The entire Cyan House was in chaos.
"Have you checked the west corridor?"
"Yes!"
"The garden?"
"Yes!"
"The library?"
"He's not there either!"
Footsteps echoed across the polished marble floors as maids hurried from room to room, lifting curtains, peering behind pillars, even checking under tables as if the young master might somehow have shrunk into something small enough to hide there. Panic moved through the mansion like a fever. Orders overlapped. Doors opened and closed. No one was allowed to leave him alone.
Not even for a second.
And yet, Young Master Kaal had vanished.
Far in the quietest corner of the estate, beyond the rarely used guest chambers, there was a narrow storage room tucked behind an old passage. Dust floated lazily through a thin beam of light that slipped in from a half-broken window. The air smelled faintly of old wood, forgotten cloth, and the silence of places no one visited anymore.
Inside, a small figure sat alone in the dark.
Kaal.
He sat with his back against the cold wall, his knees drawn slightly toward his chest. His breathing was steady, but his eyes were distant, fixed on nothing. His head felt strangely light, like a man who had carried a mountain on his skull for years—and suddenly, someone had taken it away.
No pain.
No pressure.
Only lightness.
And that frightened him more than anything.
He remembered everything.
His past life. His mother's warm embrace whenever he returned home. His father's quiet, proud smile that always seemed to say more than words ever could. Myra's eyes on the day she looked at him as if he was enough, just as he was.
He remembered it all. Every detail. Every word. Every wound.
But he could not feel any of it.
Not the warmth of his mother's hug. Not the comfort hidden in his father's silence. Not the flutter in his chest when Myra smiled. It was as if someone had removed the sound from a movie and left him only the images, stripping away the pulse that had once lived inside them. The memories remained, but the emotions were gone.
He was watching his own life like a silent show.
No feeling.
Only scenes.
Kaal lowered his eyes, his small fingers curling slowly against his knees. He should have been drowning in grief. He should have been breaking beneath the weight of everything he had lost.
Instead, there was only this quiet emptiness.
This terrible calm.
It made him feel less like someone who had survived, and more like something that had been hollowed out and left standing.
Outside, voices still rushed through the mansion, faint now, muffled by walls and distance.
But in that forgotten room, Kaal sat alone with the truth he did not yet know how to name.
He remembered love.
He simply could not reach it anymore.
And the moment Kaal focused on those memories—
they existed.
But the very next second his thoughts shifted, and they vanished again, washed away like sand beneath rain, as if they had never happened at all. For one brief, terrifying instant, he forgot he had ever lived another life.
His brows slowly drew together.
What the hell is going on?
His small fingers rose and pressed lightly against his forehead. It did not hurt. There was no ache, no wound, nothing sharp or broken. It only felt… empty. As if something inside him had been sealed away. Or cut out. Or taken.
He tried again.
He forced himself to remember his mother's face.
And he saw her.
Clearly.
Smiling.
But the feeling?
Nothing.
Only an image.
And that terrified him more than pain ever could. Because if you could remember love and feel absolutely nothing… then what did that make you?
Outside the storage room, a maid froze in the corridor.
"Wait." She narrowed her eyes at the half-open door. "Why is that door open?"
Second maid instantly grabbed her sleeve, lowering her voice like they were standing outside a haunted shrine. "Don't say it like that. What if something's inside?"
The first maid stared at her. "It's a storage room, not a graveyard."
"You don't know that."
The first maid let out a long, tired sigh and pushed the door wider.
Creeeak—
The sound stretched awkwardly into the silence. Both maids leaned in and peered inside. In the corner, sitting motionless in the dark, was a small shadow.
The Second maid gasped so hard she nearly stumbled backward.
"Ghost!"
The first maid smacked the back of her head. "That's Young Master!"
Both of them rushed inside at once.
"Young Master?!"
Kaal slowly lifted his head.
His face was calm.
Too calm.
The Second maid shrank back a little and whispered, "Why does he look like he's planning revenge?"
"Stop watching so many street plays," the first maid hissed.
Then she quickly bent down in front of him, her expression shifting from irritation to relief so fast it almost looked painful. "Young Master, do you have any idea how much chaos you've caused? The entire mansion is upside down looking for you."
Kaal blinked.
Chaos?
For him?
Before he could gather a single thought, the maid scooped him up with practiced ease and held him securely against her chest as she stood. The warmth caught him off guard. It was soft. Protective. Familiar in a way that did not belong to memory, but to the body.
As soon as the maid lifted him into her arms, Kaal's small body stilled for a moment. His eyes, which had been full of distant confusion only seconds ago, blinked once.
Then twice.
And just like that, the storm inside his head paused. The missing emotions, the hollow spaces in his memories, the strange emptiness coiled somewhere deep within him—everything was suddenly pushed aside by one simple, overwhelming realization.
Oh.
Wow.
This place is soft. Very soft.
His face remained perfectly calm, but inside, his thoughts had already gone in an entirely different direction.
