Chapter Text
In every story Cale has read, the villain loses. Whether it be from the hero or their own hubris, it didn't matter, because they lost and the hero is welcomed home as a savior. The ending remains the same, no matter the cause.
And that's the end. The end that so many fairy tales and books preach about, where the villain is left to rot and the hero is left to thrive.
...Cale didn't know why he expected any differently. Because in the end, fairy tales had some truth to them.
The villains will be hated. The villains will betray and hurt, despise and be despised in return, manipulate and...
"You bastard! Why in the hell did you have to go and join Arm ?! You know how much grief they've caused, you know that they killed..."
Cale ignores the voices clambering to a newfound height, screaming unintelligible words and curses, begging for him to just look at them. But Cale never looks, only stares ahead with his head tall, his posture straight and his stride languid.
It's as if he isn't heading to his execution, as if the chains weren't digging against his wrists and dragging against the floor.
It was as if he were still the young master they knew; a noble man who didn't hesitate to help despite being weak, a smart man who everyone knew would become the next count.
Someone who they could count on.
But what is a facade if it does not fool? A mask that does not conceal ugly thoughts and treachery?
Well, it would be a useless one, that's for certain.
Perhaps it was for the worse that Cale was never one to put on a useless act. Maybe then, if he had, all of this could've been prevented.
But there's no use talking about the past now. What matters now is that Cale is going to be executed and dead in a matter of minutes, with Choi Han as the swordsman and Alberu as the commander.
The same way it was when they invaded the Raon kingdom. With Alberu keeping Choi Han as a pawn, making him do his bidding by manipulating Cale with sweet, honey covered words, only to stab him in the back when that bastard no longer needs him-
His body is forcefully pushed into the execution block, and he can't help but wince as the worn wood digs into his neck. Couldn't they have made it just a little bit comfortable? A little mercy before his death, or maybe people like him didn't deserve that at all.
Maybe they didn't deserve to look away from the crowd. From their faces twisted in betrayal and sadness, from hatred and relief.
Maybe they didn't deserve to not see a sword glint out of the corner of their eye, constantly reminding them that today is their last day, and that they will die.
There is no after.
This is the end.
Cale will never feel the wind on his face again, the comradeship…
'You're a pawn. Nothing else. What does it matter if you die? There are plenty of people who can replace you, after all.'
Cale grits his teeth.
The crowd goes silent.
"Thank you for joining me on this somber day," Alberu begins.
"After the execution, I'd like to give a moment of silence for the fallen. We will never forget those who gave their lives during this war. As soon as it is over, families will be given compensation and support. And as for what will happen to the Henituse family's county..."
Cale looks up, defiance flaring in his eyes. Alberu sweeps his gaze across the crowd, only pausing a moment to stare at him before continuing.
"As for the Henituse family's county, it will be run by Deruth Henituse's brother and his wife. When they get rid of their debt, compensation will be given to everyone’s families. Statues will also be made of them to honor their deaths.”
But Cale wouldn’t . And hadn't it always been like this? With a family of 4, with bonds stronger than any shield. Never with the eldest, always aloof and silent, never interacting with family beyond common courtesy.
It was always a family of 3 2 4, with a bond stronger than any shield. Never with the woman with crimson hair, who had the gentlest hugs and brightest smile The eldest with a hug hard enough to crush, who had the chilliest of smiles.
Cale lets his head fall, a whisper of a sardonic smile pulling at his lips. That family would definitely complain about the statues, but happily give money away at their own expense.
It was laughable.
"And today, we are also here to witness the execution of Cale," Alberu said.
It was honorable.
Alberu sits back down upon the uproar, simply observing the jeers of the crowd and Cale himself.
It was odd to him. A young master who was born with everything at his hands, to a family with upstanding morals turning to the other side.
Why would he throw it all away to join people like that? Was it the prospect of power? Or perhaps there was internal discourse he wasn't aware of, or his mother's death could've set him down this path. He knew better than anyone else how terrible a mother's death could be.
But Alberu did not know. All he knew is that maybe this curiosity was better left off dead, because the how doesn't matter now. Cale is caught, had helped kill too many of his people, and that was something he could not forgive.
So, it was with little guilt he raised his hand to signal Choi Han, watching impassively as everything went quiet in anticipation.
The sword is prepared, and all that's left is the commander's order.
Cale lowers his head, just as the commander lets his hand fall.
