Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“It's time to wake up, young master,” Ron said as he opened the curtains, letting the sun light up the dim room. The sunlight kissed Cale’s face gently, waking him up from his deep slumber. 

His eyes fluttered slowly, getting rid of the remaining sleep yet failed to go away as the weight of something hit him like a strong wave, drowning the desire to wake up. He grimaced, slipping under his blanket to block the sun, and squeezed his eyes shut as if forcing himself to sleep again.

“Young master, did you sneak in alcohol again?” Ron poured his lemon tea and placed it on the tray beside his bed. He stared at Cale, ready for his morning grumbles. Yet, Cale didn't move. But Ron didn't spare it a thought, he was used to Cale’s random change of behavior. 

Ron waited for him for a little while but after seeing no sign of waking up, he decided to let him for now.

“I will bring you some breakfast, young master. I expect to see you awake then.” After getting no reply, Ron politely excused himself and left.

On hearing the soft click of the door, Cale opened his eyes. He stared at the ceiling, feeling a heaviness that was too familiar yet too unknown. His chest pressed on his heart; he could only take short, quick breaths. 

He needs to get up, he told himself. He tried, but he failed as if his body was made of metal he can't carry. He frowned and sighed, the back of his hand against his eyes as he counted to three. One, two, three.. still no move.

‘Ugh. What is wrong with me?’ 

Cale huffed and slipped under the blanket. It was warm. And he didn't want to leave this warmth right now. The world outside of his blanket was cold but today, it was colder than normal. Maybe Ron won't mind if he slept for a little longer today, he thought as his consciousness slowly faded away.

_______________

A soft knock cut the silence in the room. Ron opened the door gently, a little wary of the absence of sounds. A sleeping Cale caught his sight, his cup of tea left untouched. Ron raised his eyebrow; Cale, despite being a trouble, had followed his routine well. Ron wondered if he stayed up later than usual last night. He put the tray on the table and gently taped Cale’s shoulder. 

“Young master, are you feeling unwell?” 

“Should I bring in a doctor?” 

He felt a small movement under his hand, as soft, red hair appeared from under the blanket. Eyes that lacked their usual reddish gleam stared at him. 

“Sigh, I’m okay, Ron.” Ron missed his eyes as Cale closed them and turned his head back.

“Just let me sleep for a while.”

Cale’s weak tone left Ron standing with a frown. The absence of glow in Cale’s skin and his tired eyes were immediate warning signs.

‘Is he hiding his injuries again?’ Ron frowned. He turned back on his heels and gave Cale one last glance.

‘I should inform Deruth.’ Ron thought as he quietly closed the door behind him.

Time passed in a blur for Cale. He would wake up, and hours would pass with a blink of his eyes. And still, the tiredness and the heaviness didn’t ease even for a little. 

He woke up again, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, unsure how much time had passed. He couldn't feel his limbs, nor the steady beats of his heart. His body felt like a hollow thing, where its soul was floating above it. And Cale had to remind himself to breathe because he was still alive, even when he didn't feel like it. He closed his eyes for a moment then opened them again, his eyes fixed on a blurred ceiling. 

‘..I’m tired.’ 

This familiar emptiness had grown and thickened itself to something Cale no longer recognized, something Cale had no power against. He could only give himself up to this feeling and let it swallow him till it was satisfied, till it had enough, till it went away on its own, like how it always did. Cale sighed. He gathered all the energy left in his body, pulled himself, and sat down. His head pounded heavily; the pain gave him a small sense of life, a thin thread lightly pulling his soul back to his body. He frowned as he held his head. A gentle knock stole his attention. 

“..Come in.” 

It was Ron. He appeared from behind the door, holding an invitation in his hand. 

Cale raised his eyebrow slightly in confusion but his curiosity alone wasn't enough to let questions run out of his heavy tongue. He just looked at Ron in the hope he would understand him. But Ron, instead of satisfying his curiosity, looked between him and the plate of untouched food beside him. Ron’s expression fell to a familiar twist.

A too familiar one. 

“Young master..”

“You haven't touched your food.”

Cale knew that gaze. It was the only one he could read, the only one he could recognize among thousands of other looks people threw at him. He knew it too well. 

The disappointment. 

The heaviness grew wilder, smothering Cale from his throat. It pressed on his body and his head till he couldn't keep his head high anymore. 

He didn't want it. He couldn't bear to be looked at like that right now. Just for a while, Cale wanted to take a break from those stares. 

Just for today, Cale didn't want to be a disappointment. 

His hand immediately held the cold plate.

“!!” 

Cale almost took a bite when a firm hand snatched the plate out of his hands. “What are you doing?!” Cale flinched. Ron flashed him a look Cale couldn't read this time. He blinked as the realization of what he had just done sank bit by bit. 

What did he do? Cale himself didn't know, his hand moved on its own. ‘Embarrassing..’ He clutched his blanket as he avoided Ron’s gaze. Ron's long silence made him grow even more uncomfortable. 

The silence thickened for a while before Ron’s cold tone broke it, “..It must have gotten cold. I will tell Baecrox to prepare another meal.” 

Cale didn't answer.

He thought that Ron had left but when he turned back his head, he saw him still standing.

“..Okay?” 

Ron’s unreadable gaze lingered on him for a few more seconds and eventually, Ron turned back and left.

Once Ron disappeared, Cale let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. What was happening to him? No matter how much Cale tried to make sense of his feelings, he still couldn't find any explanation. He ran his hand through his messy hair. 

He still hasn't brushed his teeth, washed his face, or had his morning shower. He still didn't eat his breakfast or drink his tea. 

And the thought of doing all those small and irrelevant things made his chest heavier. Cale clenched his fists. But he couldn't give up on this feeling’s commands. He did win against it before anyway, he won against it multiple times. 

He was able to brush his teeth, wash his face, eat his breakfast, and drink his tea. And even if it came back stronger and bigger, Cale would still win. 

He didn’t need to understand. He didn't need to make sense of it. And he didn't need to know why it always came back. Because he will win anyway. And that's what truly mattered to him. 

He took a deep breath and counted to three, but this time, he moved. He

pulled his body to the bathroom. 

The cold water brought him back to his senses.

_______________

Cale sat on the chair beside the window. He watched the ruffling trees and the birds sitting on its branches, bathing in the sun’s warmth. It was still morning, Cale thought. He thought he had slept for long, Cale wished he did. A knock interrupted the silence again, but Cale didn't bother to look this time; it was always Ron, anyway. 

After hearing no response, Ron entered, with the invitation and Cale’s second breakfast. He watched Cale’s red hair glimmering under the sunlight. He couldn't see his face but for some reason, Cale looked calm..

A calmness that made Ron’s face twist into a frown. 

“Young master, I brought your breakfast.” He waited. 

He waited for him to complain about how long he took. He waited for Cale to be the one he knew, the one he could read like an open book because he had a talent for showing every emotion on his face. 

But instead, Cale only stared in a way that didn't suit someone as emotional as him. He didn't bother to reply; he only waited for Ron to do what he knew he should. But Ron stayed for just a moment, just a second longer to see if Cale would say something. But Cale only turned his head back, giving Ron the freedom to do whatever he wanted. 

Ron felt as if he wouldn't care if he dropped everything on the floor and left, or stayed in his place, standing the whole day. Ron clicked his tongue quietly and prepared the table for him. Once ready, he waited for Cale to eat first. He noticed Cale’s quick glances at the letter, obviously curious ones. But Ron didn't want to satisfy his curiosity right now, he wanted to enjoy the emotion Cale was showing for the first time today.

However, Cale couldn't hold his curiosity any longer, “Who sent this letter?” Cale ignored the way Ron’s expression fell before quickly returning back to normal. 

“This? It's an invitation.”

“An invitation?” 

“Yes, to the king’s birthday banquet,” Ron said with a benign smile. 

‘The king’s banquet?’ Cale raised his eyebrow. An invitation to such an important event? And to him of all people? 

Over time, the number of invitations he used to receive has diminished little by little. And Cale wasn't stupid; he knew why, so to be sent an invitation this time..

‘Hm. Seems like the king is preparing something crazy this year,’ he thought as he took a bite of his toast. Maybe that's why he wants to make sure everyone sees it, even the disappointment of the Henituse family. Cale grimaced at the toast’s ashy taste.

“Throw it away, I won't go,” 

Ron, who expected his reply, smiled and put the invitation in the drawer. Cale almost choked, “Why didn't you throw it away?!” 

“Why throw it? Maybe one day you will need it.”

‘Why would I ever need a banquet invitation?!’ Cale wanted to argue but was too tired. He decided to let him do what he wanted. It's not like he will ever understand Ron anyway, Cale thought as he sighed. 

“By the way, young master.”

“Your family would like you to join them for dinner tonight.”

Cale’s hand stilled. His stomach twisted. 

It had been a long time since they last invited him for dinner, and he thought they must have finally given up but Ron proved him wrong. But meeting his family is the last thing Cale wants to do right now. The thought of having to sit in the uncomfortable silence and acting ignorant to his sibling's wary gazes; Cale didn't want to handle this while he was feeling like.. this. 

And only because they were being nice.

“You already know my answer, Ron.”

“Tell them I refuse–”

“Why don't you go this time?” 

Cale stilled, taken aback. He flashed Ron a confused look. Ron had always listened to his orders without arguments. And he had never interfered with his relationship with his family before, so what makes it different now?

‘Ron is being strange, today.’ Ron had always been a mystery to Cale. Something about him had always felt.. odd. But today, he was even stranger. 

“Listen, I don't want to-” 

“Then, I must take my leave, young master. Make sure to finish your food before it goes cold.” Ron interrupted, quickly taking his leave. 

“I- What? Wait-! Take them, I’m full.” Ron stopped on his tracks. He turned his eyes towards the barely eaten food. The same bugging feeling that had been annoying him since the morning came back. He stared at Cale, puzzled. He wanted to ask him so many questions yet didn't know how or what to ask. Cale stood up, stretched his arms and yawned. He went back to his bed and lied down, his eyes catching Ron who was still standing, watching him.

“What?”

“..Forgive me for my impoliteness, young master. But are you not going to do anything today?” 

Cale scoffed and almost rolled his eyes, “No, I’m taking a break from causing you all trouble.”

“...” 

“Why are you still standing ? Go away, I’m tired,” Cale huffed as he slipped under the warmth and safety of his beloved blanket.

“.. My apologies, young master,” Ron bowed before taking his leave. But Cale didn't answer him as he had already dozed off. 

Later, Ron returns back again with lunch. Cale lazily stared at his plate. Luckily, it was just soup and some easy-to-swallow food. He took a spoonful of his soup when his gaze landed on Ron, who was still standing.

“What are you staring at?” 

“I want to make sure you finish your food this time,” Ron said, smiling.

Cale raised his eyebrow, “And why would it bother you?” Ron didn't respond, and Cale didn't dwell on it either. He wanted to finish his food quickly so he could go back to sleep. He ended up finishing half of his food. He went to the bathroom while Ron was cleaning the table. Once he came out, he found Ron standing, waiting for him. He went back to his bed without sparing him a glance. 

