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The morning light filtered through the heavy drapes of the guest quarters, casting long, quiet shadows across the room. Hakuryuu was already awake. He sat propped against the headboard, the cool morning air a sharp contrast to the radiating warmth of the man sleeping soundly beside him.
Judar lay sprawled on his stomach, a chaotic tangle of long black hair obscuring his face, the blankets dragged down to his waist. Across the pale expanse of his back, the faint, darkening marks of Hakuryuu’s fingers and teeth from the night before were on full display.
In the current era of the Kou Empire, their dynamic was an unspoken, delicate alignment. Kougyoku wore the crown now, steadying a nation recovering from years of turmoil. Without the ancient Magi system in place, Judar held no grand title of High Priest or Oracle; he was simply a wandering, volatile magician who had chosen to bind himself to Kou—and, more specifically, to Hakuryuu.
To the rest of the palace, they were friends and comrades who had survived a war side by side. They walked the gardens in measured strides, discussed politics with a careful distance, and maintained a flawless facade of platonic solidarity.
But behind closed doors, that distance evaporated into something fierce and regular.
It had started years ago, a breathless collision born of mutual exhaustion and an unspoken need to feel anchored to something real. It quickly became a routine. They had sex regularly—intense, quiet encounters that served as an outlet for everything they couldn't voice. There were no promises attached, no formal declarations. Just a desperate, physical understanding.
A low, disgruntled groan cut through the silence of the room. Judar shifted, his shoulders tensing as he slowly blinked open his heavy eyelids.
"Damn it," Judar muttered, his voice thick with sleep and thoroughly raspy. "Everything aches. You don't know how to do anything gently, do you?"
Hakuryuu didn't pull away. Instead, he reached out, his hand resting against the small of Judar’s back, his thumb tracing the tight muscles near his spine. He applied a firm, steady pressure, massaging the ache away.
"You didn't seem to mind the lack of gentleness last night," Hakuryuu replied softly, his voice even.
Judar let out a weak, satisfied hum as Hakuryuu’s thumbs worked out a particularly stubborn knot. "Shut up. I’m allowed to complain. You're lucky I don't blast you out of this bed."
Hakuryuu watched him, a familiar, heavy ache blooming in his chest. It was during these quiet mornings, away from Kougyoku’s court and the watchful eyes of the imperial guards, that the weight of his own silence felt almost suffocating.
He swallowed hard, his fingers slowing on Judar's skin. He wanted to say it. The words ‘I love you’ were constantly resting at the back of his throat, heavy and terrifying. He knew how deeply they cared for each other; it was evident in the way Judar stayed, the way he only let Hakuryuu touch him like this, the way they looked at each other when they thought no one was watching.
Yet, Hakuryuu was paralyzed by fear.
Judar was a creature of freedom and chaos, someone who had spent his life avoiding shackles. What if voicing those feelings ruined the fragile sanctuary they had built? What if Judar laughed it off, or worse, grew uncomfortable and walked away entirely? Hakuryuu had lost so much family, so much of his world, that the mere thought of losing Judar to a clumsy confession made his blood run cold. He couldn't be sure if Judar was someone who even wanted to hear those words, or if he was content keeping their hearts entirely out of the equation.
So, Hakuryuu kept his boundaries firmly guarded. He leaned down, pressing a quiet, lingering kiss to the unblemished skin of Judar’s shoulder blades, letting the physical warmth speak for the words he was too cowardly to say.
"Go back to sleep," Hakuryuu murmured against his skin. "I'll handle the rest."
Judar didn't answer, but he relaxed completely under the touch, burying his face back into the pillows with a soft sigh. Hakuryuu held him tight, savoring the peace, completely unaware that a sudden rift in reality would soon tear him away from this bed entirely.
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The empty husks of the dungeons still loomed over the landscape, hollow monuments to a past age. The djinns were gone, the metal vessels were nothing but cold iron, and the grand magics that once shaped empires had faded into memory. Yet, the towers remained—lost, vacant, and baffling.
While Hakuryuu knew most of these places held no active magic anymore, Judar had developed an obsessive fascination with exploring this strange, quiet new world. Without the grand fate of a Magi weighing on him, Judar simply wandered. He chased the weird anomalies that had begun to sprout like weeds around the old dungeon ruins.
"You're going to get yourself trapped in one of those rifts," Hakuryuu had scolded him just days prior, watching Judar lazily toss pebbles into a distortion near the palace grounds. The anomalies were bizarre, overlapping folds in space; a person could step into a hole in the ground only to materialize ten feet in the air, falling right back down where they had stood before.
Lately, Alibaba and Aladdin had been dragging Judar along on their expeditions, forcing the powerful magician to help them map out these spatial tears and ensure they weren't a danger to the citizens. Judar complained bitterly the entire time, but he always went.
When Judar had returned from the latest trek, he had swaggered into Hakuryuu’s quarters and tossed a strange, heavy obsidian artifact onto the table. It was shaped like a fractured compass, its internal rings spinning without any apparent wind or mechanism.
"Here," Judar had said, yawning as he stretched his arms over his head. "It's boring and useless. Aladdin couldn't figure it out, so I figured you could have it. Keep it as a paperweight or something."
