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The sky still shimmered with traces of magic and awe as the Awakening Ceremony came to an end. Nobles mingled, emperors exchanged words, and the realm's focus was on celebration.
But not Adrian's.
As he leaned back, stretching with feline grace and letting out a tiny yawn, his crimson-gold eyes narrowed in thought.
> "Valeria Ignis."
A name etched deep into the narrative of the novel he once read.
She was meant to be the protagonist's most loyal sword. A girl with eyes like dying embers and a heart buried beneath ashes of pain. She had suffered in silence, abused, abandoned, and forgotten—until the protagonist found her.
But now?
> "He won't be the one to find her."
"I will."
While the others were locked in conversation—his mother radiant in imperial glory, his father solemn and commanding—Adrian slid away. Silent as moonlight.
The moment he activated his Asura Gift: Shadow Veil, the world around him seemed to hush. Sounds dimmed, air stilled, and even the watchful gazes of knights and nobles simply... passed over him. It was as if he ceased to exist.
His small form darted through the palace, memory guiding his steps. He remembered every paragraph, every hidden clue from the novel. The forgotten corridor behind the west garden.
The cracked pillar cloaked by creeping vines.
The storage house that wasn't really a storage house.
He reached it. The wooden door creaked faintly as he pushed it open, revealing the dusty, shadowed interior.
And then—
He saw her.
Valeria.
A tiny girl no older than seven.
Barefoot. Clothes torn. Knees scraped. Hair matted.
She was curled up in the farthest corner like a dying ember, her fragile shoulders shaking as muffled sobs escaped her lips.
Her face was buried in her arms, but even through the shadows, Adrian saw it—a soul on the verge of crumbling.
The bruises.
The blood.
The silence.
He didn't speak. Not yet.
He simply watched. Eyes calm. Mind focused.
> "Time to rewrite fate."
He stepped forward, silent as the night.
---
Crack.
A twig snapped beneath his soft footfall.
The girl flinched, her head snapping up, wild eyes darting through the darkness.
And then she saw him.
A boy—no, a dream.
Bathed in moonlight seeping through the broken window, he stood like a vision. Crimson-gold eyes glowing like twin suns, silver hair fluttering gently as if the wind dared not disturb him. A pure, innocent smile bloomed on his lips as he tilted his head slightly, a picture of childlike curiosity.
"Hello," he said softly, voice light and warm like a sunbeam. "Why are you crying?"
He didn't wait for permission.
He simply walked up and sat beside her—right into the dust and dirt and brokenness—like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Reaching into the small pocket of his robe, he pulled out a silk handkerchief and gently wiped her tear-streaked cheeks.
"My mom says girls don't look good when they cry," he said with a slight pout, brushing away the grime smudged on her face. "And... why are you here all alone in this dark place?"
She didn't answer. Couldn't answer.
Her mouth quivered, more tears falling, and her body trembled as if the simple act of being seen—truly seen—was too much to bear.
But then…
He leaned in and hugged her.
Not too tight. Not too sudden. Just enough. Warm. Gentle. Safe.
For a heartbeat, she froze.
And then she collapsed into him.
Tiny arms wrapped around his small form like a lifeline, a final plea to stay afloat. Her sobs broke free, loud and aching, tears soaking into his pristine ceremonial robe.
"I… I'm dirty…" she choked out, voice broken. "I dirtied your clothes…"
"Huh?" Adrian blinked, completely unfazed. He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, eyes brimming with innocence and certainty. "First of all, you're not dirty."
He pointed to his robes casually. "And second of all, even if they get dirty, I can just wash them. No problem."
Valeria's lower lip trembled as her eyes searched his face desperately.
"Why… why don't you think I'm dirty?!" she suddenly cried out, hands trembling against his chest.
He smiled—soft, radiant, real.
He wiped her tears again and gently patted her back. "Because you're not."
As if that was the only answer that could ever exist.
And in that moment, something inside her cracked—not like glass shattering, but like chains breaking.
She clung to him, sobbing into his chest as the small boy held her like he was born to be her shelter. And Adrian, for all his reincarnated memories and godlike gifts, simply hugged her back—
—like a child who saw another hurting, and chose to love anyway.
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End of Scene.
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