After a moment of silence, Ron spoke in a rare gentle tone, “Call me if you need anything, young master. I’ll make sure to wake you up for the family's dinner” 

Oh. 

Cale totally forgot about that. But before he could argue with Ron again, he had already left. Cale huffed and prayed that Ron fails to wake him up on time.

_______________

God didn't respond to his prayer.

“Young master, it's time to wake up.” Cale’s eyes fluttered, a little confused, and a little annoyed at Ron for waking him. 

He fully opened his eyes as the realization of why he was being woken up sank heavily into his heart.

Right, the family dinner. 

“Ron, I’m not going.” Cale’s tired tone almost left no room for arguments. “Tell them that I went out or something-”

“My apologies, young master. But I can't cancel it this time.” Cale glared at Ron, who didn't flinch. Ron’s words set Cale’s veins on fire. The anger and the heaviness clashed in Cale’s tired mind. He could only argue in a low, suffocated tone, 

“And why can't you?”

“Your father has insisted on making you attend the dinner. I can’t not listen to his orders.” Ron said calmly. 

Cale clenched his numb fists, “Ron, since when do you care about following orders? Didn't we talk about this before? You can just throw the blame on me and–”

“Unfortunately, I can't do this this time.” Cale gritted his teeth in anger. “I’m sorry, young master but you must attend this time.” 

Cale held his breath, counted one, two, and three, then let it out. He couldn't argue further, it sucked the remaining life out of him. 

“..Fine.” He spoke through his gritted teeth. 

“But just to let you know, this is the last time I would ever agree to this.”

Cale removed the blanket and pushed his body to the bathroom, glaring at Ron as he passed him. 

Ron stared at the empty bed as a small smile slowly formed on his face.

_______________

Cale doesn't hate his family.

But he can't say he loves them either. 

Love and hate are feelings that are too plain, obvious, and simple. They don't leave room for confusion. They don't make you question yourself; they simply force themselves on you. And Cale's feelings don't fall for that definition. 

Cale’s feelings are like different colored strings tied together in a big, messy knot, where Cale doesn't know its beginning from its end. Cale could only recognize the color of anger. It was his answer in every situation; he didn't know another one.

He was angry when they were around him. He was angry when he pushed them away. He was angry when they tried to care. And he was angry when they stopped trying. 

Anger was his language. A language that no one understands, not even him. But Cale gave up on understanding a long time ago. Because his anger had already destroyed a lot of things beyond repair. 

They arrived. 

Cale stood in front of the door, his mind begging him to run away, but it was already too late. 

The door opened, announcing his arrival. 

The chatter died. Gazes fell on him like haunting shadows. 

Cale regretted not arguing with Ron. 

His hand started shaking. The hollow emptiness tightened his throat stronger than before. And Cale could no longer breathe. His legs guided him to the chair and he sat down, avoiding everyone's gazes. 

The silence sank in the air for moments that felt like centuries. And Cale kept his head low, shifting slightly on his seat. He didn't want to be here, this was the last place he wanted to be in. The lump in his throat grew tighter and Cale’s chest ached from the lack of air. 

“Cale, are you feeling unwell?” Violan’s gentle yet firm tone broke the tension. Her tone, kind and caring, stung him like a needle, spreading warmth and discomfort through his veins. 

“..I’m fine.” Cale said, still refusing to meet their eyes. 

“When Ron informed me about your attendance, I asked Baecrox to prepare your favorite food.” Deruth jumped in the conversation and Cale had to resist the urge to flinch. “I’m glad you're here with us, Cale.” His father smiled at him, fatherly and genuine.

Cale’s hand gripped his pants. Feelings that he couldn't understand rose to the tip of his throat again. And he could feel the anger slowly slipping in. Cale had to quickly bury it in the furthest part of his heart, he didn't want to make his father regret including him again. 

He knew that his emotions were never welcomed by his father, especially since Cale refused to move on like he did.

“..Thank you, Dad.” Words flowed like the wind, carrying no meaning, and no sincerity. 

Silence echoed once again, making Cale confused about the lack of response. He raised his head, a little wary of the cause of the silence. His eyes met his father's, that were wide-opened and slowly getting filled with.. tears?

“Sniff.. Cale!’

“You.. called me Dad.. Finally Sniff.” Tears, thick and uneven, pooled down his round face.

“..This is the best day..of my life.” 

Cale stiffened. 

He blinked, trying to make sure that he wasn't seeing things. His face unconsciously twisted with shock and confusion. ‘..What the hell is.. going on?’ His father sobbed in a napkin, making Cale physically recoil.

“Deruth! Get it together. What with this act? You’re making Cale uncomfortable.” Violan’s sharp voice interrupted his father's ugly sobs. She glared at him and then turned her head to Cale, her angry expression changing to a softer one. 

“Don't mind him, Cale. You should start eating before it gets cold.” Cale slowly averted her gaze. He mumbled a little okay as he turned his eyes to his plate. He took a small spoonful of his soup, the rich and creamy taste overwhelming his tongue. 

His eyes unconsciously darted to his siblings’ confused yet smiling faces, looking like they were enjoying the scene to Cale's disbelief. Basen's hesitant eyes caught Cale’s. His smile immediately dropped. He quickly shifted his gaze to his plate, his shoulders furiously shaking. 

The room went dull.

Their chatter fell in the back of Cale’s mind. And the soup changed in taste and smell, repulsing him out of his knotted stomach. 

Cale placed the spoon on the plate, his mind going numb. Cale felt disgusted. And he didn't know if it was from the food or himself. 

Cale knew that he was a bad person. 

No one told him that before. But he felt like it when his small hands couldn't hold his father well, or when he saw the way his father looked at him when he begged him not to get married. 

But all Cale wanted back then was to not feel like a shadow trailing behind the new life his father created. But since Cale was seen this way, he expressed his feelings how he thought he should. 

But toward the wrong people.

Being around his father and family reminded Cale that he was a bad person. Maybe that's why he despises family dinners.

Cale was lost in his thoughts, unaware of the worried glances thrown at him. 

“..Cale, is the food not to your liking?” Deruth said, his worried expression the last thing Cale wanted to see. He held the spoon, steadied himself, and kept a neutral expression. “No, it tastes good.” Everyone exchanged surprised looks, before contentment changed the room’s mood.

“We're glad.” Violan said, a gentle smile on her face.

Cale never noticed that smile.

_______________

Dinner passed slowly for Cale. He remained silent, not speaking unless spoken to. And thankfully, no one pushed him further.

“I heard you received an invitation to the upcoming banquet, Cale, is it right?” Deruth asked him, looking weirdly hopeful. 

“..Yes, I did.” Cale said, averting his gaze.

“That's wonderful! That would be the first banquet we go to together!” Cale shrank uncomfortably in his seat. He didn't know how to say he wouldn't go in front of his excited father. 

“Are you excited for the banquet, Lily?” 

“..Ah! Yes! I can't wait to try on new dresses.” Lily raised her little arms excitedly in the air.

“I will contact the designer. We should prepare quickly. The banquet is only in seven days.” 

“I can't wait!!” Lily said, beaming at her mother. She went on chatting with Basen, slowly breaking his discomfort. 

Cale silently observed the warm family chatter. What brought him here? Cale wondered. The distance between them seemed to stretch as far as the sea..

He played with the food on his plate, he no longer had an appetite. He sighed as silently as he could and rested his head on his fist. His eyes catching Lily peaking at him. She blushed as if she was caught doing something wrong and turned her head, her little hand playing with the laces of her dress. Cale raised his eyebrow, confused about her reaction. She looked like she wanted to say something to him..

Cale shook his head, it didn't sound right to him. 

“Ah, right. Basen, how are your finance lessons going?” Basen stiffened, caught off guard by the sudden question. “I heard good things about you. Your teachers didn't stop praising your abilities!” Violan tensed. She threw a warning glance over Deruth.

“...I-It’s not that great really..” Basen’s hands clutched into his pants. His eyes darted between Cale and his father, hoping he would take the hint. 

“That's enough, Deruth.” Violan said firmly, her eyes– a warning.

“But I can't not share this exciting news! They said that if you stayed at this rate, it won't take long before you inherit the territor-” 

The world paused. 

For a moment, no one dared to speak as the weight of Deruth’s words stole the comfort and warmth of the room. Cale’s hand stilled, fingers tightening slightly around the cup he was about to drink from. Awkward and worried glances were thrown into his way, making him feel worse than the said words. 

He swallowed the lump in his throat. He took a shaky breath, keeping an emotionless face. 

“What?” He asked, a little loud, a little firm, drawing a fake facade different from what he was feeling.

Deruth cleared his throat, "C-Cale, listen, son. I can–”

“..I’m sorry,” Basen interrupted, shifting in his seat, “This is my fault, I’m sorry.” Words spilled from his lips, his heart pounding heavily with each word. 

He bit his lips, swallowing the urge to apologize again. 

From the moment he stepped into this palace, from the moment he met Cale, from the moment Cale looked at him with that gaze, restlessness never faded away.

And Basen had always felt guilty. 

Day by day, he felt as if he was stripping Cale from everything he had; his father, people's love, and even the territory. He was taking everything that once belonged to Cale. And this realization ached and pierced his heart because if he could, he would refuse all those things. He would throw away everything. 

Because deep down, maybe, what he wanted more than anything.. was to be Cale’s brother. But his existence hurt Cale, he knew that. He could sense that everytime he was around Cale. 

If the silence stretched for another second, Basen wouldn't be able to control his tears. 

“I don't know why you're apologizing.” Cale’s gentle tone broke the tension, falling into Basen’s chest like a comforting hum. He breathed unconsciously and finally, looked at his brother. 

Calm eyes stared at him, carrying no hatred, no anger, and no judgement. Just.. acceptance. 

“Father is right, you have great abilities. If there is someone suitable for the inheritance, it's going to be you.” Cale spoke with ease. His words, kind and genuine, hushed all the doubts and fears in Basen’s mind. 

Basen looked in surprise. He had heard the same words countless times before, yet from Cale, they felt.. real. That now they came from Cale, he could believe and accept it. And with ease.. not like a giant bitter pill that he is forced to swallow. “T- Thank you..” Basen spoke quietly, shying away from eye contact. 

Violan and Deruth exchanged worried glances as they observed the interaction. 

Not so long ago, some nobles gathered to discuss the future of the territory. And all of them had pushed Basen to become the heir. Did Cale hear their discussion? Did someone say something to Cale?

Cale stood up, “I’m leaving now, I’m tired.” Violan stared at him with a worried smile, “You're free to go Cale.” 

Cale didn't waste any second, turned his head, and left. 

_______________

The door flew open. Cale entered, closed it behind him, and threw himself on the bed. He squeezed his face on the pillow, groaning as loud as he could and cursing Ron who forced him to go.

What happened in the dinner played in his mind, and Cale had to resist the urge to groan again. He pressed his face further and ignored how he struggled to breathe. Cale’s mind was tangled with thoughts and questions he didn't want to admit. 

Why did he say that to Basen of all people? What the hell was going on with him? 