Hakuryuu had stared down at the dark stone, a quiet warmth blooming behind his ribs. He understood the subtext. Judar had thought of him while he was away. It was a habit born of a dark childhood; even when Al Thamen used to send Judar on brutal, bloody missions across the world, he would always return to the Kou palace with some odd trinket or foreign sweet for Hakuryuu and his siblings. He would always shove the gifts into their hands, sneering and pretending he didn't care about a single one of them, masking his longing for connection behind a wall of arrogance.
Holding the artifact in his palm, Hakuryuu looked up. Judar was already turning toward the door, his long, heavy braid swinging against his shoulder blades.
The silence in the room grew heavy, suffocating. Hakuryuu’s chest tightened. Just tell him, the voice in his head pleaded. ‘Tell him you don't want to be just a secret behind locked doors. Tell him you love him.’
"Judar," Hakuryuu called out, his voice sharper than intended.
Judar paused, stopping right at the threshold. He turned his head sideways, his sharp, dark eyes meeting Hakuryuu's through the curtain of his bangs. "Yeah? What is it?"
The words tangled in Hakuryuu's throat. The phantom fear of rejection, the terrifying risk of breaking the one stable constant he had left in this world, gripped his chest like a vice. He choked on the confession, his courage failing him entirely.
"...Never mind," Hakuryuu murmured, lowering his eyes to the dark stone in his hand. "Just... be careful out there."
Judar stared at him for a long, quiet beat. The lazy smirk didn't return to his face. For a fleeting second, before Judar turned around and walked out into the corridor without another word, Hakuryuu thought he saw a flash of profound, heavy disappointment in those red eyes. It lingered in the air, a silent reprimand for Hakuryuu’s cowardice.
Left alone in the quiet room, Hakuryuu let out a shaky breath, his thumb tracing the smooth, cool edge of the artifact. He regretted it instantly. He should have spoken. He should have—
A sudden, violent tremor ran through the stone.
Before Hakuryuu could drop it, the obsidian compass locked in place. The internal rings snapped tight, and a drop of Hakuryuu's own Magoi—drawn out by the sheer intensity of his lingering regret—was sucked into the core. The air in the room instantly turned freezing cold. The light from the windows distorted, bending inward toward the artifact as a quiet, vacuum-like tear ripped open in the center of the room.
There was no sound, no explosion. Just a sudden, terrifying pulling sensation that seized his entire body. Hakuryuu tried to call out for Judar, but the breath was vacuumed straight from his lungs. The room blurred into a chaotic vortex of white and gold rukh, and the world vanished beneath him.
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When Hakuryuu’s eyes snapped open, the first thing he felt was the solid, polished marble beneath his cheek.
He bolted upright, his hand flying to his hip where his sword usually rested. He gasped for air, his heart hammering against his ribs as he looked around. He was still in the Kou imperial palace. The architecture was identical, the morning sun streaming through the grand windows just as it had moments ago.
But the air felt entirely different. It didn't smell like the incense Judar liked, nor did it carry the familiar, faint scent of sea salt from the nearby harbor. It felt lighter, unburdened by the scars of war.
Then, the heavy doors to the chamber swung open, and Hakuryuu’s breath caught in his throat. Walking into the room, draped in royal silk, talking and laughing easily with a group of attendants, was his brother.
Ren Hakuyu. Whole, unscarred, and very much alive.
Hakuyu froze, his hands hovering over Hakuryuu’s shoulders. The warmth of his touch was terrifyingly real, far too solid for the diaphanous texture of a dream. He looked a few years older than Hakuryuu remembered him—his jawline sharper, his regal bearing fully matured into that of an emperor rather than a prince, and his eyes were entirely devoid of the ghostly hollows that had haunted Hakuryuu’s nightmares for years.
Right now, those eyes were wide with a mixture of profound confusion and rising panic.
“You can’t be here,” Hakuryuu whispered, “You’re dead. That fire killed you…Am I dreaming?”
"Dead?" Hakuyu breathed the word as if it were a foreign language. He gripped Hakuryuu’s shoulders tighter, his gaze tracing the jagged burn scars that marred the right side of his younger brother's face. "Hakuryuu... what are you talking about? What fire? I saw you at breakfast this morning. You were perfectly fine. You didn't have... this."
His trembling fingers reached out, hovering just millimeters away from the warped skin of Hakuryuu's cheek, terrified to touch it, terrified to find out it wasn't an illusion.
"No! Wait! That artifact…this is some sort of illusion, just like in Belial’s dungeon!" Hakuryuu scrambled backward on the polished marble floor, tearing himself out of his brother's grip. His back hit the base of a heavy pillar, his breath coming in short, erratic gasps. He pressed his palms against his eyes, dragging them down his face, expecting the illusion to shatter, expecting to wake up in his bed with Judar snoring softly beside him.
"How can you not know about the fire?!" Hakuryuu shouted, his voice cracking with a lifetime of suppressed agony. "Mother killed you! She set the palace ablaze! You and Hakuren threw yourselves in front of me—you gave me your blood so I could survive! How can you stand there and look at me like you don't remember?!"
The attendants in the room gasped, whispering frantically among themselves, but Hakuyu immediately held up a sharp, commanding hand to silence them. "Leave us. All of you. Out. Now."
The servants bowed instantly and scrambled out of the chamber, slamming the heavy wooden doors behind them. The echoing thud sealed the two brothers in a heavy, suffocating silence.
Hakuyu didn't look angry; he looked entirely heartbroken. He approached slowly, dropping to both knees a few feet away from Hakuryuu, keeping his hands open and non-threatening.
