The ticking of the wall clock echoed in the stillness.
Elric sat behind her desk, hands folded over one another, eyes unmoving. Paperwork was scattered across the polished wood, untouched. Her pen sat in its holder, dry. She hadn't written a single word all morning.
Her mind was too loud.
"I'll see you at the party."
The way Reinhardt said it—it wasn't a question. It was a declaration. He was coming. And he wouldn't come quietly.
The door opened. "You called me so sudd—"
Robert's voice trailed off mid-sentence the moment he stepped inside. Elric wasn't herself. Her back was straight, her shoulders tense, but her eyes were distant.
He approached slowly. "My Lady… is something wrong?"
She glanced up. "Reinhardt wants to meet Kael."
Robert froze. "Did he say when?"
"No," she replied, "but I know him. 'At the party,' he said. That's when he'll make it known."
Robert's brows furrowed. "Young Master's condition has been improving, though. He no longer panics when maids enter. He doesn't flinch at footsteps behind him. Don't you think—"
"He was there," she interrupted, her voice sharp. "At the battlefield. The last person Kael saw. The one who held him as he bled out."
Silence.
Neither of them knew Reinhardt had already broken that boundary in secret.
Robert rubbed the back of his neck. "So… what now? Do you want me to prepare for his arrival?"
Elric stared at her fingers for a moment, then looked up. Her voice was low, conflicted. "I don't want Reinhardt to meet him."
Robert blinked.
"Not because I think Kael will break," she admitted. "I'm afraid… he'll leave."
"…You think His Majesty will take him away," Robert finished for her.
Elric didn't answer.
Finally, she exhaled. "Inform the staff. Quietly. Let them know the Emperor is visiting—but not why. No rumors"
Robert gave a nod, already turning to leave when Elric added, "And you? How will you greet him? As a friend? Or as his brother?"
Robert paused. A slow, almost wistful smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"I'm Young Master's servant. I gave up that title long ago."
Then he bowed and stepped out, leaving Elric in silence.
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Kael felt it.
He didn't know what it was, but something had shifted. The mansion felt different—busier, more hushed. People moved with purpose. There were whispers in corners, steps that tried to be quiet but weren't.
Robert, usually talkative, had become distant.
He still brought Kael's meals, but didn't linger anymore. He no longer reminded him to chew slowly or teased him about finishing his greens. Instead, he set the tray down with a quiet word and disappeared through the door before Kael could even raise his gaze.
Kael noticed.
And Elric… she no longer wore her lounging robes. Every time he saw her now, she was in her dark navy waistcoat and collared blouse, formal and polished—ready for an audience. But she wasn't going anywhere. She never left the mansion. Yet she dressed as if expecting someone.
The freesia on his balcony had stopped changing.
Kael touched the vase gently one morning. It had stayed the same since the night he fell asleep beneath the tree with Elric. Pale violet petals. The same ones. That meant… he hadn't come.
He hadn't come.
Still, Kael left food by the balcony every night. Quietly, in the corner. The plate returned untouched every morning. But he kept doing it.
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Today, Kael didn't eat his lunch.
He followed Robert instead, barefoot and quiet, drifting through the halls like a shadow. Robert was speaking in hushed tones with two maids near the kitchen entrance, pointing to folded linens and trays of polished silverware.
Kael hid behind a pillar, observing.
Suddenly—
Bump!
A small body crashed into his leg. Kael turned sharply.
A little boy stood frozen before him, wide-eyed. Maybe six or seven, with tousled brown hair and a chipped tooth. Kael tensed. Was the child hurt? Crying? What would happen if Robert noticed?
But the boy didn't cry. He gasped.
"Wooooow."
Kael blinked.
"Are you a fairy?" the boy whispered, clutching Kael's wrist. "A snow fairy? You look like one!"
Kael's eyes widened in confusion, but he didn't resist as the boy grabbed his hand and tugged.
"Come! Come with me! I have to show them!"
Before he could pull away, the boy led him out the side door, around a short hedge wall, and into a small private garden nestled near the kitchen. There, four other children were playing—a trio of boys and a girl, all under ten, all barefoot and sunburnt.
"Guys! Look what I found!" the boy shouted. "A snow fairy!"
The children gasped.
"His hair is white!"
"He glows in the sunlight!"
"Is he real?"
"He's so handsome!"
Kael stood awkwardly in the grass as the children surrounded him. One touched his sleeve. Another poked his cheek. The smallest girl hugged his waist, giggling.
"Where are your wings?" one boy asked seriously. "Do fairies have scars?"
"Do you eat flowers?"
"Can you fly?"
"Are you married?!"
Kael sat down slowly, still silent. He didn't stop them. He didn't know how.
They played with his hair, tugged at his sleeves, climbed onto his back like he was a jungle gym. They wrapped daisies around his fingers. Someone smeared flower paste on his wrist.
For the first time in years, he wasn't feared. He wasn't worshipped. He wasn't a weapon.
He was just… a fairy.
A low chuckle rolled from behind the garden wall.
Kael turned slowly.
There, seated comfortably on the branch of an overgrown tree, was a golden-haired man with a ridiculous grin on his face. His shirt was open at the collar. His coat tossed aside. His green eyes sparkled with unfiltered amusement.
Reinhardt.
"By the stars," he said between laughs, "If only you could see your face, Kael."
He tilted his head, grinning wider. "That little blank expression while children are braiding your hair? Priceless."
Kael narrowed his eyes.
Then—a small stone flew from Kael's hand, striking Reinhardt square in the temple.
Thump!
"Gah—!! What the hell?!" Reinhardt tumbled backward from the branch, crashing onto the grass with a thud. One boot flew off.
Kael blinked, still sitting.
Reinhardt sat up, rubbing his head. "Did you just throw a rock at me?! You little—! I was trying to compliment you!"
Before either of them could say more, the children turned their attention toward the newcomer.
"UNCLE BEGGAR!!!" the kids shouted.
Reinhardt's eyes widened in panic. "Wait—NO—!"
But it was too late. A horde of children charged at him like a tidal wave. They leapt, climbed, clung to his arms and legs.
"He brought us sweets last time!"
"He said he was a prince in hiding!"
"He slept on the grass like a real beggar!!"
"Uncle beggar, make the bird sound again!"
Reinhardt looked up at Kael from beneath a pile of giggling children. His hair was messy, his coat half-stolen, and his boot was still missing.
"I regret everything," he muttered.
Kael's lips didn't move.
But his eyes—the quiet glint of light in them—almost looked like a smile.