially when so many pieces are being placed.”

Neo nearly choked.

Cale tilted his head, gaze still fixed on Taylor’s ever-smiling face.

“I see,” he murmured. “A strategic celebration.”

“Exactly,” Taylor said, his tone light. “And I am curious to see which hands will show their cards first.”

Amiru, catching none of the subtext, leaned forward with interest. “It is rare to hear such frankness. I have always admired your family’s morality, Lord Stan.”

Taylor smiled without warmth. “We try.”

Neo finally found his voice. “The… the weather’s nice today, isn’t it?”

Silence.

Cale blinked at him.

Taylor coughed lightly into his glove.

Amiru turned her head slowly to look at Neo as if she were trying to figure out whether he had just said something coded or had simply given up on conversation.

“…Yes,” Cale said eventually. “The weather is indeed adequate.”

Neo turned red.

Taylor gave him a pitying look that only made it worse.

Cale let the silence return, his gaze drifting back out the window where crowds were parting to allow their carriage through. The celebrations were beautiful, yes. Colorful. Warm.

But they were also a veil.

And behind that veil, something stirred.

He tapped once against the carriage wall, signaling Raon in case they needed to move quickly. Raon hummed quietly in response.

“We should arrive at the plaza in three minutes,” Amiru informed them, still blissfully unaware of the stilted energy in the air.

Taylor smiled. “I do hope it will be… enlightening.”

Cale did not answer.

But as he looked back at the three people seated with him—one pretending, one floundering, and one blissfully unaware—he could only think one thing.

"This is it..." Cale looked at the Plaza of Glory.

Chapter Text

As the carriage came to a smooth halt outside the cordoned noble entrance of the Plaza of Glory, Cale Henituse could already feel the shift in atmosphere. The energy outside was loud and bright—cheers, trumpets, murmuring admiration—but inside the carriage, it thinned into a muted silence, tense and deliberate.

The door opened with a soft creak, and Taylor was the first to move.

He rose smoothly, dusted an invisible wrinkle from his sleeve, and glanced down at Cale with the same unreadable smile he’d worn the entire ride. “Until we meet again, Young Master Cale,” he said, tone polite, formal—still playing the game. “Let us both enjoy this... festive occasion.”

Cale said nothing. He merely gave a faint tilt of the head—acknowledgement without commitment.

Taylor stepped out and disappeared into the flash of sunlight beyond.

Neo followed next, standing too quickly and nearly bumping his head on the frame. He offered a hasty bow. “Th-thank you for the ride, Lady Amiru, Young Master Cale! I’ll—I’ll see you inside!”

Cale watched him fumble out after Taylor with a dispassionate stare, the corner of his mouth twitching once in what could have been amusement—or pity.

Then it was just him and Amiru.

She didn’t speak right away. She sat there, quiet, thoughtful, watching the daylight filter through the curtain and dance along the polished interior of the carriage.

Cale was about to stand when she broke the silence.

“Cale.”

He paused.

“I haven’t had a chance to say it until now,” she said, voice softer than usual, carrying none of the formality she’d used throughout the ride. “But… thank you.”

Cale turned his head toward her, expression as unreadable as ever.

“For the naval base suggestion. For the guidance. And for stepping in when things nearly fell apart last spring.” She smiled faintly, not the kind nobles used to charm or gain favor—this one was quiet, real. “You didn’t have to. But you did.”

Cale exhaled slowly through his nose.

“I didn’t do much,” he replied calmly.

“You did more than enough.”

He looked away then, eyes settling briefly on the slit of sky beyond the door.

“…It’s what friends are for,” he said after a beat. “To help keep things standing.”

Amiru blinked at that. “Friends?”

“Yes,” Cale answered plainly, his tone low, but sincere. “You’re one of the few people I don’t mind calling that.”

She seemed surprised for a moment, then smiled again—this time, with a small laugh, soft and warm. “Well. I’m honored, then.”

Cale shifted, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeve as he rose to his feet. He paused again before exiting.

“I’ll be heading to Brinefall City soon,” he said casually, like it was an afterthought. “I’ve been meaning to take a short break. A vacation, if you will.”

Her brow arched in surprise. “Ubarr? Really?”

“Mm. Something about the sea makes it easier to think.”

Amiru’s eyes narrowed slightly in thought before she nodded. “Then allow me to accommodate you. Brinefall is under my family's jurisdiction after all. You’ll want access to the quieter routes and some protection from nosy lords.”

Cale gave a faint smirk, not quite smiling. “I’d appreciate that.”

“Good,” she said. “I’ll make the arrangements today.”

He stepped down from the carriage then, the bright sunlight immediately washing over him like a second skin. Cheers rang from a distance, the scent of sugar and spices carried on the breeze.

Cale stood still for a moment, letting the sunlight hit his eyes.

And then, instinctively, his gaze slid to the great clock tower at the corner of the plaza.

8:30 a.m.

His expression didn’t change, but his shoulders straightened just a fraction.

30 minutes.

Thirty minutes until the script of this carefully decorated play would unravel.

Thirty minutes before the crowd’s cheers would turn into screams.

Thirty minutes before the curtain of peace was pulled aside to reveal the disaster planned beneath it.

He glanced once toward the noble pavilion ahead, where smiling lords and ladies filed in like dancers before a performance.

Raon, still invisible on his shoulder, shifted slightly.

“We’re in position,” Raon whispered. “All teams ready.”

Cale gave no outward reaction. He simply adjusted his cuff and began to walk.

The nobles around him offered a talk and polite greetings as he passed, but Cale didn’t slow. He walked as if he had all the time in the world, as if this were just another pleasant morning stroll beneath a clear sky.

But inside his chest, his heart ticked with every second.

8:31.

He still had 29 minutes.

And in that time, he had a kingdom to shield.

The morning air was crisp and clear as he passed under the arches toward the gilded inner plaza. The gleam of white banners and gold satin shimmered under the sunlight, a picture-perfect backdrop for the orchestrated illusion of peace.

But the moment Cale’s boot touched the white-tiled stones of the Plaza of Glory, a whisper reached his mind.

“Human.”

Raon’s voice was low, barely a flutter in his thoughts. “They’ve started. Our mighty group members are now dismantling the bombs we found yesterday.”

Cale didn’t react. He continued walking, nodding politely at a passing nobleman who bowed his head.

“Good,” he murmured behind a soft, bored exhale, as if commenting on the weather. “Keep me updated.”

Raon was silent for a beat.

Then—“They found more.”

Cale’s gaze flicked toward a flower-wreathed pillar, and though his footsteps didn’t pause, the air around him subtly changed.

“…How many?”

“Ten more. Hidden deeper. That makes sixteen now.” Raon’s voice grew tense. “And five of them—five are made of dead mana.”

Cale’s eyes narrowed, his expression unreadable.

Dead mana bomb.

Of course it would come to this.

He didn’t speak right away. Instead, he adjusted the length of his red clothes, flicking it over his shoulder as if brushing off the wind. His lips moved slowly.

“Send the dark elf team to seal the five immediately,” he ordered quietly. “No full dismantling. I want them contained, not destroyed.”

Raon responded with immediate understanding. “To study later?”

“Yes.” Cale’s voice dropped to a whisper. “We need to know who built them. How. Why. You know, sometimes these innovative creations make their creator too prideful that they would leave a print of anything to each craft they made. We can use that for our side.”

“Got it!” Raon chirped—too enthusiastically for someone discussing bombs of corruption and rot. “I’m sending the message now. They’ll freeze the activation points and surround the cores with thick shadow layers. Oh! And I’ll tell them to set an anti-resonance shield around the casing so it won’t react to any triggers! I'm really great! I learn a lot, human”

Cale simply nodded once, then whispered under his breath, “Good job, Raon.”

Raon puffed up invisibly on his shoulder. “Of course! This great Raon Miru is always prepared!”

Cale’s gaze lingered on the crowd beginning to fill the grand seating. Nobles were now arriving by the minute, each stepping under silken canopies lined with gold. Even the High Priests and temple elders of the central region were escorted into their places, their robes gleaming in sunlight like polished ivory.

He didn’t need to look at the clock.

He could feel it.

The rhythm of the plan—the pulsing tempo of what was to come—was crawling closer with every second.

This wasn’t the same story he had once known. The event once meant to the novel, "The birth a hero". It was now a web of many people, each carrying roles neither fate nor prophecy could predict anymore.

And this time… the explosions were bigger.

It was messier, loud and seems to be intentional.

White Star seems like he wasn’t just preparing a spectacle. He was provoking war, fear, division. A symbol that said the Kingdom was not safe.

Cale frowned slightly.

Too bad for him.

Ten minutes passed.

“Human,” Raon said again, now more focused, “All dead mana bombs are sealed and frozen. Nothing leaked. The dark elves did great.”

“And the rest?”

“The other bombs are stable. Semi-dismantled like you asked. They won’t go off, before the other papa still have his dramatic entrance.”

“Let’s hope he makes it good,” Cale muttered, his eyes flicking toward the dais at the center of the plaza, where the throne-like chair stood waiting under a white canopy. “All the nobles and priests are here?”

“Yes. All seated. Security perimeter is still holding. No one suspicious entered the plaza past checkpoint three.”

“Good.”

Cale stopped just before the stairs leading to his designated noble seat—one row behind the dukes. He placed a hand lazily over his chest and tilted his chin upward slightly, surveying the Plaza of Glory now filled to the brim with the highborn of the Roan Kingdom.

The morning sun lit everything in gold.

Silk shimmered, music played softly in the distance, and laughter rang faint from a cluster of high-society wives behind him.

Cale’s eyes didn’t waver.

It begins soon.

Let them keep laughing. Let the sun keep shining.

For now....

Because the story was no longer bound to the path of a single destined hero.

Not anymore.

And Cale would make sure of it.

The sun hung high and sharp in the cloudless sky, its rays glinting off every polished surface of the Plaza of Glory. Nobles had taken their seats beneath the ornate pavilions, their conversations a murmur of idle gossip and self-important commentary. Priests of various temples, clothed in ceremonial whites and golds, sat upright with practiced serenity.

Cale sat quietly among them, hands folded over his lap, the faintest breeze tugging at the red hem of his cloak.

Then, at precisely 8:45 a.m., the trumpet call sounded—long and ceremonial, echoing across the vast marble square.

“All rise for the royal family!”

The booming voice of the lead herald carried through the crowd like a command from the heavens. Every noble rose to their feet. Cale stood slowly, casually, eyes sharp and fixed forward.

From the gilded gate that led directly from the palace grounds, a procession emerged.

The Crossman family.

They came on foot down the path of red carpet that stretched from the royal gate to the platform at the center of the plaza. The crowd, civilians packed shoulder to shoulder outside the barrier walls, erupted in cheers the moment the royal banners appeared.

And then—Queen Amelia.

Her ginger hair gleamed beneath the sun, styled in a loose braid wrapped in emerald ribbon. Her dress was a deep forest green, layered and regal, the color a striking contrast to the golden hues around her. Her steps were graceful, her expression calm, yet warm as she smiled gently at the cheering citizens.

Cale’s eyes moved past her, locking next onto the tall figure beside her.

Alberu Crossman.

The Crown Prince’s golden-blond hair glowed like fire kissed by dawn. His deep blue eyes scanned the crowd with ease, his posture relaxed yet noble—every step a testament to his honed composure.

Just a step behind walked Prince Robbit, the second prince. He was shorter, broader, and looked every inch the military officer with his sharp uniform and stoic face.

And beside him, striding with youthful ease, Prince Hellion. His boyish face lit up with joy, waving eagerly at the crowd with both arms as if he were greeting old friends. His hair was slightly tousled by the wind, the same platinum-gold as his brothers, and his blue eyes sparkled with excitement.