"Hakuryuu, listen to my voice," Hakuyu said, his tone dropping into that calm, grounding register he had always used when they were children. "Mother didn't try to kill us. She is in her quarters right now, preparing for the spring festival. Hakuren is out on the training grounds with the soldiers. There was no fire. I don't know what kind of horrific nightmare you’ve stepped out of, or how you got these scars, but I am alive. I swear to you, I am right here."
Hakuryuu stared at him, the world tilting violently on its axis. He looked at Hakuyu’s unburned flesh, his breathing chest, his clear, worried eyes.
The compass, Hakuryuu thought, his mind racing back to the strange obsidian artifact Judar had brought him. The spatial tears. The anomalies that folded reality into overlapping loops.
He hadn't just fallen through a hole in the ceiling. He had been thrown into an entirely different world. A world where Al Thamen had failed, where his family had never been slaughtered, and where the tragedy that had forged him into a bitter, vengeful king had never happened.
A cold, sudden realization gripped his throat, driving out the shock of seeing his brother.
If Al Thamen had never attacked the Kou Empire... then they had never taken Judar.
"Where is he?" Hakuryuu blurted out, his voice trembling as he grabbed the lapels of Hakuyu's pristine robes. "The Oracle... the magician. Judar. Is he here? Where is Judar?!"
Hakuyu blinked, completely derailed by the sudden shift in his brother's panic. "Judar? Who is that? Hakuryuu, we don't have anyone by that name in the imperial court.”
Hakuryuu scrambled backward, his palms scraping against the pristine marble as a cold, suffocating wave of panic washed over him. His mind reeled, trying to connect the dots. The obsidian artifact
.
The spatial tears Judar had been tracking.
"I don't belong here," Hakuryuu choked out, his voice thin and trembling as he looked up at his brother. "Hakuyu... listen to me. I’m not your Hakuryuu. I don’t know how, but that artifact... it threw me into a different dimension. A world that isn't mine."
Hakuyu’s eyebrows knit together, a profound concern softening his regal features. He held his hands up, taking a slow step forward. "Hakuryuu, calm down. You’re talking in riddles. Just breathe, we will call the physicians—"
"Brother!"
A sharp, clear voice cut through the grand hall, drawing both of their attention toward the entrance. Hakuryuu’s breath hitched in his throat. Walking toward them was Hakuei, looking radiant and completely untouched by the grief of their timeline, her steps light and graceful.
And walking right beside her was another Hakuryuu.
The sight was dizzying. The Hakuryuu of this world had no scars marring his face. His skin was flawless, his left arm was perfectly intact, and his dark hair was notably longer, flowing elegantly over his shoulders in a way that spoke of a life lived in absolute comfort and royalty. He was draped in the pristine white and gold silk of a prince who had never known a single day of war, starvation, or bloody vengeance.
The unscarred Hakuryuu stopped a few paces away, his eyes locking onto his double. The resemblance was undeniable, the structure of their faces identical save for the brutal ruin on the left side of the stranger's face. Tilting his head, a curious, slightly detached expression crossed his features. He didn't look terrified; he looked deeply intrigued, inspecting the scarred version of himself with a cool, aristocratic detachment.
He turned his gaze slightly toward Hakuei, gesturing faintly with his hand toward the panicked, scarred young man on the floor.
"Sister," the alternate Hakuryuu murmured. "Do we have another sibling we weren't informed of? Much like Uncle Koutoku... I wouldn't be surprised if our father left a few bastards running around the empire too."
The casual, unburdened words—the absolute lack of the crushing weight Hakuryuu carried every single second of his life—slammed into him like a physical blow. The sheer cognitive dissonance of seeing his dead brother, his untouched sister, and a version of himself who could make jokes about imperial bastards proved to be too much.
The room began to spin violently, the golden rukh blurring into a blinding haze. Hakuryuu’s grip on reality slipped entirely, and before Hakuyu could reach out to catch him, his vision went black, and he crumpled into unconsciousness on the floor.
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When Hakuryuu’s eyes snapped open, the first thing he saw was a canopy of heavy, pristine silk. He sat up quickly, his breath catching in his throat as he realized he was entirely alone in a massive, overwhelmingly luxurious bed. The room around him was quiet, bathed in the soft, peaceful light of a Kou Empire that had never been plagued by the dark shadows of Al Thamen’s control.
He swung his legs over the edge of the mattress, his hands trembling against the fine sheets. It was unbearable. Being trapped in a mirror world—forced to look at a perfect, unblemished reflection of what his life could have been if everything hadn't been ripped away from him—felt like a cruel, drawn-out torture. He didn't know how to go back. He didn't know how to bridge the gap between this flawless reality and the scarred, broken one he belonged to.
And in the suffocating quiet of this perfect room, his mind immediately bled back to Judar.
Hakuryuu closed his eyes, the memory of Judar’s heavy, unmade braid and the sharp, vulnerable look in his red eyes flashing behind his eyelids. He thought about how Judar had spent his entire life trapped in a cycle of profound self-loathing, hating his own fate, hating what Al Thamen had carved him into. Judar had always been desperately, violently jealous of the other Magi. Seeing Aladdin—who was loved, who was guided by light, who possessed everything Judar had been systematically denied—must have hurt Judar just as deeply as this mirror world was hurting Hakuryuu right now.