A sword flies down.
And in the few seconds it takes for Cale to die, he looks at the people.
A strangled scoff is the last noise he ever makes.
The people's pity and sorrow is the last thing he ever sees.
He was a fool.
The sword connects.
It only takes a few seconds for Cale to die a pitiful death.
Two men stand side by side, each watching through a swirl of darkness no mortal could ever hope to gaze upon.
They watch as three men engage in a desperate battle against a monster, blood and screams flying everywhere in the chaos of battle.
Until it slowly, oh so painfully slow, stutters out like a dying flame, until all that's left are two broken swords with their wielders still holding on tight, and a paper held tight by a broken body.
Choi Jung Gun slams his fist on the wall, mouth twisted into a snarl. Oh, how much he wished that he could bash someone's head in right now.
"...They all died. How did this happen? You said that only Kim Rok Soo was supposed to die!" Choi Jung Gun snarled.
He holds the god up by his collar, ignoring the spark of satisfaction when he trembles in fear.
"Aigoo, there's no need for that, Choi Jung Gun."
A woman with crimson hair walks in, holding a soul bathed in a murky gray, with few sparks of light scattered between. She holds it gently, as if it were her own child.
Choi Jung Gun clicks his tongue, letting the god fall to the ground. Pathetic.
"Ah, Jour, thank you! I thought that he was going to kill me, sob!"
Jour crouches down, regarding the God of Death for a few moments. And a few moments later, realization blooms in her expression.
"...Fate has changed," Jour mumbles.
She looks down at the soul in her hand, a slight smile crossing her face before disappearing under a stoic mask. She opens up the God of Death's hand, gently putting the soul in it.
"Then it must be my Cale who defeats the White Star."
Choi Jung Gun eyes the soul warily.
"His soul is tainted. Can you be sure that he won't go back to the White Star?"
Jour bursts out in laughter, hand instinctively coming to cover her mouth. Somehow, her eyes said everything her hand covered.
Never.
Faintly, Choi Jung Gun finds himself thinking of his own mother. A strong willed person who had enough faith in him to raise a mountain. A woman who taught him everything she thought he needed to know...
Focus. Deep breath. Exhale. Repeat.
Choi Jung Gun opens his eyes - and when did he close them? - and focuses his attention back to the present.
A portal is open now, a swirling mess of darkness and light blending together to make an ugly gray, with Cale's soul slowly being consumed by it.
"Are we sure we couldn't have waited for Choi Han to die and sent him instead?" Choi Jung Gun asked.
The God of Death shakes his head.
"That child… I cannot reach him. He's already being consumed by despair. In the end, by the time he dies… it'll be too late to retrieve him," The God of Death mournfully said.
Choi Jung Gun clicks his tongue.
"What kind of death god can't retrieve their souls? You really are useless."
Instead of sobbing like usual, he only offers a self-deprecating smile. He turns his gaze to the three souls now sitting peacefully in the office, all tainted but still retaining a beautiful light.
He gently gives the last push for the soul to be consumed by the portal.
"I really am useless. I can't even protect my own precious children, or say 'welcome home' with a happy face."
Choi Jung Gun turns away, his own portal coming into existence. He clicks his tongue.
A god like him didn’t deserve to have a face like that.
However, just this once...
"...I'll make sure that damn relative of mine comes back.”
He’d help him out.
Both portals disappear, and thus it starts.
(It starts like it always does, with a man waking up in an unfamiliar place, distorted and confused-)
"Uncle? Do you promise you'll always be there for me?"
His smile is off-putting, but Cale is blind. Blind to the way his eyes are empty and malicious, to the way his smiles look fake.
Practiced.
...It was almost like he wasn't human.
"Of course I will. Don't ask such an obvious question."
Lies, it's all lies, don't listen-
It's not pretty when Cale wakes up. He wakes up with wide, bloodshot eyes, and with an unnatural jerk as his body forces itself to sit up.
And for what felt like the first time in forever, Cale breathed . He took in as much air as he could, reveling in how a simple breath could fill someone with so much energy.
He was alive. But how? He remembered dying, remembered the life leaving his body-
Cale stumbles from his bed to the mirror, walking on legs that felt foreign and weak, almost as if he were drunk. He grasps the mirror with an iron fist, staring at his reflection with increasing clarity.
It was him, but at the same time it wasn't. He was him , but his hair is shorter, collected scars gone and his eyes are no longer burdened by fatigue.
