Chapter 15
[Embercrown 18th (8/18), Year 1356 of the Arcane Calendar]
| 9:30 AM |
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[ Valco city, Castle ]
Knock, knock.
I rapped on Liam's door, pushing it open with a creak. "You ready?" I asked, leaning against the frame, letting out a yawn.
"Yeah, I didn't have much to pack anyway," Liam replied, slinging a small bag over his shoulder with a lazy grin.
We made our way to the breakfast hall, bypassing the indoor guest dining area from yesterday. Today, we were leaving, and neither of us wanted to exhaust ourselves before the grueling 29-hour, 1700-kilometer train journey ahead. Ugh, just thinking about it makes me depressed, I thought, my shoulders slumping.
"Last night was too close," I muttered, glancing at Liam. "Thank the gods those two didn't find you."
Liam nodded, his expression grim, understanding exactly what I meant. When the cookie girl called my name in the ballroom, I was caught off guard—she didn't appear in any of Kyzen's memories. I told her I'd seen Liam at lunch and didn't know where he was at the time. After that, I slipped away to find Liam and filled him in on the duo tailing us.
We spent the rest of the night playing a tense game of hide-and-seek, dodging through the ballroom, making sure they didn't spot us. Though a slight guilt hit me for not standing by Chloe's side during her cake-cutting, honestly, she brought this mess on herself.
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"Brother, why are you leaving? Stay and play!" Tina tugged sharply on Liam's long hair.
He tried to glare at her in an attempt to make her stop, but that only seemed to encourage her to pull harder. The mother quickly stepped in, attempting to free him from her grasp.
After lunch and a short nap, we began preparing to leave for the train station. We decided to say our goodbyes before heading out. The train was scheduled to depart in three hours, and the station was only about thirty minutes from the castle.
Aldric pulled Liam away for reasons he didn't share, so I made my way to the library for one final visit.
During my stay, I spent most of my free time there, searching for as much useful information as I could.
I couldn't help recalling the day those men had nearly attacked Anna. I'd been heading toward her when I came across them, purely by chance. Fortunately, I was able to stop them before anything happened. The letter I later sent to the Servants' Association ensured they would never work in service again, even after their eventual release from prison.
I smiled faintly to myself, feeling a quiet satisfaction at the memory.
"Good, you're still here!" Chloe's voice rang out as she entered the room. One hand covered part of her face, as if she were hiding a laugh—or perhaps a bruise.
"Hello, sister," Sofia greeted warmly.
Chloe sank into a chair beside Liam, who sat at the tea table studying his cards. He placed one down with an exaggerated sigh.
She glanced at his hand, and Liam tilted it toward her so she could see. Chloe nodded slightly, her gaze shifting between the cards in play and the ones he held.
"What's wrong, sister? You don't look well," Sofia asked, narrowing her eyes in concern.
"Just a slight headache," Chloe replied, leaning back with a faint smirk. "Your brothers gave me a wonderful gift, but it left me with a headache this morning."
Liam and I exchanged a look of understanding.
"How many did you drink?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
Her smirk widened. "I had some friends over, so… all of them."
Sofia, not understanding the implication, simply returned her focus to the card game.
I suspected Chloe had found some method to push through it, because I knew for certain she couldn't handle more than three sips. This certainly wasn't her first time drinking. That's the most sketchy thing I've heard since my transmigration.
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Clank. Clank.
"Oh yeah, I forgot to ask—why did Grandfather call for you? Did something happen? And how many steps did you take this time?"
With a grin, he answered the latter. "Fifteen."
"I already know you did eleven."
He covered his face with his palm, wearing an obvious smug expression.
This bastard… who told him?
Looking toward the window, he replied in a more serious tone. "Mother told me to go, so… yeah."
I nodded in understanding. Those who knew Liam understood—he was very much a mama's boy.
Looking outside through the window, I told Liam, "Looks like we're here."
From where I sat opposite him, I could see the station building coming into view.
Watching the buildings and people outside, I sometimes felt like I'd been thrown back in time—minus the magic and fantasy, it was strangely exciting.
The coach stopped in front of a station entrance, and the driver left.
Our luggage had been sent ahead with Charles, Anna, and a few other servants. Anna and Charles would be joining me in the city, staying at Liam's house to help his mother, whose health was fragile for a first-generation elf.
