Bernardo was stressed out. It was now two in the morning, and his daughter, Anitta, still hadn't come home.
Anitta wasn't the type to simply disappear. Even if she stayed out late, she would always send word. That was the kind of girl she was, responsible and considerate.
Bernardo, owner of The Everything Shop and Anitta's father, sat on his chair tapping his finger against the armrest. The last thing he heard was that Anitta had gone to escort a group of adventurers who'd just arrived on Little Swan Island. They were said to be harmless, so he hadn't paid much attention at the time. But now…
"Could it be I was too lax?" he muttered, standing up.
He dressed quickly, throwing on his casual clothes, and stepped outside into the quiet night. He didn't want to be the kind of father who restricted his daughter's freedom but he had to make sure she was safe. His steps carried him toward Roy's bar, where she was last seen.
The streets were silent, the moonlight washing over the stone path. But as he turned a corner, his eyes widened.
A familiar figure staggered ahead. Fenn.
He was bloodied from head to toe, clothes torn, face pale.
Bernardo's heart dropped. He rushed forward, shouting, "Fenn! Fenn! Are you alright? Wake up, Fenn!"
He knelt beside him, shaking his shoulder, but there was no immediate response. Panic welled up inside him, breaking through the calm expression he had worn for so many years. Seeing Fenn like this could only mean one thing, something had happened to both him and Anitta.
He couldn't waste time. He hoisted Fenn up and carried him back toward The Everything Shop.
Inside, he set Fenn down on the old sofa he used to read his weekly newspaper, then rushed to fetch water. His hands trembled slightly as he filled the basin. Despite the stoic look on his face, his mind was chaos.
He splashed the water on Fenn's face.
Fenn jolted awake, coughing, eyes half-open. "Where am I…?" he mumbled, but then his memory caught up. His eyes widened in horror. "Anitta!!"
That single word shattered whatever calm Bernardo had left. His worst fear was confirmed.
"Fenn," Bernardo said, voice cracking, "where is Anitta? What happened?"
Fenn blinked rapidly, finally recognizing the man before him. "Mr. Bernardo," he said hoarsely, "Anitta is in trouble. We need to find help, right now."
Bernardo's fists clenched. "Help? Is it those adventurers she was escorting? Did they-"
Fenn cut him off, shaking his head. "What? No! Right now, those two adventurers are our only hope! Mr. Bernardo, we need to go to the Owlbear Arm Inn immediately!"
Bernardo frowned, voice rising. "Go to an inn? For what reason? We need to save Anitta! You haven't explained anything to me yet I'm her father, Fenn! I deserve to know!"
Fenn steadied his breath, blood still dripping from his lip. "Mr. Bernardo… the only people who can help us save Anitta are sleeping at that inn. Anitta and I. We need our friends. Please, do you have an Adventurer Pill? I'll explain everything on the way."
Bernardo hesitated for half a second, then rushed to the counter. He grabbed a small vial, pulled out a pill, and handed it to Fenn.
Fenn swallowed it in one go. Color returned to his face slightly, though he still looked like a mess. He pushed himself to his feet.
"Let's go," he said.
They both ran through the quiet streets, boots slapping against the stone. As they ran, Fenn explained between breaths.
"Back at the bar Domiré and his goons showed up. He tried to take advantage of Anitta, but one of the adventurers she was escorting, Dante, stepped in to save her. There was a huge commotion, but we thought it was over. Then Burly and Joone ambushed us. I couldn't fight them both at once and lost and that's how you found me."
Bernardo's expression darkened. His jaw clenched tight as he muttered through gritted teeth, "That damned brat Domiré… I'll kill him."
Fenn didn't respond. They kept running.
"Dante and Yamato," he said after a moment, "they're stronger than me. Much stronger. They're our last hope."
Bernardo's fists tightened even more. "Then let's hurry. We can't waste another second."
The two figures disappeared into the night, running toward the Owlbear Arm Inn, hearts burning with desperation and anger.