He sighed and faced the ceiling. Words ran out of his mouth with no thinking, as if he was possessed by something, something strange that was also him. 

This moment joined the countless other ones that he didn't understand. Will Cale ever understand himself? He doesn't know. All that he knew was that his mind went numb once he saw Basen’s shaky hands. He was too caught up in his thoughts, not noticing the door opening. 

“Young master.” 

Cale flinched. 

“Ron, you scared me!” Cale almost shouted. “Couldn't you knock before you enter?”

“I did but you didn't answer.”

“Maybe knock again?!”

“My apologies, young master.” 

Cale grabbed his head and groaned. “What do you want?” 

“I came to check on you.” Ron said with a smile that faltered with the next question as Ron’s eyes turned dangerously cold, sending a shiver under Cale’s skin. “How did the dinner go?” Cale gulped and tried to shake off that eerie feeling, “..How do you think it went? Of course, it was awful, and this is all your fault!” 

Ron remained silent for a moment, his odd smile completely gone before being replaced with a softer one, “You don't have to do this again.” 

“Of course I won't. Now, go away. I'm going to sleep.”

Ron observed him for a while, a little upset about leaving him but he couldn't disobey. “..As you wish, young master.” Was all Ron could say. 

The door closed behind him with a soft click and Cale finally breathed in relief. He was finally left alone.. He laid on his side and sighed. The dinner passed in his mind once more, slowly, a reminder of his reality. And as the darkness stole his consciousness, Cale hoped that this was all a dream, and if it wasn't, Cale hoped he wouldn't wake up tomorrow. 

_______________

The night passed in a blur. 

The kind of night where Cale was conscious but wasn't at the same time. He would randomly wake up at the sound of the soft tic of the clock, quiet footsteps, or whispers behind his door. This time, he woke up at the sound of plates clink. 

His eyes fluttered slowly, overwhelmed by the strong sun. His breaths, shallow, almost escaping like his soul. It left his body heavier than yesterday. 

He turned his head to the side, watching Ron preparing the table for him. He held a sigh, he didn't get enough sleep. He brought the soft blanket up to his head, Cale wanted nothing more than falling asleep again, yet even this wish wasn't answered.

“Young master, it's time to wake up.” 

Cale sighed, almost frustrated that he didn't have energy to argue for a few more minutes of sleep. He removed his blanket and sat up. 

“Good morning.” 

Cale found it hard to run his tongue for a simple response. He just nodded, dragging his heavy body to the bathroom. His face, leaving Ron standing with a worried frown on his face. 

Cale stared at his reflection in the mirror. 

Strands of red hair caressed his face, looking more alive than his sickly pale skin. Dull and colourless eyes stared at him so intensely that he splashed cold water on his face, hoping it would wash away its misery. Yet the same colourless eyes watched as the droplets slid off the tips of his hair. He stared until he couldn't bear it anymore—his red hair, reminding him of unpleasant memories.

After a while, Cale walked out of the bathroom and didn’t say a word to Ron. He sat down and stared at his plate. His throat tightened, already refusing to eat. 

Sensing the waiting glances thrown at him, he asked, “What?” His arrogant tone masked his feelings perfectly. Yet Ron didn't look fazed. He stared at him, patient as if waiting for him to uncover whatever he was hiding. 

“You don't have to watch over me, you know that.” Cale said, raising his eyebrow. Ron had been hovering around him more than usual, much to Cale’s confusion. He had always been there, watching over him. And Cale wondered what made him change overnight.

For a long time, Cale had known that their bond had faltered and grown cold. He would be lying if he said he wasn't surprised–Ron had once been closer to him than anyone else. But lately, it felt like Ron was trying to close the distance in his own way. And Cale didn't know how to act in this situation.

“My apologies, young master. Though it is my duty to make sure you're comfortable.”

“...Ron, you already completed your duty.”

“Are you comfortable?” 

Cale paused, a flicker of surprise passed over his face. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and Cale didn't even know what made him uncomfortable. “Yes, I’m,” Cale said, a little louder than he intended. He didn't know if he was answering Ron or the doubts creeping in his mind. 

Ron paused as he observed him as if he was a riddle he was trying to figure out. But that moment stretched for long–too long for Cale. 

“..Call me if you need help with anything.” 

‘Why would I want your help?’ Cale wished he could argue. He wished he could be loud and be rude to erase whatever expression was written on Ron’s face. Yet the words remained stuck in his throat, and Cale didn't have the energy to vomit them out like he used to. 

Eventually, Ron disappeared, and the tension in Cale’s body lifted away. Cale finally breathed. He dropped the spoon and got up. He desperately needed to numb what threatened to burst out of his chest. 

_________

The bathtub took a while to be fully filled, he made sure to not leave any space where the water didn't touch. He dipped his foot first, the cold water sent chills under his skin. His hands gripped the sides as he sank his body bit by bit. The water rose, till it drowned the floor, till Cale was fully lying down on the bathtub, his red hair floating, painting the colourless water with a beautiful crimson. 

He took a deep breath as he embraced the cold. It gave him a feeling of belonging.. His eyes remained on the ceiling. Cale had never wanted to drink alcohol more than he wanted to right now. 

‘Ron must have hid the bottles in the kitchen.’ Cale thought, the water rising to his face.

'I will have to sneak into my father's office again..' He took a deep breath, breathing in water along the way. 

Father.. 

An image of his father, not the one he knows now, but the one he used to. Someone different. Someone his heart didn't ache when he remembered. Someone he only missed. Youthful, happy, and whose eyes didn't wrinkle from sadness. 

Cale supposed he wasn't so different from his father. 

Maybe, his father also couldn't understand his feelings, and that was why he created his new family. Or maybe, Cale was wrong—maybe he misunderstood him all along. His father was also one of the countless things he couldn't understand.

Cale wondered if he would ever understand anything. 

Air slipped through the slow sloshing water in his lungs.

But he remembered, before everything changed, how he didn't have to figure out his father. 

How he didn't have to try so hard to search for the warmth that used to come so easily. 

How he was held, caressed, and cherished.

By a fleeting image. A warm one—a bright one. 

Cale closed his eyes. 

Crimson hair, similar to him, flashed behind his eyes. Whose owner.. smiled warmly at him.

Cale drowned his head.

And held his breath. 

_______________

Something has been bothering Ron lately. Something twisting in his gut whispered, urging him to pay attention. The sharp scrap of the blade echoed through the silent kitchen, thickening the tension. He sharpened it again and again–his eyes devoid of any emotion. 

“What’s wrong? You’re acting weird.” Baecrox, who had been watching him for a while, asked.

Ron wiped the shiny blade and left it on the table. “..My puppy master has been acting strange lately,” He said. An image of Cale's empty eyes passed through his mind, raising the uncertainty in his gut.

Baecrox said, unimpressed, “Isn't he always strange?” 

“He is even stranger.”

“Did he cause any trouble?” 

“No.” Ron answered firmly.

“And that is the problem.” 

A heavy silence settled between them, lasting for a few seconds. “..Sigh. Are you returning back to your old habits?” Baecrox chuckled, and Ron remained silent. 

His silence made Baecrox stand still, his smile disappearing off his face. “What? Have you changed your plans?”

Ron let out an empty chuckle at his worried expression. “No,” He said, his eyes fazed. “We will leave when the time is right.” 

Silence.

Baecrox didn't look convinced but he didn't push the conversation further. 

Something hit Ron as he abruptly stood up. “It's time for the young master’s afternoon tea.” Before Baecrox could speak, Ron had already stormed out of the kitchen.

“... It's not even afternoon yet,” Baecrox muttered to no one. His gaze fell on the counter, “He didn't take the tea..?”

_______________

A loud knock was heard in the empty hallway. 

“Young master, may I enter?” Ron waited. But Cale didn't answer. He knocked again, harder this time, and still no reply. He hesitantly pressed his ear on the door, the silence on the other side raised the uneasiness in chest.

‘..Is he sleeping?’ He didn't waste any more time and immediately opened the door. 

Only for emptiness to greet him.

Ron stood still, his breath hitched, his thoughts crashing together in an instant. 

He might have run away like he always did, he tried to reason. He might have gone out to play like he always did. 

He saw this emptiness before, it was nothing unfamiliar for him. 

Yet despite fully knowing this, the weight in Ron’s stomach only pressed further and further. And Ron clenched his jaw, trying to hold back his worry from bursting out of his ribs. His eyes darted around the room, searching for a glimpse of red. His legs moved on their own. He looked around, the messy bed from the morning, the untouched breakfast, and the bathroom–Ron looked at his feet, water flowed through the small space of the door. 

The world shrank.

“...”

“...?”

Standing still, in front of the bathroom door, tension left his shoulders as his eyes grew calmer once it locked with the young boy’s. His chest rose and fell as silent relief washed over him. 

Standing in the middle of the flooded bathroom was Cale. He stared wide eyed at the broken door that flew inwards towards him. He stared at it—then at the one who broke it. 

“..Ron?” 

He stood confused and a little scared, barefoot on the wet floor. Wearing only a shirt that was too large for his small frame, wet from the falling droplets off his hair. He was standing beside the bathroom sink, in the middle of clumsily trying and failing to dry his messy hair.

The silence stayed. And they both only stared at each other with one looking at the other with different gazes. Until Ron finally spoke, 

“..Wear something before you catch a cold.”

___________

Cale blinked as Ron ran a towel through his hair. He blinked as Ron helped him into dry, warm clothes. And before he could blink again, Ron had disappeared and returned, holding a steaming cup of lemon tea and a freshly baked pie. 

Cale took a bite of the pie without a word, the sweetness coated him with comfort. ‘Ron is.. really weird,’ Cale thought, humming softly, enjoying his pie. ‘I guess I don't mind him being this weird more often.’ 

He drank his tea in silence, unaware of an observing gaze at him. Setting the empty cup aside, he finally looked at Ron and said, “I’ll be going to the library.” Ron’s expression flickered for a split second into confusion before his usual expression settled back in. 

“..The library?”

“Yes.” Cale stood up. He stretched his arms and yawned. Ron didn't answer immediately, he just stood there, lost in thought. A long moment passed, before he spoke, “..I understand”

_______________

Cale didn't go to the library. 

In fact, Cale didn't know where he was going. 

He just kept walking, his legs guiding him towards his unknown destination. He ignored the worried glances the servants threw in his way and the awfully loud whispers about how he might fall into trouble.

He walked and walked until he reached a familiar hallway, his steps slowed down a little. The abandoned hallway brought back unpleasant memories. 

It was the one he walked through, sometimes happily, sometimes excitedly, sometimes running scared, holding his pillow and crying from nightmares.

Sometimes lost, just like now. But the difference is he was walking towards no one. As the person he had always walked to was no longer here. 

The hallway was dull, silent, and dead. As if the person that was once here took away the life it once had with her. And Cale felt the urge to run away, but as if his legs no longer belonged to him, it guided him towards the room that shut on the warmth he so missed. 

He stood in front of the door. Looking hesitantly over his shoulders just in case and after finding no one, he took the pin, hidden in his sleeve, which he slipped without Ron looking. The same pin he used to steal alcohol from the locked kitchen cabinets. 

