The morning sun had just begun to seep through the balcony curtains, casting a faint light across Kael's bedchamber. But it did little to soothe the dull, splitting ache in his skull.
Kael sat on the edge of his bed, both hands gripping the blanket. He had gone to sleep early the night before, hoping the pain would fade—but it hadn't. If anything, it felt sharper now. It clawed at the back of his eyes like a storm waiting to break.
The door creaked open. Robert entered with his usual grace, but he froze when he saw Kael's pallid face.
"Young master, are you alright?" he asked, rushing toward him. "Do you want me to perform a healing spell?"
Kael shook his head slowly.
Robert hesitated but didn't argue. Instead, he placed a tray of food gently on the table.
"Okay... but promise me this: no training today. No wandering around. Just stay in your room and rest. I'm worried something might happen again."
Kael didn't respond, only continued staring at the floor.
"I'll prepare herbal tea for your headache," Robert added before excusing himself and stepping out.
The silence returned, broken only by the quiet ticking of the clock on the wall.
Kael's eyes drifted to the vase on the table near the window. The flowers inside had started to wilt—drooping and brown at the edges. They hadn't been changed in days.
His gaze dropped to the book he had brought from the library: "The Spear Who Leads." The gold lettering shimmered faintly in the light. And just like that, the pain in his head surged again.
That vision… the boy in red. The spear. The same figure kept appearing in his mind, like a memory that didn't belong to him. His thoughts then wandered to Reinhardt—the man in the garden. The way he smiled. The sadness behind it.
His grip tightened. He couldn't understand it. Why did his chest feel like it was going to explode?
With a sudden jolt, Kael grabbed the vase from the table and hurled it to the floor. The glass shattered. Water, petals, and shards spilled in every direction.
He knelt, hands trembling, and picked up a jagged piece. The moment he gripped it tightly, pain ripped through his palm. Blood welled up and dripped down his fingers.
But the headache—it dulled. The pain in his hand was clearer, simpler. Easier to control.
He slowly opened his fist, revealing a deep wound. Blood streamed freely, refusing to clot.
His gaze turned to the door.
Still no Robert.
Kael stood and stepped into the hallway, cradling his injured hand. The corridor was unusually quiet—far too quiet. No servants. No morning bustle. It felt... wrong.
His footsteps faltered as the headache surged again. He staggered, placing his bleeding hand against his forehead. His blood smeared across his brow, the crimson stark against his pale skin.
And then he reached the top of the staircase.
Downstairs, near the foyer, stood two figures.
Reinhardt—dressed not in his usual plain cloak or rugged clothes, but in rich crimson noblewear. Elegant, regal. And beside him… Elric, frozen in place.
The three of them locked eyes at once.
Kael's bloodied appearance made them both freeze.
Reinhardt turned fully toward him. His eyes widened in alarm.
Robert, arriving from the kitchen with the herbal tea, nearly dropped the tray. His heart sank.
"Young master, what—?"
He didn't get to finish.
Kael descended the steps slowly. Silent. Unreadable.
"Hey, good morning," Reinhardt said carefully, voice light. "What happened? Are you alright—?"
The words barely left his mouth before Kael's fist collided with his cheek.
The blow wasn't strong, but it was sharp enough to turn Reinhardt's face to the side.
Elric gasped.
Blood from Kael's hand smeared across Reinhardt's face.
Reinhardt turned back to Kael, stunned.
But before he could react, another punch came—hitting his other cheek. This time stronger.
Kael's body trembled with rage. He didn't understand it himself—why his hands were moving, why the pain surged in his chest more than his head.
Reinhardt didn't block him.
Kael tackled him to the ground, pinning him down as his fists continued to fall.
Servants gathered at the edges of the hall, gasping at the sight of their delicate, quiet young master attacking a noble-looking stranger.
Elric rushed forward. "Kael! Stop! Reinhardt—!"
"YOUNG MASTER!" Robert grabbed Kael's shoulders from behind. "Your wound will get worse!"
Blood now stained Kael's white sleeves, his knuckles trembling as Robert held him back.
