Prologue

Love.

An emotion so subjective... yet substantial in the minds of people.

Throughout my life, I have never understood this subtle emotion called love.

But upon my hands, the front cover of this book tells me the tale about the fleeting love of two people.

A man with midnight hair gently held the hands of a woman with pure-white hair, and danced majestically underneath a cherry blossom tree.

The more you look, the more you can vividly see their faces closing in on each other—ready to kiss.

When I first read the love story between these two people, I couldn't help but wonder...

How would it feel to love someone like that... be it to family, or a significant other?

Is there a person out there who would show an emotion like that to me?

Still... who exactly are the two characters that I'm talking about?

They are the main protagonists from a well-known novel: Ways of the Mystic.

A popular romance novel that caught the attention of the young adults in South Korea, and is filled with romance, fantasy, swords, magic and drama through a journey mirroring the medieval era.

The main couple of the novel included the heroine named Seraphina Blakestey, the only daughter of one of the four Grand Duke families of the Izora Empire… and the Prince of the Izora Empire, Augustus Rutherford.

As I slowly flipped a page of this book, I couldn't help but gazed upon the first paragraph that starts off this story. I gently placed my hand on the paper—trying so hard to feel the simple words that people said were beautiful and romantic… and read to myself the fateful meeting of this couple once again.

A young girl with silky-white hair sat upon one of the porches in the Ducal family garden, and was deep in thought.

She gazed at her swinging feet with a saddened expression that emphasized her light-rose skin, slowly narrowing her ruby-colored eyes, while her eyelashes—fixated and invoked—slowly waved alongside the spring breeze.

After a second of solemn silence, she let out a saddened sigh, and then gazed upon the red flower in the field in front of her while maintaining her unwavering posture that showed pristine elegance and maturity.

From the eyes of the people around her, it was no exaggeration to say that she was the perfect definition of winter.

Seraphina slowly looked away from the beautiful red roses, and gazed around the quiet space before her eyes widened. 

As the red petals slowly gleaned away from their bud, they began to travel towards the walking boy.

Under the golden sunlight, his delicate, brushed black-blue hair that represented midnight itself began to slightly shine. His slightly-tanned skin showed off his sword training while his sharp, sapphire-colored eyes showed indifference towards everything.

But even as he continued to walk forward with his indifferent gaze, he wore a bright smile that showed off his confidence.

The midnight-haired boy felt the gaze of the girl, and stopped amidst his track before slowly shifting his gaze towards her while the same red petals glided in between the two of them.

Both children interlocked gazes with each other—and neither of them dared to blink. 

For them, it felt like the whole world froze… until the guard that accompanied the Prince called out to him to return to the carriage.

This fateful meeting was the beginning of the story.

I turned to the next page of the book, and the page after that. Reading and reading the familiar words over and over again before stopping at a single page, gently clenching the sheet before returning back to the start.

As Seraphina continued to gaze at the Prince who was leaving, a young white-haired boy hid himself behind a pillar—

Watching the situation unfold before he clenched his hand.

The splitting image of Seraphina was embarked on the boy: middle-length wavy hair, rosy-skin, and his left eye being a shade of light hazel-brown, while the right eye was close to white.

It was also this moment that they introduced the first of the three villains of the novel: Lysander Blakesty—Seraphina's older brother, and the future Grand Duke that went on to kill his own father.

It is said that Lysander suffered so much during his childhood. Always being the target of multiple assassination attempts, and even used by other nobles for their selfish goals.

With so many traumatic events, it led him to become the cold, ruthless and sadistic villain that every reader despised.

He would deliberately create events to bring chaos to the Izora Empire to try and make it collapse—be it political, socially, or economically. But every time he does so… it will inevitably end with bloodshed.

It was never revealed what his ulterior reason was for trying to destroy the Empire. Readers speculated that it was maybe from a personal grudge, or that maybe he was just a sadistic person who enjoyed the agony of others...

Among all, readers speculated about how Lysander wanted to use Seraphina's unique power to accomplish this unknown goal.

Seraphina was blessed by the God of Spirits, and was granted the power to call forth any spirits she wanted without a contract. But in return, her mana became so pure that she would be unable to use magic.

The ability to summon any spirit on command was impossible. One had to be chosen by the spirits themselves if they wanted to summon forth their powers.

But after her gift was somehow known to the world, many corrupted people tried to attain her—by any means.

