The vaulted ceiling of the hidden hall arched high above, swallowed in shadow. The air was cool, heavy with dust and silence. Kaisel stood beneath it, his gaze distant, as though the darkness itself were speaking to him.
He was dressed in black: fitted garb beneath a cloak that fell to his boots. A sword rested at his hip, the worn leather hilt brushing his hand. A small bag hung from his shoulder, its strap hidden beneath the cloak's folds
Are you going to use the powers of those.....
Sins to change your appearance...?
Kaisel turned around, it was Arthur, the old man looked no different.
Kaisel nodded.
Arthur sighed and glanced around the chamber. "It's been a long time since I came down here," he murmured, then was quiet for a while before speaking again. "If it were anyone else in my place, they would never let you leave." He paused. "But I won't stop you."
He stepped closer, voice steady but low. "I've seen what happens when people try to protect others from the world. They call it kindness, but it's cruelty in disguise. To cage someone for their safety is to strip them of who they're meant to become."
Arthur's gaze met his. "Fate will always find its way, Kaisel. It's the road laid before us — one no man can escape. But destiny…" He let the word linger. "Destiny is the path we choose upon that road. Every step, every turn, every defiance — that belongs to you alone. If I stop you now, I'd only be stealing your right to choose. You'll suffer — fate's already written that much. But destiny will decide what you become from it. That, no one can take from you."
He fell silent, his expression unreadable. Then, softly, "I may be wrong. But I hope not."
He turned slightly, his voice carrying a faint tremor of warmth. "If it becomes too hard out there, come back. Even if there's an army chasing you — come back. I'll take care of the rest." A thin smile ghosted across his lips. "And… don't die."
Kaisel felt a knot tighten in his chest. He couldn't speak — not properly — so he simply smiled.
"Don't worry, Grandfather," he said quietly. "I'll be all right. And I don't plan on dying either."
Arthur gave a slow nod. "Remember one thing, remember who you are, what you are… and how we are."
"Yes, Grandfather."
.....
At midnight, the manor lay in perfect silence. The corridors were washed in silver light, the air still enough to hear the faint ticking of the old clock below. Kaisel stood before Nerrisa's door, hand hovering over the handle.
He pushed it open just enough for the moonlight to spill across the room. Nerrisa slept peacefully, for a long moment, Kaisel simply watched her — the innocence in her rest, the quiet that seemed untouched by the world outside.
He leaned closer, his voice barely more than a breath.
"Goodbye," he whispered. "I'll see you after five years."
Then he closed the door, soundless, and turned away.
Outside, the chill bit through the night. The manor's gates waited ahead, half-shrouded in mist. Arthur stood beside a saddled horse, his cloak drawn tight against the wind. Anton was there too, his eyes dim beneath the lantern light.
Kaisel approached them and offered a faint smile.
"Take care of Ravengard, brother."
Anton's reply came low, his voice thick with restraint.
"Yes, brother."
Arthur stepped forward, tightening the reins. "Take the detour through the forest," he said. "No one must see you leave."
Kaisel nodded. There were no more words to exchange — they had already spoken their farewells in the hidden hall. He climbed into the saddle, his cloak falling around him like shadow.
Arthur and Anton stood side by side as he set off. The sound of hooves faded into the night until only the wind remained, whispering through the empty courtyard.
.....
The forest rose like a wall of fog and silence. Trees towered over him, their branches webbed with mist, their roots coiled like sleeping beasts. Kaisel rode between them, the dim light filtering through in pale ribbons.
After a while, he murmured, "Envy."
For a heartbeat, there was silence. Then the answer came — not from the air, but from within his mind.
"…As you wish…"
A tremor coursed through him. The air thickened; the world itself seemed to hold its breath.His chest tightened; his heartbeat quickened — then steadied into something deeper, heavier.
His body began to change.
The black hair beneath his hood stirred as if caught in an unseen wind. Its color drained away, replaced by a rich brown that shimmered faintly in the moonlight. His limbs lengthened, bones stretching beneath his skin with a quiet, unnatural grace. The boy's narrow frame broadened; his shoulders set; his muscles formed where none had been.
His skin lightened — the hue of shadowed bronze giving way to something pale and smooth. His cloak shifted, fabric drawing tight to fit his new shape as if the world itself were adjusting to the man he was becoming.
It happened in seconds, yet felt endless. The night held its breath. Even the fog seemed to hesitate, swirling around him as though unsure what he had become.
When it was done, the boy named Kaisel was gone.