It was that exact, agonizing pain that had driven Judar to his extremes. Judar had decided to destroy a world that had rejected him from the moment of his birth. He had intentionally orchestrated a war between Al Thamen and Sindria, operating on a dark, possessive logic: if he couldn't belong to that peaceful country, if he was always meant to be an outcast, then he would rather see it destroyed than leave it forever out of his reach.
And Hakuryuu knew the deeper layers of Judar's mind, layers the rest of the world completely missed. Most people wrote Judar off as a loud, impulsive brat who lacked the mind of a proper strategist. But Hakuryuu had always known better. Judar was impulsive, yes, and he hated tedious planning, but that didn't mean he was incapable of seeing the bigger picture. Judar had known exactly what he was doing. He had known that if he pushed hard enough, if he made the threat severe enough, Sinbad would eventually be forced to completely annihilate Al Thamen.
It was a desperate, long-term gamble. If Sinbad destroyed Al Thamen, Judar would finally, truly be free of his shackles. Or the organisation would wipe out that beautiful place that stood as something Judar could never have. It was a brilliant, tragic calculation hidden behind a mask of chaotic whimsy.
Hakuryuu gripped his knees, his scarred skin tightening. In his own world, Judar had been playing a dangerous game for survival and freedom, masking his deepest longings for connection behind sharp teeth and grand schemes. And Hakuryuu had left him. He had choked on his own feelings, walked away, and vanished into thin air, leaving a man who already feared abandonment completely alone.
A sharp knock on the heavy chamber doors shattered his thoughts, dragging him back to the terrifying reality of the pristine palace.
The door opened slowly, and Hakuei stepped into the luxurious chamber. She wasn't alone; Seishun walked a half-step behind her, his familiar, grounding presence instantly making Hakuryuu's throat tight, while Hakuyu followed, his expression solemn but clear of the panic from earlier.
"How are you feeling?" Hakuei asked gently, her voice carrying that same soft, maternal warmth Hakuryuu had missed for so long.
She walked to the edge of the bed and sat down, reaching out to gently take Hakuryuu’s scarred hand in her own. Her eyes dipped to the ruined skin of his arm and face, filled with a profound, aching empathy.
"We talked a lot about... everything," she continued, looking into his eyes. "I told Hakuryuu to stay away for a bit, because I think he is deeply confused by your presence. And we all have so many questions, but... you're my brother, aren't you? In your world? A different dimension?"
Hakuryuu took a quiet breath. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a shadow shifting near the cracked threshold of the chamber door. The other Hakuryuu was lingering out in the corridor, pretending not to care, but clearly listening to every single word.
"Yes," Hakuryuu said, his voice raspy but resolute. He looked directly at Hakuei, then at Seishun and Hakuyu. "I am not from here. But we are family. I know you, and Seishun, and... our brothers."
He paused, his fingers tightening slightly around Hakuei's. The sheer weight of their presence—the unblemished skin, the quiet, peaceful air of the room—pressed down on his chest.
"I am conflicted," Hakuryuu confessed, his voice dropping to a vulnerable whisper. "For a very long time, I wished for nothing else than to have my family back to normal. I would have given anything, destroyed anything, just to have a world where the fire never happened and you all were safe." He looked up at Hakuyu, then back to Hakuei. "But I don't belong to this world. And I never will."
Seishun stepped forward slightly, his brow furrowed in quiet understanding. "What do you mean?"
"In my timeline, I have a magician—a Magi," Hakuryuu said, his thoughts instantly flying back to the heavy obsidian artifact and the disappointment he had left on Judar's face. "His name is Judar. When we were separated in the past, when the fabric of the world tore us apart, Judar passed through an entire world just to come back to my side. He didn't give up on me. He fought through the dark to find me again."
Hakuryuu stood up from the bed, his royal posture returning, carved from the hardships of a completely different life. He looked toward the door where his alternate self was hiding, then back to the family he had lost.
"He is waiting for me," Hakuryuu said fiercely, the fear of rejection completely burning away, replaced by an ironclad determination. "I left him alone, and he is probably furious and terrified right now. He crossed dimensions for me. I need to do the exact same for him now. I have to find a way."
"There is nobody here who could send you back," Hakuei said, her voice heavy with a soft, helpless sorrow. "Our magicians can manipulate elements, and we have grand scholars, but tearing through the fabric of dimensions... we don't have anyone with that kind of power."
The words felt like a death sentence, but Hakuryuu had no choice but to endure.
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Two weeks passed in a blur of golden rukh and bittersweet agony. Hakuryuu spent his days floating through a ghost story where the ghosts were alive and he was the one haunting them. He sat at tea with Hakuei, trained lightly with Seishun, and watched Hakuyu and Hakuren argue over military formations with a fierce, quiet joy. He debated, in the darkest hours of the night, whether he should just give up. The temptation to stay, to sink into the plush, unblemished warmth of this family, was a siren song pulling at his exhausted soul.
During the second week, he finally sat down alone with his alternate self. The unscarred prince listened in stunned, breathless silence as Hakuryuu laid bare the horrific truth of his own timeline—the blood, the fire, the betrayal of their mother, and the brutal weight of the crown he had been forced to forge from ash.
"Always be grateful," Hakuryuu told his double, his voice dropping into a fierce, commanding rasp. "Look at them every day and realize how fortunate you are. Do everything in your power to make them happy. Protect their smiles, because you have no idea what it feels like to live in the dark without them."