He looked like him before the war broke out.
"How is this possible?" Cale mutters.
How? Was it because of a god, or because of some type of necromancy ritual?
A migraine settles itself within his head. It hurt too much to think about, so Cale turned his mind to other matters.
Maybe the why is more important. Why him? The person who betrayed his country and ruined too many people to count, hell, he even helped ruin that family-
He lets out a strangled laugh. Was this some cruel joke between the gods or whatever bullshit thing brought him here? To not even let him rest in peace or even rot in hell for all the terrible things he's done?
...But he hasn't done those things yet, has he?
It comes across to him with startling clarity, and his grip unintentionally loosens on the mirror, and his legs, foreign and familiar but difficult to control, collapses.
The war hasn't happened yet. His family hasn't died, uncle-
Cale clenches his fist, an urge to kick something over flaring at just the mention of that damn bastard.
Replaceable. A pawn.
"Always."
...The White Star is still alive, too. Cale forces himself to stand up, shaky legs hurtling towards his desk covered in organized papers.
He needed to know when he came back. If he was too late…
Cale forces his desk open.
No, he couldn't be too late. What would be the point of going back if he can't do anything?
His hand hovers over a scroll. It's plain, with no markings signaling who he'll send it to. However, Cale knew that the most plainest thing could be the most dangerous.
The extravagant are noticed, while the plain are ignored. It was the same for items, too. It was laughably easy to hide an incriminating letter under more eye-catching objects.
'...We need to have better security.'
For both the people and items. He knows that it only took a little bit before the mage under the White Star's control was hired into their family.
That'll be one of the first things he'll fix, he quickly decides.
Cale opens the scroll, and scans over the content.
'Bombs are ready... will make sure there's nothing to stop... king or and prince will definitely die.'
There's no date written. Cale curses and throws the paper, the sick feeling in his stomach rising with each step he takes.
There's no calendar in his room. He didn't know how much time there's left until the king's birthday or his marriage to Choi Han, or if he'll be able to get the necessary resources or people to stop everything because of their damn debt , and there's just so much and Cale can't breath-
A knock, followed by a hesitant voice.
"Um, Young Master-nim? Are you alright?"
…Right. Right now, he's the eldest of the Henituse family. Right now, that family is alive, the war hasn't happened, nor did the massacre on the king's birthday.
(Their family is still in debt, the White Star is still alive, the war will come, death and blood, so much blood-)
There's still hope.
Cale's nails dig into his skin in favor of keeping quiet.
There's still time.
His legs keep on shaking despite him willing them to stop.
Cale exhales, letting the breath he'd been holding, go.
He needs to focus on his number one priority; finding what the date is. From there, he'll prepare as much as he can, and try to prevent the king's death.
(People screaming , the princes crying out for their father, the crown prince fighting, everyone fleeing-)
Focus!
He opens the door with more force than intended, startling the maid. Cale doesn't notice, too intent on his goal and the sickness in his stomach to care how much of a mess he looks like.
"What date is it?" He demands.
"It's March 30th. Young Master-nim-"
"I'm fine. Goodnight." Cale slams the door shut, immediately pacing under closed doors.
March 30th. He travels to the capital in 5 days. With that much time...
He could do this. However, he’s unsure about the future events. Cale lets out a heavy sigh, ignoring the tiredness tugging on his eyes.
He'd be fine alone for this event, but afterwards… there's nothing. There are no allies to help him, nor does he have the means to get the items he needs for the future.
'If I let things stay the way they are…'
He'd be as good as dead the moment he tries to combat the White Star's plans by himself. It's akin to a harmless insect trying to fight against a human; both are useless attempts.
Cale can't afford to die until he's sure the White Star will rot in hell.
But then that raises the question of who would help? The White Star had made sure to stay underground and establish his people everywhere. There's not many who would even know of his name.
It didn't help that while Cale had acted as a perfect heir, he neglected relationships with family and servants. Within the county, or anywhere really, there isn't a single person he's close to.
To put it bluntly, right now, Cale is isolated.
He has no allies.
The people who he could turn to hate him-
'…Unless.'
Unless he's somehow able to convince Choi Han to join him. That guy always foiled that bastard's plans, to where the White Star was once willing to do anything to kill him.
He's the perfect candidate. A person who is willing to fight, someone with connections, and most importantly, a person who knows of the White Star's existence and despises him.