The second maid leaned closer, worry knitting her brows. "Is he okay? He's too quiet."
"He's always quiet," the first maid replied at once, adjusting Kaal more proudly in her arms, as if she had personally raised him into a model child.
"Isn't that weird? Young Master is just five days old and still he was able to move here and there…"
Kaal remained expressionless, listening to them, but his thoughts had gone somewhere else entirely.
Absolute distraction.
The maid carrying him shifted her hold.
He bounced slightly.
His mind went blank again.
…Extremely soft.
The first maid noticed his silence and immediately smiled with ridiculous satisfaction. "See? Young Master likes me. The moment I picked him up, that deep-thinking face disappeared."
The second maid gave her a flat look and stepped closer. "What nonsense are you saying? He's quiet because he's tired. Give him to me. You're holding him too tightly."
"I am not! I'm holding him perfectly."
"Perfectly? His cheek is half buried in your chest."
"That means he's comfortable."
"That means you're crushing him."
The first maid gasped as though she had just been accused of treason. "Crushing him? Me? I was the one who found him first!"
The second maid planted her hands on her hips. "Excuse me, we found him."
"Oh please. You would've run away screaming and called him a ghost."
"I did not scream."
"You absolutely screamed."
"I was startled with dignity."
The first maid snorted. "There is no such thing as being startled with dignity."
Then, with the air of someone protecting her rightful treasure, she hugged Kaal a little closer. "Young Master clearly prefers me."
"On what basis?"
"Look at his face."
The second maid leaned in, studying him seriously this time. Kaal stared back with the same unreadable expression he had worn through death, rebirth, confusion, and existential horror.
She narrowed her eyes. "He looks confused."
"'That is his natural face.'"
"'I think he wants me to carry him.'"
"'You think that because you're shameless.'"
"'And you think he likes you because you're delusional.'"
The first maid narrowed her eyes. "Say that again."
"Delu—"
"Don't finish that word in front of Young Master!"
As the two continued bickering their way down the hall, Kaal remained silent in the maid's arms, his expression unreadable. Inside, however, his mind had already given up trying to understand both his past life and his current situation at the same time.
He stared at them for a long moment.
These two are more troublesome than my reincarnation.
By the time the maids reached the main hall, their quiet argument had already turned into whispered warfare. But the instant they stepped inside, both of them straightened at once, as if they had never been quarrelling at all.
"We found Young Master," the maid carrying Kaal said quickly, her voice holding a strange mixture of pride and relief.
Saanvi, who had been standing there with worry written plainly across her face, stepped forward at once. The moment she saw him safe, the tension in her eyes melted. She took him carefully into her arms, checking his face, his hands, even his clothes, as if he might have returned damaged from some grand and terrible adventure.
"My child… where did you go?" she asked softly, holding him a little tighter.
Beside her, Reyansh let out a long breath, the kind that only came after fear had been stretched too far. Rowan rushed a step closer, relief obvious on his face now that Kaal was back.
"Where did he go?" Rowan asked. "The whole house was searching for you."
The maid who had carried Kaal all the way back lifted her chin a little. "Young Master was hiding in the old room near the guest wing."
The second maid immediately added, "And we found him."
The first maid turned to her at once. "I found him."
"We found him."
Their voices almost rose again, but one sharp glance from the head servant silenced both of them on the spot.
In his mother's arms, Kaal looked from one face to another—the worry in his mother, the quiet relief in his father, the curiosity in his brother, and the lingering panic in the servants.
For a moment, no one in that hall cared about status, discipline, or dignity.
They were simply relieved that the young master had been found.
Now peace slowly returned to the Cyan household. Servants relaxed, guards stopped searching, and the restless tension that had gripped the mansion at last began to settle and now everyone waited in anticipation.
Because today was important day.
Today, the child would receive the first sign of his true name.
A servant suddenly announced from the entrance, "Panditji has arrived!"
At once, the atmosphere in the main hall turned solemn. Reyansh stepped forward while Saanvi gently adjusted the child in her arms, anticipation shining clearly in her eyes. Even the servants straightened, standing respectfully as they waited for the revered astrologer who would determine the first alphabet of the young master's destined name.
The doors opened.
But instead of the familiar elderly priest, a young man stood hesitantly at the entrance.
He looked completely unprepared for the attention directed at him. His robes were neat but simple, his posture slightly stiff, and he clutched a bundle of scrolls tightly against his chest as if they were the only thing keeping him upright. Seeing so many eyes turn toward him at once, he nearly stepped back out of the room.
"U-Um…"
For one brief moment, no one spoke.
Then the young man bowed hurriedly, nearly dropping his scrolls in the process.
"M-My greetings to the Cyan household," he said, his voice so soft that the nearest servant had to lean in slightly to hear him.
Reyansh exchanged a polite glance with his wife before asking calmly, "And Panditji?"
The young man straightened at once, clearly flustered. "P-Panditji is well! There is no problem," he said quickly. "He was called away for an urgent matter… a very urgent matter… so he asked me to come in his place."