The train wasn't here yet, so I sat on a bench. My eyes drifted toward a growing crowd.
Liam appeared from that direction, weaving through the people. He'd split off earlier, saying he wanted to grab something.
"Hey, Liam—why's everyone gathered over there?"
He shook his head. "Not sure. Just got back from buying snacks for the ride. Heard a bit while I was paying—something about a group called the Hollow Crows."
"Hollow Crows?" I raised a brow. "What's their deal?"
"Didn't hear much. Supposedly, they're against the Council. People were saying their leader's decent—hands out donations and such. Royce, I think his name was."
"Going against the top?" I leaned back. "That's bold."
Liam shrugged. "Guess so. But you know how rumors are—half the crowd already seemed suspicious of them. That's all I heard."
I shifted my gaze from the crowd. "The name they chose wasn't winning me over—it sounded like a generic biker gang."
"The Biker?" Liam's jaw tightened. "You mean the Kiblan group? Yeah, those gutter rats are scum. Getting bolder every day."
"The Order's too busy polishing their armor and chasing petty thieves to notice real crime. The only time they act is when some noble's bastard gets kidnapped—then suddenly they've got all the manpower in the world."
He leaned back, voice dropping. "The higher we raise our towers of justice, the longer the shadows they cast for deceit to hide in."
I could think of only one thing that suited what he said—corruption is a bitch.
"Excuse me!"
A boy, a little younger than me, stood a few paces away—disheveled hazel-brown hair, a mole on his left cheek. His clothes were frayed but clean, and he clutched a pamphlet and a small package with white-knuckled intensity.
"Hi, um… my name's Cane," he said, thrusting the items toward us. The chocolate's rich scent seeped through its simple wrapping.
Before I could respond, he added, "Please take this. And… if you could help us…" His voice trailed off, and before we could ask anything, he slipped back into the crowd.
Liam frowned, unfolding the pamphlet. "Huh. Says they're protesting the Council's education reforms. Think the changes only look good on paper."
I skimmed the first lines—A Cry for the Forgotten—and tucked it away. Neither of us spoke after that.
Now I see why they're against the Council. From what I know, knowledge of magic was first developed by the fantasy race, who were more proficient in its understanding than any other.
The Council is notoriously selective about allowing humans or demons into their academies, and the most prestigious ones are concentrated in Zyvaris.
Naturally, this breeds resentment among those who dream of entering a top college but lack the means.
Admission favors those indirectly, for those who are in high society with connections and wealth or noble blood—people who already have access to the study materials and can afford private tutors needed to pass the entrance exams.
Humans once relied on science, and demons used their unique physiognomy. However, most of the scientific, magical, and body-refining techniques have been lost since the era of chaos.
Choo-choo!
The train rolled into the station with a low, heavy groan, black smoke drifting from its engine and mixing with the cool morning air.
Steam hissed from beneath the wheels, and the brakes let out a long, sharp screech before the train finally stopped.
"This way—our seats are here," Liam said, walking ahead.
We stepped up onto the metal footplate, the scent of oil and warm iron hanging in the air. Inside, the corridor was narrow, with the faint sway of the train under our feet."This way—our seats are here," Liam said, walking ahead.
He slid open a door to our compartment. Two cushioned benches faced each other across a table.
Sunlight slipped in through the wide window, lighting the polished surface of the table and the brass trim along the walls. I set my bag down beside me, the faint rumble of the engine still thrumming on the floor.
Liam and I sat beside each other while Charles and Anna sat opposite us.
The next hours of the journey were pure hell.
Liam's head slumped against my shoulder as he slept. I've always had a problem with sleeping—if someone disturbs me or wakes me up, I can't fall back asleep, no matter how tired I am. It's not something physical, but a quirk of the mind I've carried all my life.
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[Solmordis, Draehelm Academy]
In a room with a wide, double-sided window, moonlight spilled faintly across the floor. On a wooden table near a brass lamp sat a folded letter. Beside it, a candle burned low, its flame trembling, shrinking—each flicker a heartbeat closer to darkness.
A man with golden-yellow hair sat in the window frame, one leg dangling over the edge. He hummed a tune no one else knew, a quiet melody carried on his breath. His head swayed gently, the hum rising and falling like the slow tide, his gaze lost in the endless stretch of the night sky.
He pursed his lips. "Grandmother… you know I tried. I really did." His voice was quiet, almost swallowed by the stillness.
