The night was darker than ink, save for the pale light of the full moon hanging silently above the world. Clouds drifted slowly and thin, and the sound of distant wind brushed against the cracked glass windows of the orphanage.
Kael sat alone in a small room — not the crowded dormitory he once shared with dozens of children, but a separate one. His own bed. His own blanket. A small table beside him.
It was… comfortable.
Too comfortable.
The guards had moved him there earlier that evening after he met the nobleman — the man with golden hair and eyes that shimmered like polished emerald.
At first, Kael thought it was a miracle, a blessing. He'd been chosen — but chosen for what?
He sat on his bed, knees drawn to his chest. The soft blanket couldn't warm the fear that clung to him. Every kindness in this place had a price. Every whisper hid something cruel.
He looked at the barred window above him, where the moonlight poured through the narrow cracks, and wondered if this comfort was the first step toward being another "sacrifice."
A scream tore through the air.
Kael flinched violently, his heart leaping to his throat. It came from below — the basement known as the Redemption Cell. The screams didn't stop; they echoed through the walls like the howls of something inhuman.
He pressed a pillow over his ears, curling into himself. But even muffled, the sound reached him — muffled sobs, begging, then silence.
He trembled, his breath coming out uneven. The sound was too close, too real. He wanted to block it out — to pretend none of it existed. But the smell of blood, the faint vibration of footsteps above the wooden floorboards, all told him otherwise.
He couldn't sleep.
When the noise faded, Kael sat up and crawled to the corner of the room where the moonlight reached the floor. He knelt, folding his hands together. His voice was barely a whisper.
"Let me get out of here," he prayed. "Please… let me stay strong so I can protect the others."
The words trembled from his lips like breath in the cold.
For a moment, silence answered him — then, faintly, as though carried on the wind itself, a voice reached his ear.
"—I'm waiting for you—"
A woman's voice. Gentle. Fading.
Kael's eyes widened. He turned, but the room was empty. His heart pounded in confusion, warmth spreading faintly through his chest — a warmth that did not belong to this place.
Then the world dissolved.
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Kael's eyes fluttered open.
The faint scent of jasmine drifted through the air. The room was no longer the orphanage — no damp walls, no locked door, no chains. He was lying in his bed at Vaelthorn Mansion.
He blinked, dazed. His breathing slowed.
The first thing he saw was Elric, leaning slightly over him, her hands still holding the edge of his blanket. She had been tucking him in, but stopped halfway when his eyes opened.
"You're awake?" Her voice was soft, low, almost a whisper — as if afraid to disturb the silence of his room.
Kael slowly pushed himself up, sitting against the headboard. The faint echo of screams from his dream still clung to the edges of his memory, making his head throb.
Elric watched him quietly, her eyes narrowing with concern. She sat on the chair beside his bed, studying the lines of tension on his face. "Does your head hurt?" she asked gently.
Kael's brows knitted faintly, and after a pause, he nodded once.
Elric sighed softly, moving to sit closer — this time on the edge of the bed itself. "Come here," she murmured, lifting both her hands to his temples. Her thumbs began to trace slow, soothing circles over his skin, massaging the corners of his forehead.
"Another nightmare?" she asked quietly.
Kael didn't answer. He didn't need to. His silence spoke enough.
Elric's gaze softened as she looked at him. "Do you want me to stay with you tonight?" she teased lightly, smiling just enough to draw a small reaction.
Kael blinked, slightly startled by her words, but didn't move. The faint twitch at the corner of his lips almost made Elric laugh.
"I'm joking," she said softly, chuckling. "You fell asleep in the library earlier — Robert told me. I told you already, you can take your time learning. You don't need to push yourself so hard."
Her tone was tender now, carrying warmth that eased the chill in the air.
Kael's hand moved slowly — his fingers brushing against the back of her palm. His touch was faint but deliberate. He opened his eyes again, meeting hers.
"The memory when I was at the orphanage… came back."
His voice was quiet, fragile, almost hesitant — as though each word carried the weight of years.
Elric froze for a moment, startled. Then, she tilted her head slightly, her gaze steady on him. "Can you tell me more?" she asked softly. Her lips curved into a small, reassuring smile.