A young man sat astride the horse — tall, brown-haired, eyes to match. His features were handsome, unfamiliar, but his expression… his eyes still carried the same quiet fire.
Kaisel looked down at his hands, flexing them as if testing their truth. Then he let out a low laugh — steady, calm, almost amused.
Even his voice was different.
The price for using Envy was surrendering a fragment of his emotion. Yet, as his body changed, Kaisel felt nothing—no pain, no emptiness, not even the faint ache of loss. It was as if the part taken from him had never existed at all.
.....
In a dark room, the faint light of candles glimmered beside a bed. On it lay an old woman covered in a blanket. She wore a simple white dress, and her pale blonde hair, almost white, spilled across the pillow. Wrinkles lined her face like fragile cracks in old porcelain.
"Have you still not found it?" she asked, her voice unexpectedly firm as it echoed through the room. "It's on the third shelf."
In that chamber, near a tall bookshelf, stood a broad-shouldered man in a grey shirt and black trousers, a candlestick held in his left hand. The candlelight revealed rows of books and ornamental objects, their surfaces coated with a thin layer of dust.
"Ah… found it," the man replied, his voice deep. He turned slightly and added, "The things here are starting to get dusty near the shelves. You should let the maids do their work."
He stepped forward, candlelight sharpening the rough lines of his face—ash-grey hair, a matching beard, and a wide scar cutting across his left cheek, half-hidden behind the wiry hairs. His pale blue eyes were cold.
"You know I don't like others touching my things, brat," the woman replied.
He walked toward the bed and handed the item to her. "I'm almost fifty you know. I'm not a brat anymore, Mother."
She snorted softly. "Just because your soft ass has turned hard like stone doesn't change the fact that I gave birth to you. You're still a brat to me."
The man stared at her with a plain, tired expression.
"What?" she asked, raising a brow.
He sighed. "Nothing. I'm just wondering how you were known for your elegance and good etiquette in your time."
The woman smirked slightly. "Well… not everyone shows their true face in public during my time. It's the same now too."
He exhaled slowly. "You seem proud to say that."
She ignored the comment and opened her hand. Inside lay a small pendant with a blue gem, its surface catching the candle's faint glow.
"What's so special about this?" the man asked. "Is it another charm? Or some memory?"
"It's something I used to wear. I just wanted to see it," she said softly.
"So you called me from my training time… to get this?"
She shot him a sharp glare. "Oh? Is the great Duke Aeron Veldrath angered because his poor, old, beautiful mother disturbed him? If I could walk properly, I would've done it myself."
"It's midnight," he muttered.
"Then why are you training instead of sleeping?"
Aeron sighed again—for the third time.
He didn't answer her question. Instead he said, "I'm going to the Forbidden Lands in two weeks."
Her voice softened, losing its teasing sharpness. "An order from the Imperials, huh…"
"Yes… and we're not cocky and arrogant like the Ravengard to just refuse something from the Empire." He paused. "Well, I doubt they'd even get anything from the Empire anymore. They're falling apart. They might disappear soon."
She let out a low chuckle. "I really doubt that."
"Why? Their family has been targeted by many nobles. Now that they're weak, many will join hands to take them down. Everything up till now was probably someone pulling strings."
"Ha… that may be true." The woman's expression darkened slightly. "But just because a few of them died doesn't mean they'll fall apart. Their legacy isn't something that crumbles so easily. And I doubt anyone would dare make a move while they're in their territory."
She looked at him pointedly. "And don't fool yourself, kid. The Ravengards cannot be considered like others. They're a group of bloodthirsty monsters. They've been calm because they didn't have a reason to spill blood. Now that they have… I don't know what they'll do."
Aeron's face tightened as a memory flickered in his mind,recalling a moment—Elizabeth's funeral. That brief, freezing second.
"On the day of that woman's funeral… in Ravengard," he said slowly. "I felt an intense killing intent from their firstborn. Only for a moment. I don't know if I felt it wrong."
"The firstborn… the one known as the Cursed Child?" she murmured.
Aeron nodded slightly.
"Hmm. Now that both the child's parents are dead, I believe it's that man Arthur taking care of them, isn't it?"
"Yes. He's taken over since the heir—the firstborn—is only a ten or nine-year-old child."
The woman chuckled, the sound dry but amused. "Well… it wouldn't be a surprise now if the Empire was dyed red by that child. After all, that man Arthur was even worse among the Ravengards. He was known as the 'Crazed Heir' before he became Duke. He changed after his child was born. It's a surprise he's silent. Probably because he wants to protect the young ones."
To be continued.