It was also around the same time, at the age of fifteen, that Lysander took the rights of the Blakesty Duke position after allegedly murdering his own father, eliminating anyone under the formal Duke and those that went against him.

Maybe it was in his own considerate way, but after he took the Duke position, Lysander locked up his own sister.

But even after reading this book again and again... Not once did he ever use the power of the spirits for his own benefit. Not once did he use his own sister...

I wonder... 

Why are people suspecting him to be this cruel?

I flipped the book to a new page, and found the details of his childhood that I believed made these accusations baseless.

His mother was assassinated under the direct order of her own father, Count Avington, after giving birth to Seraphina. The former Duke tried his very best to protect her—especially from the Count… but failed.

But as the Duke brought her dead body close to him, unable to hear a single warmth from her body, his whole personality… changed.

I'm uncertain about the specific details, but he suddenly began avoiding his children and locked himself in his room. There were subtle details about Seraphina hearing screaming, crashing, and the sound of liquid gushing before a final thud... but that was about it.

After neglecting his son, Lysander was targeted by many assassins that were sent by the same person who killed his mother. But for some reason, the Duke never took action, even after the near-death of his son.

Nobles who knew of the Duke's neglect then aimed at the future heir and tried to manipulate him for their own benefit. 

But once again… not once did the Duke care about the suffering of his own child.

It's so strange... I can't help but flip back to the last page I read.

Suffering throughout his whole life because of the Duke's neglect, killing his own father because of vengeance in some way seems understandable. But it was what happened right after that troubles me.

He was found carrying the dead body of his father out of the room, and prepared a proper funeral in remembrance right before he locked Seraphina away.

Why would he do that if he hated him...? 

I don't understand...

After that, there were many rumors spreading throughout the Empire of how he murdered his own father to attain the Duke position—and how he was someone that wished to destroy the Empire as a whole.

But after being locked up for three years, the fifteen-year-old Seraphina managed to break free from her constraint with the help of her fellow summoned spirits, and went on to escape the hellish place that was once her home.

But with no place to go, she wandered the streets for weeks, slept on the roads, and almost starved to death until she finally met the Prince again in a fateful encounter.

As the two people talked to each other once again, the Prince decided to take Seraphina in and protect her from his cruel brother that went mad searching for her.

But even when the Prince hid the young girl away as best as he could, she was soon found by the Duke.

As Lysander continued to try and eliminate the Prince who wanted to protect Seraphina, they decided to finally clash it out with a single match, and fought on a grass plain.

Their swords clashed hard—each blow relentless as they slashed at one another with no sign of stopping. In the end, the Prince drove his blade into Lysander's heart, and ended his tragic life.

I finally closed the book, and stared at the front cover once again.

The story doesn't focus nor end with the crazy Duke, Lysander. It was just a segment of the overall plot that increased the leading couple's relationship, power, and influence. There are many more parts in this novel that readers keep referring to—like war and magic.

But, for some reason... 

I can't help but to try to defend this cruel villain named Lysander.

He faced so many hardships, but in the end… suffered miserably till his death.

His actions were of course considered inexcusable, but I just can't help but compare him to myself...

Just like him, I was someone that was abandoned by his parents. 

Just like him, I also thought that the whole world was against me.

Yes... I'm just another reader of this romance novel.

Just someone called Choi Do-Woon.

But...

I don't think there will be anyone who will remember me.

Diagnosed with an incurable illness, I'm destined to die on this hospital bed.

I slowly look away from the book cover and out the small window next to me.

Gazing into the glass... I see my thin, shriveled body with messy brown hair that I have not touched for God knows how long. I then interlocked with my own deep-brown eyes that showed no sign of life or meaning.

The more I gaze towards my near-dead self, the more I begin to remember just how I got here.

My own parents, the ones who are supposed to nurture and guide their child in this world, abandoned me in this very hospital bed with no remorse.

I stare at my pale hand long and hard before bringing them down with defeat. 

Ever since I could remember... I knew that I was...

Different.

My ability to express emotions, or even feel them, was non-existent.

Times where I was supposed to show a smile, I was unable. In a situation where any normal child would usually cry was impossible for me to imitate. And little moments where I had to display anger just wouldn't… click.

I... I was just unable to show them.

I was nothing but a human doll.

A doll that was unable to understand the actions of people caused by emotional instances rather than logical causes. A doll that was unable to understand the human concept that makes them who they are.

