Chapter Two:
The Beginning of the Beginning.
It had been some time since Richard escaped his personal hell, now living under Aaron's care in his rustic countryside home. The calm there was different—not the eerie calm that precedes screams or the lash of a whip, but a calm filled with the warmth of a burning fireplace and the scent of fresh bread teasing his nose. Yet, he still didn't know how to express his gratitude. Words escaped him; he didn't speak the kingdom's language, nor did he understand Aaron's words, but their tone always carried a sense of comfort his ears never failed to detect.
Aaron was patient. He tried every way to break the language barrier between them, beginning with simple gestures and repeated words. "Water," "bread," "sleep." A few words slowly carved their way into Richard's understanding, even if they were difficult to pronounce. And with every word learned, Aaron's heart lit up with joy, as if he were watching a seed sprout before his eyes.
Despite all this, nighttime was still difficult for Richard. He would lie in his new bed, wrapped in the warmth of a blanket, but he couldn't close his eyes. Nightmares from his past still chased him, acting as a bridge to those dark days—whips, screams, and memories that clung like scars. Each time he shut his eyes, he felt trapped, unable to escape.
He tossed and turned in his sleep, sweating. Sometimes, Aaron would quietly open the door to check on him without uttering a word. He noticed the signs of insomnia on Richard's face: the dark circles beneath his eyes, the trembling that gripped him at night, and the muffled cries that tore through the silence. Aaron knew the boy was wrestling with his demons, though he didn't know how to extend a hand to help.
One night, exhaustion finally took Aaron into a deep sleep, only to be jolted awake by a muffled sound from Richard's room. He crept in and found the boy curled up, face wet with tears, muttering incoherent words in his unfamiliar tongue. They sounded like desperate pleas.
Aaron approached gently and sat beside him, cautiously patting his shoulder in an attempt to calm him without instilling further fear. Richard responded to the kind touch and opened his eyes suddenly, startled—as if he'd been drowning in a sea of darkness and just surfaced.
"You're safe now," Aaron whispered, knowing Richard wouldn't understand the words, but trusting the tone would reach him. He stayed there beside the boy until his breathing settled, his green eyes fixed on the flickering fire in the hearth—as if searching for a spark of hope.
Over the next few nights, Aaron came to understand that the nightmares wouldn't vanish easily. Still, he was determined to remain by Richard's side, however long it took, to prove that safety could be more than a fleeting dream.
In time, those nights forged a powerful bond between them. Aaron, the lonely man who once believed his life would remain empty, found a new meaning in Richard. And Richard, the runaway teen, began to believe that safety might truly exist, even if it felt like a distant dream.
...
A golden sunbeam stubbornly kissed the face of the sleeping boy, who looked as though he were lost in a dream. He had slowly begun to adapt to his new life in the countryside. Despite being startled by ordinary behaviors and puzzled by simple things, his mind had finally tasted a peace he never knew existed.
"Richard!" Aaron's voice rang from downstairs, calling the boy to breakfast. He had grown fond of his presence—no, he rejoiced in it. Despite the communication difficulties, Aaron had grown to love him deeply.
Richard woke sluggishly, rubbing his eyes with a tired hand. For the first time since his escape, he had slept without nightmares. He had finally tasted what sleep truly meant.
He washed his face and hands, then ran a hand through his damp, golden waves. The water had caused his strands to curl slightly, breaking the smooth pattern of his hair. He descended the wooden staircase, brushing his hand against the oak wall adorned with wallpaper that added a quaint, rural charm.
"G-good morning..." Richard said slowly, attempting to pronounce the words correctly. 'Good morning' wasn't too hard; his ears had grown used to hearing it from Aaron every day. Aaron beamed as if he'd won a prize, his brown eyes sparkling like stars. "Good morning to you too, Richard!"
Richard smiled warmly and sat at the wooden table as Aaron excitedly gestured for him to join breakfast. The food made his imaginary saliva flow from its aroma alone. He had learned one thing from his past: "Even rats are eaten alive if you're hungry enough." So, he never judged food, no matter what it was.
Richard smiled softly at Aaron, then whispered in a shy voice, as though afraid the words would shatter his happiness:
"Thank you... Papa."
The word struck Aaron's heart like an arrow—but an arrow that gave life, not pain. His eyes widened in disbelief, as though time itself had frozen. That word... "Papa." He had never heard it spoken with such sincerity. He never expected to hear it from the boy he had taken in only weeks ago. A warm tear welled in his eye, though he fought it back, not wanting to appear weak.
He turned his gaze quickly, pretending to look at something in the distance. But in truth, his heart was struggling to contain the overwhelming wave of emotion. In that moment, he realized he wasn't just Richard's savior... Richard had saved him too.
Meanwhile, Richard sat quietly, arms around his knees, a small shy smile on his face. It was a smile filled with genuine gratitude and a newfound sense of safety. A warm sunrise after years of storms.
Aaron felt something stir within him—a rare, refreshing sensation. If he could, he would freeze time in that moment, just to admire the boy who had become the sun in his gray world.
He gently patted Richard's head, masking the slight tremble in his voice:
"Enjoy your meal, my son."
Richard looked up with wide, ocean-green eyes, filled with a mix of innocence and past sorrow. He wanted to say much more, but his smile said it all. Deep inside, Aaron silently vowed... to protect that smile no matter what.
...
On the fresh green grass, Richard lay peacefully, gazing at the clear blue sky as if it were a living painting. The birdsong filled his ears with a serenity he'd never known. His blue eyes stayed fixed on the heavens, searching for a lost dream—or perhaps answers to questions never asked.
Nearby, Aaron worked hard, chopping wood in preparation for the coming winter. Though exhausted, his eyes constantly flicked toward Richard, as if afraid he might vanish like all those he once loved.