The door didn't take effort for it to open. He slowly let himself through the door when dust suddenly hid the room from his eyes. It filled his lungs and he coughed, bringing his sleeve up to his nose, he tried to take a breath. When the dust finally settled and Cale could open his eyes, he could finally see the room, only for his face to fall at the sight. 

Everything that once belonged, touched, or simply resembled his mother was thrown in countless, big boxes, in a big mess. The boxes piled up one by one. The floor was covered with fallen and dusted paintings of her, pieces of broken jewelry, her makeup, smeared on the floor. Everything, everything related to her was thrown there, like a landfill. The dirty curtains half closed, the tiny slipping sun ray tried its best to slip life to the abandoned room.

Cale's body went numb, his hazy wide eyes taking on the sight. He took small, shaking–steps. 

He walked towards her bed, pumping into the giant boxes along the way. He tried his best not to step on her dresses on the floor, or the broken jewelry; he didn't want to break them further. 

Her bed looked the same since that rainy day when she went to Harris village. Cale sat on it, ignoring the heavy dust sticking to his clean clothes. His pale, shaking hand tried to remove the dust off the pillow as if he would find his mom underneath it. 

He couldn't breathe. 

What brought him here? Cale wanted to know what brought him here and what was happening to him. What are those feelings.. and why is he feeling them now? Why now? The lump in his throat refused to get swallowed again. It rose to his lips and forced itself out in a thin sob. 

Cale had always thought he was a bad person because he didn't cry at his mom’s funeral. But they were always there, sitting at the corner of his eyes, waiting for a crack to slip. Waiting for Cale to grant them the permission he never did. That's why they decided to fight against his resilience. And they won. They won. The heaviness that kept visiting him was none other than his tears. 

They fell one by one, turning the knotted strings in his heart to blue. All his feelings fell from his eyes; the ones he knew and the ones he didn't. 

He gripped the bed sheet as hard as his numb hands could. “Why did they leave you like that, mom?” His breath could hardly escape through his sobs. “It's not fair.” He furiously wiped his tears with his palms, ignoring the dust dirtying his face and stinging his eyes. He tried to control his sobs and dragged his shaking legs towards the pile of boxes. 

His dust-covered fingers gripped on the sides of one box as his weak frame hugged it. “Don't worry,” He spoke through his tears, “I.. will fix it!” He gathered all his energy and lifted the box. He placed it on a corner and did that again and again with every box, removing the pile little by little. 

A heavy box hardly moved against his hands, he tried to pick it up but his weak hands went red, having been too weak to carry the heaviness. Cale bit his lip as he tried to force the tears not to fall. “I wish I was stronger..” He failed and tears fell on the red dress in the box. He could still smell the faint smell of his mom's favorite perfume even after all those years. “I promise, I will be stronger.” 

Cale’s frame was shaking and he still pushed himself and organized as many boxes as he could. Having brought half the boxes to the corner besides the large window, Cale could finally see the vastness of the room along with the mess on the floor. 

He first picked up the paintings of herself and placed them with the already organized ones in front of the bed. He carried them one by one, keeping his head low, refusing to see her painted face even when the sunset glistened her crimson hair. 

Once he finished removing the paintings, the sun had already disappeared. And Cale knew that he needed to hurry, before Ron came to look for him. He panted. His shirt was drenched with sweat and dirt. And he was hungry and dizzy and so tired. 

“Almost.. Almost done..” He forced his aching legs to move. He just needed to pick up the remaining belongings off the floor. And then tomorrow, he would clean the dust and mop the floor. He decided as he picked up her things one by one. 

A bracelet with a missing gem… Pierced dresses.. Pieces of broken jewelry he had to collect like puzzles. 

Her favorite books.

Sketches they used to draw in together. 

A broken vase she painted herself. 

Her favorite dead flowers that once decorated her room in beautiful red. 

And Cale refused to hold them for more than ten seconds—if longer, something in him might crumble. 

He looked around the almost organized room. He exhaled shakily and wiped his sweat with his sleeve. His knees were bleeding from accidentally falling on her rubies. And his hands were cut from her starlight dresses. But Cale didn't notice. And if he did, he didn't care. 

..Just a little more left, and then he would be done. He huffed as he stared at the remaining mess near the door. 

He moved, when he suddenly froze, feeling something under his foot. He looked down and picked it up. It was a necklace.. a golden one, with a heart in its middle. It looked so out of place amidst the mess. It was clean, shiny, and age didn't show on it. It looked.. new. Cale didn't recall seeing his mother wearing it before–

His thumb accidentally pressed on the heart. And Cale’s heart dropped. He had been avoiding seeing her since the moment he stepped into this room. Cale didn't want to see her, he knew he wouldn't handle it. 

It was a picture of him, looking young and smiling brightly. Soft and kind hands wrapped around his little frame. And there she was, smiling warmly in the picture. Her red head against his, only then Cale realized how much they look alike. 

She was wearing the same dress that had cut his hands. 

Cale clutched the necklace near his chest. 

He couldn't stand it anymore. 

He needed to leave this place.

Yet, his weak knee betrayed him as he fell on the floor, the pain only worsening the ache in his chest. 

But he needed to leave. Now. 

Suddenly, the door creaked open.

Chapter Text

He recalled the day when he recently moved into the castle. His Father was showing him around and he left a certain hallway unvisited and unexplained. 

He remembered when he asked his Father a simple and innocent question, where his small finger pointed at the door far away yet still visible in the unvisited hallway, ‘What is this room?’ 

And he remembered how his Father's face twisted into something he had never seen before. A gaze that shrinked his small frame, one he couldn't forget to this day. ‘Don't try to enter this place, there is nothing for you to see there.’ 

And he remembered how, for the first time, he was afraid of his father. 

And how he swore upon himself, to never get curious about that room again.

_______________

The world slowed and every second felt like an eternity as hints of brown hair appeared from behind the door and wary eyes slowly revealed themselves and searched for the cause of the unusual sound. 

And Cale’s blood froze in his veins as those eyes eventually fell on him. Surprise passed them for a split second before they drowned in a slow, growing panic—the more the figure stared at Cale. 

He quickly scanned the room for any sign of an intruder before he ran to Cale. Dropping on his knees in front of him, his hands hesitated on his forearm. 

He scanned him quietly panicking: his dirty hair, his dirty clothes–Basen's hands trembled. “W-What happened?” His tone barely rose above a disbelieved trembling whisper. 

And Cale didn't respond. 

He held Cale's hands with a breathless gasp; his injured hands felt cold atop his trembling touch. 

“You're hurt!” Worry sank deeper into his chest. 

“Who did this?” 

His question was too quiet for Cale's ears to hear, too caught in his clashing thoughts that were even louder than the sharp, stinging cuts in his hands.

“We should take you to a healer immediately! A-And we must inform Father about a possible attack–!!” 

Cale's eyes snapped into clarity. 

He snatched his hands back from Basen, who flinched at the sudden strength. His hands stilled; hovering where Cale’s had been. 

Cale's trembling tone held him still, “Leave.” He almost whispered but something burned in his quietness. He kept his head low as if hiding his face would be enough to not reveal more of his shameful weakness. 

“But I can't leave you like this..” Basen hesitantly argued. He couldn't hear anything beyond the nagging worry in his chest. “This is an urgent matter! You can't be left alone when you’re like this.. You-You need to tell Father that someone hurt you!”

Basen's tone crept into Cale's veins with heat while his words fell on his ears like a foreign language. He could only hear the loud and heavy pounding of his heart. 

He clenched his fists, nails digging–pushing the anger into his skin. Lashing out was the last thing he wanted to do now, not at Basen of all people. 

He ignored the way Basen's eyes urged him and slowly got up, his shaking knees barely carrying his weight. 

He blinked as he tried to regain the color of his blurry vision. He ignored the other’s wide eyes and slowly walked towards the door, the ground unsteady beneath his foot. 

His muscles burned with every step.

And black swiftly stole his vision. 

The ground twisted and Cale almost stumbled forward before he was steadied again and his vision slowly gained its clarity. “Are you okay..?” Basen was the one who steadied him.

His gentle hands–keeping his shoulders still, close yet giving him enough space. 

Cale's head pounded. He tried to push him away yet his hands were too weak for even Basen to notice. 

“L-Listen, just lean on me, okay? We need to tell Father, he will help–” 

Cale's chest burned. 

“I don't need his help!” He finally snapped. 

The mention of his Father burned more than being this weak in front of Basen, more than the abandonment of the place that had long made him hate his reality. 

Basen flinched and Cale found the opportunity to free himself from his hands. He stepped away as far as he could and clenched his fists. His eyes finally locked with Basen's. And Cale, for the first time, didn't care if Basen saw them frozen with tears. 

Basen almost took a step forward.

Something sank in his gut at the sight of Cale's tears. His tongue, tangled with words he didn't know how to spell. 

His mind went blsnk; Cale’s tears–a sight he never imagined one day would see. It kept him still in his place as worry consumed his chest.

“..Why?” It was the only thing he managed to ask, and he hoped it carried the other questions he couldn't. 

But Cale didn't respond. 

He ignored him again. 

He leaned on the wall and walked towards the door, leaving Basen standing. But Basen didn't want him to leave him confused again. He wanted to understand, at least, why the mention of his Father provoked his tears. 

Because this something that sank in his gut whispered to him that he was the reason why. And Basen wanted Cale to calm his doubts once again. He knew he was the only one who could. 

His trembling hand caught the hem of his arm. Cale faced him again and Basen hardly saw his eyes through the tears clouding them. 

“..Why? You don't have to tell me everything.. I just want to know, I’m so–” Cale looked at him silently, his shoulder slumped. He waited. Patient. And so tired. 

“I’m.. I’m sorry.” Again. The same words found themselves an escape. And at that moment, Basen hated himself more than everything. Because he wished he knew other words to say to Cale. 

Cale's tired face changed into something silent Basen couldn't read—different from his usual arrogance and even anger. 

He pushed his hands away, roughly this time. “Shut up,” he hardly spoke through the tightness in his throat. “I don't need your worthless apologies.”

Basen stilled. 

Cale couldn't hear his own words from the ringing in his ears. “If you don't have anything but utter nonsense to say to me, then shut up,” Cale said, his tone a trembling quiet. He didn't shout but quietly raged like a still ocean of fire.

And every word fell on Basen with an ache. 

The unreadable haze disappeared from Cale's eyes, and only tired anger slowly revealed itself. 

“Just leave me alone, Basen.” And like cold fire, his words fell on him. “Go back to your family.” 

..

The world went numb. 

He couldn't hear a sound. 

Not the sharp wind slamming the heavy curtains into the window nor the crinkling of the opened boxes—not even his once spiraling thoughts nor the ugly sound in his gut. 

And in another situation–one that he used to wish, Basen would have felt happy in this silence. 

But here, standing in this dim room, silence crushed him like a boulder. 

And he searched in his head with a small fading flame of hope, wishing he could hear another doubt, one that could find cracks in this dismissive silence. But he didn't find any. 