Everything in my life was a grey-world filled with nothing but misery, where I suffered this accursed fate given to me.

But with the cost of my emotions, I gained intelligence.

Everything was so simple to solve; Everything was so simple to learn...

Whatever little thing I saw, it will stick to my mind without ever leaving. Whatever I read, I would recall the exact text with a simple thought. And whatever I heard... I would recall it word by word.

I was young and naive when I first showed my intelligence to… them. 

I thought that they would be happy with this intelligent trait.

But... the opposite of what I expected occurred.

"Mother. Look what I did."

As my mother was cooking dinner in the kitchen like any other evening, I showed her a piece of paper filled with complex mathematical equations only taught in college.

I was playing outside the house to relieve my boredom, when I saw a piece of paper land down near me—crumpled up as if to vent their frustration.

I picked it up and saw these complex mathematical problems written and typed in the paper.

I've never seen so many numbers, or even letters, in one place before. I tried to understand the topic with the provided context and written attempts, and was soon able to solve it. I then showed it to my mother, whom I thought I trusted at the time, to see if what I did was impressive.

"What is this..."

But rather than showing a happy reaction, my mother's face distorted. She covered her mouth—baffled by what she's seeing—before angrily tearing the paper in front of me, and yelled at me to go to my room.

I wonder... 

Why did she react like that?

I keep asking that question even now… 

As I grew older, they began to notice this intelligent, yet emotionless trait of mine even more.

They despaired over my unchanging face whenever we did something as a family—from going to the park or store, to just walking down the road hand in hand.

All they wanted was a son that they could love, play with, have fun, and create unforgettable memories together.

But what they saw.... was something that lacked human integrity.

What they saw… was a monster.

Every time they saw me, their faces showed absolute disgust, and their body movements expressed so much hesitation and animosity.

The rigid and forcing of their facial muscles was especially clear to me, even as a child.

"Ah… They don't love me; they despise me."

Yet... even knowing that, I couldn't respond back. I know that I'm supposed to feel some sort of lingering anger, but I didn't.

I know that I'm supposed to feel... sad, because they don't love me.

But I didn't...

I just felt empty.

One night, when they thought I was asleep, my mother and father began to talk about me in the living room. The dim lights woke me up, and I heard the whispering voices of my parents echoing through the slightly-opened door.

I decided to walk out of my room, and hide behind a wall to hear everything that they were saying.

"We've tried everything—games, toys, even therapy!" She then scratched her hair with utter frustration. "But nothing changed! He never smiles—never cries. He only sits there, and reads those impossible books. Why… Just why can't he just be normal?!"

She continued to rant about me towards my father, crying on his shoulder as if my existence was the cause of their despair

"Don't worry, we can always try again."

As I continued to eavesdrop on their conversation, they suddenly started talking and talking about having another child that was not me.

How cruel of them to abandon their child for another one.

But even so... I continued to feel empty.

Soon, she gave birth to twins.

A boy and a girl.

I remembered looking through the glass window in the hospital, and saw them snuggled warmly in their cribs.

So cute and adorable...

As I looked closer at them, I couldn't help but be astonished by the size of their body. Just how can a human grow so big from a size this small?

I... I thought that at this moment, I was finally going to experience my first emotion: Anger.

They were going to replace me, and my parents were going to abandon me. That's the same though that went over my head over and over again.

Yes... That's what I initially thought.

But... 

After seeing their faces that showed abstinence towards the world they were just born in, I knew I couldn't blame them for this petty reason.

When I saw their smiling faces, I felt my chest warm up, and my mouth slightly curving up.

As I looked up to stare at my own reflection through the window, I saw my own face smiling.

Rather than anger, my first emotion was happiness.

I don't understand...

Why am I feeling happy?

I kept trying to reject this feeling, but at the same time... I wanted to enjoy this warmth.

That feeling... for some reason, it put me at ease. 

For the first time, my eyes were opened out of that grey world that I always lived in. It was now filled with color and warmth. 

But it only lasted for a moment. He walked towards me. Once I saw him, my world became gray and empty just like before.

"We finally have children that will be normal, I don't want you to fill their heads with craziness just like you. So start acting like a normal child."

"... Okay."

What they wanted me to do was simply play pretend. I needed to start acting like a lovable brother, and hide my true self so we could look like a perfect family to the outside world.

