Chapter Text
Hao loved nights the most; they were his favorite time of day, his safe space, his own little dimension where he was finally free, far from all those inquisitive stares that embedded words like “monster”, ‘freak’ or “cursed” into his skin without even having to say them at loud. During the nights, he could go out and breathe. He liked to take walks around the village where he lived without having to hide, a habit his mother has taught him since he could remember, “Don’t forget to put your cape properly” she said every time, that could be easily counted with one hand, he had to go outside within the day, at first, he had trouble understanding why his mother seemed to want to hide him from the world, as if there was something wrong with him, as if being different was a source of shame not only for him but also for his family, but only when he grew older did he begin to feel the weight of other people's prejudices. His only sin: being born with black hair.
It so happened that Hao, unfortunately for him, was born with black hair, black like the midnight sky itself, reflecting blue and silver tones on the streets, and of course, that would not have been a problem in other eyes, but prejudice arose because not only had Hao committed the great crime of being born with black hair, but he had also done so in a kingdom where all its people were known for having beautiful golden hair, which was praised by neighboring lands and a source of pride for its inhabitants. All the people in the kingdom had hair in different shades of gold, some like freshly forged gold bars, others like the first rays of sunlight at dawn, and still others more like fields of wheat swaying in the gentle breeze. And so it had been, according to the ancestors, since time began. So when Hao was born, the midwife, upon receiving him, almost dropped him on the floor in shock, unable to understand how a child could be born with such black hair.
At first, his mother wanted to believe and clung to the idea that it could be a problem that would go away with time, but months passed and her baby's sparse, delicate hair did not change color. Her frightened mother consulted with the village apothecary, who recommended increasingly dangerous herbs each time, with which she repeatedly washed Hao's little head in a desperate attempt to turn her son into “normal”. When Hao turned one, his mother finally gave up and resigned herself to keeping her son locked up at home, or covering his entire head whenever she had to go out with him, just to avoid all those comments and try to quell the rumor that had been circulating since his birth, saying that her baby had been born with a curse.
That was how Hao grew up aware of how different he was from the rest of the people around him, but without really understanding why this was something to be blamed for and so stigmatized. Until, as an adult, he simply stopped caring. His life, though simple, lacked nothing. He had his family who, despite everything, reminded him at home that he was just like everyone else. He had his job, helping his mother, who, as a teacher at the royal court in charge of teaching the children who lived in the castle to read, she always had material to design or texts to choose for her classes, which Hao was more than happy to help with. He has had his hobby: reading, since he was a child. Unable to go out and play with other children, his parents had taught him to read at an early age. But above all, he now had his nights. Not all of them, but whenever his mother allowed him, he had his nights of walking under the moonlight, where his hair and his very existence were just another shadow contrasted with the moonlight. It was on one of those nights, as he walked through a nearby forest toward a beautiful moonlit clearing by a small pond where he liked to go sit and read, that his life took a turn, reminding him that perhaps he was missing a thing or two..
Earlier that day, his father had brought him a new book from the castle library, where he worked as a scholar. Convinced that his life would be lonely until his last breath, Hao contented himself with drowning in the romance that unfolded word by word in each of the books he devoured greedily, and for that reason, he was so excited about his new acquisition, as his father had assured him that it was the latest hit among the maidens of the castle. Excited to immerse himself in this new story, he set out on his nightly walk, holding his lamp in front of him and moving forward with light steps, almost running with excitement. He had been so lost in his own mind that he was totally unaware of how someone had followed him from the very first moment he left his house.
Completely oblivious to the imminent danger lurking around him, he simply leaned back against the trunk of the large tree that served as his favorite spot for such activities, and with a deep sigh full of satisfaction and excitement, he opened the book and began to skim through the first few pages. He was so immersed in the reading that he didn't even hear the footsteps approaching, and so it was that out of nowhere, two strong arms grabbed and lifted him from the side, covering his mouth and holding his arms down, immobilizing him. “I finally found you alone,” said a hoarse, sly voice next to his ear, exhaling a foul breath mixed with alcohol. “How much do you think they'll give me for you at the freak show?”
