They sat beneath the arborizate tree in the courtyard. Petals fell like silent snow, glowing dimly beneath bashful light. But to their vision, it was just a cold, lifeless image.
Roman lifted his gaze to the crimson streak between their chests and complained in a skeptical tone:
"So… this is not a dream, is it, Ray?"
Ray answered quietly, gently picking up a butterfly with a broken wing that had fallen beside him:
"No. This isn't some daydream… It's another life. Different in every way… but we're still ourselves."
He slowly raised his hand. A pure white light gathered in his palm, extending like a string from his very soul, forming into the figure of a faceless woman draped in immaculate white robes. The Pure Virgin.
The woman knelt down and stroked her hands over the butterfly's damaged wing. At once, the wound vanished, and the beast flew back out into the air as if everything was okay.
Roman observed it all with frozen cynicism:
"A very virtuous offering. curing butterflies in a world where human beings devour one another alive. How soft. How ironic."
Ray offered a hardly detectable smile:
"Even the small things should get to live. This power… It's not a choice, Roman. It's me. A product of my soul."
He paused for a moment, glancing at his hand.
"Do you know why I think that I was granted this ability? Maybe. because I was born into this world defiling myself with sin from the moment I drew my first breath. My mother. passed away the instant I emitted my first cry. Maybe this ability was how I could pay for something that I never chose."
Roman did not respond immediately. He held out his hand, and a small white ball appeared, spinning lazily before it transformed into the form of a little white cat. The cat jumped up onto his shoulder and extended like something alive.
"And me…" he breathed, "this is the 'Replica Sphere.' I can seed it with any living thing… and control it for a fleeting moment. Do you know why I bought this? Because I spent my childhood locked in my mother's room, being punished for even having the audacity to look out her window. Alone… wanting to be someone else. Someone else completely. This sphere gives me that. It gives me the freedom to be what I am not."
Their eyes met for a moment.
Roman finally said:
"So… these aren't just powers. They're mirrors. Mirrors of our souls. They reflect what we've lived."
Ray nodded:
"Exactly. That's the Mirror System. Every human is born with an ability shaped by their heart and their experiences. It's… the story of their soul, turned into a tool for survival."
Before they could continue, a maid appeared in slow, measured strides. She was holding in her hands two envelopes sealed with the royal seal.
She stopped before them and bowed low:
"My lord, the Seventh Prince, and my lord, the Ninth Prince… These are the invitations to the royal banquet, which His Majesty has commanded. It will take place in the great hall in three days."
She stuffed the envelopes without glancing up. Her silence contained secret tension, like she was facing beasts, not princes.
Ray received his envelope in silence, then Roman. They said nothing until the maid left.
Roman turned the invitation in his hand and said:
"A royal banquet… Do you know what that means? It's an arena. No one sits there just to eat."
Ray replied without lifting his eyes from the crimson thread:
"True. Any feast here is at a price. A price paid not in gold… but in blood and pride."
Roman took a deep breath:
"The memories I've regained of this palace are enough to turn my stomach. The monarchy… rules only by force. The church watches us, cursing us in the name of holiness. And the other races… dwarves, demons, elves… all of them hate us just the same. This entire world is built on hatred."
Ray's voice was quiet:
Even within the palace… where golden walls and silk dresses glitter, seeds of hatred grow. The wives of the king despise each other like wolves locked in the same cage. They all wish to devour the others so that they can keep standing.
"And the princes aren't any better. Each one of us wishes for the other to fall. We're nine brothers in name… but in truth, we're rivals waiting for the moment of weakness."
He leaned against the tree trunk, then began counting on his fingers:
The first and second. sons of the Empress. The third. our only sister. The fifth and sixth. children of the countess. The seventh. you, son of a concubine long dead. The eighth. and me, the ninth. from another concubine. And all of them aspire to take the Empress's place."
He laughed harshly and without joy:
"As for my mother… she thinks of nothing but herself. I've never seen her heart beat for anything other than her own ambition."
Ray didn't respond. He only stared at the red thread stretched between them. That thread reminded them that despite everything… they were still bound.
Suddenly, two servants passed by nearby. They froze instantly upon seeing the two princes speaking so casually. They exchanged puzzled glances before one whispered:
"The Seventh Prince… and the Ninth? Talking together?!"
The other replied in the same hushed tone:
"Impossible… The princes usually hate each other more than anyone else."
But the brothers ignored the murmurs.
Roman stared at the red thread and said:
"Even here… there's no escaping this thread."
Ray answered in a quiet tone:
"At least… we're not alone."
There was a brief silence before Ray raised his envelope and said:
"In three days… the real tragedy begins."
Roman sneered coldly:
"Then let us prepare… Hell begins early, and this banquet shall be the first act of its play."
And beneath the white tree, as its petals silently scattered around them, the two brothers sat — bound with a crimson thread, looking into a future that promised nothing but the open doors of hell.
[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