The long dining table of Delcra Castle was lit with warm candles, the flames reflecting against polished silverware. The meal before them was grand, yet the air was uncomfortably stiff.
Kael sat at the center, between Elric on his left and Albert on his right. His plate remained mostly untouched. Instead, he slowly sipped at the dark coffee placed before him, occasionally picking up a piece of fruit.
Robert, standing slightly behind, frowned deeply at the sight. He finally leaned forward, voice sharp but caring:
"Master Kael, you shouldn't only drink coffee. It will keep you awake all night."
Kael lowered the cup without answering, his expression unchanged.
Robert quickly took the coffee away and replaced it with a glass of fruit juice. "This will be easier on your body. Please."
Kael obediently lifted the glass, sipping without protest.
Albert, who had been waiting for a chance, cleared his throat and leaned slightly toward Kael. His posture remained straight, his tone unshaken—too stiff, too military.
"Permission to ask about your health, Lord Kael."
Kael's brow twitched faintly at the overly formal phrasing. He didn't respond, nor did he look Albert's way. The atmosphere sank into silence.
Elric, exasperated, finally broke it.
"Will you try to speak less formally, Count Albert?"
Albert turned to her, startled, then gave a sheepish laugh.
"Ah—my apologies. It's… an old habit I can't fix. Ha ha…"
He glanced back to Kael, hoping for some reaction, but Kael did not even flicker in his direction.
Undeterred, Albert tried again, his voice still bearing the rigidity of a soldier's report.
"His Majesty sent me to the West Gate recently, to oversee the situation there. Fortunately, it is stable. The demon army no longer assaults the walls, though stray remnants continue to harass the villagers. Our men are forced to defend them daily."
Again, no reaction. Kael's eyes remained on his juice.
"So, you're saying the demon army still attacks the villagers?" Elric asked, her brows furrowed.
Albert nodded, his tone softening noticeably when he addressed her.
"Yes. They are scattered and weak, most of them ordinary demons without leadership. But they still threaten isolated homes and farmland. The danger is small—but not gone."
Kael, silent as ever, caught the subtle shift in Albert's voice. Toward Elric, his words seemed warmer, less mechanical.
Then Albert turned nervously back toward Kael.
"B-but thanks t-to Lord Kael, everything has become easier. The soldiers—myself included—owe much to you."
Kael's eyes finally lifted, just slightly, to meet Albert's. The faintest sign of acknowledgment.
Albert flinched under the weight of that stare, then forced a smile to cover his unease.
"I—I bet my lord will join me at the West Gate in the near future, r-right?"
No reply. Kael returned to sipping the juice Robert had given him.
Robert coughed deliberately, stepping in.
"We cannot simply send young master into battle again. His body needs to recover fully."
"O-oh. Of course. Ha ha…" Albert forced a nod, though the stiffness betrayed his embarrassment. He pressed on, desperate to bridge the gap.
"But I truly miss fighting at your side, Lord Kael. And—ah, I hear you've already recovered two fragments of your sword? Perhaps I could help. I—I actually know where one of the remaining pieces is—"
The sharp shatter of glass cut him off.
Everyone froze.
Kael's hand had slipped, the juice glass breaking against the stone floor. Silence pressed into the room like a suffocating weight.
"Master!" Robert rushed forward, but Kael stood abruptly. His face betrayed nothing.
"Young master?" Robert called softly.
Without a word, Kael turned and walked away, leaving the dining hall. The servants hurried to clean the mess. Robert bowed politely to Elric and Albert before following after him.
Albert chuckled weakly, trying to dismiss the tension.
"It seems… he dislikes me. Ha ha."
Elric swirled the wine in her glass and took a slow sip.
"Tell me… he really has no memory?" Albert asked carefully.
Elric did not answer. She stared into her glass, her expression unreadable.
Albert's voice softened, touched by melancholy.
"He's… really different from before. His aura—it's the same, yet not. Brighter once… but darker now."
Elric's gaze snapped toward him, sharp.
"What do you mean by aura?"
Albert smiled faintly, pointing to his own eyes.