Trailing behind them, the three princesses followed in gowns of soft pastel tones—pinks, violets, and light silvers. Their hair, tied back with thin silk veils, rippled behind them like water as they smiled and waved.

The crowd outside the barrier roared with joy.

The plaza itself trembled with the sheer weight of voices.

Cale remained still.

His hands were folded loosely, his expression relaxed. But he could feel it—that subtle pulse in the stone. The cheering was so intense, the footfalls so unified, the noise so complete that it almost felt like the ground itself was shaking.

He glanced briefly at the nobles surrounding him.

Eyes were alight with admiration. Pride. Devotion.

Cale’s lips curled up faintly.

Just as the noise began to calm from the first wave of cheering, the sound of heavy wheels against marble rang loud.

The royal parade carriage arrived.

A massive structure of gold and whitewood, adorned with carved symbols of the sun and lion, pulled by six immaculate white horses dressed in golden armor. The golden canopy was pulled back, revealing the man seated inside.

Zed Crossman.

The King of Roan.

His blond hair was slicked back beneath a modest crown, his blue eyes sharp even from afar. His military coat was stark against his pale complexion—white with golden thread lining the edges. He raised his gloved hand slowly.

And the crowd erupted again, this time even louder.

“LONG LIVE THE KING!”

The voices hit like a wave. Cale thought, for just a second, that the platform beneath his feet vibrated again—not with instability, but with raw collective emotion. The cheers were so overwhelming that even the surrounding barriers seemed to hum with the pressure of it all.

8:55 a.m.

Cale tilted his wrist slightly, the edge of his sleeve lifting just enough to reveal the silver lining of his watch.

Five minutes.

That same, quiet smile curved his lips.

As the King descended from the carriage and walked the final stretch of red carpet toward the center platform, the rest of the royal family followed behind him in solemn procession. The sunlight glinted against the golden regalia on Zed’s shoulders. His expression was firm, dignified, and composed.

They were all waving now.

Alberu offered a calm, polite wave to both the nobles and the outer crowd. Hellion’s energetic gestures had not stopped. Even Queen Amelia placed her hand lightly over her chest and nodded gracefully to the people.

And then—

“Human!”

Raon’s voice, this time, sharp and clear.

“They did it! The teleportation was a success. The remaining mana bombs are sealed, and the dead mana bombs are completely contained! Our team got them just before they could activate!”

Cale exhaled softly through his nose.

Good.

Perfect timing.

Even now, as the king’s boots ascended the stairs to the main platform and he turned to address his kingdom, waving his hand again at the sea of people, Cale knew.

They were all exactly where they needed to be.

The nobles seated.

The priests aligned.

The soldiers on alert but unaware.

And the Soo’Ari members—invisible, scattered, and poised like unseen daggers ready to pierce the veil.

The final act was approaching.

And so, Cale smiled again—this time, just a little wider—as the trumpets sounded once more, and King Zed Crossman lifted both arms to address his roaring kingdom.

Every corner had been polished to perfection, every noble seated in their designated area. The music had softened, replaced by a quiet anticipation. Then, as the final trumpet echoed across the square, King Zed Crossman stepped forward.

With an amplified voice echoing through the plaza—magic woven carefully by court mages—the King raised his hand, his voice calm, practiced, and assured.

“Thirty years,” he began, “have passed since I stood before this kingdom as its sovereign.”

A wave of respectful silence followed, the civilians beyond the barrier hanging on every word.

“In those thirty years, we have weathered storms, quelled uprisings, and expanded our reach. We’ve embraced progress. Honored tradition. And I…” Zed looked out across the crowd with a faint smile, “have watched Roan rise. Strong, united and whole.”

A smattering of applause broke out, swelling louder as nobles followed suit.

Cale sat unmoving.

His gaze, ever sharp, flicked briefly to his watch tucked discreetly inside his sleeve.

8:59 a.m.

His fingertips tapped once against the chair’s armrest. Calm.

The King continued, lifting his hands as he spoke. “Today, we do not merely celebrate age, but endurance. Strength. And the legacy we carry forth as people of this land—!”

9:00 a.m.

A shift.

A pulse in the air.

Cale’s body stilled entirely.

His eyes, sharp as a blade honed for years, narrowed as his gaze shot toward the tallest spire overlooking the plaza.

The bell tower....

A ripple of mana—no, not mana. A twisted red energy bled out from the very top window like a wound torn into the sky.

It was bloody, pulsing, rotting, and familiar. A smell he could clearly remember when everything fell down in his first life.

Cale’s blood chilled.

A tall figure emerged in full view of the plaza atop the tower, arms outstretched as if welcoming the world's gaze. His curly shoulder-length hair, once white, now dulled with grime and spattered with crimson. His mage robes, once likely navy, were faded and splotched with dried blood. His face was thin, pale, eyes pitch black and completely unhinged.

A lunatic.

A monster.

It was Redika.

Cale’s jaw clenched as he stared up at the man who, in his first life, had destroyed so many lives. His mind flashed unbidden—

Basen, limp in a pool of his own blood.

Gilbert, body shielding a crying Eric, eyes glassy and still.

Amiru, collapsed in horror, her eyes burned by the explosion’s light.
Eric, screaming, as debris rained around him.

He remembered it all.

The chaos, the people screaming even the aftermath. He just watch it with the recording device in his first life but it was recorded within his brain.

Redika’s voice shrieked across the square, cracked with laughter and madness.

“Ohh~ how beautiful! What a gathering! Your royal family really knows how to decorate for a massacre!”

Civilians screamed as guards reached for weapons, confused.

The king turned sharply toward the tower, eyes narrowing. “Who dares—?”

Before the sentence was finished, the atmosphere cracked.

A second figure materialized behind Redika. He had not walked. He had not flown. He simply appeared—standing unnaturally still.

A man clad entirely in black, with a crisp, formal uniform that looked too clean—too perfect—for the chaos about to unfold. His face was hidden behind a thin black mask, featureless except for the faint sheen of steel.

He said nothing.

But the air around him changed instantly.

And then—

BOOM. Riiiiiiiiinnnnnggggg!!!!

A massive pulse surged through the plaza.

Every mage flinched. The ground trembled again—but this time, not from cheers.

The Mana Disturbance Tool activated.

Cale felt it like a wave slamming into him. The natural ebb and flow of mana—disrupted. Suppressed. Severed.

Soo’Ari’s warning had been correct. It was a complete lockdown.

Even Alberu’s mana signature flickered for a split second before stabilizing. The priests gasped, one of them fainting under the pressure. Nobles clutched their heads. Magical artifacts dulled, enchantments flickered.

The plaza had become an island cut off from the natural flow of power.

And at its heart, stood Redika—laughing wildly, arms raised like a conductor conducting a blood opera.

“NOW! Let’s begin the show!”

Cale rose slowly from his seat.

His eyes locked onto Redika’s form, not with fear.

But with the kind of hatred that had steeped in memory, refined by grief, and sharpened by purpose.

He whispered, low enough only Raon could hear.

“Begin the real hunt.”

Raon’s voice buzzed back in his ear, equally serious.

“Yes, Human. The others are in position. The dead mana is sealed. The teleports completed. All teams are standing by.”

The stage was set.

The actors had arrived.

And Cale was ready.

“Human! Human!” Raon’s voice buzzed with adrenaline in his ear. “That’s Choi Han! The black-uniformed one behind Redika—it’s him!”

Cale’s eyes flicked sharply toward the bell tower again.

Indeed, the figure standing behind the blood-crazed mage moved like a ghost—silent, swift, and utterly lethal. Without a single wasted motion, Choi Han struck. His body blurred into motion, and before Redika could even turn, he was already mid-air.

CRASH.

They collided like two thunderbolts atop the stone tower.

Redika screeched, staggering from the sudden impact, his wild, blood-stained hair whipping in the wind. He swung his daggers in a wide, frantic arc—one in each hand, their blades dripping with mana that warped and twisted the air around them.

Choi Han did not draw his aura.

He didn’t need to.

His raw swordsmanship and body strengthened by years of experience, training, and supernatural resilience were enough. With precise parries and smooth dodges, he avoided every dagger like it was child’s play.

Meanwhile, below them, a shift rippled through the crowd.

Black-uniformed figures emerged from every shadow.

From the food stalls. The alleyways. The merchant tents. Even from the guards’ periphery.

All dressed in identical, clean black uniforms. The armbands on their sleeves caught the light—one yellow, one red, embroidered with elegant, intricate patterns that twisted together to form the symbol of a Yellow Phoenix rising from layered flames.

The emblem of Soo’Ari.

As the civilians remained frozen in place, still processing the crackle of mana, the presence of terrorists, and the activation of the Mana Disturbance Tool—the Soo’Ari moved.

It was efficient, wordless and coordinated.

Some cast movement-type artifacts—not through mana, but a different system engineered to function under suppression.

Others barked simple instructions with calm tones.

“Exit to the east corridor—this way!”

“Don’t run. Keep your children close.”

“Follow the rope guides. You’ll be safe.”

They had trained for this for months. The Soo’Ari didn’t waste a second.

Civilians were herded like flowing water, redirected through opened barriers and under shields. More than half of the noble gallery was cleared within minutes. Even stunned priests were taken into protective zones formed by the disguised royal mages—now breaking cover to assist.

But atop the tower, the fight still raged.

Redika twisted his body, one hand spewing a stream of bloody mana like corrupted mist. He howled.

“WHY?! WHY WON’T YOU TALK TO ME?! WHERE IS THE BLOOD? I CAME FOR THE BLOOD!”

Choi Han didn’t reply.

He moved like ice under moonlight. Cold. Quiet. Precise.

His sword struck Redika across the shoulder, knocking him back against the wall, disarming him of one dagger. Redika snarled, spitting blood, eyes glowing with warped glee.

“I’LL MAKE YOU SCREAM! I’LL MAKE EVERYONE SCREAM!”

For ten minutes, their battle raged—raw physical skill against deranged, blood-based magic. Neither one relented. But the field below grew emptier. The Soo’Ari had already evacuated the largest cluster of civilians safely.

Then—

A sharp crack echoed through the air.

The sound of the Mana Disturbance Tool faltering.

Its pulse rang out, high-pitched and thin, like the shatter of glass against iron.

Cale turned his head sharply. His watch blinked.

9:20 a.m.

And Redika—laughing madly—screamed at the top of his lungs.

“NOW! RELEASE THEM! LET THE BLOOD FLOW!”

From the rooftops and alleys around the plaza, five bodies fell.

Suicide bombers.

Dressed in black. Mouths sewn shut with red string. Eyes hollow with fanaticism.

Each one fell from a different direction.

One landed near the nobles.
One landed near the royal dais.
Two near the civic stage and food court.
One behind the fountain where civilians had fled.

Cale stood as the second wave descended.

And then—

He lifted his hand.

Without a word, the Unbreakable Shield bloomed around him like an ethereal dome. It was translucent, vast and imposing. It covered not just himself—but extended in a cone toward the noble seats.

Simultaneously, Soo’Ari agents stationed near the royal family cast their assigned defensive formations—tri-layered energy shields from unique artifacts designed to activate under suppressed mana. They glowed red and gold, forming geometric seals over the royals.

And still, the people were frozen.

Until—

BOOM.

A series of dozen explosions erupted across the outer edges of the capital.

The sky rippled with the aftershock.

Civilians screamed, some collapsing to the ground. Nobles covered their heads. Several priests dropped their staffs.

None of the explosions reached the main square.

No one died.

But the message was sent.

Then came the real explosion—as the suicide bombers triggered themselves.

The air twisted, a soundless quake rising behind it.

One of the suicide bombers near the royal dais exploded.

Cale’s shield caught the brunt of it.

The force smashed into the barrier like a mountain crashing against a dam. Cale staggered, his knees dipping slightly from the impact. The ground beneath him cracked. But the shield held.