The alternate Hakuryuu sat quietly for a long moment, the aristocratic detachment completely melting from his face. He looked at his own unmarred hands, then up at the brutal scars of the man before him. He nodded slowly, a newfound weight settling into his eyes.
"If... if you cannot find a way to return home," the prince offered softly, his tone entirely sincere, "you can stay here. Kou will always have a place for you. You don't have to be a ghost."
Hakuryuu thanked him, but the offer, kind as it was, only made his heart ache.
Then, another three weeks passed.
Five weeks in total had bled away. Five weeks of living a life that wasn't his, five weeks of absolute silence from his own universe. Hakuryuu’s desperation had settled into a hollow, dangerous quiet. He spent hours tracing the dead obsidian compass he had kept tucked away in his robes, praying for a spark, a tremor, anything. He knew that back home, five weeks without a word would have driven his Judar into a frantic, destructive madness—or worse, a bitter, defensive shell.
He was running out of time, and the perfect world around him was beginning to feel less like a sanctuary and more like a beautifully adorned cage.
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"Where is he?" Hakuryuu asked, his voice tighter than usual as he stood by the window of the imperial library. "Judar. If he isn't in Kou, where is he?"
Hakuei sighed softly, a look of profound apology on her face. "Hakuryuu... I truly wish I could help you, but I don't know anyone by that name. No one in the empire does."
Hakuryuu’s heart sank, a heavy, hollow coldness spreading through his chest. He turned back to the room, his mind racing with terrifying possibilities. Had Judar simply never been born in this timeline? Or worse, had he died as an infant, a nameless casualty in some forgotten village, because there was no Al Thamen to snatch him away and keep him alive for their own dark purposes?
"In my world," Hakuryuu said, his voice dropping into a rough rasp, "Judar is the Magi of this empire. Both you and I... we were his King candidates."
Hakuei’s eyes widened in genuine surprise, a small, incredulous laugh escaping her lips. "A Magi? Of Kou? Hakuryuu, I couldn't see either of us being dungeon conquerors. We've never even seen a dungeon." She shook her head, smoothing her silk robes. "This world has three Magi, just as it always has. Yunan, a mysterious wandering magician who is rarely ever seen; Scheherazade, the high priestess and Magi of the Reim Empire; and Sheng, who serves as the Magi of Sindria."
Sheng.
The name echoed in Hakuryuu’s mind, striking a sudden, discordant chord. He froze. In his own timeline, Judar had once told him, with a rare, bitter quietness, that Judar wasn't his real name. It was a moniker forced upon him by Al Thamen after they slaughtered his parents and abducted him from his cradle. If Al Thamen had never existed to steal him away...
Hakuryuu sharply cut off his own line of thought. He couldn't let himself hope yet.
"What about Aladdin?" Hakuryuu pressed, stepping forward. "Where is he? The fourth Magi, a boy with the blue hair and the giant flute?"
Hakuei looked at her assistant, her confusion deepening, before turning back to shake her head. "There is no fourth Magi, Hakuryuu. Something like that isn't even possible. A new Magi is only born when one of the current three dies. That is how the flow of the world has always worked."
Hakuryuu frowned, his eyes dropping to the floor as he began to pace. "Not possible..." he mumbled under his breath.
It suddenly struck him how deeply intertwined Aladdin and Judar’s very existences truly had been. He had never realized it until this exact moment. In his timeline, Ugo had taken Aladdin’s unborn body from the ruined world of Alma Torran and preserved it in the Sacred Palace. When the boy was finally sent down, the current world had already existed for a thousand years.
Ugo was an omniscient guardian; he must have had a profound, calculated reason to choose that exact moment in history to send Aladdin into the world. He had sent Aladdin because the world was facing a massive, unprecedented disruption. Al Thamen was actively corrupting the rukh, and they had created a dark Magi out of a stolen child. Ugo had deployed Aladdin as a counterweight—a miracle born of light to save the world from falling entirely into the hands of the organization.
Aladdin had only been sent to this world because Judar had been taken. If Al Thamen never broke the world, Ugo had no reason to send the fourth Magi down. Aladdin was still asleep in the Sacred Palace, safe, unborn, and completely absent from this peaceful dimension.
Hakuryuu forced his spiraling thoughts to stop. The metaphysical mechanics of the universe didn't matter right now. Finding a way home did.
"When does the next ship to Sindria leave?" Hakuryuu asked, turning sharply to his sister. "The far south will take a long time to reach by sea, I need to secure passage immediately."
Hakuei shook her head again, a look of pity in her eyes. "Hakuryuu, your version of the world is obviously distorted. Why would you sail south? Sindria is located in the west. It is a prosperous island nation connected directly to the mainland of the Parthevia Empire."
Hakuryuu stared at her, utterly baffled. "That makes no sense," he argued, his brow furrowing. Why would Sindria be entirely different? In his world, Sinbad had established his kingdom in the extreme south, away from the reaches of the great empires. Why would it be built right next to Parthevia here?
Then, the pieces of Sinbad's history clicked together in his mind. In his timeline, Sinbad had fought a bitter, bloody war against Parthevia, but Hakuryuu had never learnt the details of that incident. Judar had been involved, but he had always refused to talk about it.
But if Al Thamen hadn't been pulling the strings of the Parthevian royalty, if the world was at peace... Sinbad wouldn't have had to run to the ends of the earth. He would have built his kingdom right on the borders of the land where he had been born.