Hao was frozen with fear, unable to react until the bandit began to push him deeper into the forest. “I never would have thought that a phenomenon would have such a face. Maybe I can have some fun with you before I receive my payment,” said the man, stopping in the darkness as he tied Hao's hands with a rope to prevent him from moving. At that moment, after such a disgusting suggestion, which made Hao's insides twist with revulsion, his legs reacted as quickly as they could, kicking his captor in the groin and throwing him to the ground, writhing in pain.
Hao immediately began running desperately, trying to escape from that man, but completely disoriented due to the sheer terror of the situation, he allowed himself to look back every so often, only to find the fatal truth that he was still being chased. After several minutes of running, Hao began to feel fatigue setting in, unable to scream because his throat was tied up with fear. He just closed his eyes, begging any divine being to help him out of that situation, and it was just then, almost in response to his plea, that he collided with another person's chest, who quickly stabilized him with their arms. For a second, Hao believed, overcome with panic, that his captor had somehow managed to catch up with him, but the thought was immediately dismissed when, as he tried to escape from the arms holding him, a voice as sweet as honey floated to his ears. “Hey, what's going on? Do you ne-?” Hao's eyes opened immediately, fixing his gaze on the eyes in front of him, causing that person, a handsome man with blond hair, to stop mid sentence and just stare at him in response.
The moment was quickly broken by the cries of the captor approaching. “You won't escape from me you freak! I'll make you pay for your audacity.”
“Help me, please,” were the words that came out of Hao's mouth, forming a desperate plea as the hands of the person holding him now anchored themselves more firmly to his arms.
“Come,” said the man, taking him in another direction. If Hao thought about it calmly, he had no reason to trust that person. He was still a stranger, walking alone at night in a place rarely visited after dark, but something in his gaze and the firm but gentle way he held him in his arms made Hao's heart feel protected. “Shh,” he hushed, placing his index finger to his lips to signal Hao to be quiet after hiding under the hollow roots of a large old tree. Hao's pulse quickened more and more due to the adrenaline of the situation, and when he heard the footsteps and threatening shouts of the kidnapper approaching, the man gently took him by the back of the neck, bringing his head close to his chest. Hao feared more than anything that the sound of his own heart wildly beating would give them away, or it was the handsome stranger's?
Only when, after hearing the bandit had walked away, there were a few seconds of silence, the man gently released Hao and helped him up. It was only then that he noticed Hao's hands were tied, and with an expression of sincere pain, he began to untie the rope around his wrists. “I can't believe that kind of person still exists in the kingdom,” he said with a tone full of bitterness and something else that Hao was unable to identify.
“I don't know how I can thank you,” was all Hao could say in a broken voice before bursting into tears. Thinking he was going to drown in his cry, he crouched down, covering his face with both hands as if not seeing the world would also erase the horrible thing that had just happened. Hao knew he was different, and he knew it was something that made other people uncomfortable and upset, but he never thought that their disdain would turn into something more rotten, especially because he avoided being seen, and had obediently followed his mother's orders not to go out, not to show himself, not to expose himself. Why were people so cruel? Why were people so disturbed by the fact that only the color of his hair was different, preventing them from seeing beyond that and making them unable to take just a few minutes to get to know him and therefore realize that he was a person like everyone else?
Hao couldn't stop crying; he just wanted to disappear or melt into the very earth beneath his feet. His sobs did not last long though, as they were suddenly interrupted by a muffled gasp from the person in front of him. “Your hair...” he said in a whisper. Hao felt fear take hold of him again and quickly covered his head with his cloak as he stood up and prepared to find his way back home. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable,” said the man before Hao could continue on his way. “It's just that...” He seemed to hesitate before continuing. “I think it's beautiful.”
Hao froze in place, Beautiful was a word he never thought would be used to describe anything about himself. His family loved him, yes, but adjectives like handsome, pretty, or attractive were pages that had been completely torn out of the encyclopedia's chapters that described him physically. As someone from a kingdom where everyone had sun-kissed hair, could anyone consider him beautiful, he who only carried the night on his shoulders?