Cale's words were sharp and clear; an evidence for a fear he didn't want to believe. 

“..You’re a family, too.” His words escaped alone with no permission as every part of him wanted to deny the way Cale saw his reality. 

He wanted him to understand that he is a family. He is a family more than anyone else in this castle. 

But Basen's words weren't met with the change he had always waited for. But with anger again—the same cold anger he never quite understood from which fire it belonged. Because it had never hurt anyone with its heat, more than it did when it left them cold. 

“..Family?” Cale repeated as if Basen was speaking nonsense. He let out an exhaled chuckle and Basen waited eagerly for his response. 

“There is something you don't understand, Basen,” Cale said, low and weak. “We might be carrying the sis family's name but both of us are different.” 

A thousand questions appeared in Basen's mind. 

He couldn't understand what Cale was trying to say and why it still hurt so bad. He wanted to say something, but words froze on the tip of his tongue. 

“..The Henituse family had already started over,” Cale said, his chest tightening with every word, remembering where he was and what he saw. 

“Even if only a few people acknowledge this.. It doesn't matter, because the one whose opinion matters is Father's..” His body trembled. Tears tried to force their way out of his resistance. 

And Basen felt, for a split second, his heart stopping. 

“If you still have doubts then go seek reassurance from your Father. He will generously give it to you.” His tone held a quiet hurtful mocking. “Because the only family is you, Basen. I’m just a fragment of history.”

“We might be carrying the same family name.”

“We might be living in the same castle.”

“But don't let it fool you, Basen.” Cale looked at him, his eyes red with tears and anger, as he turned his head to leave.

“We will never be a family.”

_______________

He stood alone in the quiet and old room. Time blurred in his mind and he didn't know for how long he was standing. 

The full moon glistened outside of the large opened window. Its silvery, slightly bluish tint felt like company, one that made standing lonely a little less scary. It sent a gentle breeze to comfort him, yet the shiver under his skin wasn't enough to pull him back to the present.

The sound of Cale's words toned down the world. And he froze in his place, mind numb, heart heavily beating against his heavy chest. Cale's eyes, wounds, and tears—haunting images he wished he had never seen. 

He wished he never came here; ignorance had never felt this painful. 

This confrontation, his reached hand to try and understand—only raised thousands of questions in his mind and pressed on his heart with an unbearable pain that kept him silent. 

He slowly raised his head. He stared at nothing and moved numbly. He needed to search. He needed to see if there was any.. sign of an attacker.

His eyes swept around the cold room. Heavy and dim air cooled his skin. From the dust that flew past his shoes, Basen could feel the death of this room. And only his and Cale's footprints traced a little life into it.

The room slowly reminded him of how his Father used to fiercely warn him about not entering here. Because he didn't see anything strange other than its messiness that didn't suit the rest of the castle. 

Yet despite it being neglected, the dust still failed to dim its luxury. If not for the piles of mess, he would have mistook it for his mother's room—no, it was even more luxurious than his mother's room. 

He wondered what needed to be badly sealed in this room. And why did he find Cale in a place like this in the first place? And what had happened? For this abandoned room to smear Cale with its name? 

He stopped. 

He had walked enough. And he didn't find any evidence of an intruder. 

Part of him warned him to now turn around and leave. He shouldn't disobey his Father's orders more than he had done. His chest was already aching with shame from being disobedient. 

Cale.. must be safe. 

And whatever the reason behind his bad condition should be none of his business now. 

Isn’t this what Cale had always wanted him to do? To stay away from his business?

Even if worry consumed him. Even if he wanted to step into a burning line to reach out to the person he had always admired and maybe find something from the other side that could caress his chest into a warm, not burning comfort. 

He knew he should still listen to him anyway. 

And yet. 

And yet. 

His shoes’ crisp steps slowly echoed through his senses once again. The room fully pulled him back to the present. 

A sound of a fluttering broke the cold silence in the gloom.

He flinched. He quickly turned his head to where the sound came only to slowly let out a deep exhale. 

It was just the wind passing by a canvas.

Hesitating for a second, he slowly approached it. 

They were paintings.

Four paintings, a little taller than him. 

They were organized one by one, all hidden together by a big curtain that was covered with dust. He caught a glimpse of black, slightly blue paint with white dots glistening like the stars—a small part the curtain couldn't hide. 

He stood in front of the first one. 

A beat of anxious silence passed. An eerie feeling slowly crawled in his chest. 

He had a feeling.. that an answer to an old mystery lay behind this curtain. 

The curtain seemed to pour into his soul with intrigue as if hypnotising him to come closer to a truth—a truth he never had permission to know.

He should turn his back and leave. 

Basen had always known his place. 

And yet. 

His shaking hands slowly reached the curtain. It hesitated for a second mid air. 

Basen had already known that deep down, he was scared. And he didn't want to be scared again. He didn't want to waste another chance and hide behind the excuse of responsibility and obedience. 

Even if he won't do anything with the truth. If it could just quiet the ache he had always carried in his chest and now, more painful than ever, then it was worth it.

Because if Basen didn't understand—why Cale wouldn't see him as a family, he might spend all his life blaming himself. 

He reached his hands and with a simple touch, the curtain slipped like a waterfall of dunes. 

He took a sudden step back, trying to escape the heavy dust yet only once the curtain settled in front of his feet, Basen could open his eyes. And red hair blazed the dim in the room as if putting it all on fire. 

His breath hitched. 

She was a young lady. 

His heart started beating faster. He unconsciously moved towards her, the red pulling him closer.

She was wearing a beautiful dark blue dress that glimmered with white gems on every part of it as if she wore the whole sky at night. 

Her long, crimson hair flowed around her thin figure elegantly, shining more than any of her jewelry. She was smiling warmly with her beautiful eyes that weren't any less breath-taking than her dress. 

The painting was heavenly, perfectly, so precisely made as if the painting brushes were dying to capture a dreamy scene with reality. 

“..The previous countess?” He let out a faint, whispery gasp. It was her; Cale's mother. She had the same crimson hair that had always distinguished Cale from anyone he had ever seen. 

“So this must be..?” He stole the room with his eyes once more. It must be her room—there was no other explanation behind its extreme luxury. 

Something heavy sank to his gut. 

Cale.. was visiting his mother's room?

He stared at her face once more; the face which he had never seen before.

The previous countess had always been a topic that never came, never mistakenly mentioned. It was almost as if she never existed. 

As if she stole herself from everyone’s memories, no one spilled her name for him to stop and wonder. 

The only thing he knew about her was that she was dead. 

He only knew she once existed because of Cale.

And the death of her mention made her die in his mind too like anyone else. She never crossed his mind for nothing more than a passing, curious second that only came once when he first stepped into the castle.

He had focused on living his life with his new Father and his own mother; it mattered to him more than anything else. He had focused on being someone worthy of being a Henituse because he feared his Father's regret and disappointment. 

And yet it felt too natural—his new life still felt so natural despite his hidden fears that it felt wrong for a long time until he just decided to accept it. 

His Father never looked unhappy with them.  

He never showed a sign of grief for someone or made his mother feel like a replacement—something that was brought to fill a void.

It was a genuine and warm love. 

And Basen didn’t know how to feel about this. 

He was happy for his mother, yet whenever he saw Cale, something had always whispered in his gut that something was wrong. Something that he didn't know, the truth he had always wanted to reach. 

He thought maybe his Father wasn’t close with his previous wife for him to never revive her memory. That perhaps, she was a bad person, that's why her name never echoed in the castle. 

But Basen never truly knew because no one ever talked about her, not even for a gossiping whisper. 

As if she was nothing but a passing wind that barely ruffled the heart of this castle, she disappeared. 

Was this the reason behind his anger? Was it why he pushed them away all this time? Was it because his mother was forgotten?

Because If Cale came here even after all those years—then she never once died in his memories. 

He clenched his fists. 

An aching pain cut through his heart like a knife. 

How did it feel—for him to be the only one who kept his mother alive in his memory? When not even his own Father remembered? Because no matter what his Father felt towards her, it must still be painful for Cale.

He felt too many things at once and he didn't know how he should react. Realizations flowed through his mind like a long fog finally clearing. Guilt and shame crawled through his chest and it ached. 

Was it a wrong decision to become a Henituse? Should he blame his Father for bringing them here? 

If his Father didn't start a new family, would Cale be less hurt? Would she have been less forgotten? 

But wasn't he glad for his Father for giving him a name he never thought of carrying before? Even if it was still unfair for Cale? 

The guilt slowly swallowed his chest. He unclenched his fists and took a deep breath. 

He faced the abandoned room once again and took in its sight that quietly slipped its anger for granting it its name through his veins. And Basen wondered if that was the same anger Cale had felt. 

He stared at the door and determined. 

For a long time, he had wanted Cale to accept him as his brother. And when he was met with distance, he projected his own fears into him. 

And he had spent so long being frustrated at his distance, without truly trying to understand it. 

He thought his desire to get closer to him was enough.

But Basen, all that time, was nothing but a coward who was afraid of getting closer.

It was easier for him to drown in the comfort of the doubts, questions, and the endless possibilities. 

He feared if he got too close, he might find out that Cale hated him. And he realized how terribly wrong he was for fearing. 

Because it was more than him: the reason behind Cale's distance was more than him, his mother, and Lily. 

Perhaps, Cale was just not ready for a new family. And he had pushed him too hard because he only focused on his side of the story. 

He walked towards the door

He only focused on his feelings—Basen had just realized how selfish he was, just like his Father. 

Something stopped him in his tracks. 

He looked beneath his feet; it was a golden necklace. 

He slowly picked it up, the sensitive locket suddenly opened with an accidental touch. 

A smiling Cale appeared, a smiling Cale with his smiling mother. 

The guilt tightened its hold again. “..The fragment of history,” Basen weakly whispered.

_______________

His legs burned with every move. Cale's room had never felt this distant. 

It didn't take him long to come here and yet now every step felt like it only pulled him further away from the room. He cursed under his breath. He cursed himself for going there in the first place. 

He leaned on the wall, his body stung with burning and nagging pain across his cuts. His weak legs hardly carried him; the wall barely supported him.

He slowed his steps until he stopped. He rested his head on the wall, trying to catch his breath and collect the little energy that could be left in him. 

Servants passed by him, throwing worried glances and speculative whispers on his way and hesitated. 

They didn't know what to help him or approach him; Cale always got angry when offered help. 

And yet, some still kept their eyes on him, exchanging looks as if waiting for the other to be brave enough and help the young master. And someone finally did. 

A knight bent down to his level. 

He spoke to him gently, his eyes holding nothing but sincerity. “Young master, do you need help?” His expression didn't carry any hesitation. He seemed like one of those people who still didn't change their attitudes towards Cale. 

Cale stared at the reached hand. The ache froze the refusal on the tip of his tongue. 

“..Take me to my room,” he said after moments of silence, his tone barely protecting his pride. 

The knight brightened, he straightened up and smiled.“Then, if you excuse me.” He gently held Cale's hand and supported him. 

They walked towards the room, and the knight threw a worried glance over his shoulder. 

