The roof was steep, though, and the city below looked small. cold, still, and full of false light.
They sat there—two boys of similar age, one twelve, the other just a little more than fifteen. Both as thin as autumn branches in a harsh fall, bodies marked—some by scars old, others by those new. Their faces were white, as if the blood had long departed from them, and their eyes overwhelmed in heavy silence.
They didn't utter a single word.
And then, unexpectedly… that crimson thread appeared.
Thin, as though transparent, like a living thread of blood, it puffed from each of their chests and curved between their hearts, like an unseen string which would be invisible to plain eyes. The younger boy took a step back, staring at his chest, and then asked in a trembling voice:
"Do you see it… brother?"
The older one answered in a crisp, icicle-cold voice, full of no sympathy for this world:
"Yes… I see it. It appears to be the ultimate gift offered up to us prior to death."
Down on the rooftop, there were crowds of people. Nobody ascended to push them back or attempt to make them leave. Everybody was preoccupied… taking pictures.
Phones held aloft, eyes observing with blank anticipation.
A shouting, laughing voice arose from out of the crowd suddenly:
"Well? Jump or do not jump? I've got work to do. Finish it already!"
The brothers exchanged a brief glance. They spoke not a word.
Then. they jumped.
Two bodies on the ground, panting in blood instead of air. Drowning faces in the dark. No one rushed in to attend to them. No one screamed. Cameras kept on shooting, and gossip began to spread:
"Aren't they brothers?"
"I heard that they're homeless."
"How old? They don't look more than kids."
Amidst that apathy… the younger stretched out his trembling, bloodied hand towards his brother. Struggling, the elder too stretched his hand out, as if he was trying to cling to life with that touch.
But… before their fingers touched one another…
Life was stopped.
[ The end... ]
[ System failure… Something is changing the system… How do you distort the system? I am disappearing… Who are you? ]
[ The Beginning… ]
The elder brother his eyes to an unnormal quiet.
No pain. No noise. No wind slapping his face. Only… a high ceiling above him and a large bed below. Walls with royal drapes, and furniture that seemed to be from centuries past.
He sat down slowly, his heart racing with an odd regret. Then rose… his legs steadier, although he had just died some seconds before.
He approached a large mirror on the wall.
And when he looked.
He was stuck.
"This… is not my face."
The reflection showed him a youth his age, with soft features, noble features, and dark hair reaching the shoulders. Peaceful eyes, but not his.
Then… memories exploded.
Shattered fragments, voices, names, halls, plots, women with gold, men entreating forgiveness, and a stern royal face looking down with disdain.
It was not him. But the memories overwhelmed his mind mercilessly.
"I. am the Seventh Prince?" he muttered, and then moved back two steps.
Slowly, that red thread again appeared from his chest.
But this time… longer. Extremely long, its other end barely visible, sticking straight through the whole palace, piercing walls, searching for something unknown.
A maid entered quietly.
Her steps were light but heavily on his mind. Her face before him, something deep inside him clenched tight—a transmitted fear of days of beating and brutality, that tightening causing him to recoil. The faintest glance was enough to rouse his fear.
He strained to lift his eyes to her, but he couldn't. His droopy eyelids hidden behind quivering lids, and his hands shook automatically as if in fear that she might see him weak or otherwise than the man he was bound to be.
She spoke to him in a soft voice, with downcast eyes, as if she didn't have the courage to look at him:
"Have you awakened, my lord?"
He did not respond immediately. Silent, his gaze cast down at the floor, panting with fright in his stillness, as if trying to hide the weakness and fear inside.
Then he waved his hand, clearly upset:
"P-please… leave."
She nodded and slipped away silently.
He dressed slowly and moved with reluctant steps, as though every palace corner held memories of suffering he could no longer stand to face, though in another world.
The string… still stretched from his chest.
As if something was calling him.
He was guided by it.
Through corridors, past guards and servants who bowed their heads—not because they were respectful, but because he was just a son of a concubine, a man who did not deserve dignity.
Until he reached a central courtyard.
There was a young man standing next to a white flowering tree, about the same age, with the same royal looks… his eyes staring at him in shock.
Then he looked at his chest.
The red string also emerged from his heart… connected to the Seventh Prince's heart.
"Brother?" he uttered in a trembling voice.
"You…" said the elder, stepping forward, "It's you… yes."
They embraced.
A moment of quietness between two bodies that in reality did not belong here… but two hearts who had tied themselves before death, still trying to understand why.
[To be continued...]
There are four types of chapters in the novel:
♤ Chapters dedicated to the older brother (Ray)
♧ Chapters dedicated to the younger brother (Roman)
◇ Chapters where they are together
♡ ??? Currently unknown