The garden had quieted now, emptied of children's laughter and footsteps. Only the rustling leaves remained, swaying gently in the afternoon breeze. Kael sat motionless beneath the same tree, legs folded loosely beneath him. Beside him, Reinhardt picked at the crumbs left behind from the biscuits the children had offered. He popped one into his mouth with an air of satisfaction.
"This one's not bad," Reinhardt said with a hum, glancing at Kael from the corner of his eye. "I swear, kids have better taste in snacks than the entire royal court."
There was no response from Kael—just a distant stare fixed on nothing in particular.
But then—
"I'm sorry."
The words came suddenly, startlingly soft. Reinhardt jolted, and the biscuit he had just bitten lodged in his throat. He coughed violently, thumping his chest as he turned to Kael in disbelief.
"What?!" he wheezed between coughs. "Wait, did you just—speak?!"
Kael's eyes shifted toward the crumbs still scattered on the grass. He pointed at them quietly.
Reinhardt followed his gesture, then chuckled when understanding dawned.
"Ohh… you mean this?" He lifted a broken biscuit. "You're saying sorry for not leaving me leftovers when you were sick?"
He grinned wide, playfully exaggerating his outrage. "How dare you, Hero Kael? Leaving me to starve like a lonely beggar at the gates."
But Reinhardt's teasing smile softened as he met Kael's gaze—still guarded, still quiet.
"…Don't worry," he said more gently, brushing off his hands. "I have my ways."
There was a beat of silence before Reinhardt let out a quiet breath. He leaned back against the tree and closed his eyes, the smile slipping slightly.
"I should be the one apologizing," he said at last, the humor gone from his voice.
His words came slowly, each one weighed down by something deeper.
"You know… when you fell from that tower, I was too far away. I heard the collapse. Felt the mana rupture. I ran until my lungs tore, but—" He paused, swallowing thickly. "I couldn't reach you in time."
Kael didn't move, but the tension in his shoulders eased slightly.
"I kept thinking... if I had just been a little faster. If I hadn't been so focused on the others. Maybe I could've caught you before you hit the ground."
He shook his head, bitter at himself.
"When you were in pain," he said softly, "I wanted nothing more than to share it. Just take even a piece of it. I would've carried all of it if it meant sparing you from any of it."
He turned his head, and for a moment, the sun caught in Reinhardt's eyes—gold reflected in green.
"I hated myself," he whispered. "Not for what I did… but for everything I couldn't do."
Kael watched him silently. There was something unfamiliar in his chest—something heavy, yet not painful. Warmth... and confusion.
Reinhardt stood slowly, brushing the grass from his coat. He looked down at Kael with a smile, this time less broken, more real.
"Well, I can see Robert's been unusually busy," he said. "I wonder how long I'll keep making them wait."
Kael tilted his head slightly. He didn't understand what the man meant, but he let him speak.
Reinhardt turned to walk away—but paused when Kael spoke again.
"My name is Kael…"
Reinhardt stopped, back still facing him.
"What is your name?"
The question hung in the air between them like a ribbon caught in wind.
Reinhardt turned back slowly. His smile returned, but it didn't reach his eyes this time. There was something sad in it. Something resigned.
"Tomorrow," he said quietly. "Tomorrow, I'll tell you my name."
And then he was gone—vanishing between trees and shadows, as if he had never been there at all.
Kael wandered back toward his chambers alone, the questions Reinhardt left him with still echoing in his head. The halls were quieter than usual, and the warm glow of late afternoon bled through the tall windows.
He turned the corner and nearly collided with Elric.
"There you are," she said, surprised. "Where are you coming from—alone?"
She looked behind him, half expecting to see Robert somewhere nearby. But Kael only stood still, eyes unfocused, distant.
"…Are you lost?" she asked after a pause.
He didn't respond. But his feet shifted, and she interpreted the silent gesture.
"Come with me," she said gently. "Let's stop by the library."
-----------------------------------------
The library was cool and dim, smelling of parchment and old leather bindings. The two of them walked slowly between the towering bookshelves. Kael ran his hand lightly along the spines, though he didn't seem to read them.
Elric stopped near one of the center tables and leaned against it.
"That night," she began, her voice softer than usual, "I want to apologize."
Kael looked at her.
"I was reckless," she admitted. "Taking you out when you hadn't recovered, sleeping outside like that—I wasn't thinking straight. I just… I didn't want to leave you alone again."
She bit her lip and looked away. "But I shouldn't have risked your health. I should've known better."
Kael didn't answer, but his eyes drifted across the shelves again. Then something caught his attention.
A dark brown spine. Gold-embossed lettering.
"The Spear Who Leads."
He reached for it.
The moment his fingers touched the cover, a sharp pulse rang in his head.
Flash.
A boy—his back facing him. Dressed in red. A spear gripped tightly in his hand, pointed toward the sky. His hair moved with the wind.
The memory blurred, distorted—like it was never fully his.
Kael stumbled back, his breath catching.
"Kael?" Elric's voice broke through. She rushed to him, grabbing his shoulders. "What's wrong?"
Sweat beaded at his temple. His hand clutched the book tightly.
"You're sweating—are you sick again?"
He shook his head slowly.
But the pain didn't ease. A dull ache pulsed in the back of his skull, and something deep within him stirred—uncertain, unsettled.
Is this… a memory?
Elric looked at him with concern etched on her features.
"You should go back to your room," she said softly. "You don't look well."
Kael gave no resistance as she gently guided him away from the shelf. The book remained in his hand.
Even as he left the library, Kael kept glancing down at its title.
The Spear Who Leads.
Somewhere inside him, something had begun to awaken.