CHAPTER 3
MISFORTUNE
Kyoichiiro's room was enveloped in a different kind of silence. Not a peaceful quiet, but a hush filled with chaotic, swirling thoughts. He sat on the edge of his large iron-framed bed, his still-short little legs dangling, the tips of his toes nearly, but not quite, touching the cold stone floor. The flickering candlelight cast a large shadow of him on the wall, but his gaze was empty, fixed on a single point in the air. His soul was present, but his mind was far away, piercing through the palace walls, heading towards something unknown.
Five years.
He had spent five years of his life in this world, but almost all of it had been within the magnificent cage called the Khaneo Palace. He only knew the world from behind high windows, from servants' stories, from books in the forbidden library. A growing dissatisfaction began to gnaw at his reason.
Kyoichiiro: (to himself) Five years. I only know this world from what others say. From what's written in old books. It's not enough. It's never enough.
He looked down, examining his own palms—the smooth hands of a noble child, without calluses, without marks of hard labor.
Kyoichiiro: (whispering to himself) "If I truly want to understand this place… understand how this world works, why everything is the way it is… I can't forever just observe from behind safe walls."
His voice was faint, only for his own ears. The decision didn't feel like a heroic act of courage. It felt like a pressing need, a logical step that had to be taken. An experiment.
Kyoichiiro: "I have to see it for myself. Feel it for myself."
The palace corridors, usually bustling with servant traffic, were deserted. The night was late. Kyoichiiro stepped out of his room, his shadow gliding along the walls. Over his proper clothes, he wore a simple black cloak he had taken from a storage room. The cloak was too big, trailing down to cover the tips of his shoes, and its hood could conceal most of his face and his striking silver hair.
My goal isn't adventure, he thought as he adjusted the hood. My goal is observation. I don't want to be recognized. I don't want their protocols and respect to interfere with what I want to see.
With a silence learned from observing the night guards, he navigated a rarely used route. He exited through a small door in the corner of the inner garden, climbed over a short stone fence surrounding the vegetable patch, and then jumped down to the other side.
No shouts. No alarm shrieks. Only the chime of the clock tower accompanied his departure.
The city spread out at the foot of the palace hill was a living, breathing organism, completely different from the stony silence above. Kyoichiiro paused for a moment at the end of the path, his eyes widening.
The light of oil lanterns and torches illuminated the cobbled streets. People gathered in taverns, laughing and toasting. Late-day stall vendors were still shouting, offering their remaining wares. The smell of baked bread, fried meat, sweet fruits, and the unpleasant odor from gutters blended into one distinct, alien city scent. Horse-drawn carriages passed with the clatter of wheels on stone, their drivers yelling for passage.
Alive, he thought. This is… so alive. And loud.
He descended onto the main street, trying to blend in. His hood remained over his face, and he walked with his head slightly bowed, but his eyes worked quickly, absorbing every detail: how people interacted, the type of currency used, the clothes they wore, the social hierarchy visible from one person's attitude toward another.
Kyoichiiro: (to himself) Too… tranquil. The surface is so peaceful. As if there are no threats lurking around corners.
His curiosity pushed him away from the main road. He turned into a narrow alley where lantern light was scarcer and shadows longer. The atmosphere here was different—quieter, more dangerous. He observed his surroundings with heightened wariness.
Kyoichiiro: (whispering) "Loud, but behind that bustle, there are always corners like this. Places where the surface order begins to crack."
Suddenly, a sound he didn't like cut through the alley's silence.
Man #1: "Hey there, kid. All alone in a dark place like this? Pretty brave."
Three men emerged from behind the door of a dilapidated-looking building. Their clothes weren't ragged, but they weren't tidy either. Their gaze was lazy, yet there was a sly, hungry glint in their eyes that made Kyoichiiro's stomach churn. It was the gaze of predators spotting easy prey.
Kyoichiiro took a deep breath. Frustration, not fear, was his first response.
Kyoichiiro: (to himself) Again. The same pattern. In any world, there's always trash like them.
He turned slowly to face them.
Kyoichiiro: (flat voice) "What do you want?"
One of the men, who seemed to be the leader, grinned. The faint lantern light glinted off a short knife that suddenly appeared in his hand.
Man #1: "You catch on quick, kid. Good. Saves time. Just hand over all the valuables you're carrying. Necklaces, rings, coins… anything. If you want to go home with your life still attached to your body."
Kyoichiiro didn't answer immediately. He calculated the distance, their speed, and the exit behind him. His body was still small and weak for a fight. Logic spoke louder than pride.
