The grand corridor tapered into a heavy pair of double doors carved from pale ash wood, their surfaces inlaid with delicate filigree that caught the dying light of the hallway torches. Kairo guided the sleepy Aria toward her own chambers down the hall, his hand pressing gently against her shoulder. The soft wool of her tunic was warm against his palm, and with a quiet, affectionate pat on her head, he watched her slip inside, her soft giggles muffled by the closing door.
Turning back to his own quarters, Kairo pushed open the heavy ash valves. He stepped across the threshold and froze, his breath catching in his throat.
The chamber was an expansive sanctuary of stone and silk, far larger than the modest quarters he had grown accustomed to in the lower town. High, vaulted ceilings arched overhead, supported by columns of polished white marble that gleamed like fresh snow under the moonlight. The floor was laid with thick, crimson carpets woven from spun thread that completely swallowed the sound of his boots, yielding softly beneath his weight. At the far side of the room, a massive four-poster bed stood like a fortress, draped in heavy sheets of deep violet silk and piled high with down-stuffed pillows that smelled faintly of crushed lavender and dried cedar.
A large, arched bay window stood open to the mountain night, allowing a crisp, silver breeze to ripple through the gossamer curtains. The wind carried the scent of distant rain and cold pine needles, causing the shadows of the intricately carved wooden furniture—a massive writing desk, high-backed chairs, and towering wardrobes—to stretch and dance across the floorboards.
Without any delay, driven by the persistent ache deep in his joints, Kairo walked toward the adjoining bath chamber. The room was lined with shimmering tiles of green jade that reflected the flickering light of a single tallow candle. In the center lay a sunken bath, carved directly into the white stone foundation and already filled with clear mountain spring water.
Stepping out of his tunic, Kairo let himself sink into the icy cold water.
The shock was immediate, a freezing needle-prick that caused his lungs to constrict. He let out a sharp, ragged gasp. "Uhhh... my legs," he muttered to the empty room, his teeth chattering as the cold gripped his thighs and calves. "It feels like I can't even feel them anymore." But there was no time for excuses, no room for weakness in a body that had to carry the weight of a prince. He held his breath, pinched his nose, and submerged himself completely beneath the surface, letting the freezing dark wash over his hair and soothe the deep, thrumming heat of the void man disease.
When he finally emerged, gasping for air, he thoroughly dried himself with a thick, coarse linen towel that scratched pleasantly against his skin. Wrapped in a simple, clean tunic, he stepped back into the bedroom.
He stood by the window, looking out over the silent, dark courtyard. I don't get it, he thought, his analytical mind turning the variables over and over. If I were to travel back in time... these people possess the raw, terrifying power of prehistoric men, yet they live with the architectural luxury of prime England. My own house looks like something out of a grand history chronicle.
He remembered the old stories, the animated tales he had watched in his past life where princes lived in impossibly massive, sprawling fortresses. But why didn't my father use this castle at all until now? Why use it all of a sudden?
Kairo finally crossed the room and let his heavy frame fall onto the violet silk sheets of the bed. The mattress was incredibly soft, contouring to his aching back instantly. Well, whatever, he reasoned, his eyelids growing heavy as the warmth of the room began to battle the lingering chill in his bones. I think now that he thinks I am capable of handling this luxury, he finally gave it to me.
He exhaled a long, ragged breath, his muscles relaxing one by one as the exhaustion of the long, playful day finally pulled him down into a deep, dreamless sleep.
The transition from sleep to wakefulness was instantaneous. Kairo's eyes snapped open in the pitch darkness of his room. The silver moonlight had shifted, casting narrow, pale beams across the crimson carpet. The wind had died down, leaving the castle wrapped in a heavy, suffocating silence.
A restless energy clawed at the inside of his ribs. His body felt lighter, the cold bath having drained the worst of the inflammation from his muscles. He didn't want to think; he wanted to move.
Slipping off the bed, Kairo activated his assassin steps, a technique that shifted his weight onto the balls of his feet and suppressed the sound of his breathing. He moved like a shadow detached from its source. In a blink of an eye, he slipped through the open casement of the window, dropping silently onto the stone terrace below, completely bypassing the guards stationed at the main doors.
He walked alone through the lower courtyard, where the high stone walls blocked out the stars, plunging the gravel path into total darkness. He navigated by touch and memory, the rough stone walls cold beneath his fingertips. As he neared the outer plaza near the academy gates, a single flickering lantern caught his attention.
Below the iron lamppost, sitting on a weathered public wooden bench, sat a strange man.
The stranger was framed by the amber glow of the oil lamp, which cast long, sharp shadows down his front. He wore a peculiar, dark woolen overcoat and a low-brimmed hat—a classic, structured piece of headwear that looked uncannily like a London gangster hat from Kairo's past life. The smell of strong, unrefined tobacco and wet leather drifted from him.
Kairo stopped a few paces away, his assassin stance melting into a casual posture. "Hey there," Kairo said, his voice quiet but clear in the midnight air. "Can I ask what you are doing here at this hour?"
The man didn't move his head, but a low, gravelly voice emerged from beneath the brim of his hat. "Oh, nothing. I am just sitting here... remembering the good old days."
Kairo's eyes drifted downward, caught by a sudden gleam of light reflecting off a sheath at the man's hip. A sword hung there, its guard unadorned but its exposed ricasso polished to a mirror finish. Woah, Kairo thought, stepping closer, his curiosity overriding his caution. That is a very sharp sword.
"Can I touch it?" Kairo asked aloud, his hand already reaching out toward the pommel.