"Sheng..." Hakuryuu whispered, the pieces finally aligning. If Sinbad was in the west, and his Magi was a man named Sheng—a man who had never been stolen, never been broken, and never been named Judar—then that was where he needed to go.
He had to see the western Magi with his own eyes.
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The sea breeze whipped at Hakuryuu’s white robes as he stood on the bustling docks of the Kou port. Beside him, Hakuei watched the crew load the final crates onto the massive vessel bound for the west.
"It is such a strange feeling," she murmured, her voice soft and laced with a bittersweet melancholy as she looked at him. "To say goodbye to you forever, knowing that my brother is still waiting for me back at the imperial palace. It feels as if I am splitting my heart in two."
She turned to face him, her eyes shining with genuine affection. "I wish you the best, Hakuryuu. I truly hope that whoever you are looking for in Sindria can give you the answers you need and help you find a way back to your real family. While none of us would mind if you stayed here forever... I know there is another Hakuei in your world, waiting and worrying for her brother to come home."
A rare, genuinely soft smile broke across Hakuryuu’s face. Step by step, the rigid, cautious posture he had maintained for five weeks dissolved. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, holding his sister tight.
"Thank you, Hakuei," he whispered, his voice thick with a rasp of unshed tears. "Thank you for being there for me. In every world, under any sky... you always look out for me."
He pulled back slowly, keeping his hands on her shoulders. "Please... apologize to Hakuyu and Hakuren. Tell them I am sorry for leaving without a formal goodbye. But seeing them one last time... it would hurt too much. It would make it too hard to leave."
Hakuei nodded understandingly, blinking back her own tears as she pressed a reassuring hand over his.
With a final, deep breath, Hakuryuu turned and stepped onto the wooden gangplank, boarding the ship. As the heavy iron chains rattled and the sails unfurled, catching the western wind, he walked to the bow of the ship and stared out at the vast, open ocean.
He couldn't help but feel a profound sense of irony. He remembered the first time he had ever boarded a ship to travel to Sindria. In his own timeline, that journey had been fueled entirely by hatred, desperation, and vengeance. He had gone to Sindria to find the fourth Magi, Aladdin, planning to use his power to destroy the Kou Empire from the inside out and beg King Sinbad to become his ally.
Now, a thousand leagues away in a completely different reality, he was making the exact same voyage. But his heart wasn't filled with a desire for blood or ruin. He was chasing a magician. He was chasing a man who might hold the key to the dimensions, the only person in the universe who could break him out of this beautiful cage and send him home.
‘Judar,’ Hakuryuu thought, his hand subtly drifting to his pocket to touch the cold, dead rings of the obsidian compass. ‘Just wait for me. I’m coming back.’
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The western kingdom of Sindria rose from the sea like a jewel of pristine marble and vibrant banners, completely unblemished by the scars of the dark history Hakuryuu carried in his mind. As the ship docked, the sheer vitality of the small kingdom pressed against him—the laughter of citizens, the smell of exotic spices, and the overwhelming abundance of clear, uncorrupted rukh.
But nothing prepared him for the man waiting at the grand pavilion of the harbor.
Standing at the head of the royal welcoming committee was Sinbad.
It felt profoundly strange to see him like this again. He radiated an effortless power and elegance, the picture of a prestigious, beloved king. Hakuryuu hadn’t seen him in years—not since the terrifying climax of his own timeline, when Sinbad had ascended to the Sacred Palace, became a god, and attempted to rewrite the world’s rukh entirely to outrun his own mortal upbringing and the suffocating trauma of his past wars.
Here, Sinbad wore no tragic weight. He smiled warmly, his golden eyes bright and clear, completely untainted by the chilling arrogance of a man who believed he was destined to decide the fate of humanity.
"Welcome to Sindria, Prince Hakuryuu," Sinbad’s voice boomed, rich and welcoming as he stepped forward. "Word traveled from Kou that a royal guest was arriving on our shores. It is an honor to have you."
Hakuryuu kept his posture rigid, his left arm resting casually near his side as he observed the guard standing behind the king. Sinbad gestured gracefully to the generals flanking him, introducing them one by one.
Among the familiar faces, Sinbad turned to three men Hakuryuu had completely never met before. Vittel, standing tall with a stoic, disciplined grace. Mahad, his frame powerful and imposing. And Mystras, who carried a bright, youthful energy, a sharp sword strapped to his hip.
Hakuryuu lowered his head, bowing in precise, flawless imperial respect to mask the sudden chill that ran down his spine. He knew why he didn't recognize them. In his own dimension, during Sinbad's long, bloody rise to power and the eventual destruction of the first, original Sindria, these men were likely dead. They were ghosts in his world, casualties of a trauma that this Sinbad had somehow managed to avoid or overcome without losing his humanity.
As Sinbad gestured for them to walk toward the palace, Hakuryuu made a cold, conscious decision. He would be entirely cautious.
He could not afford to look at this Sinbad and see the god who had tried to erase existence. He resolved to keep his cards pressed firmly against his chest. He would not speak of the dark ruth, he would not mention Al Thamen, and he would certainly never tell this king about what his alternate self had done—the lengths to which Sinbad's ambition had driven him in the other world.
This Sinbad was a stranger wrapped in a familiar face, and Hakuryuu was only here for one thing.
"Thank you for your hospitality, King Sinbad," Hakuryuu said, his voice smooth, though his eyes scanned the palace towers ahead. "I have traveled a great distance to your kingdom. I am seeking your magician—the Magi of Sindria. A man named Sheng."