“Ugh…”

His breath caught in his throat. His shoulder trembled slightly, the strain pushing against his limbs.

But because of training—because he’d prepared for this moment— he did not fall.

“Human!” Raon’s voice returned urgently. “The shields held! Everyone’s alive!”

Cale nodded, lips tight.

He looked up, gaze cutting through the smoke, through the flickering lights and rising panic, toward the bell tower.

Redika was still fighting Choi Han, who now pressed him with fierce, rapid slashes. The mage was bleeding. Sloppy. Desperate.

The nobles were protected.

The royal family shielded.

The civilians—evacuated.

The stage, the board, the pieces—

They were all in place.

Before they even process the first round of explosion, Cale exhaled, slowly straightening as his Unbreakable Shield shimmered with residual force.

Now, it was his move.

As the final echo of the explosion faded into a haunting stillness, smoke curled through the plaza like tendrils of mourning.

And then—

Silence.

The laughter, the cheers, the music from earlier—it was all gone. What remained was the harsh, acrid scent of burnt flesh and the sharp tang of charred stone.

Eyes turned to the center of the devastation.

What they saw made many scream.

Where the suicide bombers had once stood, there was nothing left but scorched earth and twisted, blackened remains. The corpses had been reduced to charred husks, unrecognizable and grotesque. The suddenness of their deaths—how they had fallen like puppets severed from their strings—left the civilians shaken to their core.

Someone vomited in the noble seats. Another clutched a rosary. Priests looked on in stunned disbelief.

But then—

The panic subsided just enough for someone to gasp:

“…We’re alive…”

“Everyone—everyone’s still alive—!”

They looked around.

And it was true.

Not a single civilian, noble, or royal had died.
Not one body lay cold. No severed limbs. No rivers of blood.

Only the attackers had perished.

Then eyes shifted again.

This time, to the staggering figure near the front of the noble platform.

Cale Henituse.

He stood tall—but only barely. His knees were locked, his posture tense, and sweat beaded at his temple. His cloak fluttered behind him like a banner torn by the wind. The remnants of a glowing shield shimmered faintly around him before fading completely, leaving crackled lines on the stone beneath his boots.

“Cale… Henituse…?”

“Was it him—did he protect us?”

“He cast the barrier—!”

“He stood between us and the bomb—!”

Whispers became a ripple. A ripple became a wave.

And then—

Rosalyn appeared.

Clad in formal red mage robes with gold-trimmed sleeves, she blinked into view beside Cale with a flash of teleportation magic, her face pale and eyes wide with worry.

She caught his arm as he swayed slightly, murmuring under her breath. “Young Master Cale.”

The crowd saw her sudden arrival and assumed the worst—that he had nearly collapsed from the spell, that he had burned through his strength protecting them.

The rumors, the admiration—it ignited like wildfire.

And yet before anyone could approach him—

Another presence cut through the plaza like a blade.

Freesia.

Clad in sleek black, her coat long and layered, she emerged with perfect posture and steady gait from the direction of the royal viewing platform. A red and gold armband circled her left arm, but unlike the others seen on the black-clad agents before her, hers bore a different emblem—a Phoenix encircled by three interlocked rings. An insignia of command.

It was clear to everyone that she outranked the others. They couldn't see her face, no... They don't see the faces of the group that save them. Just the plain black uniformed clothes with am eye catching armbands in their arms.

And she moved with the crisp authority of someone used to war zones, not court halls.

She strode directly toward the royal family. Guards made no move to stop her. It was clear they already knew her.

Then she dropped to one knee before the Crown Prince.

“Your Highness,” Freesia said in a calm voice that carried across the still air. “The situation is under control. All enemy agents have been apprehended. The bell tower is secured. The leader of the terrorist group, Redika, has been taken into custody and is now confined within the First Dungeon under full seal.”

Alberu, who had watched the chaos unfold with a perfectly measured expression, now allowed the corners of his lips to rise into a gracious, princely smile. His golden-blond hair gleamed in the sunlight, wind brushing over his formal cape.

“You and your people performed admirably,” he said.

He placed a hand over his chest.

“The Kingdom thanks you for your loyal service, Nebula (Freesia). Good job to your work.”

A murmur echoed through the nobles.

Nebula

The Crown Prince gave a direct command?

That person in black… was taking orders from him?

Then… the entire black-clad force…

Realization struck like lightning.

Whispers became declarations.

“The black-uniformed knights—they were under the Crown Prince’s command.”

“That means—this mysterious group… they were… his?”

“When did he even form them…?”

“Without a noble house backing him… He built this himself?”

Alberu remained serene, his presence regal and composed, as if this had all been part of the ceremony from the start. He gave a short nod to the nobles who were now looking at him with a mix of awe, calculation, and newly birthed caution.

In one stroke—

The tide of power shifted.

Because despite not being the King’s favored heir…

Despite not having a powerful maternal bloodline or a strong faction to support him…

Alberu Crossman had formed his own army, protected the royal family  saved the capital, and subdued a national threat.

Without relying on anyone.

It didn’t take long for the whisper to start:

“This was his move. This entire display— It was like the Crown Prince’s silent coronation.”

And suddenly, every eye turned not just to the King—but to the man who had stood beside the throne and cast a long shadow in the sun.

The next King of Roan…
Was already here.

And none of them had even seen him coming. And it made all of them shiver.

Chapter Text

The Plaza of Glory stood frozen.

A deafening stillness spread across the square, swallowing the residual tremors of the earlier chaos. The scent of smoke clung faintly in the air, but no fire raged. Debris from collapsed buildings dusted the edges of the once-pristine roads, and shallow craters marred the stone streets like fresh scars. Yet despite the destruction...

Not a single civilian lay wounded. Not a single life was lost.

Only the enemies had fallen—quietly, efficiently, completely—within the span of thirty short minutes.

Just in 30 minutes.

The silence thickened as realization crept in. Nobles clutched the edges of their ornate robes. Priests looked around as if awaiting some divine revelation. The crowd dared not cheer, not cry, not speak loudly. Only murmurs passed from one to another in cautious whispers, like the flickers of candlelight in a storm.

"...Who are they...?"

"They moved faster than any knight order I've seen..."

"Are they part of the crown's private army...?"

"No one said the crown prince had soldiers like that..."

Soo'Ari.

They had no name, not officially. All anyone knew was that the seamless unit of masked men and women, dressed in crisp black uniforms and marked only by red and yellow armbands with a phoenix crest, had moved with uncanny precision. They had materialized from the crowd, from rooftops, from alleys. Shields were cast, enemies subdued, bombs dismantled, civilians evacuated. There was no screaming or panicking.

It was as if they had trained for this for years.

As if this had always been inevitable.

Then came the movement.

Alberu Crossman stood tall on the royal platform, his golden hair catching the morning sun, his face as regal as a painting. The silence of the crowd wavered as all eyes turned toward him.

He raised one gloved hand.

It was a powerful gesture that was radiant and emphasized that he was in control. Just a simple, fluid gesture—an open palm cutting the air with gentle command.

And the entire plaza obeyed. It was like they were following the command of their king, not just the crown prince. Alberu carried himself with the dignity of a leader.

They remembered the fourteen-year-old Alberu who begged for their support. Their mockery of Gyerre and Stan for standing in his support.

But now? They all saw the influence and power he wielded. And the two factions that supported him would surely thrive.

They had heard that the crown prince was seeking support from common folk, with all his budget allocation going into projects that helped those people.

They all mocked him for doing that, for stopping at seeking support from the nobles. But it seemed like he never needed them now. They just realized now that he already had enough power. The common people loved him. He had extensive information. Why else did he know about this attack when nobody even saw it coming?

He had elite knights and soldiers under his command. And now, even with just two factions on his side completely supporting him, it was enough to see that he was far above the princes they supported.

A stunned hush fell, deeper than before. Even the wind seemed to pause. That singular motion—so measured, so confident, so absolute—was enough to strip away the chaos that lingered in people's hearts.

Alberu's voice followed. Amplified by mage-enhanced acoustics, it was smooth, noble, and coldly composed.

"I grieve that such vile treachery dared stain the celebration of His Majesty's Birthday."

He did not shout. He did not tremble.

"But today, the Kingdom of Roan stands tall. Its people stand unharmed. And for that, I give thanks to our preparation, to the tireless vigilance of those who remain unseen, and most importantly, to the will of our Gods, who watch over us."

The crowd stirred at his invocation of divinity. Heads bowed. Whispers halted.

"I have long believed that duty is not merely carried on the back of tradition, but through action. I came prepared, as every guardian of this Kingdom should."

He descended the steps of the platform then, each stride echoing with purpose, and made his way to the center of the plaza—toward the man who had not moved despite shielding hundreds with nothing more than his will.

Cale Henituse.

The clothes he wore were a stark contrast to the black-suited agents around him, billowing slightly in the breeze. He stood composed despite his clear exhaustion, shield shimmering faintly in the last vestiges of dispersing magic.

Alberu approached.

And without hesitation, the Crown Prince embraced him.

The gesture was fluid, deliberate, and powerful.

Gasps rippled across the plaza. The nobles could hardly believe what they were seeing—the aloof, mysterious Henituse heir being embraced publicly by the Future Sun of Roan. Lowering himself to him with a gentle smile.

The recording devices of nobles' mages whirred to life. Artists scribbled furiously. A moment of history was being immortalized.

And some nobles felt scared that this might be a move for the crown prince to get the neutral faction of Roan Kingdom on his side. It would only give him more influence if this young genius publicly supported the crown prince.

A lot of nobles knew that despite his young age, this eighteen-year-old young noble made the Rain City, a place that looked desolate and unwanted, into a thriving tourist spot of the Roan Kingdom. A safe place that any native and foreigner could walk safely in because of the extensive security the city provided.

And he had done all of that at the age of eight in just a span of a year and two months. That was why it was a shock for the whole kingdom that it was the second son who would inherit the title of Count instead of him.

They expected a scandal, a bloody battle, especially since the second son was just adopted. But all they heard was nothing but positives. There were even rumors that they often saw the three siblings eating together outside, and sometimes with the Countess, which was bizarre for most of them.

Alberu, still holding Cale, smiled as though they were old friends reunited after a triumph.

"Young Master Cale," he said, voice radiating warmth, "The Crown owes you a debt today."

Cale, not missing a beat, smiled with equal polish. "Your Highness flatters me too much."

"You saved the lives of hundreds with your shield. For that, the Crown will grant you any reward you desire. Speak it, and I shall deliver."

The words echoed through the plaza. Some nobles looked scandalized. Others amazed.

Cale chuckled softly, bowing his head slightly in graceful deference.

"Your Highness is too generous. I merely did what anyone would, had they possessed the means. It is a citizen's duty to stand when others fall."

"As modest as the rumors said, and as expected of the man who turned Rain City into a gem of our Kingdom," Alberu said, eyes glittering with amusement.

Cale returned it with the barest of a really big smile. Alberu immediately knew it was fake. "Then allow me, too, to express gratitude. That Your Highness came prepared for this calamity is not merely foresight—it is providence. Surely, the Sun God has blessed the royal house with a guiding flame such as yourself."

A ripple of agreement swept through the crowd. Heads nodded. Nobles murmured in approval. Even priests looked reassured.

The two men stood in silent camaraderie, passing the credit of this victory between them like a pair of seasoned dancers in a courtly ball.

This was their first public appearance together. And they dared to bicker in front of hundreds of nobles, not even knowing they did.

Each word was gilded with wit. Each sentence was calculated. Each gesture was designed. But none could deny the results.

The enemy had been eliminated.

The people had been saved.

And the future of Roan—the Crown Prince—stood dazzling at the helm. The whispers of the plaza shifted.

"He's more competent than I thought..."

