The room smelled faintly of medicine and ink.
Aurelia sat by the desk, documents neatly arranged, her breathing slow and controlled. Outside, the estate had begun to settle—but inside, the board was still moving.
The door opened without a knock.
"You're going too far."
Aurelia did not look up.
Selene Valierous stood in the doorway, her mage's cloak still draped over her shoulders. Magic residue clung faintly to her presence, betraying her agitation.
"Hiding him?" Selene continued, stepping forward. "Rewriting the narrative? Silencing witnesses?"
Aurelia set her pen down.
"Yes."
Selene's jaw tightened. "That duel should have ended the mockery."
"It will," Aurelia replied calmly. "Eventually."
"No," Selene snapped. "It should end it now."
Aurelia finally looked at her sister.
"Leon does not want to shine."
"And that's exactly the problem," Selene shot back. "He shouldn't have to live as a joke just because he doesn't care what people think!"
Aurelia's expression did not change.
"You think this is about pride," she said. "It isn't."
Selene clenched her fists.
"I hear them," she said quietly. "The knights. The nobles. The servants. They laugh at him. Call him useless. Call him a stain."
Her voice rose.
"I trained for years. I endured humiliation, exhaustion, fear—because I believed strength should be shown. That it should mean something."
She looked straight at Aurelia.
"And Leon already has that strength. So why are you burying it?"
Aurelia's gaze sharpened.
"Because strength that is seen becomes owned."
Selene froze.
"Once they acknowledge Leon," Aurelia continued, "they will demand him. The military will claim him. The Crown will watch him. Nobles will attempt to bind him."
"And what then?" Selene asked. "Isn't that better than this? Than letting him be trampled?"
Aurelia rose slowly from her chair.
"You think mockery is cruelty," she said. "It isn't."
Her voice lowered.
"Expectation is."
Selene shook her head. "You're wrong. You're suffocating him."
Aurelia stepped closer, her frail frame steady, her presence overwhelming.
"I am protecting him."
"No," Selene said fiercely. "You're protecting your fear."
Silence struck.
Aurelia's eyes darkened.
"My fear?" she repeated.
"Yes," Selene said. "You're afraid of what happens when Leon stops being ignored. You're afraid the world will break him."
Aurelia did not deny it.
"I know what happens to weapons that shine," she said quietly. "They are swung until they shatter."
Selene's voice softened—but did not yield.
"And I know what happens to weapons left in the dark," she replied. "They rust."
Aurelia's fingers tightened slightly.
"You think Leon is suffering," Aurelia said. "He is not."
"He doesn't complain," Selene replied. "That doesn't mean he doesn't feel it."
They stared at each other—two sisters, equal in conviction, opposite in philosophy.
"You want him to stand proudly," Aurelia said. "To be acknowledged."
"Yes," Selene said without hesitation. "I want the world to choke on its own words."
Aurelia exhaled slowly.
"And I want the world to never realize what it has nearly provoked."
Neither moved.
Neither yielded.
Finally, Aurelia spoke.
"I will not allow Leon to be dragged onto a stage he never asked for."
Selene turned away.
"Then don't be surprised," she said coldly, "when he chooses to step onto it himself."
The door closed behind her.
Aurelia remained standing.
For the first time that night, her hand trembled.
Leon was lying on the roof.
One arm behind his head. One leg crossed over the other. The night sky stretched endlessly above him, quiet—exactly how he liked it.
"You're avoiding everyone."
Leon didn't turn his head.
"I'm resting," he replied. "People just happen to be noisy."
Selene climbed up beside him, her movements precise despite the tension in her shoulders. She didn't sit immediately.
"You embarrassed a Knight General today."
Leon yawned. "He embarrassed himself."
"That's not the point."
Leon glanced at her then—briefly.
"You came here to lecture me?" he asked. "Pick a shorter version."
Selene clenched her fists.
"Aurelia wants to bury what you did," she said. "Hide it. Erase it. Pretend you're still a joke."
Leon looked back at the sky.
"Sounds efficient."
Selene stared at him.
"Efficient?" she repeated. "They mock you. They spit on your name. And you're fine with that?"
Leon's voice was flat.
"Yes."
Selene took a sharp step forward.
"I'm not."
Silence followed.
"I trained until my hands bled," Selene said. "I swallowed ridicule. I endured because I believed strength should be proven. Seen. Acknowledged."
Her voice trembled—not with weakness, but anger.
"And you?" she continued. "You already have everything. And you let them laugh."
Leon closed his eyes.
"You're mistaken," he said calmly. "I let them exist."
Selene's breath hitched.
"You think you're above this."
"I am."
The words were not boastful.
They were factual.
Selene's jaw tightened. "Then why hide?"
Leon finally sat up.
His gaze was sharp now—focused.
"Because attention is troublesome," he said. "Because expectations are chains. Because people don't want strength—they want control."
Selene shook her head. "You sound just like Aurelia."
Leon smirked faintly.
"She's smarter than both of us."
"That's not an answer," Selene snapped. "Do you have any idea what it feels like to hear them call you useless?"
Leon looked at her.
Really looked at her.
"No," he said. "Because I don't value their voices."
Selene's voice softened despite herself.
"But I do."
Leon blinked.
"…Why?"
"Because you're my brother," she said. "And I won't stand by while they trample you."
Leon was quiet for a moment.
Then—
"They can't trample me," he said. "They can barely see me."
Selene stepped closer.
"You don't have to stay in the shadows," she said. "You could end it. One step forward—and no one would ever laugh again."
Leon smiled.
Cold. Crooked. Dangerous.
"And then what?" he asked. "They bow? They fear me? They demand me?"
He leaned closer.
"I don't want admiration. I want peace."
Selene's fists shook.
"And what if Aurelia is wrong?" she asked. "What if hiding only makes things worse?"
Leon looked away.
"Then," he said, "I'll step forward when it becomes annoying."
Selene searched his face.
"…You really don't care about reputation."
Leon glanced back at her, eyes calm and superior.
"Reputation," he said, "is for people who need permission to exist."
Selene exhaled slowly.
"You're infuriating."
Leon lay back down.
"You came all this way to realize that?"
She turned to leave.
At the edge of the roof, she stopped.
"…If the world forces you to stand," Selene said quietly, "I'll be on your side."
Leon didn't answer.
But when she left—
His eyes remained open.