His vision blurred. But then—overlapping with the bloodied man on the ground—he saw the figure from his visions again. The same eyes. The same face.
His heart dropped.
He knew now.
Reinhardt, lying on the floor, looked up at him.
He wiped the corner of his mouth and smiled, even with blood on his cheek.
"Nice to meet you too, Kael," he said softly. "My name is Reinhardt."
The name hit Kael like a thunderclap.
He froze, breathing unsteady. The pain was gone. The headache vanished like smoke.
One tear slipped down his cheek.
He didn't know what to say. He didn't even know why he cried.
Elric knelt to help Reinhardt up.
"I told you," she said under her breath, "Kael wasn't ready to meet you."
Reinhardt, still smiling, wiped away the blood. "At least," he said, "he didn't reject me."
-----------------------------------------
Kael sat silently in his chair, his wounded hand outstretched while Robert tended to it.
Golden light filtered in through the windows, but Kael didn't look outside.
He didn't move at all.
Robert wrapped the cloth gently around the injury, casting a minor healing spell to close the skin.
Other servants came in, quietly cleaning up the broken vase and spilled water without speaking.
Robert kept glancing at Kael's face. The boy looked pale again. Haunted.
"Is your head still hurting?" Robert asked gently. "I can cast another healing spell if you need."
Kael shook his head slowly.
Robert sighed deeply. "What happened out there?" he asked, his voice quieter now. "Did… you remember something?"
Kael didn't answer.
Then, the door opened.
Reinhardt entered—through the front door for the first time, not the balcony.
He looked far more formal now, with his elegant red attire. His cheek was still bruised where Kael had struck him.
"Well," Reinhardt said, stepping inside, "why don't you heal me too, after you're done with Kael?"
He gave Robert a playful glance, but his eyes drifted quickly back to Kael.
Robert sighed again but obliged, casting another minor spell to erase the bruises from Reinhardt's face.
Kael sat motionless, his eyes now fixed on Reinhardt. They were sharp, not accusing, but filled with unspoken questions.
Reinhardt noticed.
"Robert," he said, eyes still on Kael, "would you mind giving us a moment?"
Robert hesitated. "Are you sure?"
Kael gave him a silent nod.
"…Then, I'll take my leave," Robert said quietly. "Please call me if anything happens."
The door closed behind him.
Now only Kael and Reinhardt remained in the room.
Reinhardt pulled up a chair and sat in front of Kael.
"I'm sorry," he said, voice gentle. "I didn't mean to deceive you."
Kael didn't speak—but he stared, visibly tense.
Reinhardt glanced down at the tea Robert had left behind and took a slow sip.
"Did Elric ever tell you about me?" he asked, setting the cup down. "I bet she did. But not everything."
He leaned back.
"We used to be best friends," he said with a faint smile. "You and I. We fought the Demon King together."
Kael's expression didn't change.
"Hey… tell me, what do you remember?"
"I… don't know. Everything's unclear."
Reinhardt tilted his head, searching Kael's face. Then he smiled.
"But your body remembers me, right?" he said, gently tapping the spot where Kael had punched him. "If it didn't, you wouldn't have hit me like that."
Kael looked away.
"Let me tell you something important then," Reinhardt said, voice quieter now. "We were both heroes. You and me. We ended the Demon Kingdom together."
Kael slowly turned back to look at him.
"I was supposed to be the chosen one," Reinhardt said with a faint laugh, "but they chose you instead. And you took me with you anyway. Because we were best friends."
His eyes darkened slightly.
"But after we defeated the Demon King… he cursed you. A powerful one. I tried to stop it—I did everything I could. But I failed. I couldn't save you."
His voice cracked.
"You promised… that we'd rule this kingdom together. That you'd make me king. And thanks to you, here I am—Emperor of this land."
He looked Kael in the eye, pride flickering briefly in his voice.
"But you… you left me to lead it alone."
The silence returned. Kael didn't speak. Couldn't. His heart beat loud in his ears.
Reinhardt stared at him, the faintest flicker of sadness behind his smile.
"Now that you're here again," he said softly, "I won't let you disappear a second time."