Kael leaned back against the pillows. His hand still held hers tightly, his knuckles pale.
"I was in a hall," he began slowly, his voice trembling faintly. "Filled with children. They were thin… hungry." He swallowed, his throat dry. "Children being abused… and dying. The adults didn't even try to save us."
Elric's chest tightened as she listened. His tone wasn't emotional — it was empty, like a hollow echo of something buried too deep.
"They gave us food," Kael continued, slower this time. "It tasted strange. Some of us fainted. Some didn't wake up." His brows furrowed faintly. "I thought… I'd be next."
Elric said nothing. Her thumb brushed lightly over the back of his hand — a quiet reminder that he wasn't alone.
Kael drew a slow breath, his gaze distant. "Then a man came," he whispered. "He had golden hair… and emerald eyes." His voice faltered. "He said I was precious."
Elric's eyes widened slightly. "Golden hair… and emerald eyes?" she repeated, her voice careful.
Kael nodded faintly.
Elric's mind raced. She looked away, her expression clouded by thought. "The only people with those features," she said slowly, "are born with royal blood. Only the descendants of the first king carry them…"
She turned back to him — his hand was trembling as he gripped hers. His eyes, half-lidded, still held fragments of fear.
Without thinking, Elric lifted his hand.
Her lips brushed against the back of his palm — soft, deliberate, a promise made without words.
Kael's eyes widened slightly, frozen by the warmth that spread from her touch.
"Don't be afraid, Kael," Elric whispered against his skin. "It's all in the past now. I'm here… with you. And I won't leave you alone."
Her words lingered like the echo of a prayer — the same kind of prayer Kael once whispered to the moon.
For a long time, neither of them spoke.
The night was quiet again, the moon casting its silver light across the floor. The only sound that filled the room was the steady rhythm of their breaths — two souls bound by the weight of memory, and the fragile warmth of the present.
Elric sat beside him until his trembling ceased. Kael's hand, still holding hers, finally loosened. His eyes closed once more — not from pain, but from exhaustion.
As she watched him drift into sleep, Elric brushed her fingers gently through his hair. "Rest now," she whispered. "You've survived the darkness. The moon is yours to keep."
And somewhere deep within his dreams, the child Kael once was — the boy who prayed to the moon — stood in a field of white petals, no longer alone.
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The room was dim, lit only by the faint flicker of candlelight.
The soft glow outlined the sleeping figure on the bed — Kael, his breathing steady, his pale lashes resting against his cheeks.
Elric sat at his bedside, brushing his hair gently away from his forehead. His skin was cool, but no longer clammy as before. A small relief.
He had fallen asleep not long after dinner — Robert had brought in a tray of warm stew and tea, which Kael had eaten quietly, before drifting into slumber again.
Now, there was peace. A fragile peace that Elric was afraid to disturb.
Her hand lingered, fingers combing softly through his hair. "You finally sleep soundly," she whispered, her voice almost tender. "Even if just for tonight."
Behind her, the faint rustle of footsteps drew closer.
Robert stood by the doorway, his hands clasped neatly in front of him. His expression was composed as ever, though the way his gaze lingered on Kael revealed the same concern Elric felt.
"Did he… say something?" he asked in a low tone, careful not to wake him.
Elric sighed softly, turning her head toward him. "He remembered something," she said quietly. "Fragments from when he was at the Taylor Orphanage."
Robert froze. The polite stillness on his face faltered, giving way to something sharper — disbelief, maybe even fear. His gaze flickered toward Kael, then back to Elric.
For a few seconds, he said nothing. Then, quietly — "We shouldn't talk here."
Elric blinked. "Why?"
Robert's voice dropped further. "Because if what I think is true, this room is too close to him. I don't want him overhearing."
Elric hesitated, then nodded. She cast one last glance at Kael before standing, pulling the blanket gently to his shoulder. "Fine," she murmured.
Robert bowed slightly and led her through the adjoining door into a smaller antechamber beside Kael's room — a quiet sitting room meant for the Duchess's private use. The air was cooler here, the only light from the fireplace still burning low.
