09

Golden spears of light pierced through the towering windows of the Mon'draigg manor, casting long, ethereal shadows that danced across the stone floors. The early morning air was cool, carrying with it the faint scent of dew-covered earth. A young boy stood in the hallway, bathed in the soft glow, his figure silhouetted against the light. The goddess perched on his shoulder, stifling a yawn as she stretched her tiny limbs. She rubbed her fluffy jaw against his unruly hair, attempting to smooth it down as if grooming him for the day ahead.

"Isn't it too early?" the goddess murmured, her voice a soft whisper, jumping lightly from the boy's head to his shoulder. The boy, lost in his thoughts, blinked and turned his gaze to her, a wry smile tugging at his lips. The sleepless night had left his eyes shadowed, his thoughts heavy with the burden of a vision that haunted him. He felt a pang of guilt for waking so early, for the restless energy that pulled him from the warmth of his bed.

"Sorry," he muttered, his voice barely audible.

The goddess shook her head, her tiny paws gently patting his cheek. "No, no. I don't really need sleep," she reassured him, though her tone was soft with concern. "Sleeping is more like a hobby to me, but don't you still need it?" She hopped to the other side of his head, nudging his chin with her nose, guiding his gaze out the window. The world outside was still shrouded in the gentle twilight of dawn, the manor's grounds silent and still, with no sign of life stirring yet.

"Is it about the vision?" she asked, her voice a hushed whisper as if fearing the weight of the words.

"Yeah," he admitted, his voice tight with the anxiety gnawing at his thoughts. "I can't stop thinking about it."

The goddess nestled herself into the boy's hair, her soft fur brushing against his ear as she spoke, her tone gentle and soothing. "But doesn't it happen in the future? I think you have a few more years to try and stop it, don't you think?"

He shook his head, a deep furrow forming between his brows. "Maybe, but the Mon'draigg family is a really big clan in the empire. Taking them down would be difficult, so I thought either the royal family targets them in the future... or there's someone working behind the scenes from the start to prepare for their downfall."

His words were heavy with guilt and uncertainty, his heart twisting at the possibility of betrayal. Yet, he knew he had to consider every possibility, no matter how painful, to protect the people he loved.

The goddess, sensing the turmoil in his heart, remained silent, her tiny body radiating warmth as she leaned into him, offering silent comfort. The boy, lost in his thoughts, continued his walk deeper into the manor, his steps slow and deliberate.

---

"Sweetie, can you pass me the salt?" Cynthia's voice broke through the boy's reverie, snapping him out of his thoughts. His eyes widened in surprise as he realized she had been speaking to him. He quickly grabbed the salt shaker, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment as he handed it to her.

A soft smile tugged at his lips as he watched her move gracefully around the kitchen, her every movement filled with purpose and warmth. The way she adjusted the flame beneath the pot, how she tasted the soup with a delicate spoon, and the care she took in chopping the vegetables—it all spoke of a deep love for those she cooked for. Her vibrant energy filled the room, making the kitchen feel like the heart of the manor.

"Is everything alright, sweetie?" Cynthia asked, glancing at him as she added the final touches to the dish. There was a tenderness in her voice, a hint of worry that made his heart clench. "Are you... mad at me for scolding you yesterday?"

His eyes widened, and he shook his head fervently. "N-No, not at all, Auntie! It was my fault for worrying you!" His voice was filled with urgency, and before he knew it, he had crossed the room and wrapped his arms around her waist in a tight hug.

Cynthia let out a small, relieved sigh, her hands gently patting his head as she returned the embrace. "That's good to know," she whispered, her voice soft with affection. "Whatever it is you're thinking of... don't hesitate to ask me for help, okay?"

The boy's grip on her apron tightened at her words, a wave of guilt crashing over him. Doubts lingered in his mind, whispering cruel truths, but he forced them away, convincing himself that he was doing this for their sake.

---

"I see, you stumbled upon a hidden ruin amongst the family grounds... That is indeed intriguing news," Aria muttered, her voice calm yet carrying the weight of someone who had seen too much. The boy sat across from her in the backyard garden, his hands wrapped around a steaming cup of tea. The scent of freshly brewed leaves filled the air, mixing with the fragrance of blooming flowers. He watched Aria carefully, her every movement under scrutiny.

She sipped her tea with the same measured grace as always, her eyes half-lidded as she gazed at the distant horizon. Birds sang in the trees, their melodies blending with the soft rustle of leaves in the morning breeze. Yet, despite the peaceful surroundings, the boy couldn't shake the unease that clung to him like a shadow.

"She wasn't there," he mumbled under his breath, his thoughts returning to the vision that plagued him. Auntie Cynthia, Big Sis Allie, and Uncle Alcor had all been present in the vision, their faces etched with fear and despair. But Grandma Aria had been absent. Where had she been? Did she retire before the tragedy? Or worse—had she been the cause of it?