He hesitated before adding, almost apologetically, "I am his disciple… Vedant. Panditji says I will… eventually succeed him."
The last words faded into embarrassment, as if even he regretted saying them aloud.
Seeing the entire household still watching him, Vedant cleared his throat and added in a smaller voice, "I have assisted in many rituals before… so please do not worry."
Though surprised, the Cyan family still bowed respectfully. Tradition allowed no disrespect toward one sent in a priest's place.
Vedant looked mildly horrified seeing nobles bow to him and immediately waved his hands in a quiet panic, as if he wanted to stop them but was far too shy to actually say it.
"P-Please, there is no need…"
His voice nearly disappeared by the end.
After awkwardly adjusting his spectacles, Vedant stepped forward with visible care and gently approached the child. But the moment his eyes met Kaal's calm gaze, he paused. Something about the child felt strange—too composed, too distant, far beyond what belonged to a newborn. For a brief second, Vedant quietly lost all confidence and became very aware of his own heartbeat.
Then, swallowing that unease, he lowered his head slightly and murmured, "…Let us begin."
He seated himself on the floor and unfolded several scrolls bound with braided cord. Ancient texts were carefully opened beside him while ink marks slowly filled the parchment as he recorded the child's birth details—date, time, celestial alignment, and family lineage. The soft scratching of his brush echoed faintly through the silent hall.
Around him, anticipation quietly thickened.
Saanvi watched with clasped hands, unable to hide her excitement. Rowan leaned forward impatiently, already imagining the name they would soon call his little brother. Even the servants stood straighter, their eyes fixed on Vedant as if the next few breaths might reveal something sacred.
Then Vedant finally set the brush aside and closed his eyes.
His consciousness descended into the astral plane—the sacred realm where fate revealed itself. Normally, this inner world bloomed with countless stars. Each one represented destiny, shimmering softly as they formed patterns that guided the seer toward the first letter of a name.
But when Vedant opened his spiritual sight—
there were no stars.
No constellations.
No light.
Only darkness. Endless darkness, stretching in every direction.
At first, he thought his concentration had slipped. He searched again, moving deeper into the void, waiting for even the faintest flicker to answer him. But nothing came.
Nothing at all.
The silence there felt wrong.
Every living being possessed fate. Even the weakest newborn carried at least a spark of destined light. That was the first truth of the art he had spent years learning. And yet here—
there was only emptiness.
A vast, unmoving darkness that did not simply surround him.
It seemed to be watching him in return.
For the first time since learning this sacred art, uncertainty crept into Vedant's heart. Cold. Unwelcome. Quietly terrifying. He opened his eyes at once.
The hall immediately stirred with curiosity.
"So? What did you see?"
"Which alphabet?"
"What is Young Master's destined letter?"
Faces leaned toward him from every side, bright with expectation and excitement.
Vedant looked at them, but his own unease had not faded. The darkness he had witnessed still clung to him like cold mist. Words gathered in his throat, yet refused to come properly, because there had been nothing.
No sign.
No letter.
He swallowed nervously and tried to speak, but even his voice seemed to stumble before sound finally escaped.
"Aa…"
The reaction was instant.
"A!"
Joy burst through the hall like wildfire. Saanvi's face lit up with relief and happiness. Servants began congratulating one another, and the maids crowded around the child excitedly, already tossing possible names back and forth that began with the blessed letter. Reyansh let out the breath he had been holding, and Rowan laughed openly.
"Finally," he said, grinning. "Now we can give him a proper name."
Kaal watched all of it in silence, but when his gaze shifted to Vedant's face, he understood at once that the man had seen something else entirely. Something no one here had noticed beneath the celebration, the warm hands, and the proud smiles.
Vedant lifted one hand slightly, trying to interrupt.
"N-No… it is not exactly—"
But the moment had already moved past him. Someone had started distributing sweets. Another servant rushed away to prepare a special meal for the occasion. The hall had accepted the answer before the explanation could even be born.
Vedant slowly lowered his hand again.
No one gave him the chance to correct it. No one even realized there was anything to correct. And right then, he chose silence. Not because he had nothing to say, but because his shyness had already grabbed his throat, tied it into a knot, and thrown the key somewhere far, far away.
…Explaining later would be easier.
Much easier.
In his mother's arms, Kaal watched the celebration without the slightest reaction. Around him, a name was beginning to gather. A destiny everyone believed had finally revealed itself. The blessed child. The chosen child. The child whose future had been touched by the gods.
And yet, apparently, the only person in the room who was not lying to himself was Vedant.
Because beyond the laughter—
beyond the blessings, tears, and proud smiles—
the darkness Vedant had witnessed remained exactly where it had been.
Silent.
Untouched.
Waiting.
Vedant stared at the child for one long second. Then he adjusted his glasses, his face stiff as stone, looking like a man whose life had suddenly become much more complicated than it had been that morning.
Inside his own head, he whispered with absolute sincerity,
I'm fucked up.
To be continue…