Chapter Thirteen– A Quiet Mansion and Silent Grief

The Satoru family mansion was silent.

Not the silence of peace, but the kind that weighed on the air, heavy and suffocating. The kind that followed loss.

Tanaka walked through the halls, his footsteps echoing against the cold marble floors. It felt wrong—this emptiness. The house had always been alive, filled with the quiet hum of servants, the occasional laughter of its youngest member, the warmth that made it more than just a noble estate. Now, it was as if the walls themselves mourned.

He reached the study door and knocked lightly before stepping in.

Lord Ryuu stood by the window, unmoving, staring out into the courtyard. His hands were clenched behind his back, the only sign of the storm brewing inside him. His white hair caught the dim light, but there was no luster in it today, just as there was none in his eyes.

Tanaka hesitated. He had served this family for years, watched over Kibo like his own, and now... he struggled to find his voice.

Ryuu spoke first, his voice cold. "Have you found anything?"

Tanaka lowered his head. "No, my lord."

The words hung between them, and for a moment, nothing moved. Then, Ryuu exhaled sharply through his nose.

"And the king?"

Tanaka swallowed. "Nothing."

At that, Ryuu turned. His emerald eyes burned with barely restrained fury. He stepped away from the window, moving toward his desk. His chair groaned under him as he sat, the weight of his anger pressing down on it.

Tanaka braced himself.

"Where is the Second Prince?" Ryuu asked, voice eerily calm.

"Still in the Imperial Kingdom, my lord."

Ryuu nodded slowly, fingers tapping against the wooden desk. "Two days. I want every knight back in training. I don't care if they can barely stand. Two days."

Tanaka hesitated. "My lord... I don't think the young mast—"

The desk shook as Ryuu's palm slammed down on it. "I don't want to hear it."

Tanaka's mouth went dry. He had never seen Ryuu like this—never seen him so consumed by something beyond reason. But he bowed anyway, swallowing the words he wanted to say.

"Yes, my lord."

He turned and left, shutting the door softly behind him.

Inside the study, Ryuu ran a hand down his face, his fingers gripping his forehead as if trying to squeeze the frustration from his skull.

"The king is testing my patience," he muttered. His fingers curled into a fist against his temple. Then, barely above a whisper—"What are you doing, old man?"

Luna sat before her vanity, brushing her hair.

Each stroke was slow. Too slow. As if she had all the time in the world.

Sylvie stood behind her, silent, watching.

"My lady," she finally said, her voice careful. "When are you going to eat?"

Luna smiled at her reflection. It was a soft, delicate thing—so perfect it looked almost real.

"Not yet, Sylvie."

Sylvie's hands tightened around the edges of her apron. "You've been saying that since morning."

Luna turned slightly, still smiling. "I'm fine. You shouldn't worry so much."

Sylvie's throat tightened.

Fine.

Fine?

Her lady had barely spoken to anyone. Had barely moved from this room. Hadn't eaten. Hadn't cried. Hadn't—

Sylvie lowered her head. "Okay, my lady."

She wanted to argue. To push. But Luna had already turned back to the mirror, her brush moving through blonde strands like it was the only thing anchoring her to reality.

Her lips moved. A whisper, so quiet Sylvie almost missed it.

"Stay safe, my baby."

Sylvie clenched her fists.

She heard it.

But she said nothing.

At the imperial kingdom

Lemillion walked through the halls. The maids bowed. He smiled. They whispered.

At the study door, Cedric waited.

"Your father has been waiting," Cedric said.

Lemillion nodded. "Thank you."

Cedric opened the door.

The king sat at his desk, reading. "Sit."

Lemillion sat. Silence.

"I hope you've been well, Father."

The king put the letter down. "Why did you do it?"

Lemillion smiled. "Do what?"

"Don't play games. Why did you touch the Satoru family?"

Lemillion kept his face calm. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Mana surged. The air tightened. Lemillion gasped, his throat constricted.

"Boy," the king's voice was cold. "Will you speak honestly?"

Lemillion coughed. "I did it for the kingdom."

The pressure vanished. Lemillion inhaled sharply.

"Do you know why I gave Duke Ryuu his title?"

"Because you saw worth in him."

"Then why did you touch his family?"

Lemillion steadied himself. "If I hadn't, we'd never know when they might try to overthrow you. I was protecting the throne. I even destroyed the Reaper."

The king exhaled. "Do you think one explosion killed him?"

Lemillion didn't answer.

"There were no remains, were there?"

Silence.

The king shook his head. "The Satoru family has always been powerful. Stronger with each generation. I've worked for years to maintain peace. What you've done will have consequences. Ones even I may not be able to stop."

Lemillion clenched his fists.

"You are no longer fit to stay here," the king said. "Pack your things. You will leave for the neighboring kingdom. If you want the throne, prove yourself there."

Lemillion shot up. "Father, how can you do this?"

The king didn't look at him. "It is not a punishment. It is a test."

Lemillion's face hardened. He turned and stormed out, slamming the door.

Cedric waited outside. After a moment, he entered.

The king stared at the desk. "Did I do the right thing?"

Cedric bowed. "Yes, Your Majesty. It keeps him safe. And it keeps Duke Ryuu from retaliating."

The king exhaled slowly. "Find the Reaper."

Cedric hesitated. "He likely didn't survive—"

The king's gaze snapped to him. "The Reaper has wiped out entire kingdoms. Not even armies could stop him. Find him. And find Duke Ryuu's son."

Cedric bowed. "As you command."

The king stared at the door. His face was unreadable.

"Once they are found," he murmured, "I will have to end it."

Balmount Kingdom

The streets were crowded with merchants shouting their wares and children running through the crowd, laughing. The air smelled of food and the sound of hammering echoed from the blacksmiths.

A small girl, dressed in tattered rags, dashed through the busy streets, clutching a loaf of bread. Her brown hair was messy, and her black eyes darted around, avoiding the market guards. She ran quickly, her heart racing, the bread in her arms her only prize after a long day of hunger.

As she rounded a corner, she collided with someone, the impact sending her to the ground. The bread slipped from her hands. She looked up, and saw a boy her age standing before her. His black hair was messy, and his black eyes met hers with a mix of surprise and curiosity.

For a moment, they both stared at each other. The world around them seemed to quiet. The girl's mind raced, trying to understand what had happened.