"Richard..." Aaron called gently, hoping to catch his attention. The boy turned his gaze, eyes full of innocent curiosity and shy wonder.
Aaron paused, thinking of how to express himself, then gestured as if holding an imaginary book. "Do you want to learn? School?" he asked, knowing the word would be unfamiliar. "School."
Richard stared blankly, face filled with confusion. The word meant nothing to him, but Aaron's tone gave it weight. Unsure how to respond, he tilted his head slightly.
Aaron took slow steps forward, as if approaching with a precious idea he hoped to place gently into the boy's hands. "Learn... reading, writing, information." He spoke slowly, emphasizing each word, accompanying them with hand gestures. He mimed holding a book, drawing words in the air, then pointed to his head—signaling knowledge.
Richard's eyes lit up with each word and motion. He absorbed them all, but one thought looped in his mind: 'Am I allowed to go? Can I really?'
He tried to hide his excitement behind a practiced mask of calm, but the sparkle in his sea-green eyes betrayed him. A familiar sadness clashed with a flicker of new hope. He nodded gently.
Aaron, who had always feared that fear would extinguish this boy's flame, couldn't help but smile warmly. A fatherly smile, full of promise. A silent vow: "I will give you this chance."
...
A week passed—enough for Richard to begin learning the village's language. It was difficult at first; the sounds felt foreign on his tongue, and grammar tripped him up. Yet he persevered. Gradually, he formed basic sentences, then full paragraphs, albeit clumsily.
Aaron was overjoyed. Watching Richard study and improve was like a new sunrise in his life. He chuckled softly at Richard's amusing mistakes, always encouraging him with kindness and applause.
One evening, while Richard practiced sentence structure, Aaron sat in the corner sewing something. He had gathered his old clothes, repurposing them into a small bag for his new son. After hours of work, the bag was complete. Aaron smiled as he set it aside, ready for the next day.
At dawn, he prepared everything. The bag, now filled with clothes and food, was ready. He stood by the door, waiting for Richard, who was still getting dressed, unaware of what lay ahead. When the boy finally emerged, Aaron smiled and handed him the bag, saying gently, "This is for you."
Richard's eyes widened with surprise and gratitude. He took the bag carefully, as if it were a precious treasure, then whispered, "Thank you... Papa."
And so the two began their journey toward the capital, chasing a new goal: enrolling Richard in the academy.
...
The capital's golden gates opened to visitors and citizens alike. Inside a carriage sat Richard and Aaron, both filled with anticipation. For Richard, it was the beginning of his very first learning experience; for Aaron, the joy of seeing that excitement.
They stepped down quietly, bags in hand. The city's noise was a sharp contrast to the quiet countryside—vendors shouting, children laughing. Richard froze, overwhelmed. The lights and sounds blurred his senses, a wave of dizziness overtaking him.
Aaron noticed instantly. Placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, he bent down and said calmly, "It's okay. Take a deep breath. Don't let the sounds overwhelm you. We're here together."
Richard hesitated, then followed Aaron's advice. He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, things felt less chaotic. He offered a shy smile, and Aaron nodded encouragingly as they walked through the crowded streets, ready to begin a new life.
...
Richard's eyes roamed wide over the capital, so different from the dark basement of rats and dried blood he once knew. Here, the air smelled of meat, cake, and flowers—a strange, beautiful strangeness.
They stood before an enormous building, painted red and white, adorned with golden threads and royal emblems. The sight reminded Richard of his suffering. His gaze fell on the kingdom's insignia, wrapped around the ruler's face. Fear flickered in his features.
"I don't like this place. It's scary," he whispered, pointing at the symbol.
Aaron turned and replied gently, "This is the kingdom's academy, Richard. It's different here. I promise. Don't worry—I'll be by your side."
He smiled and patted Richard's head, and Richard masked his fear with a brave expression, determined not to show weakness.
They passed through the golden gate, past the statues and portraits of nobles and former rulers. Richard's eyes darted everywhere, not wanting to miss a single detail. The registration hall was busy—after all, this was enrollment season for elite academies, and thanks to Aaron's connections, Richard was about to join the best of them: Kaifen Royal Academy.
...
All the students entered the grand hall with varied steps—some excited, some anxious. The room was a masterpiece, with ancient carvings and royal colors. Long tables stretched forward like bridges into a new world of dreams and ambitions. Behind them sat scholars, mages, and professors, their eyes sharp, as if seeking something invisible.
In the midst of it all stood a pale, blonde young man—his heart pounding like war drums. Richard, standing beside Aaron, felt like a stranger in a land he barely understood.
He stared at the towering piles of papers on the table, filled with strange words and symbols. He tried to make sense of them, but confusion clouded his thoughts. His fingers trembled as he turned the pages.
Aaron noticed. With a light touch on his shoulder, he whispered reassuringly, "Don't worry, my son. I'll handle it."
He then approached one of the clerks—a spectacled man who looked like he had lived buried in paperwork for decades—and began explaining Richard's situation.
Aaron spoke with clarity and conviction, describing Richard's strength and passion. With every word, the clerk grew more interested.
Eventually, Richard received his trial badge. He stared at its shiny surface, where his reflection stared back—a boy with a past full of chains, now standing at the edge of something new.
Aaron spoke, but Richard barely heard him. The sounds of students, cheers, and cries all faded. A deep silence filled his heart, as if his soul was preparing for something monumental.
This badge wasn't just an entry pass. It was a key. Behind its doors lay either hope—or challenge.
As he and Aaron stepped into the academy's courtyard, one question lingered:
What true power lies within the boy who came from nothing? And what path would fate carve for him?
Richard didn't know the answer. But destiny did. And the next test wouldn't measure his strength alone...
It would test his heart.
End of Chapter Two.