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Chapter 11: In the Shadow of the Past
Lunin slowly opened his eyes on the second morning in his new home. Soft silk pillows cradled his head, and the gentle morning light brushed his face like a tender whisper. He was waking up like a noble now; every inch of luxury surrounded him. But the emptiness in his chest stretched far beyond the glitter.
A voice whispered inside:
"This is not your home. This life is not yours."
He took a deep breath, swallowing the words caught in his throat. He slipped into a plain robe and looked into the mirror—staring back was a stranger wearing his face.
When he opened the door, the maid greeted him with a gentle smile, though a flicker of doubt lingered in her eyes. Her expression trembled with a quiet unease.
"Your breakfast is ready, sir. Your mother and father are waiting," she said softly.
Lunin nodded, words tangled inside him. Each step down the stairs echoed the conflict stirring within.
When he entered the hall, time seemed to freeze. His mother and father sat there, their faces stamped with the mark of nobility and coldness. Guards stood silently in the corners, their gazes sharp and suspicious.
The hardness of the chair beneath him pressed into his back.
His father spoke first, calm but measured:
"Yesterday was your first day at school. Did you have any trouble, my son?"
Lunin's answer barely registered in his own ears:
"No, father. It went as usual."
His forced calmness overshadowed his words.
His father's eyes caught something, and he turned quietly to his wife:
"Do you sense anything strange in our son?"
His mother searched the storms swirling in his eyes. Her soft voice betrayed her worry:
"Perhaps it's the pains of growing up. But this sudden change... it troubles me."
Then, turning to Lunin, she offered gently but firmly:
"We could bring the kingdom's best psychologists for you. Don't hesitate to accept help."
Lunin replied quickly, tinged with a hint of anger:
"No need, mother. I'm just entering adolescence. I'm changing. Does this bother you?"
His mother forced a smile, but the worry in her eyes remained:
"No, my son. But I'm struggling to recognize you... where is the old Lunin?"
Breakfast went on in silence. The weight in Lunin's heart grew heavier with each bite. Those sitting at the table were his family, yet his soul belonged somewhere else. This life wasn't his—it was a mask he wore.
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[Scene Change – Village Outside the Kingdom]
Under the crimson hues of sunset, two youths walked through Lunin's old village. Tarel, driven by emotion, had eyes that were always on the verge of tears. Beside him was Keon, sharp-minded and deliberate with his words.
They once ran and laughed together on this very soil, but now they carried different burdens.
At an old, worn door, they knocked. The weary woman who answered saw them and momentarily wiped away her fatigue; her eyes lit up.
"My children, how much I've missed you..."
Her hushed voice bore the weight of years.
After some conversation, they said their goodbyes. As they walked in silence, Tarel broke the quiet:
"Keon… what do you think the royalty did to Lunin?"
Keon gazed into the distance:
"Why ask? What are you implying?"
Tarel's voice dropped to a whisper:
"I'm not implying... I just can't believe it. It's too hard…"
Keon drew a deep breath, challenging even his own reason:
"He's gone now, Tarel. We have to accept that."
Tarel lifted his head, sadness flooding his eyes:
"He's dead, yes. But really? Was Lunin so careless? So vulnerable?"
Keon fell silent, doubt creeping in for the first time.
They walked in quiet for a while. The night was cold, and the stars had lost their shine.
"I'll think on this tonight," Keon said softly.
When they reached their old campsite by the forest edge, they lit a small fire. As the flames flickered, their thoughts grew heavier.
Tarel's inner voice echoed through the dark woods:
"Lunin... did he really die that day?"
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