He’s also the man Cale will marry. It’s the perfect situation to stay close and effectively communicate without it being suspicious.
'He would be perfect… if only he didn't despise me.'
The scars on his body twinge in phantom pain. Cale absentmindedly rubs them, a slight grimace on his face.
Yes, a person who hates Arm and the White Star… enough to beat up a person who has their scent on them without thinking first.
Just the thought of that day makes Cale want to punch Choi Han in the face a hundred, no, a thousand times. Who in their right minds would punch someone randomly?
It wasn’t a day that Cale remembers fondly. It was the day Cale almost died for the first time, and the day Choi Han's existence became known to the world.
And that day has already passed 2 years ago around this month.
He runs his hand through his hair, a deep frown on his face. There has to be a way to convince Choi Han he's not a part of Arm and get him on his side.
Someway...
Cale flops onto his bed, the tiredness he'd been ignoring catching up to his body and mind.
And as he closes his eyes and lets sleep overtake him, there's only one thing he knows for sure; somehow, he'll do it.
Even if it means his death, or if he has to do it alone in the end… Cale won't ever let the White Star live.
It’s with such vicious thoughts that he falls asleep, and dreams.
(That night, he dreams.
He dreams of a family of 5, with a bond stronger than any shield. With the eldest, standing there surrounded by people still unknown to him-
He dreams, and he forgets. But that feeling of warmth lingers, and Cale can't understand why he wakes up with tears in his eyes.)
"Cale's sick?"
An utensil falls from someone's hand, while another gasps.
Deruth sits his fork down, frowning at the servant.
"Yes. He has a fever and threw up an hour ago. A servant mentioned he was acting oddly last night, too,” The servant dutifully reports.
Deruth links his hands together, a thoughtful yet somber look crossing over his face.
"I see. Tell the chefs to only make him light yet delicious foods for at least a week," Deruth sternly tells her.
The servant bows, slightly empty bowls clicking loudly against her tray as she disappears into the kitchen.
Deruth rubs his forehead, letting out a half-hearted sigh. It seems like he can never stop worrying about his eldest child.
"Mom, is Orabeoni going to be okay?" Lily asked.
Violan pats Lily's hair, a small smile on her face.
"Cale will be fine."
Lily clenches her skirt, seemingly struggling with herself for a few seconds before she looks up, puppy eyes shining bright.
"T-then, can we visit Orabeoni?"
Deruth glances at Violan. Violan glances at Deruth.
Deruth’s eyebrow twitches. Violan’s eyebrows raise. Deruth’s mouth pinches together. Violan’s eyes flick from Lily to Basen. Finally, Deruth lets out a sigh, and looks away.
He could never win against his wife, it seems.
"After breakfast. You need to eat well to grow strong and healthy, after all," Deruth said.
Lily brightens, and Deruth turns to Basen, but he's already eating, body now more relaxed than before. He can’t help but smile. Although Cale wasn’t as close to them as he’d like, he was glad that the children liked each other.
That day, breakfast was eaten in record time. It was almost like a race, with how fast they hurried towards Cale's bedroom.
However, when they get there, the doctor is outside, writing something in his notes.
Deruth gently pushes his family forward, nodding towards Violan. She nods back and quickly ushers their children into Cale's bedroom, while Deruth approaches the doctor.
"Ah, count-nim!"
The doctor bows, but Deruth raises his hand.
"What's wrong with my son?" Deruth asked.
The doctor clears his throat, scanning down his notes before speaking.
"Well, it's just the common flu. With medicine, rest and food he should be okay soon," he takes a deep breath, "However, if I may dare to be so blunt, the Young Master-nim needs to stop working so much. His mind and body are too stressed, and it's causing him to be weak and sickly."
Deruth pauses, a variety of expressions passing through his face before he settles on a sad smile. He knew this, but... for Cale, it was difficult to say no or stop him. How could he refuse a child he felt such guilt towards, a child who had lost too much at such an early age?
Before he can speak, the doctor continues, his expression turning somber.
"Also… I noticed nail marks on his palm. From the looks of it, this isn't the first time this has happened. I suggest helping him find… ah, some healthier coping mechanisms."
"...I-I see," Deruth mumbled in shock.
Seemingly noticing the change in his mood, the doctor once again clears his throat.
"I've left his medicine in his bedroom, but if you need anything else, please don't hesitate to ask."