Kyoichiiro: (suddenly pointing to the floor behind the man) "Uh… that. Behind your foot. A gold coin."
His tone was flat, almost unconvincing. But for minds filled with greed, even the slightest bait was enough.
Man #2: "Huh?! Where?!"
All three, led by their base instinct for wealth, reflexively turned and looked down, their backs turned to Kyoichiiro for a moment.
It was the opening he needed. Kyoichiiro turned and dashed, not back to the main street, but deeper into the alley, toward a narrow gap between two buildings he had noted earlier. His small legs ran as fast as they could, using his size advantage to slip into places they couldn't easily enter.
After a few turns and confirming no one was chasing him, he stopped, panting heavily. He emerged at a different end of the alley, back onto the bustle of the main street. Calmly, he adjusted his hood and continued walking as if nothing had happened.
Kyoichiiro: (to himself) A minor threat. Unorganized. But it's a good reminder. This surface peace is fragile. Something is wrong with this peaceful picture.
His stomach growled. Nearby, an old fruit seller was packing up his stall. A pile of fresh red apples looked tempting.
Kyoichiiro: "Three apples, please."
Merchant: "Hmm? Oh, a little kid out alone at night? Be careful, young one. Here are your apples."
Kyoichiiro accepted the fruit, handed over a few small coins, and took a bite of one apple as he walked. The sweet and sour taste was refreshing.
Kyoichiiro: (to himself) I shouldn't stay out too long. My absence will surely be noticed soon. If I disappear, there will be an uproar. And that would just hinder me from going out again in the future.
With reluctance, he decided to return. The knowledge gained tonight was enough for one experiment.
As he climbed the path back up the hill to the palace, an oddity struck him immediately. The usual chorus of night crickets was gone. An unnatural quiet hung in the air.
Then, he saw it.
The small back gate he had used to leave… was wide open. Usually, there were always two guards there. Now, both guards lay on the ground, motionless. Under the dim moonlight (or whatever light illuminated the night in this world), he saw a dark pool spreading around their bodies. Blood.
The apple in Kyoichiiro's hand fell, rolling on the stony path.
Kyoichiiro: (trembling voice) "What… what happened here?"
One of the guards moved. His chest rose and fell with difficulty. His eyes were half-open, and when he saw the small, black-robed figure, panic flared on his face.
Guard: (hoarse, bloody voice) "Y-Young Master…?! Run…! A horde… of demons… and monsters… They're attacking… Many of them… They're already inside… the palace!"
The world around Kyoichiiro seemed to freeze. Those words locked his joints. Then, a cold sharper than ice enveloped his entire body, replacing the panic. His mind, previously full of social analysis, now focused on one thing.
Claire. Father. The servants. Everyone inside.
Kyoichiiro: (voice becoming firm and fast) "I'm going in. You, evacuate any other surviving guards if there are any. Then get help from the city guard. Now. That's an order."
He gave no time for the wounded guard to argue. His small body had already shot past the gate, into the palace grounds.
The sight that greeted him was a living nightmare. The sturdy main palace doors were forced open, one of them hanging crookedly on its hinges. In the magnificent marble hallway, bodies were scattered. Servants in torn uniforms, armed soldiers with gaping wounds, all motionless. Expensive paintings had fallen from the walls, beautiful vases lay shattered. The smell of iron-blood and dust floated in the air, replacing the palace's usual fragrance of incense.
Too late…? The thought felt like a knife in his chest. No. Not necessarily.
Without a second thought, he ran up the grand staircase toward the floor where the family chambers were. The sounds of screams, clashing metal, and roars of something inhuman echoed from various directions.
Suddenly—
BOOOOM!
A loud explosion shook the hallway ahead. The shockwave threw Kyoichiiro off his feet. Dust and stone fragments flew. As he raised his head, coughing, he saw the left wall of the hallway had collapsed, opening a view into the adjoining room.
And from behind the thick curtain of dust, came a scream. A voice that instantly made his heart feel as if it had stopped beating.
Female Voice: "HELP—!!"
That… voice…
Kyoichiiro scrambled to his feet, fear swallowed by a stronger, instinctive drive. He charged through the hole in the wall.
The room was a dressing room. A large mirror was shattered, furniture wrecked. And in the middle of the room lay the woman he had known as "Mother."
A longsword was impaled in her stomach. A large man in dark armor stood nearby, pulling his sword out with a rough motion. Beside him, a creature—wolf-like but with skin like stone and glowing red eyes—snorted, drool dripping from its maw full of sharp teeth.