"He planned all this in advance? Without the King's involvement?"

"Maybe... maybe it's time we back the first prince after all."

And thus, without ever declaring it, without ever seizing it by force, Alberu Crossman claimed the political victory of the decade.

The nobility saw.

The clergy saw.

And most of all, the people saw.

The Kingdom of Roan had not only endured today...

It had evolved.

Most loyal nobles felt touched for being blessed to have someone as competent as Alberu to lead them.

"Maybe this time, the Roan Kingdom would not only be known as the oldest Kingdom in the Western Continent that doesn't have something to boast."

And standing at the center of that change was the golden-haired Crown Prince and the red-cloaked noble whose name would soon grace every tongue in the capital.

Cale simply sighed inwardly as Alberu's arm remained on his shoulder.

"I'll make you pay for this later," he muttered under his breath. His eyes were full of mischief.

"I look forward to it," Alberu murmured back with a pleasant smile.

And the celebration continued.

As the echoes of explosions had long faded, and the ringing in everyone's ears was slowly replaced by the sound of controlled activity—Soo'Ari members clearing debris, nobles murmuring among themselves, and priests beginning to recite minor blessings to calm the frightened.

Yet the true silence—the thick, heavy silence—came from the royal platform, where the Crossman royal family remained.

Queen Amelia stood stiffly to the right of King Zed, her ginger curls slightly disheveled despite her best efforts to appear composed. Her green eyes, sharp as daggers, were locked on Alberu Crossman. Though her painted smile remained, it was tight, strained. Beneath the layer of public courtesy, there was a storm of fury. Her hatred pulsed with every beat of her heart.

She had seen it—how the people had looked at Alberu, how the nobles whispered his name in awe.

He was supposed to be a neglected child of a foreign woman. Instead, he had single-handedly turned a disaster into a stage. And now he stood before them as the unshakable protector of Roan.

Beside her, Prince Hellion, her pride and joy, clenched his jaw. His eyes followed Alberu's every move with a storm of resentment hidden just beneath the surface. His hands were balled into fists, nails digging into his palms. This was supposed to be his chance to shine—his opportunity to earn praise and trust from the nobility.

But once again, his bastard half-brother had stolen the stage.

Only Robbit, the second prince, remained composed. His gaze was neutral, arms crossed casually as he leaned against the platform railing. He said nothing, showed no great emotion, but anyone with experience could see that he was watching carefully—measuring, acknowledging. He understood the implications better than anyone.

And then there were the princesses.

They had screamed during the attack. Shrill, uncontrolled panic. Now, as they sat disheveled and pale, their court dresses rumpled and their makeup smeared, they were the picture of noble disgrace. The crowd had seen them cower. Had heard them cry.

Zed Crossman's displeasure was not hidden.

The King's lips were pressed into a thin line, his brow furrowed as he observed the aftermath. Though the situation had been salvaged, it had not been done by him. Nor his guards. Nor his sons, except for one.

It was Alberu who led the cleanup. Alberu, who coordinated the shield deployments. Alberu, who walked among the people, reassured nobles, and directed his group with perfect confidence. It was Alberu who hugged the hero and held the center of the stage like it had always belonged to him.

And Zed was satisfied. It seemed like he could give more work to Alberu so he could focus on something.

But he could say nothing. Not yet. He still needed the throne for something.

The focus shifted again when a bright red light flickered briefly, and Rosalyn, her crimson hair flowing freely, robes fluttering, stood beside Cale Henituse with no disguise.

Her identity was immediately known and revealed.

She had appeared in public, openly, and stood in a protective stance between Cale and the crowd of nobles approaching him, shielding him with the full weight of her presence. Her identity was unmistakable.

The princess of the Breck Kingdom was in Roan.

The implication was instant. This was no casual visit. Not when she appeared in the middle of a terrorist attack to shield a single noble. Not when she did so without seeking protection for herself.

They did not know why she was here or why it seemed like she was acquainted with the Young Master of the Henituse County.

And the fact that Alberu immediately offered her a respectful gesture, a bow of thanks, a command for his people to treat her with distinction, only confirmed it.

The political waves rippled hard.

Raon, floating invisible beside Cale, was tense. His small voice, usually brimming with childlike wonder, now carried a note of desperation.

"Human," he whispered fiercely, "if you faint right now, I will destroy this whole kingdom, kill every single person in this plaza, then kill myself in the process."

Cale did not respond as he shivered in the viciousness of the dragon. His body swayed slightly, his shield finally dispersing. But he was used to pushing beyond limits. A simple fainting was not enough to end him, not today.

Choi Han, expression unreadable, activated the teleportation scroll hidden in his sleeve. In a quiet shimmer of light, he disappeared from the plaza, carrying the unconscious Redika with him. The bloodstained mage would soon find himself locked inside the dungeon beneath the Red Jewel Villa, where no screams could reach the surface.

Alberu, still maintaining his princely smile, turned back to the crowd. He raised one hand.

"The celebration of His Majesty's fiftieth year shall be postponed until tomorrow."

A collective murmur swept through the plaza.

"We must prioritize the cleanup of our city and offer care to our citizens. Rest assured, your safety is guaranteed. The royal guard, together with my personal division, will be ensuring the capital's stability."

There was no objection.

The nobles began to scatter, moving in small, tense clusters, circles reforming, alliances whispering, theories unfolding like blooming petals.

The stage had changed.

The players, too.

In one such carriage, far from the central chaos, Taylor Stan leaned against the cushioned seat with a quiet chuckle.

Across from him, Antonio curled one hand under his chin, thoughtful. His nerves had not calmed, not even after they left the plaza. He was still digesting the series of events he had just witnessed.

Taylor's eyes glinted with wry amusement. "Young Master Cale once told me," he began, "that after the celebration, it would be clear who had the advantage in the battle for the throne."

Antonio looked up sharply.

Taylor's smile grew. "I think he and His Highness knew this attack was coming. And they turned it into a stage. Rearranged the entire narrative."

Antonio swallowed.

His grandmother's words came rushing back to him like a warning on the cold wind.

Cale Henituse is a man of two sides. If he stands against you, he is a formidable enemy. But if you stand beside him... then he is the kind of ally who ensures you survive the war.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

The scent of aged parchment, ink, and candle smoke clung stubbornly to Alberu’s clothes as he stepped out of the royal office for the final time—at least for the next month.

Stacks of documents had been signed, sealed, and categorized into neat towers of responsibility that no longer belonged to him. He had delegated every inch of his authority to those he trusted, with his aunt Tasha leading the temporary council. Her sly smile had only widened when she shoved him gently out of the room.

"Just enjoy yourself, Alberu. You work hard," she had said in a singsong tone. "One month. I don’t want to see your face anywhere near a scroll or a noble. Go have fun. If you don’t, I’ll track you down and drag you into the dungeons myself. And you know I’m serious."

Alberu had chuckled. Truly, he was grateful.

“Thank you, Aunt Tasha. Really.”

With a wave of her hand and a wink, she had turned back to his desk like a queen ready for war, already playfully barking orders at the dark elves in her unit.

He smiled fondly at the memory, then reached into the inner pocket of his coat to touch the bracelet now secured around his wrist. It was a simple-looking thing at first glance, made of woven black silk cords and set with a single dark-red bead that would immediately remind him of Cale's hair. But it was no ordinary accessory.

Three months of his savings had gone into this custom artifact. It cast a temporary illusion—specifically, a modified illusion of a face and body of what Alveru wanted. Like a Shape shifting artifacts for another disguise that would not look like his dark elf or his human form.

With the artifact being active, his entire body suddenly change. From his hair, to his eyes, to his height, even body shape and facial structure.

He had even changed into casual noble attire: dark trousers and a high-collared traveling tunic made from fine but modest fabrics, with subtle embroidery lining the sleeves. It was the sort of thing someone from a lesser noble house might wear—elegant, clean, but forgettable in the grand scheme of Roan’s fashion. Something he ask for his Aunt to make three days ago.

He look at the mirror and grin which he only see a familiar face.

He took a breath as he stood before Cale’s temporary guest quarters, the faint sound of playful chatter and the rustling of packing coming through the heavy door. A smirk tugged at his lips.

“This will be fun.” he said while checking his entire body and clothes in the mirror.

Cale had just finished rereading the same sentence for the third time when he realized he hadn’t absorbed a single word.

The children were chattering in the background, half-packed trunks open on the floor. Raon was excitedly discussing how many snacks they could bring, Ohn was folding spare blankets with clinical efficiency, and Hong was chasing one of the palace’s enchanted bird-feathers that refused to stay folded into a scroll case.

He tuned it all out, letting the quiet hum of their presence serve as a background melody while he reclined on the settee with a book open across his lap.

Three days of rest had done wonders. His body still ached slightly, but nothing severe. His thoughts were calm and focused just waiting for Alberu's arrival. They would depart for Brinefall City soon, and he was already making mental notes of how to discreetly examine the Ubarr cave.

And then the door opened.

He glanced up casually, half expecting Ron or one of the knights.

But the book slipped from his fingers the moment he saw the figure standing at the doorway.

His heart stalled.

Jet-black hair.

Black eyes that seemed to glow slightly in the shadow.

A scar that trailed down the left brow and ended just above the lid.

Another one, thinner, resting along the corner of his lip.

And the posture—a quiet confidence that spoke of years spent surviving with swords and guns at his side and nothing but silence for company.

The man in the doorway was tall, lean, and carried himself with the fluidity of someone who had both command and control. The illusion of ordinary clothing somehow enhanced the regal line of his shoulders, the subtle strength in his stance. The sun filtering through the window caught the outline of his face and highlighted the contrast between elegance and sharpness—gritty, and beautiful in an unforgiving way.

Cale sat up straighter, his eyes wide, lips parting in disbelief.

“…Soo.. Soo Jin-ah?” he breathed.

The name fell from his lips like instinct, unbidden and soft. Raon paused mid-air. The children froze.

The figure at the door smiled, slow and smug.

“Oh?” Alberu’s voice, deeper and roughened slightly to match the illusion, hummed with amusement. “You still remember.”

“You—” Cale blinked, trying to collect himself, but his heart had jumped too suddenly. “You didn’t say—”

“I wanted to surprise you,” Alberu said, stepping further into the room. “Did it work?”

Cale still stared, speechless. His eyes narrowed slightly, mouth twitching like he couldn’t decide whether to frown or smile.

Raon landed beside him with a gasp.

“Wha—wait! Is that really you, Crown Prince?! Why do you look like a very handsome assassin?!”

Hong’s eyes sparkled. “You look cool. Can you teach me that trick?”

Ohn stared between Cale and Alberu, then tilted her head. “Human, your face is red.”

Cale rubbed his cheek, trying to hide the flush he hadn’t realized was spreading.

“You—” he repeated, glaring weakly. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

Alberu stepped closer and crouched a little, meeting Cale at eye level. His black eyes twinkled with mischief.

“Of course I am. I figured you’d like a reminder of our old adventures.”

Cale scoffed under his breath. “You’re shameless.”

“I’ve had practice.”

“…And what is this? A disguise?”

Alberu stood straight again, hands in his pockets. “A commissioned artifact. Took three months’ worth of savings. But worth every coin for that expression on your face.”

Cale let out a slow breath and leaned back, his arms crossed.

“…You win this time.”

“I always do.”

"You're not!"

Raon still hovered excitedly. “Does this mean we’re traveling with Crown Prince in disguise?! He looks so mysterious! We’ll be unstoppable! Oh! Can I look at that artifact later? I wanted to see how it works! Can I, human?”

Cale groaned softly. “I’m going to regret letting you come along.”

"You can look at it later, Raon," Alberu reply with a chuckle

But the corner of his lips curved upward as he said it.

And Alberu, watching him, let his smile linger—not the smug one, but the real one. The one that only surfaced when he was around the people he trusted.