He observed Cale’s condition. He had overheard some servants speculating that the young master must have fallen down the stairs since he didn't leave the castle. And the more he stared at him, the more he started to believe it. 

His face slightly frowned. He had been working for the Henituse for years, and he had for long grown fond of the little Henituse. And that didn't change even when Cale did—even when he heard all kinds of whispers about him wandering in and out of the castle. 

The image of the once bright boy never left his mind, and that was why it was hard for him to believe them.

He believed they must be exaggerated. And if there was anything that provoked his feelings from those shared whispers, it would be worrying. Because Cale Henituse, in his eyes, never seemed like trouble more than just a child. And he didn't understand how everyone failed to see him the way he did.

The small hand in his tightened its hold for a second, Cale grimaced from pain. An ache lightly squeezed the heart of the knight. He quietly broke the silence, “Should I carry you, young master?” 

Cale blinked, stunned. 

He looked at him with a face of pure disgust, 

“..Have you lost your mind?” 

“Ah. Haha.., maybe? I apologize.” The knight rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment and decided to shut his mouth for the rest of the walk. 

_______________

“What happened?” Ron coldly asked once his gaze fell on Cale. He frowned, his hand resting on Cale's room’s doorknob, looking like he had just arrived. 

“I.. have no idea,” the knight answered nervously. “I had just returned back from my patrol when I found the young master.. like this,” he said the last sentence quietly for Cale not to hear. “But I overheard the maids saying that he fell down the stairs but.. I’m not sure.” 

Both of their gazes fell on Cale and he ignored them and entered the room. 

“Should I call a healer?” The knight worriedly asked. 

“..No need, I will handle it,” Ron said after a moment of cold silence. “I understand.” The knight respectfully nodded. 

_____

“Young master.” A firm hand stopped him in his tracks.

Cale turned his head as Ron sat on his knee, facing him, both of his hands on his shoulders.

“What happened?” Ron asked, his tone firm and dangerous that Cale almost flinched. He quickly avoided his gaze, unsure what to say; his mind was too tired to make up lies. 

“What happened?” Ron asked again, more firmly and Cale grew nervous. He didn't understand why Ron was getting upset. But he didn't want him to know what happened. It was nothing important for him to know.

“Did you really fall down the stairs?” Ron asked again, breaking the nervous silence. He didn't drop the matter easily like how he used to.

And Cale still didn't answer. 

Silence settled between them again.

Ron observed him and Cale rubbed his thumb on his arm. He shifted, growing uncomfortable under Ron's firm gaze. 

He won't tell him what happened.

The ache tried to force his feelings out of his eyes–his resistance had long gone weak.

It was embarrassing and humiliating. 

“I fell,” he whispered, loud enough for Ron to hear.

“..We both know that didn't happen.” Ron’s tone cut through the moment of silence, a little more gentle than before. But Cale didn't know what to say so he stayed silent again and still avoided his gaze. 

Ron held Cale's hands in a gentle grasp. He frowned at the red cuts, “Does it hurt?” He asked a different question this time.

Cale hesitated but then weakly nodded.

Ron’s firm gaze now gentle with deep worry, “You should say when it does,” his tone came like a gentle scolding. 

Cale bit his lip. His words, for a reason he didn't know, like a final nudge pushed his feelings to his eyes until they slowly drowned in tears. 

Ron’s hands stilled.

Motionless–he stared wide eyed at Cale. 

He slowly brought his hand to Cale's cheek, drying away the fallen tear. Cale flinched from the sudden touch, he didn't notice he was crying. 

The coldness against his skin only let his tears fall further. 

He blinked, embarrassment warmed his face as he pulled Ron's hand away. He wanted to wipe them away but Ron held his hands still, “Don't. You will sting them further.” Cale stared at him as he got up on his feet. 

“Let's clean you up first. Then I will ask the count for healing po–”

“Don't.” Cale's trembling voice interrupted. “I don't want anything from him.” He clenched his fists, his expression fell with sad anger. 

“...” 

Ron stayed silent for a moment. 

Worried but Calculating. He quietly said, “I understand. I will do what I can, however, it will hurt.” 

“It's okay,” Cale said, it was nothing for him anyway. 

_____

Cale watched, now freshly cleaned from dirt and dust, Ron as he bandaged his knees. He was sitting on the bed, trying to fight his drowsiness. 

“Here you are.” Ron finally got up, and Cale could finally rest his aching muscles. 

He laid down, sleep had never sounded so comforting. Ron brought the blanket up to his neck. Its warmth pulled him further to sleep. 

He blinked heavily. 

Ron was still staring at him. His hand gently caressed his head like permission granted for sleep. 

His gaze lingered—cold but gentle. The last thing Cale had seen before his consciousness finally lost to sleep.

_______________

Fresh morning came with its warmth and gentle breeze that cooled down the sun. Cale slept for a long time today as if his body was taking revenge on him. 

The warm sunlight fell on him, relieving the tension and ache in his body. 

Ron was right, it was indeed painful. 

His body cried with ache from the moment he opened his eyes. Going through his morning routine felt like hell and eating his breakfast felt like a tough workout.

He sighed, Ron was watching him like always. 

Luckily, he didn't mention what happened yesterday. 

Cale didn't know what he would explain if he did. 

“Young master, you received a letter,” Ron said once Cale finished his breakfast. He blinked, “Again?” Ron didn't respond and handed him the letter with a weird smile on his face. 

Cale stared at him sceptically. 

He took the letter in silence, the gentle perfume smelled like the morning. He opened hesitantly and blinked, puzzled at the key attached to the letter until he started reading the letter. 

‘Dear Brother, 

I Would like to apologize for what happened last night.’

Cale’s eyes turned wide, ‘Basen..?’ His hands, holding the letter, tightened. He never thought he would reach out again after what he said. His stomach twisted slightly. 

‘Our conversation yesterday made me reflect.. and made me realize how wrong I was. And you had the right to be angry, I don't blame you, brother.’

Why was he apologizing again? He was the one hurtful to him.

‘As a Henituse, I wanted to be someone worthy of the name–not by just carrying responsibility, but by being part of a real family.

I.. was driven by that desire and I took steps that were too big and too fast, without considering how you felt. I misunderstood your distance from us and took it personally.. That was selfish of me, I am sorry.’

His words poured him with confusion. He couldn't understand his words. What did he mean by fast steps? What part of what Cale said to him made him understand his distance when he himself didn't? 

His eyes widened at the next words.

‘I cleaned the previous countess' room; I asked Ron for help; I hope you won't mind.’

He flashed his head towards Ron—who was smiling at him gently. 

‘But be careful, Father does not know, my mom was the one who gave me permission. 

I hope you can accept my apology. 

Sincerely, 

Basen.’ 

Cale decided, for now, that it didn't matter if he didn't understand. He quickly took the key from the letter and ran, not looking once behind. 

And Ron, for the first time, decided not to follow him. 

_______________

The old door opened widely and life appeared before his eyes. 

The breeze fell on his face with life, carrying a beautiful scent—the same scent this room had always carried. No sign of dust. Her belongings were back to their places. 

Red roses decorated the room from every corner as if the dead ones were brought to life. The broken vase beside the bed, standing like a survivor of a storm. 

His chest ached. He grasped it with his hand. He took small, shaky steps.

Age vanished from the room.

And it glimmered as if she just went for a walk and would return eventually. Like she had never left for years, the room seemed to smile at him. 

Cale slowly walked towards a painting, now hung on the wall. 

His mother smiled at him, wearing her beautiful dark blue dress he always admired on her. 

And Cale didn't know if it was the sun or her smile that hugged his heart with warmth. 

_______________

“...”

“....”

Cale blinked. 

And the other boy did too. 

They stood, facing each other in silence. 

Awkward air hung between them and both of them kept shifting on their feet. 

Cale was just on his way back to his room when they crossed paths much to his disbelief. 

He rubbed the back of his head. Basen’s eyes kept darting between him and whatever small detail in the hallway where they stood. 

His brown eyes shyly peeked at him again, a little blush on his cheeks. Little anticipation glimmered amidst the awkwardness in his eyes. Cale knew that he was waiting for a comment on what he did.

He coughed, “.. Thank you for.. What you did.” His face warmed with every word. 

“Ah.. No problem at all!” Basen exclaimed, his tone awkwardly loud. 

Silence settled again. 

Now what? Cale wondered; Basen was still peeking at him, waiting for something else. 

“Uhm..” He rubbed his forearm. Their conversation passed through his mind once again, reminding Cale of his harsh words. “..Yesterday, I.. told you that we will never be a family.” 

Basen's face fell. 

He spoke abruptly, 

“Oh.. No, it's okay. I understand. I–” 

“But.” 

He stilled and air thickened with anticipation. 

Cale stayed silent for a moment then said, “..We can–for now, maybe be.. friends?” The blush on his face deepened. What the hell was he saying? He was blubbering nonsense. He just wanted to make up for the harsh words he said to Basen. 

When Basen's reply was late, Cale stared at him. 

And a wide, bright smile almost blinded him. “Of course! We can be friends,” Basen happily said. The sadness on his face vanished with simple words from Cale. 

Cale blinked in surprise but didn't say anything. He cleared his throat. “Well..?” He wanted to leave but he didn't know how to end this conversation. 

“OH! Right!” Basen quickly searched in his pockets. He then handed Cale a golden necklace. “I found it in the room when you left… I didn't open it.. I promise.” 

Cale silently took the necklace, stunned; he completely forgot about it. “..Thank you.” 

They stood in silence once again, but this time, Basen was the one who broke it. 

“..I was just heading to the garden. Lily and I always have morning tea together on Tuesdays but we decided to do it today since the weather is so nice. Would you like to join?” Basen asked with the same anticipating eyes he was looking at him.

Cale shifted uncomfortably, he didn't want to go but—“..Fine.” He decided to go this time as a way of showing his gratitude. 

Basen smiled brightly again, and they walked together side by side. 

The air was not as uncomfortable as Cale thought would be. 

_____

A sea of roses welcomed them and their perfume sweetened the air. Earth—fresh from the trickling water, and birds sang above their heads. A table with three chairs was placed in the heart of the garden with its roof as a protector from the warm sun. 

There stood a young girl, wearing a white dress with giant strawberries on it with her servants standing behind her. And they all looked in surprise when their eyes fell on the newcomers, especially on Cale. 

The little girl's face glinted with a big smile as she ran towards Cale as fast as her little legs could. “You finally came!” She beamed at him. 

Cale blinked. He stared at the round-cheek girl in front of him then awkwardly nodded. 

“Lily? Are you not going to welcome me?” Basen peeked at her from Cale's shoulder but she ignored him. “I always ask the servants to call you!! But they always say you’re busy..” She said with the cutest pout one could ever see, her little arms behind her back as she twirled lightly back and forth. 

Cale raised his eyebrow in confusion. 

The servants kept their gazes on the ground, worried about what Cale would say. 

But he wasn't planning on calling them out; he was the one who ordered them to say so anyway. He was just confused that Lily still.. kept inviting him. 