"If you're planning to ask my Magi to choose you as a king," Sinbad said, his tone softening into a firm, diplomatic edge, "I'm afraid I have to decline. Sheng is bound to my country; he helped me build it from the very ground up. I would much rather maintain our political state as allies."
Hakuryuu didn't flinch. He kept his composure, matching the king's steady gaze. "I am not the prince of the Kou Empire that you know, King Sinbad. I came to this world entirely by accident. I’m not from this world, but rather, a different reality."
Reaching into the folds of his imperial silk, Hakuryuu pulled out the heavy obsidian artifact. The dark, fractured rings sat dead and motionless in his palm. He held it out, showing it to the King of the Seven Seas. "I am here to speak to your Magi for one reason only: to find a way to reactivate this. I need to go home."
Sinbad’s eyes sharpened instantly. The casual, welcoming demeanor faded, replaced by the intense focus of a ruler who recognized a profound anomaly. He stepped closer, inspecting the item with deep fascination, his fingers hovering just above the cool stone.
"Intriguing," Sinbad murmured, a slow, calculated smile touching his lips. "I will gladly help you return to your home, Prince Hakuryuu—on one condition. You must be willing to let us study this artifact, so we can understand how it is possible to travel through the barriers of dimensions."
"This could potentially be dangerous," Hakuryuu countered sharply, pulling his hand back and concealing the stone once more. "I have no desire to change this world. I just want to return to mine."
"Dangerous?" Sinbad asked, tilting his head, his tone laced with an almost innocent curiosity. "Knowledge itself is never dangerous, Hakuryuu. It is how it's used."
Hakuryuu stared at him, seeing the terrifying echo of the god who had tried to rewrite the universe just to outrun his own mortal fears. "I do not mean to be rude, King Sinbad. But even in this peaceful world, I can see your tendency to long for power. You have a desperate need to be someone special. While I will not share the details of my world, I will tell you this: that exact ambition brought great suffering upon my people."
"Watch your tongue!" Mystras immediately cut in, stepping forward with his hand resting defensively on the hilt of his sword. "Our king would never harm anyone! He has dedicated his entire life to building a peaceful world!"
"Mystras, stand down," Sinbad commanded gently, raising a hand.
Hakuryuu looked at the fiercely loyal general, his heart aching with a bitter empathy. "I do not doubt his heart," he said softly, his voice dropping into its familiar, battle-worn rasp. "In my world, Sinbad’s intentions were always to do what was right. He truly believed he was saving us. I am not judging him from a throne of innocence; I myself have caused brutal wars and countless deaths in the name of what I thought was justice. That is exactly why I know that nobody—not me, and not your king—should ever have the power to see other worlds and disrupt the natural flow of the rukh."
The grand hall fell into a heavy, contemplative silence. Sinbad watched Hakuryuu for a long moment, the ambitious gleam in his eyes clouding over with a profound, quiet gravity. The weight of Hakuryuu's scars and the sheer conviction in his voice seemed to strike a chord within the Seven Seas Alliance leader.
"Very well," Sinbad said finally, his expression turning entirely respectful. "I will allow you to stay here in the palace as an honored guest. You are a version of the brother of my close friend, Emperor Hakuyu, and I will treat you as such. If you wish to talk to my Magi, I will not come between you."
Sinbad turned back toward his inner chambers, gesturing for an attendant. "I will let Yamuraiha and Sheng know exactly who you are and why you are here. I am sure that between my lead magician and a Magi, they will find a way to reactivate the magic of your artifact."
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The heavy scent of Sindrian spices and ocean air filled the grand courtyard, but Hakuryuu could barely breathe. Walking just a few paces behind Yamuraiha was the Magi of this world.
Hakuryuu felt a sudden, dizzying wave of disorientation seeing Judar—no, Sheng—for the very first time.
In his own timeline, Judar had always prided himself on his absurdly long, heavy braid, ever since Al Thamen had told him it was the distinct mark of a truly powerful Magi. His version of Judar wore it like a badge of defiance, pairing it with dark, revealing silks and striking makeup, constantly trying to look strong, untouchable, and intimidating to hide the hollow void in his chest.
This version was completely different. He was laughing easily with Yamuraiha, his hair woven into a loose, unburdened braid that looked exactly like Aladdin’s. He wore the vibrant, flowing attire of Sindria, completely open and at ease. He was smiling brightly—a expression so pure and untainted by malice that it looked entirely foreign on his face.
Hakuryuu caught himself frowning, a sudden, bitter thought crossing his mind: ‘It doesn't suit him.’
He instantly felt a pang of guilt. Why was he thinking something so strange and cruel? He should be happy for him. He should be grateful that at least one version of Judar had gotten to grow up happy, safe, and deeply belonging to a country that loved him.
But as he watched the Sindrian Magi laugh, a terrifying, fiercely possessive thought overcame Hakuryuu, slamming into his chest with raw, predatory force:
‘No. He doesn't belong here. Judar belongs to me.’
It wasn't rational. It was a dark, selfish instinct born of those quiet mornings in his own timeline, of the secret alignment they had shared behind bolted doors. The realization that he didn't want a perfect, happy stranger—that he wanted his broken, snarky, chaotic magician—shook Hakuryuu to his very core.