“Ready to head to Brinefall?” he asked.

Cale nodded slowly. “Yeah. Let’s go find the inheritance.”

And so, the room filled with renewed energy. The bags were packed. The disguises were secured. And for once, as they moved forward into uncertainty, it was with a strange warmth of camaraderie and a smile that not even war could shake.

Cale made sure he got the whistle and the robe that his mother left.

The moment Alberu entered the room in that illusioned form, Choi Han froze.

Black hair. Dark eyes. The way he moved.

Choi Han immediately connected that it must be what he looks like in their second life.

Choi Han’s fingers curled slightly at his sides. That form was etched into his memories—the version of Alberu who walked Earth 2 as Kim Rok Soo’s most terrifying ally and closest friend. The one who led operations in shadows and wars alike with grim precision. The one who stood side by side with Kim Rok Soo through apocalypse, political storms, and enemies far worse than beasts.

That was the form before him now.

Ron just keeps observing the situation.

Cale, meanwhile, was still gawking. But then Alberu smirked and approached with something hidden behind his back.

He pulled out a second bracelet—similar in design but woven with silver thread. He extended it to Cale with a warm smile.

“This one’s for you,” he said gently. “If you wear it and imagine yourself from… back then, the artifact will respond.”

Cale blinked. “Why would I—”

“It’s something I wanted you to see.”

Choi Han’s eyes widened. His breath caught.

Cale, unsure but curious, accepted it. The moment it clicked onto his wrist, Alberu whispered, “Just think of who you were when you first turned twenty-five.”

And so he did.

A breath later, the room fell silent again.

Gone was Cale Henituse.

In his place stood Kim Rok Soo.

Broad-shouldered. More defined than his eighteen-year-old self but still lean compared to his older future form. Black hair fell slightly over his brow. His skin was paler now, paler than the old world would have allowed. But it was the scars that drew everyone's eyes.

Long, deep grooves along his arms. Faint burn scars tracing up his forearm. One looked like it had come from a claw. Another from monster. And they weren’t faint. They were loud. They screamed of battles that left no survivors.

Cale stared wide-eyed at his own arms before subconsciously pulling his sleeves down, almost instinctively hiding the mess of his skin.

But Alberu stepped forward silently and took one of those arms.

He turned the hand over, kissed the scarred knuckles gently.

“These aren’t ugly,” he murmured, eyes soft. “They’re proof that you survived.”

Cale’s lips trembled faintly, but before he could answer—

“Ahem.”

Ron cleared his throat pointedly, his usual benign smile stretched a little too tightly over his face. The two of them blinked and immediately stepped away from each other.

Still, neither Ron nor Choi Han was smiling now.

They were staring at Cale’s arms.

Scar after scar.

And something in their expressions shifted.

“...Young Master Cale,” Ron said, unusually quiet. “May I… examine the rest?”

Cale stiffened. “Is that… necessary?”

“I’d like to understand what you endured.”

Cale hesitated. But Alberu gave him a small, encouraging nod. Raon and the kittens—sensing the mood—retreated behind the bed curtains.

Choi Han silently moved behind them, shielding their eyes the moment Cale gave his consent and began to unbutton his top.

What they saw next made Ron stop breathing.

Whip marks. Dozens of them, some overlapped. The scars weren’t even—some healed clean, others were messy, jagged, improperly treated. There were burns—circular ones across the shoulder blade. Choi Han, who had seen them before, murmured quietly.

“Cigarettes.”

There was a long blade scar that ran from his left side to just under his rib. A faint pattern of bite marks near his right flank. And on his arm, just above the elbow, a tight circular scar.

A bullet wound.

Ron’s gaze hardened.

“I recognize that one,” he said hoarsely. “That’s a small-caliber bullet. From the prototype weapons Soo’Ari have been testing.”

He looked up, eyes dark. “Who did this to you?”

Cale lowered his eyes. For a moment, he didn’t speak. Then Alberu sat beside him quietly—close but not touching. Letting him have control of the moment.

He look so small and vulnerable far from his usual stoic, calm or serious expression when things suddenly becomes chaotic.

“My uncle,” Cale said softly. “After my parents died… he took me in. Or was supposed to. I was eleven.”

Ron clenched his fist, but Cale kept going.

“He was always drunk and would often hit me with a slight mistake...." Cale bit his lips and fidgeted with his finger.

"If he is really angry or mad with something which... Which happens often... He would whip me with a whip and would not be able to eat." Cale clench his fist as he remember.

"I... I escaped when I was 13 and got into the orphanage but nothing really changed... At first they are good to me but accidents happen too often with me involved that's why they call me Jinx and curses. They ignored me, let the others pick on me. Some of them… joined in.”

His voice remained steady, but the cold edge was unmistakable.

“I ran away again at fifteen. Survived off scraps and homeless shelter, work part time job to earn money and tuition fees until I was 18.”

“And the rest?” Choi Han asked quietly.

Cale’s eyes darkened.

“The monsters,” he said. “The end of the world. Monsters pour down in our world and the catalyst started. But my life still got better. I became a team leader at age 23. The rest are from assassins the illegal guilds or politicians always send because they hated that I did not bend to their rules.”

Alberu’s head snapped to him. “Assassins?”

Cale smiled faintly. “Daily. Sometimes two or three attempts a week. Most from enemy factions. Some from jealous allies. A few… from political boardrooms. No one trusted a twenty-something team leader who didn’t bend to hierarchy.”

Alberu’s jaw clenched.

Even Ron looked stunned.

“You didn’t tell me that,” Alberu whispered.

Cale shrugged. “You had your burdens.”

“No,” Alberu said firmly. “Not with you. You should’ve told me.”

Cale’s expression didn’t change. But his eyes flickered with something faintly apologetic.

Silence settled again.

Then Ron, voice dangerously calm, said, “I hope you know, young master, that if I ever found a way to meet this uncle of yours, I will not show restraint.”

“I’d be disappointed if you did.”

Ron closed his eyes and inhaled.

“Then,” Choi Han added, “let us be thankful you survived. But also”—he looked at Alberu—“we will ensure you never go through that again. Not alone.”

Cale looked at all of them. These people. These impossibly strong, impossibly gentle people who somehow—despite everything—had accepted every fractured, shattered piece of him.

He looked away. His throat thickened.

“…Thanks.”

He didn't say more.

He didn’t have to.

Because now, the people in this room knew. And they would carry it with them.

Not as a pity, but as rage and as devotion.

Alberu gently reached over, took Cale’s hand again.

“You survived,” he whispered. “Now let us make sure you live.”

And for the first time in a long, long time—

Cale didn’t flinch at those words.

Chapter Text

The sun had just begun its descent, casting golden rays across the room as Alberu returned, only to pause in the doorway.

Cale stood near the mirror.

His hair was back to its soft auburn hue, curling slightly at the nape. His face, while pale and composed, bore none of the usual tension it held when worn under the disguise of Kim Rok Soo. The telltale marks that once marred his body—scars, lines, and shadows earned through endless battles—were gone, hidden again under the illusionary magic of the artifacts that Alberu gave him.

Alberu's brow rose. “You changed back.”

Cale glanced at him through the mirror, his expression unreadable. “Yes.”

“You’re not going to use the artifact? Why?” The Crown Prince’s voice was not accusing, only quietly inquisitive.

Cale was silent for a moment, watching his own reflection. Then, without looking away, he answered.

“It’s not because I hate what I look like.” They both knew that was what Alberu would think after what happened a while ago.

Alberu remained where he stood, giving him the space to continue.

“It’s not about hiding my scars, either,” Cale went on. “They don’t scare me anymore. Because all of you are right. They’re a part of me. Of Kim Rok Soo.” A soft smile appeared on his face as he looked to the people around him.

“It might take a while for me to get used to not being disguised by my scars, but I know I'm with all of you.” All of them smiled at Cale and nodded.

Alberu stepped further into the room, his eyes thoughtful.

Cale turned then, meeting his gaze. “But Crescent, the leader of Soo'Ari, needs to look composed, polished, and controlled. I think these artifacts will help separate the image people will expect from me and the reality of what I carry.”

There was a weight in his voice, not shame, not avoidance, but practicality. Planning. Strategy.

“And I trust that you’ll still recognize me beneath all of it,” Cale added with a faint smirk, as though daring Alberu to refute him.

Alberu scoffed lightly and folded his arms. “Cale Henituse, you could wear the face of a frog and I’d still know you by your attitude.”

Cale chuckled softly.

Ron, who had been quietly placing travel rations into a box at the side, chose that moment to speak. “Young Master, while your reasons are valid, please remember that your scars, visible or not, are proof that you’ve lived.”

Cale blinked.

Ron’s tone was gentle but firm, the same voice he had used since Cale was eight and far too stubborn to live properly. “They’re not blemishes to cover. They’re medals. Proof that you protected. That you survived.”

He looked up then, his eyes warm.

“You have never needed to be beautiful or flawless to be worthy.”

Something in Cale’s chest stilled.

He had heard plenty of comments in his life. Praise, thanks, admiration, even awe. But very few people, if any, had ever spoken of his pain and suffering with such normalcy. Not pity. Not dramatics. Just acknowledgment.

And it came from Ron.

Cale’s lips curved into a small, rare smile. “I know.”

Ron returned the smile with a satisfied nod and continued organizing the supplies. He was satisfied to see his son really grow and heal despite the long process.

Choi Han, Rosalyn, and Lock departed that morning to come back at Breck Kingdom as part of Cale and Rosalyn's deal with him.

When it came time to depart, they did not teleport as they had on previous journeys. This time, they chose the carriage.

Cale sat beside Alberu inside the well-fortified royal carriage. The seats were wide, cushioned in dark velvet and layered with enchantments that shielded from sudden magical surges. Raon hovered near the window, curled in his invisible form with his tail occasionally flicking against the curtains. Ron rode in the accompanying carriage, monitoring the provisions and personnel. The disguised dark elves and Freesia's agents surrounded them on both land and sky, keeping discreet watch.

The road they traveled wound through grassy hills that glowed under the early evening sun. Farmers waved from distant fields. Townsfolk paused and bowed as they saw the insignia of Henituse on the carriage that passed through.

Out of respect for all the contributions this family had made. Because they indirectly helped a lot of people when they thrived.

Alberu leaned back, arms folded loosely across his chest. “Do you remember the last time we traveled like this? When we went from the Capital to Velstan City, in our first life?”

Cale gave a half-smile. “I remember that you were trying very hard to act like a proper prince.”

Alberu raised an eyebrow. “And you were trying very hard not to stab anyone.”

“Because everyone thought I was being escorted like a kidnapped noble.”

Raon snorted from his perch. “You looked like a grumpy carrot.”

Cale sighed. “I should’ve left you behind that time.”

“Did you travel a lot in your first life, Human? It must be adventurous. Let's travel the world with Noona and Hyung!” Raon said proudly.

“…You could say that, Raon.”

Alberu turned his gaze toward the passing trees, watching their leaves blur with movement. “Back then, it felt like we were just preparing for something. Like the real game hadn’t even begun.”

Cale nodded slowly. “And now it feels like we’ve been playing it for years.”

Silence settled for a while.

The horses’ hooves clicked rhythmically against the road. A gentle breeze filtered through the cracked window, carrying the scent of earth and sunlight.

Then Alberu asked quietly, “When we get to Brinefall, what do you expect to find?”

Cale’s fingers drummed lightly on his knee. “I don't know, maybe a legacy? Answers? Maybe even burdens I haven’t thought of yet.”

Alberu studied him. “And you’re ready for that?”

“No,” Cale said honestly, without hesitation. “But that’s never stopped me before.”

Alberu chuckled. “Fair enough.”

