Lucian groaned softly. His entire body ached, his muscles tightening with each strained breath. His wrists were bound tightly. Cold iron bars restricted his view—silent and unmoving.
Where… am I?
The question hung in his mind, unanswered. Only silence remained… and pain.
Then, memories crept in—slow and bitter, like a tide he couldn't hold back.
Home.
His mother lay listlessly in bed, her body weakening day by day. The illness refused to leave.
Young Lucian forced himself to be strong. He replaced his mother at work. Whatever he did—selling, delivering goods, hard labor—it was all for one thing: to cure his mother.
He believed that as long as he tried, fate would favor him. Every night, he gazed at his mother's sleeping face, her breathing heavy. He held her hand, fighting back tears, and whispered:
"I promise, Mother… I will cure you."
Days turned into weeks. Weeks into months.
But… fate had other plans.
The illness persisted. His mother grew weaker.
Still, Lucian persevered—working, hoping, holding on.
One afternoon, while he was working, his phone rang. His voice trembled as he answered. And his world crumbled when he heard his neighbor's voice on the other end.
"Lucian… your mother is gone."
His body froze. The world felt empty. All his efforts, all his hard work… wasted.
He raced home, but it was too late. His mother was gone—without a goodbye.
Lucian hugged his sobbing younger sister. And for the first time in a long time… he cried.
He cried from loss. From a broken promise. And because, for the first time, life felt meaningless.
A year passed since that day.
Lucian changed.
He no longer lived for himself. Every breath, every drop of sweat—all for his younger sister.
"I won't lose anyone else."
That was his promise.
He worked, pushed himself, sacrificed everything. Because his family was all he had left.
But now… this.
This place. This world.
The pain in his body was real. The chill of this cell was real. But the world outside? It all felt… alien.
Was this a dream? Punishment? Or… something else?
Lucian clenched his bound hands. His jaw tightened.
He didn't know why he was here. He didn't know who brought him. But one thing was certain—
He couldn't die here. Not yet.
His sister… was waiting somewhere. Though that somewhere might be a world beyond his reach.
...
Footsteps approached. Two guards appeared at the end of the dark corridor. One of them opened the cell door, while the other knelt and untied the bonds on Lucian's wrists.
They slowly pulled him out of the dark cell.
Silently, they led him towards the royal hall.
As one guard looked at Lucian's face, he saw dark eyes—like someone who had just cried all night. A flicker of pity touched the guard's heart… but duty was duty. He couldn't waver from compassion.
Lucian was silent. His steps were unsteady, his body limp. His eyes were heavy, as if even his eyelids refused to fully open.
In his mind, there was no hope. Only silence… only the relentless gnawing of guilt. He walked aimlessly in his own mind—not towards the king, but into emptiness.
When he finally arrived in the hall, the eyes of the nobles and royal guests immediately turned to him. Scornful glances. Disgusted stares.
But Lucian didn't care. To him, they were just empty echoes in a void already carved inside.
King Victoria's voice echoed—issuing orders or pronouncements, but Lucian's ears were numb. He didn't even hear a single word. For him, it was all over.
But suddenly…
A voice caught his attention.
A familiar presence. A familiar voice.
He turned slowly.
Aurora.
Her steps were calm yet firm. Voices began to echo around the room—warning her to be careful, even urging her to punish Lucian. But Aurora ignored them. Her steps continued, across the hall of judgment.
She knelt before Lucian's weakened form. Her gaze was sharp, cold.
In a low voice, almost a whisper, she said:
"Tch… how did you get here?"
Lucian remained silent. His eyes were half-open, but vacant.
Aurora furrowed her brow. Then she asked again, her voice heavier this time:
"What are you doing?"
Still no answer. Lucian just stared at her—eyes full of wounds, but without the strength to cry.
The people in the room fell silent. Confused and questioning gazes turned to Aurora—the noble girl was talking to a helpless, weakened prisoner.
Some began to whisper. Others openly shouted:
"That's dangerous! Don't go near him!"
But Aurora remained unmoved. Lucian gave no answer—just sat there in silence, like a lifeless body.
Aurora stood. She looked straight at the king—her gaze sharp, unwavering.
And in a loud voice, she said:
"Father…
May I take this person away from here?"
King Victoria stared at his daughter for a long time. Then he slowly shook his head.
"I can't.
He was found in Narami territory.
And caused a disturbance there."
In his mind, the king believed Lucian had tried to steal something. A book that no one should touch.
Aurora looked down at Lucian, examining him. There was nothing on him—no book, no suspicious objects.
She stood, meeting her father's gaze defiantly.
"I've checked him.
There's nothing on him."
The king turned to the line of guards.
"When you found him…
was there anything near him? A book? A scroll? Anything?"
One guard stepped forward and saluted.
"May I answer, Your Majesty.
When we found him, he was unconscious.
And there was nothing around him."
The king was silent. His face showed no emotion, but his mind began to waver.
Aurora stepped forward, a slight smile playing on her lips.
"If you don't grant my request…"
she said softly but sharply,
"…then I'll tell Mother…
that you refused a simple request from your own daughter."
The room grew colder.
The King let out a slow breath, then lifted his hand.
A sufficient gesture. The guard beside Lucian moved quickly—releasing the shackles from his wrists.
Aurora turned to Lucian and helped him to his feet. Slowly, they walked out of the hall.
Step by step, leaving the place full of eyes and judgment.
But the sounds of protest still echoed faintly:
"Why did the king let that man go?"
The King simply replied:
"Leave it be."
And no one dared to object.
…
The royal gardens stretched beyond the castle walls—a sanctuary shaped by silence and grace. Flowers bloomed in soft gradations of color, swaying gently in the afternoon breeze. A fountain in the center of the garden reflected the setting sun, breaking the silence with a calm gurgling.
Among the rows of flowering trees and neatly winding stone paths, two figures walked slowly.
Aurora patiently supported Lucian. Her steps were slow but sure, towards an intricately carved wooden garden bench.
Lucian sank onto the bench, and Aurora joined him. Before them—a small table and a warm cup of tea, emitting a thin wisp of steam.
Lucian stared at the cup in silence, his eyes seemingly lost in the small swirls on the tea's surface. His body still felt tired, but the weight pressing on his chest was slowly beginning to lift.
On the other hand, Aurora was pouring tea into her own cup. Calmly, she began the conversation, but her voice held an undeniable firmness.
"So… what exactly were you stealing?"
she said, looking straight at him.
"I know I lied to Father, but I'm sure you didn't get what you were looking for."
Lucian realized—Aurora had saved him.
He adjusted his posture, his body straighter than before. His breathing began to regulate. He looked at the tea before him for a moment, then lifted the cup and sipped it slowly. Warm, light, and slightly bitter.
He looked at Aurora and smiled faintly.
"Hah… I'm amazed by you.
You could tell just from a glance.
But as you can see…
I couldn't find what I came for."
His voice still sounded tired, but honest. Aurora didn't look away. Her eyes were still probing, curious.
"So what were you looking for?"
Lucian put down his cup. His gaze was calm, yet held something deep.
"A book… to cure a curse."
Aurora fell silent. In an instant, she understood Lucian's meaning. She knew the type of curse afflicting him was not yet fully identified.
She didn't expect—Lucian was this vigilant and persistent.
"But… are you sure?" she said slowly.
"That there's a book that can cure the curse?
Isn't it only relics… or ancient spells that can do that?"
The question hung in the air. Lucian didn't answer immediately. He just sat silently, looking at the remaining tea in his cup, as if searching for an answer from within himself.