Aria's sharp eyes flicked to him, her gaze unreadable. "I do admit, thinking is your strong suit, child, but don't you think keeping problems to yourself reduces your efficiency?" she remarked casually, her lips curving into a small smile as she refilled her cup.

The boy stared at her, trying to decipher the meaning behind her words, but her expression remained impassive, a mask that revealed nothing. He shifted uncomfortably, his fingers tightening around the warm ceramic of his cup. "Just... worried about the future, Granny," he replied, his voice guarded.

Aria glanced at the fox sleeping atop his head, a glimmer of understanding in her eyes. "I see," she said softly, her tone carrying a hint of something deeper. "But remember, child. We are your family, though temporary. Do not hesitate to rely on us."

He nodded reluctantly, biting his lip as doubt and guilt gnawed at his insides. He had to keep reminding himself that this was for them.

---

The young boy stood on the front balcony of the manor, his gaze fixed on the training grounds below. The sun had risen higher now, casting long shadows across the courtyard as Alcor stood atop a small hill, his commanding presence unmistakable. He barked orders to the knights below, his voice carrying the weight of authority as he watched them practice their swordsmanship.

"Again! Manage the weight of your sword to make it faster and deadlier for your foe!" Alcor's voice rang out, stern yet encouraging. He descended from his spot, walking among the men, his eyes sharp as he inspected their form. The boy watched intently, noting how Alcor corrected even the smallest of mistakes with patience and precision.

But what struck the boy the most was the absence of anger in Alcor's tone. Unlike the harsh, berating voices he had grown accustomed to in the Soru'draigg household, Alcor treated his men with respect, offering guidance rather than punishment. It was a stark contrast, one that made the boy's heart ache with a strange mixture of admiration and confusion.

"...It isn't him," the boy whispered to himself, the realization settling heavily on his shoulders. Alcor was too upright, too loyal to betray those he held dear. If a man like him could turn against his own, then the world was truly lost.

---

"Come on, old man! Is that the best you've got!?" Allie's voice echoed through the training room, her laughter ringing out as she pushed Jin away, her sword flashing in the light. The sound of clashing steel reverberated through the room, a symphony of battle that filled the boy's ears as he watched from a distance.

Jin sighed, shaking his head as he jumped back, his movements fluid and controlled. "I thought I told you that taunting the enemy isn't noble," he remarked, his tone weary but tinged with a hint of amusement. Allie, unfazed by his words, grinned widely and waved at the boy, her enthusiasm infectious.

Jin's eyes narrowed as he glanced at the boy, his jaw tightening slightly as his gaze flickered to the necklace hanging around the boy's neck. The boy noticed this, a chill running down his spine as he recalled the conversation he had overheard the night before.

The clash of steel grew louder, pulling the boy's attention back to the sparring match. Allie fought with a reckless abandon, her speed and strength reminiscent of Uncle Alcor's training. But Jin was different, his movements calculated and defensive, always staying one step ahead of Allie's wild attacks.

As the clash of steel rang through the air, the young boy's thoughts began to drift, the sounds of battle fading into a distant hum. Guilt and anger gnawed at him, questioning why he would suspect his own family of betrayal. He had no proof, no reason to believe that any of them could be traitors. Was it right for him to think that way? The doubt weighed heavily on his heart, pulling him into a dark, spiraling void.

But before he could sink deeper, a sharp, intense clash jolted him back to the present. His gaze snapped to the center of the training room, where Jin and Allie had met in a fierce struggle, their swords locked in a contest of strength and will. The boy's mind raced as he watched, his thoughts returning to Allie's fighting style, the way it echoed the training of the Mon'draigg clan. Yet Jin's movements were different, detached, as though he belonged to another world altogether.

"No... It can't be," he whispered, a chill running down his spine as a sickening realization crept over him. The truth was dawning, a truth he didn't want to face but could no longer ignore. Jin—the man whose voice he had overheard the night before—his suspicions now seemed so obvious, so undeniable. The way Jin's eyes had fixated on the necklace, even yesterday when everyone else was worried for him, Jin's focus had been elsewhere, on that small, seemingly insignificant pendant.

A sudden, excruciating pain lanced through his head, sending him reeling. Visions flooded his mind, not of the ruined manor, but of a clearing not far from it. There, a shadowy figure towered before him, a gladius in hand, its cold steel reflecting the dim light. The boy's heart pounded in his chest as the scene unfolded, the figure's face slowly becoming clear as sparks flew from clashing blades.

Struggling to stay conscious, the boy forced his eyes open, the pain nearly unbearable. He looked at Jin, whose gaze was fixed on Allie, who was panting heavily but smiling through her exhaustion. But Jin—Jin frowned, his expression cold and unforgiving. The boy's vision wavered, and in that moment, Jin's face overlapped with the one in his vision—a face twisted into a sinister smile.