The little pout made him turn away his gaze with guilt. 

“They are right. I’m busy,” he lied. The servants quietly exhaled with relief. “..I just happened to be free today.” 

“So you’re free on Mondays?” Her large eyes beamed at him. “We’ll have morning tea every Monday then!” She stared at Basen, who flinched. 

“Huh? Wait, Lily, what about my less–” 

“What are you waiting for, let's go!” She smiled brightly and ran back towards the table. 

“..My lessons,” Basen mumbled to no one but Cale heard him. He said awkwardly, “..I will tell her that I’m not always free on Mondays.”

Basen blinked. “Hm? No, No–No need, I can just manage them,” he shied away from Cale. Lily waved her arm at them. Basen smiled, “Let's go, shall we?” Cale slightly nodded.

_____

“We didn’t know which tea you prefer, but if you have a certain drink in your mind, we can ask the servants to prepare it,” Basen gently said. His eyes glimmered with care and deep happiness for Cale's presence despite his nervousness. 

The third chair was finally not empty. 

“..I’m fine with anything,” Cale truthfully said, he was getting sick of Ron's lemon tea anyway. Basen nodded with a smile. “Th-Then! How about you try the tea that I ma–” 

“You!” Lily loudly interrupted, her little finger pointed at Cale who flinched. “You–!! Try the tea that I made!” She said, her arms crossed proudly. 

“..Lily.” Basen's shoulders slumped.

“..Which one?” Cale awkwardly asked, unaware of the silent tension between the two siblings. “The one on the left,” she signaled the maid to come. 

The maid quietly poured the tea into Cale's cup. 

He raised his eyebrow at her silent amusement as she respectfully placed the steaming tea in front of him. 

“Drink,” Lily ordered. Basen’s eyes widened. He shook his head frantically, warning him behind Lily’s back but Cale wasn’t even looking at him. 

He blew on the cup softly then took a tiny sip.

“...” 

Eyes fell on him; anticipated, worried, and amused, all waited for his reaction. 

Silence pressed for a moment until Cale finally spoke, 

“It's… good.” 

It was the worst thing he had ever tasted.

It was extremely salty, she obviously mixed sugar with salt. And there was no way it was normal tea; it burst with a savory taste that could numb his tongue if he drank further. “Ha! I know.” Lily leaned her back on the chair, smiling proudly, her nose up to the sky. 

Cale silently pushed his cup away from him, muffled coughs echoed at his unamused expression. 

“Ahem. Now.. Would you like to try my tea?” Basen smiled as he poured a cup and gently pushed it towards Cale. He stared at the cup and hesitated. But he didn't want to upset the other sibling. He quietly held the cup, the rich aroma worrying him further. 

He closed his eyes and quickly took a sip, then slowly blinked in surprise. 

“It's.. good?” It was surprisingly delicious and perfectly balanced. Not bitter but not sweet. Rich but not overwhelming for his tongue. 

“It’s really good.. You have talent.” Basen blushed at the sudden praise and smiled. “..Thank you.” His heart—bubbled with warmth. 

Lily’s cheeks puffed out at the warm interaction with her tiny fists clenched on the table. Cale and Basen were now having a small talk about whatever tea leaves Basen used and it only made her upset further. 

She suddenly rose from her chair, the cups clinking from the sudden move. And their gazes finally fell on her. Hitting the table fiercely, she announced, “I don't want to drink tea anymore!” 

Silence. 

“..What?” Cale asked, visibly confused. 

“Lily, what are you doing..??” Basen was getting distressed, Lily had never acted like this before. 

“Then–what do you want to do?” Cale, unlike Basen, patiently asked. She blinked and searched in her tiny mind as much as she could and finally said, “I want.. I want to pick flowers!” 

She hopped off the chair and pointed at Basen, “You pick white roses!” Then at herself, “I will pick red.” And then at Cale, “And you—just pick what you like!” She loudly shouted as she quickly ran. 

“Lily–!” Basen called, but she had already run far away. 

“What is going on in her small head..” Basen quietly mumbled. Cale calmly stood up, “It's okay. Let's do what she wants.” Basen relaxed at his comfortable tone then nodded. Cale leisurely walked and Basen stumbled behind him. 

The servants quietly observed the little masters walking side by side. “Young master Cale is finally opening his heart to his siblings..” One maid said to the other with a smile as she dramatically wiped away a tear at the corner of her eye.

“Shh! Don't jinx it!” The older one whispered and yet—her little smile betrayed her firm whisper. 

_______________

The air hummed across the pink petals where Cale was. 

He caressed one rose with his pale hand as its aroma wrapped around his senses with sweetness like candy; the type of smell Cale didn't realize how he missed. 

He might make a stroll in the garden part of his routine from now on. He picked it up and stood, daydreaming with its sweet petals.

Cale couldn't name what exactly he was feeling right now. He was feeling.. nothing yet not empty or heavy like the one he woke up with. 

Nothing—more like the absence of the feelings he was familiar with. The absence of the heaviness he always carried but never quite understood. Nothing felt more like the breeze that stole away one of the pink petals. 

He walked along the sea of roses.

He slowly wondered what brought him here. 

Why did Basen invite him here despite what he said to him, and why had he accepted it?

Why did Basen apologize, and what did his words mean in his letter? 

How did he know he wanted to clean his mother's room and why did he do it anyway? 

Why did Lily keep inviting him even when he never accepted her invitation? And why everyone was still—trying to be kind to him. 

He said he hated when they were around him, and hated when he pushed them away. He hated when they tried to care, and hated when they stopped trying. 

But did they ever really stop trying? 

He stopped. 

The rose in his hand crumbled petal by petal until it fell to the ground. 

Cale knew that he was the one who never tried. 

He was so consumed with his heaviness that he couldn't see the others trying. Even when he wasn't sure—for what exactly they were trying. 

The sunray glistened above his eyes, and the air around him felt like a fever dream. The not-burning warmth cuddled the scars his memories left in him. 

Cale knew he no longer belonged.

A childish giggle snapped him out of his daydream. 

A tiny figure ran to him with a smile brighter than the sun with one of her arms up as if trying to reach the clouds. 

Small, dirty hand shoved a red rose on her face, “It looks like you!” She screamed with happy laughter before she ran back to where she came from.

Cale held the red rose in his hands with eyes the width of the sky.

The red petals slept softly in his palms. And Cale had slowly realized that maybe, he wasn't the only red in this castle. 

And nothing also—slowly disappeared. 

_______________

The clear sky breathed with the scent of the leaves and wind. The round sun brightened above the vase near the opened window, a white, pink, and red bouquet of roses coloring the room with its vibrant colors. 

In the messy bed, Cale had just woken up. His red hair tangled and his clothes crinkled from a good night's sleep. He blinked the drowsiness away as he got up and prepared for the day. 

Time kindly passed through the lazy morning and the warm weather. 

The door opened softly; Ron blinked in surprise at the sight of an already-up Cale. “Young master, you're already awake?” He closed the door behind him with a soft click. Cale was sitting on his bed with fresh clothes, waiting for Ron. “Good morning,” Ron said. Cale nodded, “Good morning.” 

A small yet surprised smile formed on Ron's lips. Cale's pale face was replaced with the spark of the spring. 

Change comes in and goes with a second; Ron mentally noted. 

..

“Are you planning to do something today, young master?” Ron asked as Cale got up and stretched his arms after a nice breakfast. 

He thought for a moment. He didn't have any plans today. He thought about going for a short walk in the garden but a soft knock interrupted them. 

Cale turned his head. Confused. No one came here before other than Ron, who also seemed a little surprised. 

The door opened softly and soft dark brown eyes peeked from behind the door. “Ah. Good morning, Ron,” Basen quietly said, his tone as soft as the shy blush on his cheeks, his eyes darting towards Cale. 

Ron walked towards him and fully opened the door with a smile, “Good morning, young master, Basen. First visit, I see?” His eyes darted slightly towards him and the shocked, standing Cale. Basen cleared his throat and tried to hide his embarrassment, 

“..I- Ahem. I mean, Mum told me to call you to take the measurements,” he said to Cale, his head tilted slightly to see him behind Ron’s tall figure.

Cale shook his head, waking himself up from the shock. He finally walked and joined the conversation, “.. Measurements? For what?” Basen blinked, “For the banquet, remember?” He asked with weird hope in his eyes that would shatter if Cale told him he wouldn't go. 

Which he wanted to say. Yet he avoided his gaze and then finally said, “..I’m not goi–” 

“Of course, tell the countess that he will come soon.” Cale flashed a shocked glare at Ron who ignored him. 

Basen smiled with relief, “Okay! We will be waiting.” He waved his hand at both of them, then quickly left before Cale could speak. 

Cale blinked once the door closed behind Basen, “.. Really, Ron?” He just smiled benignly in silence and Cale had to resist the urge to groan. 

_______________

“You lost weight, Cale,” Violan said firmly with her face showing disappointment. Cale was the last one to take his measurements. Basen had already gone to his lessons. Only he, Lily, and Violan were still here. 

He blinked. 

What was he supposed to say? 

“..Uh sorry?” He raised his eyebrow. 

Violan paused. She coughed then kept her firm tone as she said, “I’m not saying this for you to apologize, I’m saying this because it's dangerous for kids your age to be this thin.”

Cale blinked again.

A realization—suddenly struck him like thunder.

Cale was.. being scolded?!

“Do you hear me, Cale? I will inform Ron about this; if I don't see any progress, I will take it as a sign of Ron’s disqualification, and then, I will have no option but to change him.” Cale coughed and stumbled at her words, “Ron has nothing to do with this–!” he calmed his surprisingly loud tone, “..I mean, it's not his fault,” he quietly said as he avoided her gaze. 

This was ridiculous.. He couldn't believe he was defending Ron in front of Violan of all people. 

She stayed silent for a moment, Cale couldn't see the amusement in her eyes. She said firmly again, “I’m still at my word.” Cale stifled and looked up at her, but she had already turned her back to talk with the designer. 

Cale exhaled, a tension he didn't notice was lifted off his shoulders, and now he was left alone. 

“..?” 

A little gaze peeked at him from behind. 

He looked over his shoulder; it was Lily; she was peeking at him like she did at the family dinner. 

She blinked at him with pink blush dusted on her cheeks. She seemed so lost in her little head that she didn't realize he noticed her. Did she want something from him? Cale wondered. He felt a little self-conscious under her intense gaze. 

Having nothing to do, he walked to the table beside the window. A warm cup of tea sounded comforting. 

He didn't pay attention to the small steps echoing behind his back. 

He quietly sat on the chair. 

“...” 

He watched, puzzled as Lily struggled to sit on the chair on the other side of the table. Her short legs barely carried her to the high chair. 

After struggling for a full minute, she finally sat with a quiet huff, her face puffed from the effort she made. She peeked at him again and Cale raised an eyebrow in response. She quickly avoided his eyes with a tiny pout. 

A maid interrupted their silent conversation and approached. She silently offered Cale tea, tense but there was hope in the nervousness in her eyes. Once he calmly nodded, her shoulders relaxed and she poured the steaming tea on his cup with a small smile. 