Completely bewildered, and with his breath caught in his throat, he turned around to look again at the person who had made such a snap judgment about him. “Excuse me?” he whispered, thinking he had misheard, scrutinizing the face of the person in front of him, looking for even the slightest hint of disdain, regret, or even mockery.
Hao's expression must have been one of utter amazement, because the man in front of him just let out a small laugh, completely devoid of malice, and took a couple of steps closer. “It's beautiful, you... your hair is beautiful.” Hao was beginning to believe that perhaps he should fear the person in front of him. No one within the entire kingdom who was in their right mind would say something like that about his stained and cursed hair. What's more, no one in their right mind would have given him such a warm look, full of honest and tender curiosity. "Can I... can I touch it?" was the next thing the man in front of him murmured, generating a completely unfamiliar warmth on Hao's cheeks, making him take a step backwards.
“No, don't be afraid, I'm sorry, I don't know what's happening to me, I'm being very inappropriate,” he said, clearly embarrassed, looking away, unable to hold Hao's incredulous, fixed gaze.
Unable to process what was happening, Hao excused himself as politely as his astonishment allowed. “I have to go back, my mother must be worried,” he said, and without thinking twice, he turned around and headed for home.
Luckily for him, the moon was shining brightly in the clear night sky, so it wasn't difficult for him to find his way home. When he reached the street leading to his house, he could see a silhouette in the distance at the front door. His first impulse was to turn back, thinking how worried and angry his parents would probably be, But then, remembering everything that had happened that night, he began to run to take refuge in his mother's arms. Hao's mother knew him very well, and immediately realizing that something bad had happened, she hugged him tightly as she led him into the house.
Once inside the house, his mother made him sit down in a chair while she poured water onto the fire to heat it up. At first she said nothing and just watched Hao closely, until, after pouring water into a cup where she had just added a couple of chamomile flowers, she walked over to her son and handed him the cup. “Drink this, it will help you.”
“Mom...”
“Drink first.”
Indeed, Hao felt that the warm liquid he was drinking was his own soul that had been repaired and poured back into his body.
“And your book?”
“They attacked me,” were the words Hao managed to string together to try to explain what had happened to him. His mother's eyes widened and her lips pressed into a thin line.
“You will not go out at night again, at least not alone,” was all she said about it. There were no questions, no recriminations for being careless, but neither words of comfort or worry. Just an order in a tone that bordered on cold, and a small pat on the back before wishing him good night and heading to her bedroom.
On the one hand, Hao was grateful that his mother didn't ask for more details, especially because the mere memory of that voice in his neck made him nauseous, and on top of all the stress that caused him, he had no way of explaining everything that had happened afterwards with the man who had helped him. But deep down, he would have liked some kind of reassurance, something that wouldn't make him believe that it was all his fault once again.
Once in his room, before going to sleep, Hao washed himself thoroughly, trying to wash away the feeling left by the touch of that disgusting man and trying to forget, at least for the night, what had happened. When cleaning his wrist though, a soft and warm touch still lingered there. When finished, he curled up under the covers of his bed, unable to stop silent tears from falling down his cheeks.
The next morning dawned too brightly through his window, baffling Hao, who couldn't remember when sleep and exhaustion had overcome him. His body felt heavy, probably due to the stress of the previous night and everything he had been through, but even so, he pushed himself out of bed and, after getting dressed, left his room and headed for the garden, where he knew he would find his father at that time of the morning.
“But look who wanted to join me this morning,” said his father, giving him a sweet smile. “I just needed an extra pair of hands,” he added as he handed him a pair of pruning shears. “The roses have grown very wild this season, we must help them so they don't get damaged.” When he wasn't at the castle doing his job, his father enjoyed taking care of the garden at home in every free moment he had, a garden he had cultivated and grown himself, filling the interior view of the house with color throughout all seasons of the year, his only goal being to brighten Hao's days and ensure he did not feel the absence of the outside world.
