For eighteen long years, Leo had lived with a heavy, bitter conviction: his parents must have hated him, which is why they abandoned him. He didn't even remember their faces. He had always believed the cryptic recording they left behind was only about mastering sword art.
But today—today, he felt a creeping, unsettling realization: Maybe they are watching me. Or perhaps he was overthinking, desperate for a connection. Had they really died? He truly doubted it. Their bodies were never found, and no one ever spoke of their disappearance, except to whisper the same cryptic words: "Your parents were warriors."
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***
Leo carried the cube-shaped recording device into a private, soundproof room. He needed absolute silence and security. As his shaking hand pressed against the biometric scanner—a nervous tremor of what was to come—he silently commanded his racing heart: Stellar, don't show personal emotions.
The room was a fortress: ultra-modern, high-tech, and lined with weapon racks displaying an array of sophisticated swords and heavy guns. The entire space was meticulously sound-dampened, ensuring not a single word of the internal conversation could escape.
Leo carefully placed the recording cube on a table fashioned from expensive nanotechnology. A focused beam of light erupted from the device, coalescing into a shimmering, three-dimensional hologram. The face of the woman was obscured by the light, but her voice was familiar and warm.
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"Leo, it's been eighteen years, hasn't it?" the lady on the hologram began.
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"But you know, back in our previous generation—when we were all just humans—eighteen years for them is more than thirty years to us now."
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Then, a man stepped into the projection. His voice, too, felt like a distant echo of comfort.
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"Thank you, son, for waiting for eighteen years. We decided to give you this recording now because, in our previous generation, children matured fully after eighteen."
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Leo's mother spoke again, and a pang of guilt mixed with hope twisted in his gut.
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"I know you probably questioned why we pushed you to learn sword art fighting. And I know, my son, that you have already mastered that technique."
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His father's projection swelled with motivational energy.
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"Your great journey will start soon. Be ready for it." He paused, his gaze seeming to pierce through the hologram. "And this is not the last recording, Leo."
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Leo listened intently, tears welling up in his eyes, hot and sudden, though his face remained stubbornly dry and composed—a physical manifestation of his controlled grief.
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His mother's next words shattered the fragile peace of his heart.
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"However, we aren't dead, but we aren't alive. So, don't try to find us."
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His parents stepped forward together, their voices rising in unison to motivate Leo, forcing him to listen to their most profound message.
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"And you are the strongest! The strongest always face problems—depression, betrayal, hate—but what makes them endure is simple..."
They finished the sentence with a thunderous declaration:
"THEY ARE STRONG!"
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Just as the power of their words hit him, a new figure, blurry and wearing a white coat like a scientist, rushed into the holographic background, clearly in a state of emergency.
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"Miss Rozen, please come!" the scientist urgently whispered.
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The parents' composure instantly broke. They rushed their farewell.
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"Son, talk to you later, your journey has started."
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The recording dissolved into nothingness, leaving Leo alone in the silent, weapon-filled room, his whole body trembling with a mixture of shock, relief, and burning confusion.
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He remained paralyzed for a moment, unable to move, his mind echoing with the thunderous words. After what felt like an eternity, a single name surfaced.
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"Rozen?"
He slowly spoke the names, the corner of his mouth curling into a faint, surprised smile.
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"Zen and Rozen... so that's where the name came from."
It finally clicked.
"I knew my dad's name—Leonardo—and that he gave me Leo, but I never knew hers."
The realization brought a fleeting moment of pure, unexpected joy that cut through his turmoil.
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He stepped out of the high-tech room. The change in atmosphere was jarring. Max and Lucy were still where he had left them. They both wore their brightly colored birthday caps, and the holographic candle still flickered on the cake, but they were sleeping soundly—or so he thought.
"She is such a kind girl," a voice whispered.
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Leo spun his head. It was Max, sitting up silently.
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"Oh, I thought you were asleep too," Leo replied, the lingering tension in his voice making the simple words sound strained.
"No, I just closed my eyes," Max said, studying Leo's subtly altered expression. "So, you two are friends now?"
Max sighed dramatically. "Bro, I want to be her friend, but she's so shy. She can barely even make eye contact with me." He shifted focus, a playful grin replacing the wistful look. "By the way, is she your girlfriend?"
The question pulled Leo firmly back to the present. "No, she is just a friend of mine," he answered, shaking his head.
"I see," Max replied, a hint of genuine curiosity and relief in his voice.
Just then, Lucy woke with a startled gasp. She instantly noticed Leo standing over them, and her expression brightened with humble joy.
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"Sir Leo! You're back."
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"Yeah, Lucy, but you fell asleep on your birthday," Leo teased gently, a soft smile reaching his eyes for the first time since leaving the room.
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"Sorry, sir," she murmured, immediately looking down, her happiness dissolving into visible shame and sadness.
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Leo reached out and patted her shoulder warmly.
"It's okay. You're human, after all."
The reminder of the powerful, cryptic journey awaiting him momentarily faded. He gestured toward the flickering cake.
"Come on. Let's cut this."