In the void, there was no horizon. Only black water stretching forever, and above it, a massive gray moon that seemed to pulse with judgment.
Haruto stood tall, his reflection rippling beneath him. His voice cut the silence:
"I won't be like the past me. I am Haruto Satoru!"
His fist tightened, defiance burning in his golden eyes.
Across from him, the other Haruto — hair black and ragged, smile sharp and cruel — answered without hesitation:
"Yes, you are. But you're weak. I'm the superior Haruto. I am one of the smartest person on the planet Earth — sharper, faster, unburdened by all this pointless emotion."
The doppelgänger tilted his head, suddenly pausing as though hearing something distant. His smirk faded into a sigh.
He glanced sideways into the endless dark, muttered quietly:
"…Seems our time's run out."
Then he turned, walking into the abyss. His final words echoed like a blade dragged against stone:
"Oh… foolish me."
---
Days later.
Auremund was dead. Not by Haruto's hands, not even by blade or spell, but by the most human weakness of all—mana corruption. His body had rotted from within, consumed by his own power. Among men, it was common. Among kings, inevitable.
---
In a luxurious vintage bedroom, sunlight traced golden lines across carved wooden furniture and velvet drapes. The air smelled faintly of roses and dusted parchment.
On the silken bed lay Haruto. He sprawled out lazily, staring up at the ornate ceiling before rolling onto his stomach, burying himself in the soft embrace of the sheets.
For the first time in days, his expression softened—relaxed, almost boyish.
His thoughts whispered with a strange kind of wonder:
(After evolution, I don't need the basics—air, food, water, sleep… But it feels so refreshing just lying here in bed.)
A small, fleeting smile crossed his lips.
A few hours later, Haruto stepped out of the shower. His short, layered hair shimmered like stars, uneven at the tips, with a gradient from medium blue to pale sky blue. Light caught each strand, giving him a faint ethereal glow.
Dressing in his usual clothes, he caught his reflection in the mirror. Almond-shaped golden eyes stared back at him, sharp, confident, yet alert.
(The other me… he's getting bolder every day. Can't let him take over. Not now, not ever.)
"Huh!" he muttered, snapping out of his thoughts. "Shit… almost forgot—we have dinner."
Striding toward the door, each step measured and decisive, Haruto couldn't shake the tension lingering in the edges of his mind. The "other" Haruto existed somewhere, watching, waiting, always smarter, always faster.
---
In the hallway, a maid waited, her black-and-white uniform crisp and immaculate. Frills and ruffles traced the edges, black gloves gave her an aura of elegance laced with intimidation. A ribbon tied neatly at her neck, and a frilled headband crowned her sharp bob cut.
Her hair, deep black fading into vivid magenta tips, reflected the faint hallway light. Pale gray eyes met his with calm, calculating precision.
Haruto raised an eyebrow.
"Hey… who are you?"
She bowed slightly, voice soft yet firm.
"I am Tsukasa, your personal maid. Lady Liora assigned me to attend to your every need."
"Huh… can you show me the dining room?" he asked, following her.
(Why would Liora assign a personal maid to me… as if I need a caretaker?)
As he walked, his senses detected something unusual. A subtle shift in the air, a refined aura—massive mana, hidden yet potent.
(She's a High human… definitely concealing true power.)
The crimson glow of her mana barely rippled around her form, contrasting the controlled calm of ordinary wielders.
Tsukasa noticed his gaze. Her sharp gray eyes locked onto him, piercing.
"Is something wrong, my lord?"
"No," Haruto replied, shaking his head. "It's just… I can't sense your true mana."
A flicker of surprise passed her face, quickly suppressed.
"I conceal it within my body. My true mana is limited, so it is easy to hide," she explained.
Haruto's mind raced.
(So she can hide her mana… impressive. Wait—Seraphina… has my mana been safely hidden too?)
Golden symbols spiraled into existence, Seraphina's calm voice echoing like a bell.
["Affirmation: I acted prior to Master's command. Had I delayed, a negative impact would have occurred. Thus, I forcibly retracted all of your mana into your body to prevent harm."]
*(Harm!?) *Haruto's lips twitched into a suppressed grin.
["Affirmation: If the mana had not been retracted, monsters would have manifested due to the sheer density of Master's energy. Furthermore, weaker beings nearby would have perished instantly."]
(Oh… I'm lucky to have her. Where would I be otherwise?)
Tsukasa's voice cut through the quiet, firm yet calm:
"We have arrived."