Hao, who had gotten up early countless times before just to keep his father company in the garden, this time felt his stomach tighten due to the tension of what he wanted to confess. “Bàba, I lost the book you brought me. I'm so sorry,” he said, looking at the ground, unable to hold his father's gaze. "I should have been more careful. I know, and if there was any way to get it back or maybe replace it, believe me, I would."
“Hao,” said his father, waiting unsuccessfully for him to look up. “Bǎo bǎo, look at me,” he finally ordered, and Hao simply obeyed. “Nothing that happened last night was your fault. It's enough for me that you made it home safely. Nothing else matters.” Those words coming from his father's mouth in the most affectionate tone possible were the words Hao needed to hear from his mother last night, but even though they came hours late, they served to calm his heart and make him feel protected once again within the walls of his home. “As for the book, I think I have a way to make up for the loss.”
It turns out that his mother, despite her cold reaction the night before, had expressed her concern about Hao to her husband, and they had both agreed to organize their schedules so that he would not go out alone again or be left alone at any time of the day in the house, Apparently, a freak show had come to town, looking for anything slightly out of the ordinary to exhibit in their horrendous and decadent spectacle, and because of this, some soulless people from the village had decided to go hunting for the strangest case known in this place: Hao, the man with coal-black hair.
That being the case, Hao was now in his room, getting ready to go with his father to the castle and accompany him on his workday. His mother would also be at the castle during the day, but since her work was more exposed to the public eye, and especially today, when there would be a rehearsal for the upcoming graduation ceremony of one of the groups she taught, they had both decided that he would go with his father to the scholars' wing where he could be calm and safe waiting in the library. It was difficult for Hao to reconcile how the events of the previous day had ended with him attending the castle, leaving the safety of his home in broad daylight. But despite everything, he couldn't hide his enthusiasm at finally getting to know more than just the village where he lived and, above all, the idea of spending most of the day in a library as big as the castle's, with books at his complete disposal and whim, did nothing but thrill him. Shortly thereafter, a carriage arrived at the door of their house to take them, all three of them this time, to the palace. His mother, once again, as she did every time he left the house, reminded him to cover himself well with his cloak when getting in and out of the carriage, and Hao, still frightened by what had happened, obeyed without protest. Despite the suspicion that still lingered in his chest, Hao's heart was beating very fast and his eyes sparkled as he contemplated all the different scenes and landscapes that unfolded before him. His father, always perceptive, noticed his enthusiasm and, patting him gently on the leg, said, "You'll have to get used to it, as this will be our routine from now on. Maybe I can even get you a position in the scholars' wing." Hao knew that this idea was more of a joke than reality, not because his father didn't want it or because it was totally impossible, but because of the look his mother had given him, so he did not allow himself to dream about it.
As they entered the castle, the carriage began to slow down until it stopped in front of one of the large doors. His mother took his hands and, looking him straight in the eyes, said in a firm, almost solemn voice, “Even though we are in the palace, you must still be careful.” Hao could only nod his head, but that simple gesture was enough to satisfy his mother, who kissed her husband on the cheek and said goodbye to them both.
The carriage door closed behind her and it began to move again, passing through a gate until it reached the foot of one of the castle's largest towers. “This is our stop,” said his father, opening the carriage door and motioning for him to follow. Hao first secured his cape over his head, and once he was ready, he joined his father, who was waiting for him right in front of a large double door, dark yellow in color, with the inscription “scholars” at the top.
His father opened the door and held it open for Hao to pass before him. Once inside, they found themselves facing a short hallway that led to a large staircase. “All of our offices are located on different floors along these stairs,” he said, pointing ahead. “But the common room and library are at the top of the tower. The advantage is that both have a beautiful view. The disadvantage is that the dining rooms for scribes and scholars are on the first floor, in the small canteen next to the tower entrance.” Hao listened attentively, absorbing all the information as if it were vital, and his father seemed to enjoy having Hao with him there very much, as he filled him with recent anecdotes and the names of the people who belonged to each of the offices they passed.