"I thought if I worked hard enough, I'd get better. That Father… Mother… my brothers, my sisters—someone—would finally see me."
He let out a breath that might have been a laugh.
"And yet… It's strangers I've met in only a few years who stood by me. Lesser nobles, greater nobles… it never mattered. I treasured my friends."
"Then why can't my own family, who've known me since birth, do the same?"
His eyes shifted to the candle. The flame danced stubbornly, defiant even in its last moments, casting golden ripples across the walls. In its light, his crimson eyes shone—until the glow faded, and they fell into darkness.
"Grandmother… even that flame fought harder to live than I ever have."
Drip…
He blinked, startled at first, then raised a hand to his cheek. The tear was warm. Each drop stung as it slid down, the skin beneath already raw from earlier crying.
"My younger brother… the one I loved since the day he was born… sent the house servants away in secret. To threaten my friends' families. All for a stupid excuse of not letting lower families have ties with the family's name." His voice broke, trembling into silence.
"That was the last thread tying me to this world. And now… there's nothing. If I can't even choose the people I want to be with…"
He looked back to the sky—vast, cold, and uncaring.
"I'm sorry, Grandmother," he whispered. "I can't wait any longer for something good to happen. I am… a coward. Weak. Talentless."
With eyes left with no will to live," If it's possible, I at least want to choose my death."
A breeze slipped through the room, brushing against him like a final farewell.
He leaned forward, fingers loosening on the window frame—until there was nothing left to hold on to.
Thud…
In the dead of night, when most slept, the crash went unheard by anyone.
On the ground lay the man's body—bones shattered, skull fractured, limbs twisted at unnatural angles. Just before his final thread of consciousness snapped, he caught sight of a girl in a white robe like those worn by ancient Greek scholars.
His eyes dulled, the last warmth draining from them.
Tap… tap…
A man with a smoking pipe appeared as if the world had forgotten to render him—there one moment, absent the last.
Crouching beside the body, he pressed his hand against the boy's broken nose, fingers searching for a heartbeat.
Exhaling a slow stream of smoke swirled through the air, he muttered in a disappointed tone, "Well… he's dead."
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[ Earth ]
Her shoulders stiffened. Her lips pressed together.
Tears welled up without warning, clinging to her lashes. She set the knife down hard enough to make it rattle on the table.
"Oliver…" she whispered, almost like a prayer. Her voice shook.
She swallowed, tried again—louder. "Oliver!"
Silence.
Her breathing quickened. "Oliver!" The name tore out of her like it had been trapped inside too long, the sound raw, breaking at the edges.
Still no answer.
She stood frozen in the quiet, the faint hiss of the omelets on the stove the only sound in the room. The smell of onions and eggs mingled in the air, sharp and warm all at once. She wiped her cheeks roughly and moved toward the stove, her hands trembling as she adjusted the pan.
Just then—
"Yes, Mom? You called?"
A young man in his early twenties stepped into the kitchen, black hair slightly messy, his tone casual.
"Open the window for me, please," she said without looking at him. "The onions are making me cry."
"…Sure, Mom." He hesitated, glancing at her tear-streaked face, but moved to the window and fiddled with the latch until it gave way.
She waved a hand to clear the air. "How are you feeling, Oliver? Are your memories coming back?"
"Yes, Mom. Just a bit of amnesia. I'm fine now—forgot a few basic things, but they're coming back little by little. Don't worry."
I mean… I'm not lying, the young man thought. The memories are coming back—like a toddler learning to walk. I'm just having trouble interpreting all this new information because…
I'm not some twenty-one-year-old man named Oliver.
I'm just a kid—and my name is Kyzen.
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Embercrown 17th, Year 1356.
The man I helped today asked for directions to the gathering area. Looked completely ordinary, but for some reason, I got this weird pull in my head. Like I'd seen him before. It wasn't déjà vu exactly—more like a shadow of a memory from Kyzen's life, not mine. Couldn't place it. Could've been someone I passed once. It could've been someone who tried to rob me. Or, knowing my luck, both.
Oh, and the cookie girl. Yeah… still have no clue who she is. She clearly knew me (or at least the Kyzen before me), but from my perspective, she's a stranger. She's probably one of those people who just start talking like you've been best friends since birth. You know the type. Very smiley. Very confusing, but she dasn't a friend, that's for sure.
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