Chapter 2 – A Time Not Meant for Me (2)

Thrum. Thrum. Thrum.

I plucked the lute strings. The heart of the empire, cloaked in the darkness of the setting sun, was eerily quiet. The dense population, evident in the tightly packed housing, meant that even the smallest sound would carry. Playing openly here was a surefire way to attract unwanted attention, whether a formal complaint or simply the prying eyes of strangers.

Still, the city had its quiet pockets. Finding a secluded spot within a park, shielded by trees, was easy enough.

“This much should be alright,” I murmured to the empty air, receiving the silent confirmation I sought. A signal, inaudible to most, but clear to me.

I took a deep breath, focusing on maintaining my composure. If my emotions spiraled, the familiar tightness in my chest would return, suffocating me. Fatigue would set in, my mind clouding over. It wasn’t simply a loss of focus, but a descent into despair. Negative thoughts, once they took root, spread like wildfire.

Thrum.

I wasn’t playing anything in particular. Not yet. Just plucking a single string, a steady rhythm, over and over. Until the act of playing consumed me, and I forgot myself.

Then, my fingers moved on their own, playing a familiar melody. The sound was contained, prevented from traveling—not through magic, for I had no such talent—but through other precautions.

Lost in the music, I played until the sky began to lighten. The stars faded, and the brilliant full moon retreated.

“No sleep tonight,” I thought, already anticipating the regret. It wasn’t that sleep wouldn’t come; it was that I couldn’t sleep. Because sleep meant tomorrow would arrive. And the thought of tomorrow, a new day in this suffocating existence, filled me with dread. Especially since tomorrow was the celebratory gala at the Imperial Palace. As the son of a warrior and a saintess, attendance was mandatory. There were no easy excuses.

Excuses… My life, from childhood, had been a carefully constructed performance. In that sense, it was already over. A gilded cage, or perhaps a scorched page in a forgotten book. That was my past, and my present.

My fingers ached, but that was nothing compared to the dread of what awaited me.

“Why am I even doing this?” A hollow laugh escaped me, barely a whisper. Like a rat hiding in its hole.

“That’s enough. Thanks.” The unnatural silence, broken only moments ago by my music, was now filled with the quiet sounds of the returning city. I slipped out of the park, moving silently across the rooftops, back towards my prison.

“Young Master.”

I had barely cleared the wall when a man holding a torch approached, as if lying in wait. “Moderation is key in your… nocturnal pursuits. Your reputation suffers.”

“Duly noted,” I replied flatly, scaling the wall and entering my room through the window. The familiar, stifling space immediately tightened its grip on me. A prison. For what purpose? I waited, sleepless, for the dawn and the inevitable hell of a new day.

====

“The foremost of the Nine Heroes! The Last Warrior! Commander of the Imperial First Knight Order, the Golden Dragon Knights! The Golden Swordmaster, Luelde Brendiar! And now, the pillar of the Nine Heroes! The Guiding Saintess! The Light of Benediction! The Holy Mother of Salvation, Ermina Brendiar!”

Resplendent. Black and white. Her attire was less a dress and more a flowing robe of white, adorned with gold thread. At first glance, it seemed modest, but its elegance spoke of exorbitant cost and impeccable taste. Practicality and extravagance combined.

Her jet-black hair, intricately braided, framed a face of striking beauty. Even with the swell of her pregnancy, she radiated an air of nobility. In the brightly lit ballroom, amidst the throngs of guests, her beauty shone. Every gesture was graceful, almost sacred. Truly befitting of a saintess, a holy mother.

Beside her, the man who escorted her. Despite years of battles, his features remained refined. Though well into his thirties, he looked barely older than twenty. He, too, wore ceremonial attire, but the contrast between them was stark. He, with his snow-white hair, she with her raven locks. Their clothing, however, reversed the color scheme. His knightly uniform was likely not his preference, but rather a concession to his wife’s insistence on propriety. Still, he cut a striking figure, his expression carefully neutral.

From a distance, they seemed to belong to another world.

“A picture-perfect couple.”

“They seem to grow younger with each passing year.”

“Indeed. Enviable.”

“Though their parenting…”

“Ahem! Walls have ears…”

“My apologies! A careless slip of the tongue.”