As the carriage rolled on, Raon curled up against Cale’s side, letting out a soft puff of warmth. Ohn and Hong rode in the next cart over with Choi Han, who had promised to make sure they didn’t sneak off to find snacks during travel breaks.

Cale leaned his head back, eyelids growing heavy.

For once, he didn’t feel the pressure to plan or fight.

Not yet.

This road, this time, felt different. It was not an escape nor a march to battle. It was a moment caught in between. A rare stillness.

It was rare for Alberu and Cale to stay at each other's side in the past ten years. Not only because of work but because it might be dangerous. They still talked a lot, especially with their mind links and communication devices. Like they had a long-distance relationship.

And for a little while longer, Cale allowed himself to enjoy it.

Just for now.

The road dipped into a wide valley framed by ocean cliffs, and there it was: Brinefall, nestled like a pearl along the shore, where the sea stretched endlessly beyond its bustling port. The salty tang of ocean wind reached them first, followed by the rhythmic crash of waves and the scent of pine, smoke, and brine. Above, white seabirds circled lazily in the golden sky, crying overhead as though heralding their arrival.

The city had changed.

Where once there had been only idle docks and a sleepy port town’s cadence, now stood the foundation of something far more ambitious. Scaffolding had risen like skeletal towers across the harbor, their enchanted braces shimmering faintly in the sunlight. Workers, both magic and non-magic alike, bustled across the platforms. Sigils glowed faintly along the boardwalks. Trade wagons bearing the crests of Henituse and the royal court rolled in and out of the gates at a steady pace.

Cale leaned against the window of his carriage, watching the movement with a quiet gaze.

Raon’s voice tickled his mind. “They’ve really started working fast, human. The magic circles around the port are layered too. Some of them are as strong as Smart Rosalyn’s.”

Cale gave a subtle nod, his eyes narrowing with satisfaction.

Beside him sat a man with obsidian hair, his features sharp and elegant. He wore a travel cloak of dark blue with simple embroidery, a tailored jacket beneath it, and a calm expression that carried the kind of poise found only in seasoned nobility.

To anyone else, he was Jin, a noble from the far southeast, a discreet ally of the Henituse House.

But to Cale, he was Alberu Crossman.

“Impressive,” Jin murmured, peeking through the curtain. “Looks like Viscountess Popelina took your request seriously.”

“She doesn’t waste resources,” Cale replied.

As their convoy approached the city’s gates, a pair of women stood waiting at the wide marble steps of the administration hall. Viscountess Popelina, clad in a sea-green overcoat tailored with silver accents, had her green hair arranged into an immaculately tight bun. Her blue eyes held a firm, composed gleam.

Next to her, Amiru Ubarr wore a simpler coat with naval trim. Her green hair, loosely braided to the side, was caught slightly by the breeze. Bangs framed her bright green eyes, and her face lit up immediately at the sight of Cale stepping down from the carriage.

“Young Master Cale,” Amiru greeted warmly, her voice cheerful. “Welcome to our Brinefall.”

“It’s good to see you again,” Cale said with a small smile.

The rest of his group stepped down beside him. Ron stood tall at his side. Choi Han followed, calm and composed as always. Freesia, wearing a neutral disguise, took position near the back. Raon, invisible, perched on Cale’s shoulder like a hawk. And behind them stood Jin, his face relaxed, polite, and unassuming.

Viscountess Popelina stepped forward and gave Cale a dignified nod. “Young Master Henituse, thank you for coming in person. We’ve made significant progress, and your timing is perfect.”

Cale returned the gesture. “The Crown’s directive and our funds were well placed.”

Popelina’s eyes glinted. “I assure you, every coin has been used with purpose.”

“We’ve already chosen the island,” Amiru added, turning toward a nearby map held up by an aide. “It’s part of the Hais Island chain. Fifteen islands total, but we selected one of the larger northern islands. It has cliffs on all sides, plus the whirlpools.”

Jin, stepping closer as a silent observer, tilted his head as he studied the map.

“The whirlpools?” he asked in a mild, curious tone.

Amiru nodded, not recognizing him. “Yes. Naturally occurring whirlpools that make it hard to approach by boat unless you know the exact route. We’ll enhance that with magical devices, detection barriers, concealment circles, and mana signal suppressors.”

“Impressive,” Jin murmured, lips quirking faintly. “That’s more advanced than I expected from a local port.”

Amiru blinked at him, then glanced at Cale. “May I ask who your companion is?”

Cale answered smoothly, “He is Young Master Jin, a friend and partner in a few side endeavors. He's lending his insight for naval structure and logistics.”

Viscountess Popelina nodded politely but kept her gaze on Cale. “Your House’s investment has already allowed us to expand operations. With the Crown’s backing, we’ve hired mages, engineers, and even maritime experts from all over the city.”

“And the workers?” Cale asked.

“They only know what they need to,” Popelina answered. “We’ve kept the purpose vague. Officially, it is a new military merchant base. Unofficially,” she glanced meaningfully at him, “only a handful of us understand the true scale.”

Jin hummed lightly. “And you trust they’ll keep it contained?”

“We’ve already secured their contracts and sealed them with vows of death. Plus, it helps that the payment is generous.”

As they walked through the port, the difference was evident. Large-scale wooden structures rose along the water’s edge, with floating platforms slowly being drawn out toward the sea by enchanted chains. Ships were under construction, some basic scout vessels, others already showing reinforced hulls meant for rapid movement.

Magicians stood at key points, channeling spells into runes carved onto stone pylons. Workers moved in organized rotations, delivering supplies to the docks and chanting timekeeping signals in rhythm. There was purpose here. Momentum.

Cale paused as they neared the edge of the upper cliff, looking down toward the sea.

In the far distance, barely visible to the naked eye, the island stood. A jagged, green-blanketed silhouette crowned with sea mist. The whirlpools were subtle from afar, but he could feel the pressure in the air, the slight shift in mana where nature itself seemed to reject outsiders.

“We’ll head to the island tomorrow morning,” Cale said quietly.

Amiru gave a nod. “We’ll prepare a vessel for you, Young Master. We already mapped out the current flow. You’ll arrive safely.”

“Good,” Cale murmured.

Behind him, Jin, Alberu, smiled faintly, watching him with quiet satisfaction. As the sea breeze tugged at their cloaks, he whispered just low enough for Cale to hear.

“You’ve come a long way.”

Cale didn’t reply.

But as Raon hummed with anticipation and the sun dipped behind the cliffs of Brinefall, casting long shadows over the rising future of the Roan Kingdom, Cale simply closed his eyes for a breath and prepared himself.

Because tomorrow, they would uncover a legacy.

And the world would move forward again because he made sure it could.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

The sun had begun its slow descent over Brinefall, casting a gentle orange hue across the sea and bathing the sand in warm amber light. A salty breeze tugged softly at their hair and clothes, carrying the distant calls of seabirds and the murmurs of waves curling against the shore.

The children, now tired from an afternoon of laughter and discovery, gathered their things with contented yawns and sleepy smiles.

“I’m sleepy…” Hong mumbled, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. His damp sleeves drooped slightly, his earlier energy now replaced with a drowsy calm.

Ohn blinked slowly, her braid messy and still dripping with seawater. “Can we go back now?”

Cale glanced over from where he was folding the blanket, already nodding. “We’ll head back. You did well today.”

“Mm…” Raon, still in his human form, clung lightly to Cale’s side. His small hand was wrapped tightly around the hem of Cale’s shirt.

Alberu, crouched nearby, nodded as he packed the last of their belongings into his magic pouch. He was meticulous—snacks, water flasks, extra towels, the sun hat Cale had worn, even the toy sand molds Ohn and Hong had used for exactly ten minutes before forgetting them in favor of splashing each other. Every item vanished into the enchanted storage with a quiet shimmer.

Cale, meanwhile, knelt down and wrapped Ohn and Hong in fresh, dry towels. They let out soft mewling sounds as he gently rubbed their damp hair, tails flicking lazily beneath the towel folds. They were already half-transformed into their kitten forms, clearly seeking comfort in their smaller, more cuddly state.

After wiping the sea water, they immediately fully transform to their kitten form.

“Come here,” Cale said, scooping Hong first. The little Red kitten curled against his chest without protest. Ohn, in her silver-furred kitten form, padded over and climbed into the crook of his other arm.

“You’re carrying both of them?” Alberu asked, amused, standing now with the final piece of their gear secured.

“I’m used to it,” Cale replied dryly, shifting their weight just slightly. “At least they’re not full-grown tigers.”

Alberu chuckled as he approached Raon, who was blinking sleepily but smiling. His cheeks were rosy from the sun, and his messy black hair fell adorably over his forehead. Without a word, Alberu lifted him carefully into his arms, placing a folded towel over his head like a soft hood and tucking it around his shoulders.

Raon giggled quietly, nuzzling into Alberu’s chest. “You’re warm, other Papa.”

Alberu glanced at Cale.

Cale didn’t say anything, but he knew. He understood instantly why Alberu had covered Raon’s face with such gentle care. In his human form, Raon didn’t just look like a child—they looked like their child. The resemblance was too strong, too precise. The black hair, the blue eyes, the delicate balance of both their features.

Anyone who saw Raon like this would assume what seemed so natural in that moment—that this was a family. A young couple and their children.

And to Cale… that thought didn’t feel strange.

Not anymore.

They started walking up the sloped path from the beach. The area had been quiet while they played—private enough to let the children enjoy themselves freely—but as they passed a bend in the road, the scenery changed.

The work on the naval base had resumed in full force. Mages and laborers moved across scaffolding, engineers adjusted floating docks with spells, and merchants bustled with crates of supplies. Enchantment circles glowed faintly in the distance.

And in the middle of it all… they passed.

Cale, walking with two kittens nestled in his arms, his hair catching the sunlight like strands of flame. Alberu, in his disguise, carrying a towel-wrapped child against his chest, steps in perfect rhythm with the man beside him. Their postures relaxed. Their faces are peaceful. They looked toward each other now and then with quiet glances, as if there were words being spoken without needing to be said.

A few workers paused in their tasks.

Some simply turned their heads.

Most only saw a beautiful family—a noble couple, perhaps visiting from some distant estate, walking home from the beach with their children. The image was almost ethereal, like a painting given life. Too poised, too gentle, too full of quiet affection to be ordinary.

The sight lingered in the minds of those who saw it.

But Cale and Alberu didn’t notice. Or perhaps they did and chose not to care.

They simply continued walking.

The manor’s gates opened easily for them, and once inside the guest wing, Ron was already waiting with a dry towel over his arm.

“You’re back earlier than I expected,” he said mildly, but his eyes flickered to the children in their arms and softened.

“They wore themselves out,” Cale replied, stepping inside and gently placing the kitten siblings onto a nearby couch. Ohn and Hong transformed back into their half-human forms in an instant, their towels still clinging to their damp hair.

Raon was reluctant to leave Alberu’s arms, but with a bit of coaxing and the promise of pudding later, he allowed himself to be lowered onto the plush rug.

“Time for a bath,” Ron announced, already moving to the side room where the water had been drawn. “I’ll help them. You two go to rest.”

But Cale was already following, sleeves rolled up.

“I’ll help with their hair,” he said.

Alberu sighed, smiling. “You can’t let go, can you?”

“No,” Cale admitted plainly.

And so, together, they bathed the children—Ron washing the dust and seawater from Ohn and Hong’s arms while Cale combed gently through tangled strands. Raon played with bubbles, occasionally morphing one hand back into a claw to pop them with dramatic flair.

By the time all three were clean and tucked into fresh robes, their eyelids were heavy with sleep, and their steps grew slower.

Cale escorted them to their beds and tucked the twins in while Raon padded toward his own room with a soft yawn and a wave.

“Sleep well,” Alberu said quietly from the doorway.

“Mm-hmm,” Raon murmured, hugging his pillow.