"No, don't touch it—" the man warned, his voice sharpening, but it was too late. Kairo's fingers brushed the cold, exposed steel of the blade.
Silence stretched between them. The lantern flickered, a small moth fluttering against the glass.
The man paused, his head tilting slightly as he looked down at the weapon. "Wait... what? Nothing happened."
Kairo pulled his hand back, his brow furrowing as he felt the residual cold of the metal on his skin. "Oh... I am sorry for my mistake. I didn't know. I was just... naturally drawn into it."
"Strange. Incredibly strange," the man murmured, his fingers tapping a rhythmic pattern against his knee. He finally lifted his face, though his eyes remained hidden in the deep shadow of his brim. "So, kid... what is your name?"
"I am Kairo," the boy replied, drawing himself up slightly. "The Prince of Harmony."
The man went entirely rigid. He slowly looked down, raising a calloused hand covered in old scars to shield his face, completely obscuring his features beneath the hat. "Oh... you are that kid," he whispered, a strange, emotional vibration running through his words. "I don't know why the people call you a monster. Looking at you... it just... uhh... it just makes me remember my own childhood."
Kairo stepped closer, the rich scent of the tobacco smoke swelling between them. "Oh, really? Would you like to share your old days with me?"
The man, who looked to be somewhere in his late thirties or early forties, let out a dry, hollow laugh that sounded like grinding stones. "Well... my story... if I start talking about it, it will require three full nights just to hear the beginning of it. But what about you? Why are you out so late at this hour? You look way too weak. Do you carry a disease?"
Kairo pulled back the sleeve of his linen tunic, exposing the faint, silvery lines tracing up his forearm—the remnants of his battle with the void and the scars of the border wars. "Yeah. I just survived a brutal war," Kairo said, his voice flat as he pointed to the marks. "Where I had to fight the King of Arrogance and the King of Lust."
The man hummed, a deep sound in his chest. "Hmm... you must be pretty talented. Like me. But I have lost everything. I am just... all alone now."
"Oh, please tell me your story," Kairo pressed, his heart quickening. The sight of the modern hat, the strange demeanor—it was a thread he needed to pull. "I just... I can't wait to hear your thoughts."
The man let out a soft huff, the smoke curling out from beneath his hidden face. "Hmm... uhh, why don't you tell me your story first?"
Kairo blinked. "My story?"
"Well," the man said, his tone turning slightly mocking, "didn't your parents teach you not to meet with complete strangers in the dark?"
"They did," Kairo admitted, his jaw tightening as he looked at the silhouette of the old world hat. "But you know... I am not like the other kids here. I am special. It's just... I miss my real mom and dad. Do you... do you know anything about another world?"
The man went entirely still. The ambient sound of the wind through the distant pines seemed to stop completely. "As far as my knowledge goes... there is no other world. There is only one. But this space... this space is absolutely huge. Who knows? If you follow a star at the exact right moment, at the exact right time... you will reach your destiny."
Ding. Ding. Ding.
A sharp, mechanical, metallic chiming suddenly erupted from the man's sleeve. It was the distinct, rhythmic ringing of a spring-wound clock.
Kairo's eyes went wide, his foot instantly stepping forward. "Woah—you have a watch?"
"Wait, no way—" the man muttered, his shadow suddenly twisting under the lantern light.
Before Kairo could even blink, the space beneath the lantern went completely empty. The bench was vacant. The scent of tobacco vanished, replaced instantly by the crisp, sterile smell of the mountain air. The man was gone, leaving no footprints in the gravel, no rustle in the nearby bushes.
Kairo stood frozen under the flickering amber light, his hand still extended toward the empty wooden bench. The cold metal of his canteen clinked against his belt as he slowly lowered his arm.
Wait a second, his mind scrambled, processing the visual data at a frantic pace. Where is he? Wasn't he just standing right here in front of me? How did he get a mechanical watch in this era? And he had a classic London-type gangster hat...
He walked over to the bench, running his hand over the rough, weathered timber. The wood was cold, devoid of any residual body heat. The sheer impossibility of the encounter made his chest tighten with a strange mix of dread and exhilarating hope.
Hmm... this place does have a lot of mysteries, Kairo thought, his eyes narrowing as he looked up at the vast, star-dusted sky. I am going to solve it. Every single piece of it.
A bitter smile touched his lips. Even though I am not that smart compared to the true geniuses, I was looking for a way out, looking for another place, but I simply didn't have the baseline knowledge of this world. Well, then. I will make absolutely sure that first, I consume every single piece of knowledge this land has to offer.
He looked down at his own large, calloused hands, the moonlight highlighting the dense bone structure of his frame. The stranger's words about following a star at the right moment echoed in his ears, pairing with the sudden realization of his own physical state.
Looking at that man... now I know a certain thing for sure. I can easily go back to my old world. There is a specific, hidden knowledge buried deep within the forbidden forests. But... I think I should give myself hundreds of years before I go to find it.
He let out a long, slow breath, watching the vapor disappear into the dark. He had changed too much. The world had changed him.
Because I have become a giant too, Kairo realized, a wave of profound isolation washing over him as he turned back toward the looming shadow of the high castle. If I look at the regular kids of my age... I am already someone else entirely. If I go back now, I would be a monster there, just as they think I am a monster here. I need time. I need to grow into this skin.
With a final look at the lonely bench, Kairo activated his assassin steps once more, melting back into the shadows of the courtyard, his mind already preparing for the dawn of his first classroom trial.