They couldn’t criticize them, so their barbs were directed at me instead. My parents would have brushed off such comments. They possessed that strength. But I didn’t. If I acknowledged every slight, I’d be at war with half the nobility. Responding to such petty gossip? Unthinkable. Beneath the dignity of great heroes.

“Still, we’ll soon have blessed news, won’t we?”

“A true heir to their legacy.”

“A noble child, worthy of their renown.”

Such whispers seemed to find me with uncanny accuracy.

I retreated to a shadowed corner near the terrace, hoping to avoid their notice. Stay long enough to make an appearance, and then disappear. Leaving abruptly would be disrespectful, but now that I was here, I needed to fulfill my minimal obligations.

“There you are.”

Of course. I turned to see the striking figure of the princess. Her crimson hair and vibrant red dress, adorned with glittering jewels, made her radiate youthful energy. But to me, that vibrant red was just another curse.

I suppressed a sigh, offering a polite bow. “Princess.”

“We met at the academy yesterday. ‘It’s been a while’ seems a bit much.”

We had crossed paths, but I hadn’t acknowledged her. Why bring it up now? Her gaze was piercing, indifferent, yet sharp like a hawk’s. There was no malice in her eyes, just the weight of her presence, an oppressive aura that made me shrink. I’d long since given up on envy, resigned to my own inadequacy.

“Tenth place. A marked improvement.”

“…Thank you.”

“Still, it falls short of the legacy of Luelde and Ermina. Especially since you were their only child.”

Were. Soon, I wouldn’t be. I clung to that thought.

“I expect nothing less than second place from you. You’re capable of it. Why hide your abilities?”

This insane—! The words died in my throat. This was nothing new. The familiar grinding sound echoed in my mind. I forced myself to remain calm.

“Are you saying it’s acceptable as long as I’m beneath you?”

She, the embodiment of the world’s blessings. A true prodigy, excelling in every field, a testament to her lineage as a descendant of the Warrior-Emperor. And like me, the child of two heroes.

“Surpassing me is fine. As long as you prove your worth.” Such breathtaking arrogance.

“Shouldn’t you save that for the others vying for your position?”

There were many other descendants of heroes, after all. And among them, I was the least. If she were my only competition… perhaps I wouldn’t be considered such a failure.

But I couldn’t beat her. I’d entertained the thought, once, but our origins were fundamentally different. Our status, our inherent abilities, the expectations placed upon us, even the trivial attention we received.

A sigh escaped me, so soft I almost didn’t register it. Uncharacteristic of her usual composure. I looked at her more closely.

“Cariel, you look exhausted.”

“……”

“Rumors of your… nighttime activities have reached me.”

How far had these whispers spread?

“Compose yourself. Such behavior is unbecoming.”

“……” What was she implying?

“And what concern is that of yours, Your Highness?”

“Cariel, you are a future cornerstone of the empire. You may be lost now, but time will heal.”

Heal? Whose decision was that? What would time heal?

“Youthful indiscretions are fleeting. Like petals on a river, they will fade.”

“……”

“Cultivating beautiful memories is a gift you give your future self.”

“You speak as if we’re separated by a decade or more.” This woman, my peer, a fellow child of heroes… was she truly so different simply because of her imperial blood? Or was it something inherent in me? Something lacking?

“Cariel, you truly—”

A commotion erupted within the ballroom.

“Let’s end this… conversation.” Conversation? If this was a conversation, I was losing my mind.

“Come. I understand your desire to leave, but you must at least greet His Majesty.”

“Of course.” If she would expedite my escape, I had no reason to refuse.

I followed her, into the unwanted gazes of the assembled guests. My luck could not be worse.

And there they were. Along with the princess, the other descendants of heroes, flaunting their exceptional talents.

“Cariel! There you are! It’s been too long!” The man with vibrant crimson hair and azure eyes, his beauty outshining even his ornate golden attire. Beside him, the woman with aquamarine hair and obsidian eyes.

“I’ve told you to visit more often.” The Hero-Emperor and the Archmage Empress. The hero turned emperor, the mage turned empress. And my own parents, along with the other heroes of the empire.

Trapped. A bitter taste rose in my throat. The grinding, metallic screech in my mind intensified.