Kairos' first morning as king—
and the entire country was uneasy.
Wapol was gone.
That alone should have been enough to celebrate.
No more forced summons. No more arbitrary decrees. The constant pressure hanging over Drum Kingdom had lifted overnight.
But no one relaxed.
Because of who replaced him.
Kairos.
The name carried more weight than Wapol ever had.
A man who fought Admirals.
A man who clashed with legends.
A pirate.
And now—
their king.
—
Rumors spread faster than the wind.
In a narrow alley, a few townspeople gathered, voices low.
"You remember what Golden Lion said, right? Back then?" one man whispered. "He invited Kairos to rule the world with him."
"So?"
"So think about it. They both disappear for a year. Then Kairos shows up and takes a country just like that."
A pause.
"…You're saying this is the start?"
"Doesn't it look like it?"
Silence.
Then uneasy agreement.
It wasn't just here.
Every street had its own version of the same story.
By midday, most people had already decided what to believe.
—
Inside the palace, it was quiet.
Warm sunlight filtered through the windows, spreading across the room.
Kairos opened his eyes.
For a moment, he just lay there, staring at the ceiling.
The bed was new.
Everything was.
The moment he took the throne, the old furniture had been cleared out.
He hadn't touched anything Wapol had used.
Didn't want to.
He sat up.
"Dalton."
The door opened almost immediately.
Dalton stepped in, posture straight, expression controlled—but not relaxed.
Too much had changed overnight.
Yesterday, Kairos was an intruder.
Today, he was king.
Dalton hadn't caught up yet.
"Pass an order," Kairos said.
Dalton's gaze sharpened slightly at the word, but he didn't interrupt.
Kairos picked up a sheet of paper and handed it over.
"Have this made."
Dalton glanced at it.
Clothing designs.
Nothing unusual.
"…Understood."
He turned to leave.
Then paused.
"There's something else," he said carefully. "The country is unstable right now. People are panicking. Rumors are spreading. Should we intervene?"
Kairos didn't hesitate.
"No."
Dalton frowned slightly.
Kairos leaned back a little, tone unchanged.
"Let them talk."
Silence.
Dalton studied him for a second, then nodded.
"…Yes."
He left.
—
Kairos already knew what people were saying.
Usurper.
Murderer.
Tyrant.
None of it surprised him.
And none of it was entirely wrong.
Wapol had died because of him.
That part didn't need explaining.
Kairos didn't care to justify it.
He had what he needed.
The decree.
The throne.
That was enough.
He stretched slightly, then stood.
If he was going to sit on the throne—
he might as well enjoy it.
A light snap of his fingers echoed in the room.
Moments later, the doors opened again.
Servants wheeled in a table covered in food.
Hot.
Fresh.
The scent filled the room immediately.
Kairos glanced over it, then nodded once.
Not bad.
He sat down without ceremony.
Being king—
at the very least—
meant eating properly.
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