Haruto followed, alert. Dinner was trivial, yet the real threat loomed behind his thoughts—another version of himself, a constant shadow in the back of his mind, competing, calculating, waiting for the perfect moment to make a move.
The banquet hall glowed with golden light, spilling across a table long enough to seat a kingdom's council. A silken cloth of immaculate white stretched from end to end, lined with a deep indigo runner embroidered in gilt. Plates rimmed in gold gleamed under the chandeliers, each setting perfectly arranged—crystal goblets, polished silverware, and folded napkins as precise as a knight's salute.
At the center of it all, dishes fit for royalty lay in flawless symmetry: roasted meats glistening with juices, fruits heaped like jewels, and platters of delicacies crowned with sprigs of green. The aroma of spices lingered faintly in the air, though untouched, as if the food existed more for spectacle than consumption.
Behind the chairs, attendants stood like statues—hands clasped, eyes lowered, their black tailcoats and white gloves completing the atmosphere of solemn
Haruto stepped inside the dining room.
His subordinates — Liora, Fuyume, Lunara, Chloe, Velara, Vhalzareth, and Thargrim — stood behind their chairs in perfect silence.
The air was heavy with anticipation, as if the room itself had paused.
Haruto walked past them, taking the seat at the head of the table.
"You may sit down," he said, his voice calm yet commanding.
---
He looked around, scanning each familiar face.
(It's been so long since we've all sat together… the war keeps dragging us apart.)
Fuyume leaned closer, her tails swaying dramatically.
"I'm dying of loneliness… it's been a whole week since I last saw you, my lord!"
Her sigh was exaggerated, almost comical, but her eyes betrayed her true feelings.
---
Thargrim's deep, proud voice broke the tension.
"I've been forging, tirelessly, a sword for Lord Haruto — one that will never break!"
Haruto's eyes lit up.
"Really? I can't wait to use it!"
Thargrim shook his head, pride shining in his expression.
"You'll have to wait a bit longer. This is my ultimate craft."
---
Haruto clapped his hands once.
"Let's eat. Don't want the food to get cold."
The room erupted.
Chloe reached for the last piece of meat, only for Velara to stealthily snatch it first.
Chloe's fists clenched, her face twisting with anger.
Velara chewed slowly, eyes sparkling mischievously, fully aware of the chaos she'd caused.
---
Haruto leaned back in his chair, quietly observing.
The laughter, the bickering, the little moments of mischief…
A small, almost wistful smile appeared on his face.
(I want to protect these smiles… to live in peace with them.)
He couldn't help but join the conversation, adding his voice to the warmth filling the hall.
---
Dinner eventually ended.
Haruto moved to his office, sinking into the plush couch.
Across from him, Liora and Vhalzareth waited patiently.
In his hands, he held a peace treaty from the Elarion Skyhold Kingdom.
Vhalzareth's voice cut through the quiet.
"My lord… will you accept?"
Haruto set the paper down on the elegantly designed glass table and signed it without hesitation.
---
(I wonder how Ronóva is… her father is gone. I should go check on her.)
He turned to Liora.
"Liora, how's my schedule today?"
Her reply was instant, precise.
"Nothing planned for today, my lord. But tomorrow, you must visit the Solmaria Kingdom to discuss alliances, then teach at the academy, and finally… paperwork."
At the last word, Haruto's expression darkened instantly.
Vhalzareth puffed up proudly.
"I can handle the paperwork if you don't want to, my lord."
Haruto's face brightened for a moment, hope flickering.
But Liora's voice cut sharp, ice-cold.
"No! Vhalzareth, you do nothing. Lord Haruto needs the experience."
Haruto slumped back, resigned, already dreading tomorrow's responsibilities.
Haruto muttered to himself, eyes narrowing slightly.
(The Solmaria Kingdom, huh… I wonder how they're holding up. Last I heard, they were in turmoil…)
He stood from the couch.
"I'm heading out for a bite."
Vhalzareth immediately rose to his feet.
"Allow me to accompany you, my lord."
Haruto shook his head.
"Sorry. This time, I'm going alone."
Before Vhalzareth could protest, Haruto vanished, space folding around him in a flash of light.
Vhalzareth let out a deep sigh, shoulders slumping.
(I really wanted to stay at his side…)
Liora crossed her arms, her expression unreadable.
"Lord Haruto prefers to move alone. At times, it feels like we're not even needed as his subordinates… don't you think?"
Vhalzareth exhaled sharply and sank lazily back into his seat.
"…Yes."