When the children were finally resting, the room falling into that soft stillness only found after laughter and warmth had passed, Cale turned toward Alberu and said, “Now you’re the one who needs to get clean.”

Alberu gave a faint, wry smile. “Right. I did dive into the sea for a certain someone.”

“Go. I’ll make sure your clothes are ready by the time you’re done.”

Alberu leaned forward slightly, pausing. “Thanks for today.”

Cale looked at him, then simply nodded.

They exchanged no further words.

But as Alberu stepped into the washroom, the soft scent of the sea still lingering in the air, he smiled quietly to himself.

And in the guest wing of the Ubarr Manor, filled with the fading warmth of sun and sea and sleepy laughter, everything felt, for a little while, like a glimpse of something good.

Chapter Text

That night, the manor of Ubarr was quiet. The sea whispered gently against the cliffs, and the wind rustled the curtains with a soft lull. Moonlight filtered through the wide glass windows, casting faint silver beams across the floors of the guest rooms.

Inside the shared room where the children slept, the air was warm with the scent of lavender soap and the faint trail of sun from their earlier seaside adventure. Raon had shifted to his dragon form, curled up protectively between Ohn and Hong, their small forms bundled in soft blankets, breathing evenly.

But not everyone was asleep.

By the door, Alberu stood in his undershirt and slacks, tousled hair barely dry after the late bath he took earlier. He was fastening the straps of a small belt pouch when he heard the door creak open.

Ron entered without a sound. His presence barely stirred the air, but the moment he stepped inside, his eyes locked directly on Alberu. There was no need for words. The look in his eyes said everything.

It was a quiet stare, firm and polite, yet layered with meaning: Protect him. Do not forget your place. Cross one line, and I will know.

Alberu gave the older man a short, almost military-like nod.

He remembered Ron's "shovel talk" from a few years ago, back when he first arrived in this world. It had been subtle. There was no shouting and no direct threats, but the pressure he had felt during that short exchange had been heavier than facing palace politics or assassination attempts. Ron had spoken with that same benign smile, all while cleaning his favorite dagger in the courtyard. A very sharp one. Even now, the memory made Alberu’s spine straighten instinctively. Even after a few years, he could still vividly remember those talks.

Ron stepped further into the room, his gaze softening as he looked toward the sleeping children.

"You’ll be leaving soon?" he asked in a hush.

"Yes," Cale replied from behind Alberu. His voice was quiet and calm. He was just finishing tying his hair back with a dark cloth. "We’ll be back before dawn. Don’t wake them unless something happens."

Ron gave a soft, barely perceptible nod. "I'll take care of them from here. Be careful."

"We will," Cale promised.

The two men dressed in silence. Cale moved fluidly, as though falling back into routine, donning dark-toned garments designed for stealth and agility. The fabric was light, durable, and enchanted slightly for quiet movement. It was courtesy of a certain tailor from the capital who understood discretion.

Cale reached for a small case tucked in one of his chests. From it, he took the whistle that had once belonged to his mother. He hadn’t touched it in a long time, but today something had drawn him to open it.

Inside, folded neatly, were two thin robes. One was obsidian black, the other a muted grey threaded with deep forest green. They shimmered faintly in the dim light, almost imperceptible unless looked at from an angle. Stealth robes. The kind only his mother could have made.

"Looks like she always thought ahead," Cale murmured, almost to himself.

Alberu approached quietly. "She prepared two. Did she know you would be accompanied by someone?"

Cale didn't know the answer too. Because even from him, his mother had always been a mystery. He just handed the darker one to Alberu. Without a word, Alberu stepped forward and draped the grey robe over Cale’s shoulders, adjusting the clasp and letting the fabric settle neatly around him.

Cale, in turn, mirrored the gesture, tugging the black robe over Alberu’s arms and straightening the collar. Neither of them spoke, but the movement was familiar. Intimate in its simplicity. Echoes of old habits lingered between them. It was the kind of practiced, wordless coordination that came from shared missions, survival, and trust.

Ron watched them without a word, then turned and disappeared from the room like a shadow.

Outside, the night welcomed them with open arms. The stars stretched wide across the sky, and the moon hung low on the horizon, half-veiled behind a curtain of clouds. There was no need for words now.

They moved in silence through the manor grounds, slipping past sentries and wards with effortless ease. Alberu matched Cale’s rhythm, each of their steps measured and precise. Everything they had learned during Ron’s brutal training came into play—the muscle memory, the breath control, the mental stillness required for stealth.

Once they reached the edge of the cliffs beyond the estate, Cale raised his hand and touched the ancient wind stirring at his feet.

"Are you going back there? Be careful, I felt a strong presence in that cave when I was still alive." The two looked at each other. The Sound of the Wind spoke to their minds and warned them about the cave.

"We'll be fine," Cale assured.

The Sound of the Wind responded instantly. It hummed in recognition, wrapping around his legs and arms like an old friend. With practiced control, Cale shifted his stance and let the wind gather beneath him.

"Ready?" he asked quietly, turning toward Alberu.

Alberu adjusted the strap of his pouch and gave a single nod. "I’m always ready."

The wind surged.

In the next breath, they were off the ground. Silent and swift, a breeze carried them far beyond the manor walls, skimming over the cliffs and trees, toward the edge of the mountains where the old cave lay hidden.

The wind made no sound, only a steady thrum beneath their feet. The moonlight stretched around them like a soft veil, brushing against the folds of their robes as they moved across the sky.

As the forest passed beneath them, Alberu glanced sideways at Cale. His eyes reflected the moonlight.

"This reminds me of Seoul," he said quietly. "Our last joint mission."

Cale nodded. "The one with the drug ring and the ability user’s experiments."

"Disgusting people."

"Like most of them."

A beat passed between them. The wind carried their shared silence.

"It has been a while," Alberu finally said.

Cale’s lips curved faintly. "We’re a little older now."

"Maybe a little wiser."

"Debatable," Cale said dryly.

They both chuckled softly, the sound lost to the night breeze.

The cave entrance appeared below them, nestled in the curve of a cliff and partly hidden by foliage. The land surrounding it pulsed faintly with a strange pressure—something otherworldly. The air was thicker here. Tense.

Cale lowered the wind carefully, letting them touch down in absolute silence.

The moment their feet met stone, something shifted.

A pull.

It was subtle at first. A barely perceptible tug in the center of the chest, like invisible threads winding around their ribs. Cale inhaled sharply, his eyes narrowing.

"You feel that?"

Alberu nodded slowly. "It’s not mana."

"No," Cale agreed. "It’s older, rather ancient."

The cave loomed ahead, shadows curling along its stone walls. It seemed darker than it should have been—unnaturally so. But neither of them turned away.

They stepped forward in sync, both men falling into a stance that had become second nature over the years. Shoulders squared, steps light, hearts steady.

Together, they entered the cave, drawn forward by the quiet pull that whispered of secrets long buried.

And beside each other, once again, they stepped into the unknown.

As Cale and Alberu stepped deeper inside, the air shifted around them—no longer just damp and stale like most caves, but heavy, humming with a pressure that made the fine hairs on their arms rise. Every step echoed too loudly against the ancient stone, each footfall swallowed by the immense silence.

The whistle, now worn around Cale’s neck as a necklace, had begun to tremble ever so slightly. At first, Cale ignored it, thinking it was a trick of the wind or his movement.

But then it twitched again.

He reached up and touched it lightly, frowning. It wasn’t just shaking. It was reacting.

“…It’s responding,” he said quietly, not looking away from the path ahead.

Alberu, walking beside him with a tense posture, turned his head. His eyes narrowed at the faint glow that was starting to pulse from the silver surface of the whistle.

They exchanged a glance, and—without a word—their hands found each other.

It wasn’t dramatic. There was no pause, no hesitation. Just an instinctive reach, fingers threading together as though their bodies knew before their minds did.

They continued walking.

It was then that the red lights appeared.

Small at first. Barely visible sparks that floated gently from the shadows, pulsing faintly like embers of fireflies. One. Then three. Then five.

Cale stopped walking.

The red lights circled them lazily, trailing around their joined hands like curious spirits. They drifted close enough to brush against their cheeks and robes, leaving behind a faint warmth but no burn.

“Are they… guiding us?” Alberu asked under his breath.

“I don’t know,” Cale replied.

The lights began to multiply.

Dozens. Then hundreds.

They fluttered around like tiny stars trapped in an unseen wind, gathering more and more as the air thickened with anticipation.

The whistle trembled violently now, thrumming against Cale’s chest like a heartbeat, and the red glow around them grew so bright that the walls of the cave faded behind a curtain of light.

“Cale—” Alberu began, but the light flared suddenly, a flash like the sun pressed directly into their eyes.

“Cover your face!” Cale shouted.

They both turned instinctively, raising their arms to shield themselves. Their fingers remained entwined, squeezing tightly. The light poured around them in waves, blinding and hot, but not burning. It pressed against their eyelids like a tidal wave of radiance, until—

It stopped.

When they lowered their arms, blinking away the spots in their vision, the cave had changed.

The stone wall ahead of them, once blank and cold, now bore an intricate outline of a door. Carved in delicate threads of red light, the door was tall, majestic, shaped like a spire, and patterned with ancient symbols that seemed to shift faintly when not directly looked at. But the door itself looks prestine as if preserved.

Neither of them spoke.

Cale stepped forward, drawn to it as if something beyond him was pulling his body forward.

Alberu reached to stop him, but Cale’s fingers had already brushed the glowing edge of the door.

The moment his skin touched the light, a sharp sting pricked his palm.

“Cale!”

“I’m fine,” Cale said quickly, but as he pulled back his hand, a single drop of blood slid from his fingertip, glinting unnaturally in the red glow.

The blood fell to the ground.

Then moved.

Alberu and Cale both stiffened as the single droplet spread outward like ink in water, swirling, twisting with eerie grace as it danced across the stone floor. The red lights shifted in response, pulsing with each arc the blood made.

Intricate lines began to form.

A circle. Then lines across it. Symbols neither of them recognized. It was a magic circle—but not one either had ever studied. It had elements of ancient magic they can't understand, and something older.

Something alien.

“What is this…?” Alberu murmured.

Cale stared. “It’s… alive.”

Then came the whispers.

Soft at first. Barely perceptible, like wind brushing across the back of their necks.

Then clearer.

But still unintelligible.

They froze, their shoulders tensing as the whispers crawled into their ears, pressing words neither of them understood into the space between thoughts. They stepped closer together instinctively, shoulder to shoulder now, both reaching slowly for the weapons at their sides though something in them knew it would be useless.

The whispers thickened, overlapping, curling into the air like smoke.

And then, from the very stone itself, a voice rang out.

Clear. Female. Old.

“So… the Thames blood has returned.”

The words echoed in all directions—around them, above them, below them—filling the chamber as though the entire cave itself was speaking.

Alberu and Cale both straightened, eyes wide and alert.

“I see,” the voice continued, curious and amused, “a full-blooded descendant. And accompanied by your destined partner. How rare. How… fascinating.”

The magic circle on the floor glowed brighter. The air around them shifted. For a moment, it felt like the cave was breathing.

“Who are you?” Cale asked, voice firm but calm.

The voice chuckled softly. It was not cruel, but ancient. Heavy with memories.

“It has been… ten thousand years since I last witnessed this phenomenon,” she said, almost dreamily. “A descendant drawn by the blood, and a partner chosen by fate. How quaint that the ritual still awakens.”

“Ritual?” Alberu asked, his voice low.

The voice did not answer.

Instead, the drop of blood on the ground began to shift again. This time, it spread rapidly, forming a thin layer of liquid across the stone beneath their feet.

It wasn’t just a symbol anymore.

It was water.

Thick, warm, and unnaturally red—like diluted ruby.