"Since childhood, I've been able to see what others call aura. Every living being has one—humans, beasts, even plants. Lord Kael's aura was once brilliant. Now… it feels heavier, shadowed. Perhaps it is the Demon King's curse, as His Majesty suggested in his letter?"
Elric's fingers tightened around her glass. She said nothing.
Albert leaned back, sighing.
"Still… even like this, I can sense the fragments of his sword. Not precisely where, but… His Majesty keeps one here. Somewhere in this castle. I can feel it."
Her eyes narrowed slightly. Reinhardt. He must have planned this, predicting Kael's awakening.
"Then bring it to him," she said.
Albert shook his head regretfully.
"I cannot. Whenever I draw near, it drains my mana… violently. I suspect it's the same for anyone except Lord Kael."
The conversation ended there, until Albert seemed to remember something. He reached beside his chair, lifting a bouquet.
"I brought this for you, Lady Elric." His smile softened as he offered it. "From the same vineyards where I gifted you wine before."
Elric hesitated, but courtesy compelled her to accept. She smiled faintly, though not fully.
"Thank you."
Albert's expression brightened.
"For now, I will assist you in overseeing Lord Kael's condition, as well as the duchy's paperwork. His Majesty entrusted me with this duty. Please… rely on me if needed."
Elric inclined her head.
"Very well. But do not push him too hard."
-----------------------------------------
Meanwhile, in the shadowed hallways, Robert hurried after Kael.
"Young master, why didn't you finish your meal? Are you unwell again?"
Kael walked on in silence, discomfort tightening around him like a shackle. He could not bear Albert's presence, nor his stiff soldier's tone.
Finally, Kael stopped, making Robert pause in surprise.
"Young master…?"
Kael turned slowly, his pale gaze heavy.
"You said there is a library here. Bring me there."
Robert blinked, then frowned. His voice rose, sharp with concern.
"This is why I forbid coffee at dinner! You just recovered from fever—" He seized Kael's wrist, glaring with all the authority of a scolding parent.
Kael lowered his eyes, lips pressing thin.
"I just… want to have something to read."
The admission, soft and reluctant, stilled Robert's anger. For a moment, he only glared, then sighed heavily.
"Fine. But don't take too long. If you push yourself, I will put a sleeping spell on you."
Kael avoided his gaze, and Robert guided him down the halls.
"This is one of the libraries of Delcra Castle. It's closest to your room," Robert explained as he unlocked the tall doors. The vast chamber stretched upward with five floors of shelves, lined with tomes in countless languages.
Kael's eyes flickered with rare interest. He stepped forward immediately, reaching for the shelves.
Robert watched him carefully, heart softening. His master rarely showed what he wanted, yet here—this was a glimpse of it.
Kael selected a book and sat on a sofa, opening it. Robert exhaled. "Please stay here. I'll bring the rest of your meal. You didn't eat earlier."
He left quietly, leaving Kael alone.
The book was titled The History of Delcra. Kael flipped through its pages, finding notes of the land's cursed history—the failed bid of its first ancestors to claim the throne, their land ruined by proximity to the demon realm, their bloodline extinguished in battle.
One page showed a painted man: the last of Delcra's dukes. Kael stared at it, searching for something familiar. Nothing.
He sighed, remembering Elric's words—that the name he bore was a gift, not truly his.
Then another book caught his eye. Its cover bore the painted image of a dragon, black with piercing yellow eyes.
He froze.
He had seen those eyes before—in his dream, glaring with rage.
He flipped through, only to find it written in a foreign tongue. He could not read it. Yet he remembered—once, in another world, he studied foreign languages as a boy, dreaming of travel. The memory stabbed at him, and he shut his eyes, unwilling to recall further.
When he opened them again, he took the stationery from the table, beginning to copy letters he half-recognized, trying to piece them together. His hand moved steadily, writing, testing, rearranging.
The world fell away into silence.
When Robert returned with a tray of food, he paused at the door. Kael sat at the table, his face unreadable, utterly focused on his writing.
Robert's anger softened into a smile. Carefully, he stepped forward, quiet as if not to disturb him.
For the first time in days, his young master seemed calm.