After walking for a few moments, during which Hao began to feel his breathing become a little heavier, his father stopped and pointed to the door in front of them. “This is my office. Let's go in.” He took a small gold key out of his pocket and opened the door, revealing a rather messy office.
Hao was not at all surprised to see papers scattered in piles everywhere. The desk was barely visible because it was so full of books, and even the small sofa in the corner served as a shelf for more books. Hao turned to look at his father with a clear expression of disapproval mixed with mockery. “It's just like your studio at home,” he said with a small chuckle, to which his father simply nodded, muttering something about some papers and making mental notes about things he probably needed to look for.
“All right, let's keep going upstairs,” said his father, satisfied with himself after taking everything he apparently needed.
“But this is your office, shouldn't you be working here?”
“Today I have some extra special company, so I'll be working in the common room while you can spend some time in the library.” They both continued up the stairs, his father kept on pointing out names as if Hao were going to remember them all, until they reached the top floor, where the stairs ended in another small section of hallway divided in two, each side giving way to large double doors.
The one on the right had the word “library” written on it, and the one on the left had “common room.” Hao stared at the door leading to the library, unsure whether to open it or not, until his father assured him that they wouldn't run into anyone at this hour and urged him to go in. As he walked through the door, the library was everything Hao had dreamed it would be and more. The room was huge, the back wall, just opposite the entrance, had large windows that filled the place with light. The rest of the walls were covered with shelves full of books from the floor to the high ceiling, and several sliding ladders could be seen leaning against each of those shelves. In the middle, there were several tables with chairs, probably arranged for working there, and next to each window were soft armchairs with colorful cushions. Hao's head was spinning with excitement, his eyes darting around trying to decide where to start. His father, laughing tenderly, patted him on the back, “I'm glad you like it, Bǎo bǎo. I'll be in the front room. If you need anything, you can find me there,” and with that, he headed for the door, closing it behind him. He felt as if he were in a dream, the horrible incident of the previous night completely forgotten. So he quickly took off his cloak and left it on one of the nearby tables to immediately begin reviewing the titles of the books arranged on the walls of the room. Each title his fingers touched sparked his typical hunger for knowledge. He recognized several books because he had already read them, but most of them were new to him, new works to discover, new knowledge to acquire, new worlds to immerse himself in. His eyes, moving faster than his hands, settled on a book that was twice as wide as the rest around it, making it stand out. Its cover was pitch black and had no letters on the spine or front cover, only striking symbols. Captivated by the mysterious book, Hao picked it up and took it with him to one of the sofas next to the windows, so he could read and enjoy the view, which, as his father had said, was indeed breathtaking.
When he began to review its pages, Hao only found a blank first page that gave way to a second one with a note from the author, who referred to himself only as ‘Z’.
Before these lines begin to flow,
There’s something you must surely know:
You did not find this by mere luck,
Within this fate, your soul is stuck.
If this book’s weight rests in your hand,
You’ve come to face what destiny planned.
A purpose set, a path you tread,
So banish fear from what’s ahead.
The truth is etched upon this page,
And so begins your bravest stage.
Be bold enough to meet the call,
Or risk you’ve read no words at all.
Z.
Something deep within Hao's soul trembled as he read those words, as if they were a spell to summon a part of himself that was patiently waiting to be awakened. Releasing a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, he placed his hand down, ready to continue reading and about to turn to the next page, on the bottom corner, but he stopped abruptly when he heard noises on the other side of the door. Someone was coming. Hao decided to wait where he was, as it was probably his father, who had assured him that no one would be here at this hour. However, when the door opened slowly and slightly, it was not his father's face that appeared through the crack, but rather a pair of curious eyes and a mischievous smile on a kind face, looking at him with genuine curiosity, a look that reminded him of something or someone but that he couldn't remember at that moment.
“Well, at last I can meet the wonderful Zhang Hao, son of our favorite scholar,” said the young man, approaching Hao with complete confidence and extending his hand. “My name is Matthew, Seok Matthew and I am a scribe—well, not yet, but soon I will finally have my official status.”
“Hello” was the only response Hao could timidly mumble.