---
Meanwhile, in Ronóva's luxurious chamber…
Her outfit clung elegantly to her frame: a sleek black body embroidered with floral patterns, slit high at the side. Sheer blue sleeves drifted like morning mist with every movement, and the back trailed into a translucent train marked by delicate branches. On her, it looked regal, mysterious, almost otherworldly—like a celestial noble gracing the earth.
A ripple of light broke the silence.
Haruto stepped into the room.
"Hey. How's it been?"
Ronóva turned, startled, her breath catching. A faint blush colored her cheeks.
"Haruto?!"
Haruto tilted his head, smirking playfully.
"Wrong time?"
She quickly shook her head.
"No!"
Haruto walked closer, his eyes roaming over her form.
"…Wow. You look beautiful in that dress."
Ronóva fumbled with a strand of her hair, her blush deepening.
"T… thank you."
Haruto lifted his hand, gently brushing her cheek, now standing so close their breaths mingled.
"Are you okay? …I'm sorry for letting your father die. I had the power to strip away his corruption, and yet—"
Ronóva shook her head against his palm, her voice soft but laced with sorrow.
"Don't apologize. It wasn't your fault. He… he was already gone. A corrupted man who led our kingdom down a broken path."
Her gaze lifted to him, trembling but resolute, as she slipped her hands around his narrow waist and pulled him closer.
"…But are you okay?"
Haruto nodded faintly.
"Yeah. I'm doing okay."
Their faces drew close—so close their lips brushed, then met in a lingering kiss.
Ronóva stumbled back onto the bed, pulling Haruto down with her. Their breaths grew heavy, heat rising between them.
Haruto froze for a moment, hovering above her.
(I… can't. Not now. Not when she's in this fragile state…)
He pulled back slightly—only for Ronóva to clutch his shirt and drag him back into another kiss, fiercer this time.
When she finally broke away, her lips curved into a faint, frustrated smile.
"You can't just stop halfway."
Haruto's eyes softened.
"…Are you sure about this?"
Ronóva's cheeks burned, but she met his gaze steadily.
"Yes. I am. Just… don't give me a child."
A few moments later…
Haruto sat at the edge of the bed, his shirt discarded, only loose pants draped around his frame. His gaze was distant, unfocused, lost somewhere far beyond the four walls of the chamber.
On the opposite side, Ronóva moved gracefully as she dressed.
Her flawless skin caught the light as she slipped back into the elegant black gown, the sheer sleeves cascading down her arms like mist. Piece by piece, she restored her noble composure.
Fully dressed, she turned toward Haruto.
"I'll have to leave now… there's a funeral in an hour."
Haruto, still facing the floor, gave a faint reply.
"Yeah."
His voice carried no sharpness, only distance.
Ronóva's expression softened, but she held herself firmly.
"We'll meet again… for the peace treaty."
A small, bittersweet smile curved her lips.
"Don't forget about my gift."
That finally drew Haruto's eyes. He turned slightly, golden irises gleaming in the dim light.
"…I won't."
Satisfied, Ronóva walked toward the door. She paused, glanced back just once, and then closed it softly behind her.
"See you later."
The room fell into silence.
Haruto slowly leaned back, his hand gripping the blanket. He lifted it—
—and froze.
A crimson stain bled across the white sheet, stark and undeniable against the pale fabric.
Haruto sighed deeply, pressing his hands to his head. The red stain… he already knew what it meant.
I hope she's okay… he murmured to himself.
---
At the funeral, Ronóva stood before the tombstone, her posture graceful yet heavy with sorrow. Around the stone, green grass swayed gently in the breeze, trees rustling softly as though paying their own silent respects.
Takane stood beside her, unarmored. Her long silver hair fell past her waist, catching the light, and her crystal-blue eyes were sharp and unwavering. Around them, others stood quietly, heads bowed, offering their respect.
---
Later, in a lavish, fairytale-like bathroom, sunlight poured through tall arched windows, glinting off a golden chandelier. Candles flickered softly, their flames reflected in the elegant, freestanding white tub at the center, surrounded by flowers and scattered champagne glasses. The space exuded a serene, regal calm.
Ronóva lay in the tub, her long white hair floating in the water, glimmering like liquid silk. Her fingers traced the curve of her stomach, moving slowly, thoughtfully.
I don't regret it… she whispered to herself, eyes closing briefly. I'm glad it was with him. I love you, Haruto.
Her gaze drifted around the room, taking in the serene luxury, the gentle sunlight, the stillness… and she felt a quiet, unshakable warmth settle in her chest.