---
"Father, can I really get whatever it is I want?"
A five-year-old Domiré looked up at his father, Umi Vellacroix, his small eyes shining with innocent curiosity.
Umi laughed softly and crouched down to meet his son's gaze. "Of course, you can, Domi. You're Daddy's little prince and a noble. So ask Daddy for whatever you want."
He picked the boy up and spun him around in the air, laughter filling the elegant marble hall.
From the corner of the room, Hamuri, Domiré's mother, watched the two of them with a warm smile. "If you spoil him too much, he'll grow up rotten," she said teasingly.
Umi grinned. "Domi! Stick your tongue out at Mommy."
Domiré giggled and did as told, stretching his little tongue toward her. The three of them burst into laughter, a picture of a happy noble family.
Those were peaceful days.
---
Domiré, nine years old now, stood before his parents with a serious look on his face.
"Father," he said, "can I buy a slave? A lot of the other noble kids at the gathering looked down on me because I didn't have one."
The room went silent.
Umi and Hamuri exchanged a shocked glance. Umi stepped forward and knelt down in front of his son.
"Domi," he said carefully, "I know we told you that you can have anything you want as a noble… but some things are just wrong. We shouldn't do bad things just because others do."
Hamuri placed a gentle hand on Domiré's shoulder. "Yes, Domi. Besides, you have me and your father here. What do you need a slave for?"
Domiré didn't respond. He simply lowered his head, looking down at the floor, feeling a small knot form in his chest.
---
A year passed.
Domiré, now ten, stood in the grand living room of the Vellacroix estate. The chandeliers sparkled above, reflecting off the polished tiles and gold ornaments that filled the room.
"Father," he said suddenly, "can you buy me an island?"
Umi, seated in his chair, blinked in confusion. "An… island?"
"Yes!" Domiré said excitedly. "Reze was showing off a brand new private island his family bought for him. It looked so cool! I want one too."
Umi hesitated. His face stiffened slightly. "Domi… we're just a minor noble clan. Reze's family is a high-ranking noble house. We can't buy you an island."
Domiré frowned, his expression shifting to frustration. "Why? Is buying an island a bad thing too?"
Umi scratched his cheek awkwardly. "No, it's not bad… but it's not something we can afford."
Domiré's voice trembled. "Why? You said I could get anything because I'm a noble! Reze gets whatever he wants because he's a noble so why can't I? Am I not a noble like him?"
Tears welled up in his eyes.
Umi's heart sank. He stepped forward and pulled his son into a tight hug. "I'm sorry, Domi," he whispered. "I'm sorry I'm not rich enough."
Hamuri stood nearby, watching the scene silently. Later that night, when Domiré had gone to bed, she called Umi into their private room.
"Umi," she said softly, "I think we've made a big mistake raising Domi. I feel like I've failed as a mother."
Umi sat down, expression heavy. "No, Hamuri. It's not your fault. I'm the one who filled his head with that nonsense, telling him he could have anything just because he's a noble. The blame lies with me."
They both sighed, the weight of guilt hanging in the air.
---
Inside his lavish, gold-decorated room, young Domiré sat in front of his mirror.
The reflection of a ten-year-old boy stared back at him. Small, angry, and confused.
"Why…" he muttered. "Why did they lie to me?"
His tiny fists clenched. "They said I could have anything. So why can Reze have more than me? What makes him different?"
He stared harder at himself in the mirror, his voice trembling.
"Is it… status?"
His reflection offered no answer, only a blank, angry face staring back.
"A low-ranking noble… and a high-ranking noble," he whispered. "So that's the difference."
His eyes darkened. "Then I just have to reach the top."
His voice grew cold far too cold for a ten-year-old boy.
"But how… how do I get there?"
The question lingered in the silence of his golden room. A spark of bitterness taking root in the heart of a child who was taught that he could have everything.
A ten-year-old boy, consumed by turmoil, stared at the mirror until dawn.