At that very moment, his father entered the library and observed the scene. “Dear Matthew, I told you to wait until I was present… You know he's not used to interacting with strangers, and to him, everyone is a stranger, except for me and his mother, of course.”
“I'm sorry, I just couldn't wait, and you were taking too long to come up the stairs, old man.”
“This is Matthew. He started training to be a scribe this year, although that position goes completely against his inability to stay still in one place.”
“What are you talking about, Mr. Zhang? In order to record what happens, I must first know what happens, and what better way to find out everything than by being everywhere,” he exclaimed as if it were the most obvious thing in the universe.
“Sure, sure,” was his father's only response as he arranged plates of fruit and bread buns of various shapes on the same table where Hao had left his cloak.
“You must be hungry, Bǎo bǎo. Please eat something.”
“Bǎo bǎo, I like that. I'll call you that too.”
In a way, Matthew's excessive confidence didn't bother Hao, but he did feel a little jealousy beginning to grow inside him. Seeing his father interact so freely with other people only reminded him of how small his own world was and how insignificant, to not say completely invisible, his own existence was. Always in the shadows, always hiding, always pretending not to exist to the world outside the four walls of his home.
It was unfair, but he knew full well that neither of the two people in front of him were to blame for his misfortune. Much less when they both looked at him so gently, as if Hao were something precious worthy of care. He could understand his father perfectly, but he did not understand the affection behind the gaze of the young man in front of him, about whom Hao knew nothing except his name and occupation. Timidly, he approached the table and pulled up a chair to sit down. Matthew immediately sat down next to him, moving not only the chair he was sitting on but his entire body into Hao's personal space, almost as if observing a mysterious object, trying to decipher every little detail about him in order to solve the riddle he presented.
“Matthew, please respect his personal space,” his father reprimanded him, who had taken a seat on the other side of him. “It’s really okay Hao. Matthew is trustworthy, it’s just that I've told him so much about you that he was overly eager to meet you.”
“Oh,” his father talked about him outside their home, something close to validation lit up in his chest. That meant his existence wasn't completely invisible after all. Hao wondered if, just as his father talked about him with other people, generating such warm feelings, his mother would have done the same, but the mere image of his stoic mother served to completely dismiss the idea immediately.
After sharing the fruit and pastries that his father had brought between the three of them, Matthew said goodbye, assuring them that he would return at lunchtime to accompany Hao. and seconds later his father returned to his work in the common room, leaving Hao alone again. Glancing sideways at the seat where he had been sitting, Hao stood up and settled himself again to read the mysterious book.
The first chapter of the book talked about a distant land that was long forgotten now and lost from all known maps. Meugui, a land full of creatures with different abilities, where special skills were reserved by a divine force for those who were worthy. The book described how that land was attacked by man, who, filled with greed, sought to use those special abilities for his own convenience, both in war and in government, all in the desire to be almighty and reign over all things upon earth. Sadly, as a result of this massacre, the special abilities were taken from all creatures, and man, realizing that he could not attain those kinds of virtues using his violent armies, wiped out all life on those lands. However, the book says that it is believed some survivors of a specific race managed to escape camouflaged thanks to the remnants of their abilities: the Visarii. It is believed that the Visarii managed to survive by blending in with humans, passing themselves off, with the help of their special characteristics, as just another member of the villages. Over time, however, the Visarii increasingly forgot their origins until their trail disappeared completely.
Hao hadn't realized how time had passed, having read only the first chapter, with the story of Meugui and how that land was devastated by man. Reading that, his young heart sank, feeling Meugui's massacre as his own. It was only when, after finishing the chapter, he realized he had been staring out the window, thinking about the evil ingrained in the human race and how he himself had lived his entire life, until that day, confined to loneliness because of it.
A lump had begun to form in his throat when he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. He turned his head and found Matthew's face a little too close to his, causing his body to instinctively jump back, almost losing his balance on the sofa, had it not been for the young man in front of him holding his hand. “Are you okay?” he asked with a frown. “You looked sad.”
“I'm fine, thank you,” said Hao, sitting up and letting go of Matthew's hand. “I was just thinking about the book I was reading.”