But to be able to do that, I needed to actually show emotions, even if they're fake. 

Expressing emotions to these people when I can't even feel them myself was an impossible feat for me.

But... It was the first favor that my parents have asked of me.

"If I do this, they'll start trusting me more..."

I said that aloud, hoping to gaslight myself into thinking it's true.

I quickly began to read books to accomplish this goal. I thought that by studying emotions and acting, I could show them something—even if it was fake.

Yes... words upon words, manual after manual. I watched the people's expression as they walked past me on the streets, and tried to remember every single moment in their face that showed happiness, anger, or sadness...

It took such a long time to create this perfect facade. But in the end, I finally created a new me with emotions so real... yet so fake.

I created this perfect impression of a dependable brother for my siblings as per his wish.

As they smiled brightly at me whenever we hung out, I would respond to it with a forced one. It was such a simple facial movement, but...

For some reason, there seems to be a sort of painful sensation in my heart...

Every time I saw them happy, my heart ached, and my body would turn cold before I would try to avoid their eyes.

It felt wrong to see them this happy for someone that is acting.

Yes... that is when I noticed, this is what they call guilt.

An emotion that brings negative meaning to oneself, and hurts the person mentally as they did something wrong.

My first memory of guilt... was truly unpleasant.

But I don't understand… 

Just why am I feeling guilty? 

Is it because I continue to lie to them about who I really am?

Despite this awful feeling... I thought that my parents would start feeling some sort of gratitude for fulfilling this favor—that they will finally accept me for who I am.

Naive.

Even after all this time of finally showing this facade, they kept their distance towards me, and even showed more signs of hatred and disgust than when I was child.

How ironic... 

Even when they continued to reject me out of their lives, I still didn't express any sadness, or anger.

That's when I realized...

"Maybe... Maybe I should give up on earning my parents love, and earn my siblings..."

Even if it's fake, I wanted to continue showing these emotions to them. If I could make them happy with my facade, then I could finally serve a purpose in this world.

So, to achieve this goal, I decided to read more books about such topics.

The more I read, the better I understood the subtle needs of my siblings. The more time I spent with them, the more I felt the need to be around them—

Because it was my only gateway from this grey world.

Before I knew it, I had already graduated college with a master's degree at the age of fourteen. They considered me a prodigy—a human who knows everything and acquires knowledge with ease. 

Many people thought that my parents would be proud of my accomplishments. But it was clear that these accomplishments made my parents hate me more.

"A child like you could not even make their parents happy with a simple smile, what makes you think this will?"

"Knowledge is only worth celebrating to those who know how to use it."

I get that these types of words would normally hurt a person. But to me, they were just... words.

Yes... that's what I keep telling myself to think...

But shortly after graduating, I began feeling weaker and weaker.

My body started giving up on me, and would constantly make me feel dreary.

I then decided to go to the doctor and see what was going wrong. 

Sitting down in the office chair—looking down at nothing but the grey-carpeted floor, I silently awaited my verdict.

"It seems that you have cancer, and at the late fourth stage no less. We can hospitalize you and try to slow down the process, but..."

"..."

Cancer... I thought so.

No, maybe not... I did feel like it was a serious illness due to the symptoms, but it was more serious than I thought.

"... I see."

They cannot cure me.

I rarely took care of my body, so this wasn't a shocking matter to me.

But… 

Why does my heartache about the thought of me dying and leaving my siblings behind...?

The doctors soon hospitalized me and began my treatment, leading to the present.

But I refused to let my illness keep me at bay as I waited for false hope.

I began reading, and reading, and reading...

Trying so hard to fill my head with all the world's knowledge to ensure that there could be some sort of meaning in this broken body till the bitter end.

Reading was my only way to know the world around me. It had the answers to every question I had, and the lessons to everything I wanted to learn. It made me comprehend this cruel world that made me so... different.

But countless days of just flipping through random books just didn't uphold me any sort of justice anymore.

Why should I continue to read when death is near? What sort of knowledge will help me realize the cruel thing I already know about myself? What new things will help me become a real human being?

I soon gave up on the idea of attaining knowledge, and simply had no other thing to do—other than to look outside the hospital window with my lifeless eye.

Gazing at all the people that travel by, seeing the infinite faces and expressions that I can never replicate, even if I try....

And just waiting for the darkness to engulf me—and then maybe I can sleep eternally... and not be a bother anymore.

All alone…