The doctor scurries away, leaving Deruth with his own thoughts. His eyes are crinkled in sorrow, and he wonders how he never noticed.
There’s only one thought that crosses through his mind.
"...I've failed as a father," He mumbled.
How had he not seen the marks? Or even the beginning of such a habit? He paid attention to Cale, made sure that he got everything he needed within reason-
(A crippling debt, a child who stopped asking for extravagant things, a child who sold their belongings-)
But it was from the sidelines, wasn’t it? Always watching, but never interacting. You couldn’t learn everything about a person just by watching.
Almost as if in autopilot, he opens the door, stopping to stare at the scene that greets him.
His lovely wife, sitting beside Cale with a searching look, while Lily reads to him with Basen's assistance.
And there sits Cale, his eyes closed but his mind awake, body relaxed in such a way he hadn't seen since…
'This is your second chance.' A voice whispers to him, and Deruth wants to cry because it reminds him so much of Jour, 'protect them, and be protected in return.'
Since Jour.
Oh, how much he wanted to engrave this memory in his brain .
Cale looks at him now. A father who he barely had any relationship with. They, who were two strangers sharing the same home and name, now look at each other with similar thoughts.
'..It's time for things to change.'
Cale smiles, or more like an attempt at a smile, at that- their, no, his dad.
Deruth smiles back, ignoring the tears wanting to burst forward.
He walks until he kneels in front of Cale, and smiles brightly at him. Deruth takes Cale's hands in his, rubbing at his bandages with gentle hands.
Now that he knows… he'll do all he can to reverse habits like these. He’ll be the father Cale deserved all along.
And it starts with stopping his overwork.
"Cale, you won't have to go to the king's celebration, okay? Focus on recovering instead," Deruth gently said.
He thought Cale would relax at this, do something that would signal happiness or relief, but instead the grip on his hands turned from lax to tight, expression almost wild with alarm. "Father, Basen can’t go!"
Deruth blinks in confusion.
'Why in the world is he so eager to go?'
He wishes that someone could help him understand his son.
Bonus:
Choi Han stares at himself in the muddied water. His eyes are sunken, face covered in dirt and rain. His features aren't recognizable to him anymore.
Once, he would've stared at his face for hours, trying to imagine what his family would look like. Would've used his faint and fading memories of them to do so.
But now, all Choi Han sees is a person covered in blood of the innocent and damned.
'A monster parading as a human,' the voice whispers delightfully.
Numbly, he picks himself up. There was no time to wallow in self-pity. Everyone was struggling, especially those important to him and they weren't stopping, so Choi Han could not either.
He didn't stop to think about the way Rosalyn bled from overwork, the way Alberu was sick from stress, how Lock could barely maintain his beast form without breaking down-
No, he couldn't think of these things. There was a war to win-
'But could you actually win?'
And people to save.
'You haven't saved anyone.'
Choi Han clenches his fist.
There's no stopping.
Not now, not until-
An explosion. Immediately, he's off again, to fight and kill-
Until his death. After all, isn't that the fate of a noble hero?
—------------
Bonus 2:
“Uhm, Orabeoni? Are you feeling better?” Lily asks.
Cale blinks. He was never close to his siblings, always keeping a professional distance from them, so for such a question to be asked...
For some reason, Cale’s heart warmed slightly. Was it because they were alive and in front of him, stepping over that unconscious boundary while he agonized over what he could do to break it?
Or because no one in his past life asked him that question before?
It didn’t especially matter to Cale. He ruffled her hair, frowning at how rough it was before scoffing.
“Of course I’m feeling better,” he subconsciously blurted in an arrogant voice.
...Habits are hard to break.
However, Lily only brightens and pulls out a story book out of who knows where. His vision is too blurry and unfocused to see clearly, but he can make out a knight.
‘Hmm? Is Lily interested in knights?’
“Mother says that reading helps someone grow stronger and make them feel better," Lily says, and Cale can already see where she's going with it.
Cale forces a smile, pretending as if he didn't have a massive headache and he wasn't burning and freezing at the same time.
"Read it to me," Cale says.
The smile he got made Cale think that pretending to be energized is worth it.
"Ah, I'll start reading!"
It was like this until Deruth walked in; his little sister reading from a book with Basen helping her, while Violan listens with contentness stirring in her chest.
Cale couldn't help but want this to be his always from now on.