“I want some too!” Lily called, her hand up, demanding the maid’s attention. 

“..My lady, I’m afraid it might be too bitter for your taste,” the maid said with a kind and worried tone. 

“I don't care! I want what's in his cup,” she grumbled in annoyance as she pointed at Cale's cup. The maid gave up with a quiet sigh as she gave her the same tea. Lily stared at him intensely again, now holding the warm cup between her hands. 

Cale, oblivious to her small goal, took a sip. And she took one too and her round face immediately grimaced at the bitter taste before it quickly changed to a quiet determination again.

‘..What’s going on?’ He raised his eyebrow. His face, hidden behind the cup as he took a sip again. 

Lily frowned and looked at her cup, hesitating. 

Cale sighed and called the maid, “Bring her some milk tea,” he quietly said, pointing at Lily who flinched before a deep blush warmed her face. 

The maid nodded and silently bowed. 

..

Lily smiled at the sweetness of her milk tea. 

The sugar gave her a quick recovery from the bitter taste. Once Cale saw her satisfied smile, he stared at the window with his chin on his fist, a bored expression on his face. 

The clouds and the birds almost lullaby him to a sweet nap until a quiet, struggling sound stole his attention. 

He threw a glance at Lily. 

Her short arm tried to reach the plate of chocolate chip cookies in front of him. He blinked then pushed the plate towards her. She stifled for a second then took a cookie and munched, mumbling a little ‘thank you.’ 

Cale huffed in amusement. 

She peeked at him—again. 

“Is there something on my face?” Cale finally asked. 

She flinched at the sudden question. She couldn't speak as she was still munching so she roughly shook her head. 

“Then.. Do you want to say something?” He asked, a little awkwardly. He figured since she kept staring at him, then maybe she wanted to say something but was too scared. Cale blinked as she wiped away the crumbs then took a deep breath. 

Her brows furrowed with silent determination, as if she was preparing herself for an important speech, she tried to fix her composure. 

She snapped her eyes open, “I’m–!” She suddenly stopped then cleared her throat. She closed her eyes again and took a deep breath. “I’m just–!!” She tried to stare at him firmly but ended up blushing instead. 

Cale stared in confusion but couldn't help the little amusement in his chest. He waited patiently for what she was trying to say. 

She grabbed the tip of the table and Cale could hardly see her face as she hid her face from behind.

“I’m just—happy..” she shyly said, almost whispering. 

Cale blinked, once, then twice–as her words slowly sank in. “..What?” He asked, dumbfounded. 

She pouted at his question. “You–You’re never around!” She raised her voice from embarrassment. 

Her tiny grip tightened around the table a little. 

“I always want to see you but you’re never around..” 

“And when you do, you always look like you’ll go somewhere far away..” She sadly stared at the cookies. “And it's scary..” 

Silence settled between them. 

Lily’s little sniffs were the only sound that echoed between them. 

A moment slowly passed before Cale gently broke the silence, “What are you saying? I’m not going anywhere.” He tilted his head, his face calm from any emotion but confusion. 

Lily raised her head a little and stared at him. 

“And my room isn't that far away anyway..” He awkwardly avoided her gaze this time. 

A small smile removed the sadness off Lily’s face. 

Having nothing else to say, she shyly ate more cookies with a sniff and a satisfied heart. 

And a comfortable silence settled once again.

..

“Can we walk together at the banquet?” Lily suddenly asked as they prepared to leave. 

Cale glanced at her. “.. Wouldn't Basen be upset?” 

Lily pouted, “I walked with him a lot, I don't want to walk with him again!” She almost shouted, leaving no room for arguments. 

With a loud huff, she marched out of the room, leaving him behind without waiting for his response. 

Cale stood dumbfounded. 

He slowly realized that there was no longer an escape from the upcoming banquet. 

_______________

It was the day of the banquet. Everyone stood—ready in front of the gate of the Henituse castle. 

They gathered together, waiting for a certain boy to come. But they didn't need to wait for long. 

The large and heavy gate opened, revealing Cale whose appearance immediately silenced the quiet chatter. 

He wore a dark red waistcoat with a black shirt underneath and a deep red tie, highlighting his soft crimson hair. 

A dark red tailcoat hugged his waist with a slim, crimson ribbon behind his back. 

The tailcoat closed with a glimmering ruby button. Slim black trousers with black boots with slight heels. Black gloves with his hair elegantly on his side, sparking his boyish handsomeness. 

Cale looked like a prince. 

From a single glance, everyone knew he would be the star of the banquet. 

“What?” He asked, a little confused about the silence.

Lily was the first to break it as she quickly hurried to him. She twirled her matching red, glimmering dress. 

“What do you think of my dress?” Cale glanced at her then nodded with approval. “It's pretty.” 

“Cale, son. I’m glad you ca–” 

“Are you ready to go, Lily?” Cale interrupted his Father, ignoring his visibly hurt gaze. 

She nodded with excitement, he held the small hand in his. And greeting each other with a friendly nod, Cale, Basen, and Lily walked towards the carriage side by side. Their lively chatter answered the silent street. 

And Violan patted Deruth's slumped shoulder in pity.

_____

The Herald called their names. And as the door opened, a flood of golden light washed over them.

And it left as quickly as it came, revealing the luxury beyond. The crystal chandelier, the red floor, and the classic music; a ballroom that shone with luxury and the smell of expensive alcohol. 

Whispers quieted for a second as they stepped into the room before it rose back again.

“Is that the heir of the Henituse?” A woman whispered behind her silky fan. The crimson hair, like a magnet, turned heads towards the boy. 

“The heir? I heard he's no longer the heir since he can't handle responsibility, unlike his younger brother.”

“I heard he caused a ruckus at last year's banquet. I’m surprised he was invited again.”

“They call him ‘the disappointment’--”

The whispers spread quietly, luckily, Cale was too caught in his nervousness to notice. Nobles immediately swarmed them with their silk dresses and luxury suits, suffocating him with their heavy perfumes. 

Violan and Deruth immediately got carried away by conversations, while a few approached Basen and Lily. Some stared at him, curious yet hesitated about approaching him. 

He quickly left Lily with Basen and freed himself from the crowd. 

A tiny corner in the back of the ballroom caught his gaze, he hurriedly walked towards it when a hand suddenly grabbed his arm. 

Flinching, he turned his head towards the person. 

“Cale! You finally showed up on something!” Eric, an old friend..

He blinked, stunned. 

It had been so long since he last saw him. He thought Eric wouldn't think about approaching him again. 

“Woah.. You look so cool!” The young boy said, glancing at him from head to toe, loud enough for the whole ballroom to hear. 

“W-What the hell are you saying?” Cale stuttered, looking around the room, shrinking more from the attention, unaware of the light blush on his face. 

He tried to free his arms from Eric’s tight hold but he didn't take the hint. “Don’t be shy! Everyone was eager for all of us to gather again. There is a lot to catch up on!” He ignored his protests and dragged him towards the table where his friends were. 

The atmosphere seemed to flow around their small interaction as whispers slowly rose again, a little softer this time. 

“Maybe the rumors were exaggerated..”

“Right? What's wrong with making a little trouble, it's normal for kids to behave this way.”

“My fourteen-year-old daughter once broke my favorite vase that cost millions on purpose because I wouldn't let her buy an entire boutique of her favourite dresses..”

“My twelve-year-old boy once had an argument with an important guest and threw hot tea over his face.”

“The young Henituse sounds way more mature for his age now..”

..

“Hello, Cale. Long time no see,” Amaru greeted him with a sincere smile on her face. 

Gilbert suddenly shouted as he rose from his seat.“You’re alive?! Why did you stop talking all of a sudden? I thought you died.”

“That's not how to greet your friend, Gilbert...” Amaru said with a sigh.

“He is right, Cale.. Did you know how upset I was when you didn't come with the count to the estate?” Eric grumbled with a childish pout. 

Cale blinked as the three looked at him. 

These guys..

Have they not heard the rumors? 

The royal announcement stilled the room, cutting everyone's conversations. 

They all turned their heads towards the door. 

The Herald loudly announced—the king’s arrival. 

Everyone immediately bowed their heads with respect as the king entered with his grace that hushed the room, a leisurely smile on his face. 

Cale stole a glance at the princes walking behind him. His curious eyes observed the thin one. 

Alberu Crossman. 

He looked dull compared to the other prince.

They got up at the command of the king.

The banquet officially started. 

_______________

“I’ll go bring some water,” Cale said as he got up from his seat, feeling a headache from Eric’s non-stop chit-chat. 

“Oh, don't be late!” 

He approached a tall table with all kinds of luxury food and expensive drinks. 

But beside the table, stood the king with a group of gentlemen, talking with glasses of rich red wine. 

Cale stilled. He moved as quietly as he could; he didn't want to bring attention to himself. He quickly poured himself a cup of water but once he turned his back to leave, the king faced him—and his gaze poured on him. 

Cale immediately bowed, “I offer my respects to his Majesty.” He tightened his hold around the cup, his heart already beating fast at his sudden arrival. 

The air thickened. 

The king didn't answer immediately. 

He took his leisure time observing him. 

He hummed with a smile. “It has been a long time since I saw the heir of the Henituse household,” he said, his voice heavy with amusement that made Cale flinch. 

Cale firmly said, keeping his respectful tone, “I apologize. But this title no longer belongs to me, but to my younger brother, Basen Henituse.” 

The king stayed silent for a moment—a too long moment. 

Then a small chuckle cracked until it slowly turned to a fit of laughter. 

Cale tensed. 

“Raise your head, Cale Henituse.” 

Cale did. 

He couldn't meet the king’s gaze, he knew it was not respectful but he couldn't. He tightened his hold around the cup like a savior. 

“I know. As a king, I understand how hard the responsibility could be—especially when it's tied to one’s worth and could smear his name when it's not done with perfection.” 

“However, pushing it aside isn't the best approach, don't you think?” The king smiled with his eyes. 

Cale kept his head low, his breath caught in his throat. 

He couldn't understand what the king was trying to imply with his words. And why was he wasting his time talking to him. 

Cale figured he might be drunk from the wine. 

The king patted his tense shoulder, the impact a little harsh on his weak body. Cale kept his mouth sealed despite. 

“At some point of life, you know that it's time to move on. It's an instinct!” 

He let the passing butler fill his cup again.

“And if we don't listen to our instincts, life will grant us another chance by calling our names. Yet if we still didn't answer its call—then, there will be consequences,” he said, his voice suddenly dangerously low. 

His hand trembled. 

The king leaned towards his shoulder so only Cale could hear, “So? What you say, Cale Henituse—why not drop your mask and enjoy the night?”  

His eyes shot wide. 

The king smiled then patted his shoulder again before turning his head and calling someone else, someone’s name he didn't bother to hear. 

His ear rang—with his own heartbeats and his tight breaths, Cale had to force his chest to breathe. 

The world numbed. 

The golden light paled. 

And amidst the heavy crowd, in the back of it all.. Dull blue eyes stared at him.

Dull blue eyes that shone with confusion and.. interest?