Elric sank into one of the chairs, her back straight but her eyes wary. Robert sat across from her, his gloved fingers touching his chin as he thought, eyes narrowed in reflection.
"Speak," she said finally.
Robert exhaled. His usual composed voice was lower now, heavier. "Actually… Before the young master became the Hero, he had already lost a portion of his childhood memories. Everything before the age of six — gone."
Elric's eyes widened. "What do you mean?"
Robert's gaze lifted to meet hers. "I was young then, but I still remember. When he was found and brought to the palace at eleven, he couldn't recall anything from his early years at the orphanage. He knew his name, but not how he got it. He didn't remember his parents, or what happened to the other children there."
He hesitated. "It was as if someone had cut those years out of his mind completely."
Elric leaned forward. "You think it was deliberate?"
Robert shook his head slowly. "Not by magic, perhaps. But by trauma."
The room fell silent for a moment, only the fire crackling between them.
"I believe," Robert continued, his tone now grim, "that the abuse he suffered there forced his mind to shut those memories away. To protect himself."
Elric's hands clenched faintly against her lap. "Then why now? Why is he remembering it?"
Robert looked down, his fingers tightening around each other. "You mentioned before that he's been having nightmares — about the massacre of the cursed children."
"Yes," Elric murmured.
Robert nodded. "That… may be what broke the wall in his mind. The curse, or whatever was sealed within him after the Demon King's fall, must have weakened the barrier. His memories are resurfacing — all of them."
Elric stared at the flames, her brow furrowing. "So he's remembering everything he once buried…"
She went quiet for a long moment, piecing things together in her head.
Finally, she spoke. "He said he met someone in that dream — a man with golden hair and emerald eyes."
Robert's head snapped up immediately. "What?"
Elric's gaze met his. "He said the man told him he was precious."
Robert's expression darkened. He leaned back slowly, thinking hard. "There was someone in the royal bloodline with a known obsession for the Taylor Foundation," he began. "It's in the records Reinhardt had sealed — the former Crown Prince, David Emestrild."
Elric's eyes narrowed. "David… the one Stanford killed?"
Robert nodded. "Yes. But his death didn't erase what he did. David was the one who managed the Foundation's finances under the old king's order. He used the orphanages as cover for illegal experimentation — blood purification, soul binding, and human alchemy." His voice grew tight with anger. "The children there weren't orphans. They were test subjects."
Elric's stomach twisted. "And Kael…"
Robert nodded grimly. "Was one of them."
The words hung in the air like frost.
For a moment, neither spoke. The only sound was the soft crackling of the fire, and the echo of old horrors neither of them could erase.
Elric finally broke the silence. "Reinhardt destroyed the old monarchy after the war," she said. "He must have known about David's involvement."
"He did," Robert said quietly. "He ended it with his own hands. The old king, the Foundation, the laboratories beneath the capital — all burned. Reinhardt made sure no one could ever repeat what they did."
Elric pressed a hand to her temple, her voice low. "So that's why he hid Kael's identity. Not just to give him peace — but to protect him from the truth."
Robert nodded once. "It would destroy him to know. But now… his dreams are showing him pieces of it anyway."
Elric leaned back in her chair, exhaustion weighing down her shoulders. Her expression hardened. "Then we'll need to be ready. If Kael remembers everything, he may start questioning the Emperor himself."
Robert's eyes lifted toward her, steady but troubled. "And if he does?"
Elric's gaze turned toward the adjoining door — toward the man sleeping just beyond it. "Then we'll protect him," she said softly. "No matter what side the truth stands on."
She stood, her hand brushing the table lightly. "Prepare for the worst, Robert. Kael needs us — and when he finally faces what he's remembering, he'll need someone to hold him steady."
Robert rose and bowed deeply. "Yes, my lady."
When she left the room, the last of the firelight dimmed behind her, leaving Robert alone in thought. He looked toward Kael's closed door one last time.
His expression softened, sorrow flickering through his green eyes. "You've already endured enough," he murmured. "May the gods forgive us for keeping the rest from you."