“I see... Are you hungry?” Matthew asked, changing the question as simple as you breath in and then out, without pushing further, it was something Hao really thanked.
Honestly, Hao wasn't hungry, at least not consciously, since he didn't think it had been that long since they had shared the snacks his father had brought, but the truth was that the moment he saw the food Matthew was now setting on the table, Hao's stomach immediately began to growl.
“That's answer enough,” said the newcomer with a mischievous tone.
Shortly after they began eating, Hao's father joined them, which Hao deeply appreciated. It wasn't that Matthew bothered him, not at all; there was something very familiar about him. It was just that despite the friendly manner in which he approached him, Hao still considered him a stranger. If you think about it, Hao had only spent so much time with his parents during his 22 years of life.
After lunch, his father invited him to the common room for a change of scenery, and Hao kept him company there for the rest of the afternoon, asking him questions about what he was doing and helping him in any way he could. So when they both looked up to see out the windows because the light had dimmed in the common room, they realized that the afternoon was coming to an end, therefore it was already time for them to go back home. His father told him to go get his things from the library meanwhile he picked up his own things.
Hao had already gained a certain confidence in moving between the two rooms that had housed him during the day, so he absentmindedly entered the library without even considering the possibility that someone else might be there, not even the image of Matthew and how he had burst in twice already had made him suspicious, for the idea of unknown people around him was still foreign.
However, as Hao went to look for his cape, he suddenly noticed a silhouette outlined against the light from the window, standing right in front of the armchair he had been using a few hours earlier and where he had left behind that mysterious fantasy book he had started reading. It was precisely the same book that the silhouette was clearly holding on their right hand. Hao recognized in a split second that the silhouette did not belong to Matthew, because it was taller and with longer legs, so, guided by the fear that still remained within him, he quickly covered himself with the cape, just as the silhouette turned in his direction. “I'm sorry, I just came to get my coat,” he said, turning quickly and heading for the door, closing it behind him.
He returned to his father, who was waiting for him in the hallway, and began to walk down the stairs behind him when a strangely familiar voice called out to his father: “Mr. Zhang, it's been a long time.”
“Prince Sung, it's an honor,” said his father, bowing to the stranger, while Hao tried with all his might to hide behind him.
Noticing the curious glances that the man in front of him was casting behind his back, Hao's father commented, “Yes, he is my son. I apologize, as he is extremely shy and is not used to leaving the house. He came with me today because I knew in advance that the tower would be almost deserted.”
“I see,” replied the stranger's voice that was somehow familiar for Hao. “It's a pleasure to meet you, young Zhang,” he said in an almost childlike tone, addressing Hao, who only gave a slight bow of his head. “I hope you had a comfortable stay and that your son will be encouraged to come more often, Master Zhang.”
“Thank you very much for your kind words. Have a good night,” said Hao's father, before continuing on his way with Hao down the stairs. As soon as they got home, Hao took off his cape and began to tell his mother everything he had done that day. Although to an ordinary person it might not seem like much, since Hao had gone from being locked up at home to being locked up in the castle, for Hao it had been the most exciting day so far, so much so that he didn't even notice the look of suspicion on his mother's face, who clearly still felt afraid for what might happen to him outside the safe walls of their house, and who had not been happy at all, when she found out that Hao had in fact bumped into two other people during the day.
“Hao, please, if you've finished dinner, can you go to your room and rest? I need to talk to your father alone.” Hao knew exactly what that conversation was going to be about and immediately regretted having said too much and gotten his father into trouble.
Back in the tranquility of his room, everything seemed smaller than normal now that he had a hint of how vast the real world was, and as he curled up in his bed, he remembered that voice his father had called ‘Prince Sung’ and which had seemed strangely familiar to him. Wait! A PRINCE? Hao had indirectly met one of the princes! And on only his first day away from home. Hao let his imagination run wild, thinking about everything that awaited him in the days to come. Finally, cuddled under the covers and warm under his fantasies, sleep overtook him before he could even remember where he had heard that voice before.