Sunlight poured through the tall arched windows, far too enthusiastic for someone who wanted just a few more minutes of sleep. I groaned and rolled over, but the warmth on my face was unrelenting.
I opened my eyes. The world hadn't changed overnight. Still not Tokyo. Still this peaceful, perfect world that looked like it had fallen out of a fantasy painting.
Dragging myself out of bed, I stretched and stepped to the window. A breeze swept in, carrying the scent of garden roses and fresh grass. Far off, I could hear the chatter of servants and the clip of boots from guards changing posts.
"Still here," I murmured. "Still not dreaming."
Just as I took a breath, the door burst open like a thunderclap.
"Onii-chaaaaan!"
Two giggling missiles tackled me—Althea and Lyrielle. My twin sisters. Blue-haired, glowing-eyed chaos wrapped in innocence. They jumped onto my bed, hugging, bouncing, and talking over each other.
"You're really awake this time!" "We brought breakfast bread!" "You look weird when you sleep!"
I laughed, playfully fending them off with a pillow.
"Alright, alright! I surrender! Tickling is forbidden under the Geneva Convention—wait, you don't even know what that is. Never mind."
Their laughter was like music, and for a moment I let myself get lost in it. Their joy, their presence—it felt too precious.
Too fragile.
Breakfast followed shortly after. We sat at a long sunlit table as servants bustled about. The stew was rich, the bread warm, and my sisters chattered nonstop about butterflies, shiny rocks, and a dream involving a flying sheep.
Father, Caelen Vaelthorn, smiled from the head of the table. Calm and composed as always, his presence felt both noble and gentle. Beside him, my mother Elira spoke with grace, her voice always like a soothing melody.
Halfway through the meal, a courier arrived bearing a sealed letter.
Caelen broke the wax. "From Ardyn."
His eyes scanned the parchment, and then he chuckled.
"You're alive? About damn time! Sylvara screamed. I choked. Classic us. Also, nice fire shield, hotshot. You're showing off already? Come to Velhalen soon. We've got swords and soup. Not in that order."
I had just taken a sip of my tea.
And then—pffffttt!
"Cough—what the—?!"
I spat it across the table, nearly choking as everyone turned to stare.
"That's seriously what the greatest swordsman in the kingdom writes in a letter?!" I wheezed. "He's such a clown. A deadly one. But still a clown."
Althea giggled. Lyrielle clapped like I did a magic trick. Even my mother covered a smile.
Only my maid—no, my fire-wielding executioner-in-disguise—Serianna, didn't laugh.
She stepped forward, eyes burning with possessive intensity.
"Ashirion-sama,"Serianna said coolly. "Training ground. Now."
I blinked. "Can't I digest first? Maybe nap? Reflect on life?"
She stared at me.
A kitchen maid in the background dropped a tray and smiled awkwardly.
Serianna turned her head. The air shimmered with heat. The tray burst into flames.
"Oops," she said flatly. "My magic slipped."
I sighed. "Let me guess. Solo session?"
"Naturally."
---
*Training Grounds
The sun was brutal. Not as brutal as my instructor.
"Stance. Core focus. Mana control. Again."
Serianna circled me like a predator, her fire magic flaring every time I blinked wrong. Her hands adjusted my posture more often than necessary, her eyes flicking toward any servant who dared glance in my direction.
"That boy smiled at you."
"What boy?"
She incinerated a nearby training dummy. "Doesn't matter. He won't again."
Her obsession was subtle to everyone else. To me, it was a daily trial by fire. Literally.
But somehow… she cared. Deeply. In her own terrifying way.
By the time we wrapped up, my shirt was soaked, my mana half-drained, and my pride moderately bruised.
"You've improved,"Serianna said. "Good. I'll push you harder tomorrow."
Great.
——
*Nightfall
That night, I lay under the stars, arms behind my head as the wind swept through the curtains. My sisters had fallen asleep beside me earlier, curled up like kittens. Their soft breaths were the only sound.
The sky above shimmered with constellations I didn't recognize.
"If peace has a taste," I murmured, "it's this."
A breeze swept through the room—soft, colder than before. It brushed against my skin like a whisper.
And then... I heard it.
"Ashirion..."
A voice.
Not loud. Not angry. Just... present.
I sat up, heart pounding. The room was empty.
Only the wind remained.
Yet that voice—it wasn't from this world.