The man turned towards Kyoichiiro, who had just entered. Beneath his helmet, a sadistic smile was visible.
Attacking Man: "Oh? A new sprout. Still very young and fresh."
Kyoichiiro didn't hear him. His entire attention was fixed on the figure on the floor. He ran and knelt beside her.
Kyoichiiro: "Mother…!"
His voice broke. Tears, which he thought had dried up by his rationality, spilled forth in a torrent. Profound pain, the loss he knew all too well from his previous life, hit him with full force. He could still feel it. He could still lose.
The woman, her face pale and sweaty, opened her eyes with difficulty. When she saw her child's face, a soft light appeared in her eyes.
Mother: "Kyoichiiro… you're here…"
Her breath came in gasps, each word a struggle.
Mother: "Thank you… for being willing to come… into this world. I… was so happy… every time I saw you… smile."
Her weak, bloodied hand tried to lift, touching Kyoichiiro's wet cheek.
Mother: "Please… don't let yourself… drown in darkness… don't become like…"
She stopped, her breath growing shorter.
Mother: "Because… I loved you… so, so much."
Her voice grew fainter, almost like the wind.
Mother: (only with lip movement) "Thank you… for fulfilling… all my promises…"
A faint smile, full of peace and sorrow, graced her lips. Then, her breath stopped. The light in her eyes went out. Her weak embrace finally went limp.
Kyoichiiro hugged his mother's body tightly, his small frame shaking violently. His crying was soundless, yet its vibration filled the entire room.
Kyoichiiro: (to himself, full of bitterness) Why…? Why does the world always do this? Every time there's someone… someone close… they're always ripped away. As if my very existence… is a disaster for those around me. A curse.
His tears fell onto his mother's peaceful face, washing away a small smudge of dust on her cheek.
Kyoichiiro: (whispering) "I'm sorry… I'm a useless child. When you needed it, I couldn't do anything. I'm not like Claire. I'm weak."
Memories of his own death in his past life, his loneliness and confusion, merged with the agony of the present.
Kyoichiiro: (his voice turning cold and full of resolve) "Fate… is always like this. Always taking. Always killing a part of me. If that's the case…"
He raised his face. Tears still flowed, but his eyes now emitted a different light—the burning light of a decision.
Kyoichiiro: "Someday… I will kill fate itself. I will crush that arbitrary destiny until it stops."
Gently, he kissed his mother's now-cold cheek.
Kyoichiiro: "Thank you… for being the best mother to me. Rest now."
Then, with a firm movement, he released his embrace. His eyes shifted to the short sword lying near the foot of a dead servant. He picked it up. The sword was heavy for his hand, but he gripped it tightly.
He stood, facing the armed man and the monster. His body was small, covered in his mother's blood, his face still wet with tears, but his posture was upright.
Attacking Man: (laughing heartily) "Interesting! Very interesting! A little kid who just lost his mother wants to play with a sword? Wants to kill us? Come on, show us!"
Kyoichiiro didn't answer. He lunged. Not with perfect technique, but with all the anger, sorrow, and resolve he possessed. His sword swung toward the man.
Clang!
Easily, his attack was parried. His small sword nearly flew from his grasp.
Attacking Man: "Weak! Useless! You're just a child!"
And from the side, the stone-wolf monster moved. It didn't attack with claws, but rammed its boulder-hard shoulder directly into Kyoichiiro's body.
Thud!
A sound of heavy impact echoed. Kyoichiiro was thrown backward, crashing into the wall of what remained of the room. It felt like every bone in his body had cracked. Sharp pain spread from his back. He fell to the floor, coughing, and a spurt of blood came from his mouth.
Kyoichiiro: (choking) "This… is nothing… compared to…"
He tried to stand, but his legs gave way. His vision began to blur.
Kyoichiiro: "Tch…"
His consciousness began to fade. The sound of the man's laughter and the monster's roars grew more distant. Darkness began to encroach from the edges of his sight.
On the verge of passing out, he heard quick footsteps and other, unfamiliar voices.
Soldier's Voice #1: "Over here! There are survivors!"
Soldier's Voice #2: "That's… that's the young one! The second son of the Khaneo family!"
Figures in cleaner armor rushed in. They surrounded him. One approached, his face looking worried.
Soldier #1: "Quick, get him out of here! Evacuate! The palace is no longer safe!"
Kyoichiiro felt himself being lifted gently. His last sight before darkness completely enveloped him was the ruined ceiling of the room, and the shadow of his mother lying motionless on the floor. Then, everything turned black as he was carried away from the palace that had borne witness to his day of calamity.