On the night they each found their resolve, Daniel gathered everyone together.
Kiril came down the stairs with eyes swollen and red—no one knew exactly what he and Daniel had discussed—while Kisha followed, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Yujin and Raquelamalin were also awake, their minds too busy with lingering thoughts to find rest. Daniel looked at the assembled group.
"Yujin, I assume you didn't bring much luggage."
"…No, not much."
He hadn't brought anything bulky; he had intended to settle his needs within Kazimierz as they arose.
"Good. Then we leave this place immediately."
"Leave? To where?"
Daniel looked out the window with eyes full of nostalgia. He seemed to be reliving a distant memory.
"It is impossible to provide you with the Nearl records here. If you are to learn, we must go to the place where those records are kept."
He was looking toward the family estate. Having fled it long ago, stained by guilt and vow never to return, Daniel found the irony of his situation bittersweet. Handing over the lineage and the secrets of the Nearl blade to an outsider—a Sarkaz, no less—was a radical move. If his ancestors or the family elders were alive to see it, they likely would have beaten him senseless with their staves.
Yet, before the name Nearl could be erased from Kazimierz entirely, Daniel was prepared to make the ultimate gamble.
Silence filled the car as they drove. Kisha sat with Raquelamalin, nodding off, while Kiril eventually leaned his head against the glass and fell asleep. Only Yujin, Larin, and Daniel—at the wheel—remained awake.
Daniel glanced at the rearview mirror, checking on the two Sarkaz in the back. Usually, people associated the name Sarkaz with horns and the rotting shadow of Oripathy. Daniel had been no different until he met Yujin, the first uninfected Sarkaz he had ever seen. Raquelamalin, on the other hand, had already confirmed her status as one of the Infected.
While the world treated the Infected as pariahs, Daniel had heard his father's lectures on the subject too many times to participate in such discrimination. After all, his own wife had spent her final days as one of them. He knew they hadn't chosen to become walking tragedies.
"I forgot to ask," Daniel said as the car stopped at a red light. "How exactly did you and Kiril meet?"
"He looked so desperate swinging that wooden sword in the park that I couldn't help myself," Yujin replied casually. "I tried to offer a bit of advice, and he ended up grabbing my leg and begging to be my disciple."
"…I see. I suppose I‘m the one to blame for that. I was the one who forbade him from touching a blade."
Daniel had felt that Kiril picking up a sword wouldn't change their fate. He hadn't taught the boy, and there was no one else left to show him the true Nearl style. Except for the distant branch families, Daniel and Kiril were the last of the direct line. But records alone couldn't convey the soul of a style. Daniel was no combat genius; he only knew the basics he‘d been forced to learn as a child.
"By the way, what is the relationship between the two of you?" Daniel asked, remembering Yujin‘s search for Larin. He had claimed he was looking for her as a favor for someone else, but such a dry explanation lacked... flavor.
"…She‘s a high-born lady. That‘s why I was searching," Yujin said.
"He's no one special," Larin countered at the exact same time.
They looked at each other for a beat. Despite their conflicting answers, both clearly held the other in high regard. Yujin now knew why she had fled Kazdel, and Larin knew Yujin had saved her not once, but twice.
The awkward atmosphere lingered until the car finally reached its destination.
Yujin hopped out, carefully carrying a sleeping Kisha in one arm. Larin helped him unload the bags.
"…Master Daniel. I truly did not expect your return."
They stood before the meticulously maintained Nearl manor. In front of the gray stone walls and the orderly garden stood an elderly man. He wore a monocle, and his hair was as white as snow.
The old butler‘s eyes welled with tears as he looked at Daniel. Daniel offered a somber smile and opened his arms, pulling the old man into a brief embrace.
"I'm sorry, Old Man. I didn't want to come back like this."
"No, Master... the fact that you have come back at all is more than enough."
It was the return of a head who had finally ended a long, painful wandering.
Despite being largely uninhabited, the Nearl estate was spotless. After unpacking, Yujin stepped out into the garden to watch the sun rising over the horizon, painting the flowers in hues of brilliant red.
"What are you thinking about?"
Raquelamalin was behind him, her fingers lightly brushing her dress.
"…Just considering how to move forward," Yujin answered.
"You can speak normally to me. We‘re about the same age, after all."
"I can't exactly talk down to a Princess—"
"I am no Princess here. And besides, your own position is not one I can treat lightly."
Yujin had already revealed his identity as the disciple of Netsalem, the King of the Nachzehrers. It was the only reason he would have known she had fled to Kazimierz in the first place.
"…Should I call you Raquelamalin then?"
"Mmm, just call me Larin. It's better."
"Wasn't that just a name you made up when we first met?"
"It‘s the name I gave to you. Besides, if people hear my real name and figure out my identity, what do you think will happen?"
People who didn't know much about Kazdel or the Sarkaz wouldn't care, but anyone with even a shred of intel would cause trouble.
"Larin, then."
"That's better."
She wanted to be treated as an ordinary person here, not royalty. The weight of her title had grown impossibly heavy.
"And, I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I heard what you and Daniel discussed yesterday."
The state of the Nearl house. The task Yujin had taken on.
To her, the goal seemed effectively impossible. Larin had been in Kazimierz longer than Yujin; she had spent her time in the underbelly, listening to the ravens and gathering whispers.
A Sarkaz—not just any foreigner, but a Sarkaz—winning the Major.
"…How do you see it?" Yujin asked.
"Do you want the honest version?"
"Yes."
"It‘s impossible."
Larin didn't sugarcoat it.
"Being a Sarkaz already puts you at a massive disadvantage. But you‘ve also draped the Nearl name over your shoulders. You‘ve essentially invited every power in this city to target you."
"Breaking through that interference is my job."
"Even if you make it to the arena, the competition won't be easy. The absolute masters of Kazimierz will be there this year."
A cool breeze, a harbinger of the approaching summer, drifted through the garden.
"It will be hard. Beyond hard. Bordering on the miraculous."
Yujin listened in silence. When he had first met Daniel, no one could have predicted it would lead to this. His time in Kazimierz had been brief, but the weight of the events he‘d experienced was anything but light.
"So, you're telling me to give up?"
"…I wish you would."
Yujin was a good person. She saw it in how he treated Kisha, and in the kindness he‘d shown her when he knew nothing about her. Raquelamalin wanted to stop him because she could see the cliff he was walking toward.
"Larin."
"Yes?"
"I know all of that. But I still don't want to give up."
"…What?"
Larin looked at him with wide, bewildered eyes. She wanted him to abandon the Nearl name and flee as a Sarkaz. But Yujin‘s expression remained unchanged.
"I just don't want to live that way."
Compromise was easy. Wait for the next time. Once this passes, maybe the next opportunity will be different. He could tell himself a thousand lies. But giving up now and choosing a cowardly 'next time' meant breaking his own code.
"I'm not judging people who live that way, but for me? I just can't do it."
That was Yujin‘s path.
People could call him a fool or a dreamer. But he wanted to live with the heart of a child, fueled by an uncompromising admiration for the legends.
Raquelamalin watched him. Yujin looked steady, his eyes fixed on the setting sun that had finally begun to dip below the clouds.
"…I see."
She didn't know why, but seeing Yujin like that filled her with a strange sense of envy.