It surged outward in a perfect circle, surrounding the two of them, rising like a pool made of light and blood. Reflexively, Alberu stepped in front of Cale, placing one arm across his chest.

The voice hummed in amusement.

“So protective. As expected of a bonded pair. That devotion… yes, it is precisely what awakens the seal.”

Cale frowned, tension tightening his shoulders. “What do you want from us?”

The voice only chuckled again. Soft. Knowing.

“I want nothing,” she said. “But you? You are already part of this. And what has begun cannot be undone.”

The blood-water shimmered around them like glass. The patterns on the door glowed brighter, and faint glyphs appeared in the air, floating like ash in windless space.

Cale swallowed, then reached out and grasped Alberu’s hand again, tighter than before.

Alberu’s eyes never left the rippling pool that surrounded them.

Whatever this was—it wasn’t over.

And something deep inside the cave had only just begun to awaken.

Chapter Text

When the overwhelming surge of energy finally settled, and the soft red glow receded into a gentle hum around them, Cale and Alberu remained frozen in place. Their hands were still clasped, breath shallow, and bodies tense as they stood within the circle carved from blood and magic.

The air was dense, filled with an ancient weight that pressed down on their shoulders, thick with memory, power, and something deeper they could not quite name.

Then, the voice returned.

It was no longer whispering in fragments or echoing like a presence from a distant dream. It came clear and calm, laced with tones both warm and weary, like someone speaking from a place far beyond time. The walls of the cave seemed to listen, the shadows themselves quieting as if they, too, were waiting.

"You, child of Thames, and a child blessed by multiple Gods, you have stepped into a truth that has long been hidden, forgotten, or perhaps purposefully erased."

Alberu’s eyes narrowed slightly. Cale, however, stared forward, jaw set as the whistle at his neck continued to glow faintly with threads of silver light.

"The Thames family," the voice said slowly, as though repeating a story she had told a thousand times before, "are not mere mortals who rose through talent or ambition. They were born from something older, something divine."

The air stirred around them, and the stone floor beneath their feet seemed to shimmer faintly with residual mana. Alberu could feel it under his boots, a low vibration that hummed through his bones.

"Long before, when everything was still simple, there existed two beings, one who held dominion over Time itself, and one who held the infinite well of Knowledge."

Cale stiffened. Something about those titles stirred something deep within him, like the pulling of a memory that did not belong to him.

"They were not gods then," the voice continued. "They were lovers, beings of pure essence who shaped the earliest foundations of existence. One that becomes the Ancient Gods at the current era. Together, they sought no throne, no worship, only to understand the world, and each other. And from that love, they created life. A child, born not of flesh alone, but of essence, memory, and will. That child was the first of the Thames bloodline, walked this world before the first era even bore a name."

The whistle pulsed faintly, as if resonating with the truth being spoken aloud.

"The descendants of that union carried more than blood. They inherited fragments of Time, glimpses of paths not taken, and the clarity of Knowledge unfiltered. At first, they were wanderers, helping civilizations grow. But in time, they changed."

The voice dimmed, her tone shifting. There was something heavy now, a shadow settling behind each word.

"They grew proud. Too proud."

Cale’s fingers tightened slightly over Alberu’s. The shadows near the walls moved again, curling inward like petals closing around a secret.

"They believed themselves superior, not just to other mortals, but to the very world they had been born into. With memories of gods and the clarity of hidden truths, they began to see themselves as the rightful inheritors of all things. That belief turned into conviction, and from that conviction, came ambition."

There was a pause. The cave seemed to hold its breath.

"And so they reached across dimensions, breaking the natural boundaries that the gods had once set to protect the balance of creation. They gathered others, those who longed for more, who feared death, who hated the ceiling placed upon mortals. They called themselves the Hunters."

Alberu’s breath caught in his throat. He looked to Cale, who had not moved, eyes still fixed on the glowing circle beneath them. But his knuckles were white.

"The Thames family founded the Hunters," the voice said, final and unrelenting. "It was their idea, their will, their vision."

Around them, the glow from the wall brightened again, illuminating the etchings in full. Strange symbols, not of any known script, lined the stone. They twisted and curved in ways that defied logic, like they were alive, breathing on the surface.

"They sought to devour gods, to recreate the concept of divinity in their image. Their goal was not to ascend through trials, but to seize and claim. They believed godhood was their birthright. They believed the laws of the world were flawed, that fate should bend to their desires."

The voice cracked faintly, not from weakness, but from something far older, resentment perhaps, or pain buried beneath centuries.

"And so they did. For over a millennium, they expanded across realms. They left trails of destruction, they played with life and death, and they conducted experiments that shattered souls. They disrupted the flow of time. They twisted fate. They tore into the very roots of existence in pursuit of their so-called purpose."

The light dimmed again, but it did not fade. The walls of the cave seemed to ripple, reacting to the memory being spoken aloud.

"The White Star, that cursed, hollow creature. He was not born of destiny. He was made. Crafted by their hands."

Cale flinched.

Alberu’s lips parted slightly, but no sound came. His mind raced, trying to connect the fragments, the implications, the enormity of what they were being told.

"The Ancient White Star," the voice repeated with bitterness, "was one of their many experiments. A being designed to test how far a mortal could be pushed toward divinity. Crafted through bloodlines, cursed objects, and ancient relics. Molded, not to serve, but to conquer, to devour. He was their project, their pride."

A hollow laugh echoed through the chamber. It rang across the stone like brittle glass, shattering against the silence that followed.

"And so they fell."

The tone of the voice changed again, like a veil slipping.

"Everything you suffer now, all the chaos across dimensions, the cracks in reality, the twisted experiments and the return of this chaos, it started here. With them."

Cale's eyes trembled. His heart pounded with a growing pressure in his chest, a burning weight he could not place.

He looked to Alberu, and Alberu met his gaze. They did not need to speak. The horror, the disbelief, the sudden shift in understanding, it was written plainly across both their faces.

The whistle around Cale’s neck trembled again, as if it too remembered.

And then the voice returned, calm once more, but cold.

"Yet here you stand. A full-blooded Thames, and his fated companion. How amusing it is, to see such a phenomenon after ten thousand years. Tell me, what shall you do now?"

The blood beneath their feet rippled once again.

It was not yet over. The ground slightly trembled as the two tried to balance themselves not to fall.

Then the voice laughed again.

It was not light nor amused. It echoed with the sound of something broken, like glass that had been stepped on one too many times. It carried the weight of a soul that had once loved deeply, only to be shattered by the very thing it tried to protect. The cave trembled faintly with the resonance of that sound, and the red lights flickered like they were swaying in mourning.

Then, the voice spoke again, softer but no less chilling.

"How amusing," it said. "To see the descendant of the Thames family and the descendant of the Ancient White Star, standing side by side as fated partners. The irony, the delight, that the two of you would be the ones to destroy everything your ancestors built."

The air in the cave grew heavier. Cale and Alberu froze, their joined hands tightening without either of them realizing it. For a moment, the only sound was the shallow rhythm of their breathing.

"What?" Cale’s voice broke the silence. It was quiet but sharp, like the edge of a knife. "What did you say?"

Alberu turned to look at him, expression unreadable. Cale searched his face, trying to decipher the storm behind those eyes. And yet, the answer was already there.

"Alberu..." Cale began, a little breathless. "Alberu is... a descendant of the Ancient White Star?"

Alberu inhaled slowly, his eyes filled with complicated emotion. His voice was low, almost hesitant. "I don't know."

There was no fanfare, no explanation, just those words. They fell between them like a silent bell toll, marking a truth long buried.

In the quiet that followed, a familiar voice echoed faintly in Cale’s mind.

"Ah... now that he mentions it... I once thought he looked familiar," Super Rock said thoughtfully, his tone grim. "He looks exactly like White Star but his eyes are gold instead of Alberu's deep blue eyes. It might be because Alberu carried himself with elegant, regal, yet kind demeanour that I did not recognize him. White Star, he carried himself with so much oppression and ruthlessness that just looking at him made you feel an instinctive fear of death."

Cale felt his chest tighten, not because he was scared, but because he knew what Alberu felt at the moment. His race as a Dark Elf was already hated, but if this became public knowledge, not only would he be affected, but the entire Roan Kingdom too.

The one beside him now, the one who had fought with him and for him, whose back had once stood between him and a sword’s edge, had the face of the very enemy that inspired the current enemy they had sought to undo. Yet it was not that face that mattered, but the life behind it. He knew that.

Still, it was a lot to accept.

The voice laughed again. This time, it was softer, almost nostalgic.

"I suppose I should give you more context... I once carried the name of Thames. I was the matriarch during that cursed era, the last one who dared to defy what our bloodline had become."

Alberu and Cale both turned their full attention to the voice. It did not speak from one direction. It came from all around them, like the very walls of the cave had become her vessel.

"I tried to correct the course of our family," she continued. "I hunted down the elders who still clung to the old ways. I cleansed the bloodline, not with mercy, but with fire and steel. I slaughtered those who refused to change, those who continued to call themselves Hunters. I tried to destroy the legacy of the Thames family that had been corrupted by power and greed."

The flames of the red lights began to pulse gently, almost like they were remembering the events spoken aloud.

"And I succeeded. In this world, I burned it all down. But the foundation of the Hunters in another dimension, one that had already solidified its roots, was far too strong. I failed there. We lost. And so, I had no choice but to erase my own name, to fake the extinction of the Thames line, and run."

Cale’s heart pounded. His fingers gripped Alberu’s hand harder, even though neither of them said a word about it.

He took a slow breath.

"The red blood household," he muttered aloud. "Are they the Thames?"

The voice was silent for a heartbeat, then let out a low, knowing laugh.

"I cannot confirm what you already suspect," she said, clearly amused.

It was all Cale needed to hear. He had always trusted his instincts and the knowledge passed from countless whispers and hidden records. The Thames were indeed the red blood household.

His eyes narrowed slightly as another name surfaced in his mind.

"And the Crossmans?" he asked, voice low and sharp. "Are they... the white blood?"

The voice responded with a rich, velvety laugh that echoed off the cave walls like falling rain on ancient stone.

"How interesting," she said with clear amusement. "What keen minds you two have. No wonder fate conspired to bring you together."

Cale exhaled slowly. That laugh, that answer, was enough. The Crossmans, the ruling family of Roan, were indeed the white blood household. Everything connected.

Beside him, Alberu was silent.

His expression was composed, but Cale knew better. He could feel the weight Alberu carried, the complicated emotions swirling behind the calm mask. To be a descendant of the Ancient White Star, and now to be called a fated partner of a Thames... it was a cruel joke by fate. Or maybe, it was a chance to undo it all.

Alberu did not speak. He did not deny it. He did not justify anything. He simply stood there, shoulder to shoulder with Cale, as the echoes of the past continued to stir around them.

"It is amusing," the voice said again, her tone turning almost wistful. "Ten thousand years. That is how long it has been since I last saw this phenomenon. Two opposing legacies walking the same path, side by side, choosing each other."

The red lights around them had dimmed to a gentle glow now. No longer blinding, but warm and inviting.

"You are destined to change everything," she said, her voice soft now. "But beware. Destinies have a price. I do not know what will happen in the future, but I hope what you will get here will help."

Cale’s lips thinned.

"Then we'll just defy the fate and face whatever they throw," he said.

The cave responded with silence.

But somewhere deep within its heart, the old magic pulsed like a heartbeat. And the whispers that had once seemed foreign were now listening, waiting, watching.

Their journey had never been simple.

But now, it had become something far more profound, something older, something dangerous.

And the two of them stood at the center of it.

Hand in hand, wrapped in legacy, and shadowed by blood.

They did not let go.

"Use the Whistle to activate the inheritance. I accept you as the new Patriarch of the Thames Family. May luck be with you..." The voices faded as the two looked at each other.