Sheng’s bright red eyes locked onto Hakuryuu, and his smile softened into an expression of polite curiosity as he stepped away from Yamuraiha. He approached with an easy, fluid grace, entirely unbothered by the fierce, scarred intimidation Hakuryuu usually radiated.
"Hello there," Sheng said, his voice carrying the familiar pitch of Judar's, but completely stripped of its usual mocking, arrogant bite. "King Sinbad told me everything. He said you traveled a very long way through some strange magic, and that you wanted to talk to me."
Hakuryuu forced his expression to lock down, masking the storm raging in his chest. He managed a single, stiff nod.
"Yes," Hakuryuu said simply, his voice raspy. "I do.”
"So," Sheng said with a bright smile, effortlessly falling into step with Hakuryuu as they walked along the stone terrace. "You've seen other dimensions?! That’s amazing! I bet I can figure out how that works one day! Well... maybe not. Sinbad only cares about Sindria’s safety, after all."
He let out a small sigh, his fingers twitching restlessly against his side.
Hakuryuu caught the movement, the small tell instantly echoing across the boundaries of reality. "You always had a hunger for knowledge and power," Hakuryuu said softly, his voice dropping into its familiar rasp. "I would have guessed you would get along with someone like Yamuraiha."
"Sure I do!" Sheng chirped, his red eyes widening as he suddenly stopped and turned to face Hakuryuu. "Hey! Does that mean... you know me?! Like, I exist there too? I can't tell any difference with you since I've never been to Kou or met your counterpart. Maybe I should do that, could be interesting."
Hakuryuu looked at him, the pristine Sindrian silks, the loose braid, the complete absence of malice. "Well," Hakuryuu said quietly, "you are really different from the Judar I know."
"Really? Hey….my name is Sheng!"
"Not where I'm from," Hakuryuu countered.
Standing beneath the bright Sindrian sun, Hakuryuu began to speak, laying bare the brutal, dark truth of his own universe. He explained their story—how Al Thamen had slaughtered Judar's parents, abducted him as a baby, and groomed and raised him to be a weapon. He described how Judar had spent his entire life consumed by rage, trauma, and a desperate, burning jealousy of the world. He told Sheng how he and Judar had ultimately fought their abusers, freed themselves from the chains of their past, and forged a fierce, unspoken alignment as King and magician.
"I was too focused on my own anger and revenge to see Judar’s own feelings," Hakuryuu admitted, his fist tightening against his robe. "But I see him now. I see his undying loyalty."
Sheng listened in stunned, breathless silence, his cheerful demeanor completely evaporating. His chest rose and fell with a heavy breath. "It... it must have been horrible for you both," he murmured softly.
Hakuryuu hesitated, the phantom warmth of his own bedchamber flashing through his mind. "At first, it was. But Judar, at the end... he didn't hate his fate anymore. Because he had me."
Suddenly, Sheng let out a clear, startled laugh.
The sound grated against Hakuryuu’s ears, and a sharp, defensive hurt flared in his chest. "Does it sound that ridiculous to you?" he asked, his posture instantly turning rigid.
"No, no," Sheng said, wiping a tear from his eye, his smile returning but softening with an unexpected gravity. "It just sounds like you two were in love."
The word hung heavily in the warm air. Hakuryuu’s breath caught. If his own Judar had been standing here, hearing a sappy phrase like that, he wouldn't have smiled. He would have smirked, crossed his arms, and barked out something biting like: ‘So I let you fuck me or something? That’s some ridiculous shit, Ryuu.’
A sudden, crushing wave of loneliness slammed into Hakuryuu’s chest. He felt profoundly, devastatingly alone, despite physically standing right in front of Judar’s face. But this Judar wasn't his. They didn't share a single memory, a single scar, or a single night of breathless, desperate passion. And despite all the horrific suffering his own magician had endured, Hakuryuu realized that the pain was exactly what had made Judar Judar. He didn't want a perfect, unblemished version. He wanted his broken, arrogant magician.
Sheng noticed the sudden, bleak shadow that fell over Hakuryuu’s face and winced. "Ah... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."
"Judar would have never apologized," Hakuryuu said bitterly, the words slipping out before he could stop them. "He is rude, and he is sometimes completely insensitive. But talking about our feelings was never necessary between us, because we always knew what the other was thinking."
But even as the words left his mouth, a terrifying, hollow doubt crept into the back of his mind. ‘Was that entirely true?’ He remembered the deep, heavy disappointment he thought he had seen in Judar’s eyes right before the artifact activated. If they always knew what the other was thinking, then why had he been so afraid? Did his Judar actually know that Hakuryuu loved him, or had Hakuryuu’s silence left him believing he was nothing more than a convenient, secret outlet in the dark?
Sheng took a step back, the bright, easy warmth completely draining from his expression. He looked at Hakuryuu, a raw, quiet sting flashing across his features.
"I see," Sheng said softly. He offered a polite, formal imperial bow—a gesture that felt entirely unnatural on his frame. "I am sorry for not being the right person for you. If you miss that person so badly... then you should do everything you can to go back to him."
Hakuryuu watched him turn around and walk away down the terrace. But as he watched Sheng’s retreating back, his throat tightened. He realized that in his desperate grief for his own magician, he had just brutally rejected the version of Judar standing right in front of him. He had looked at a boy who had managed to find happiness, peace, and a home, and told him he wasn't good enough because he lacked the scars of a tragedy.
He had hurt Sheng by rejecting his very identity, and the heavy silence of the Sindrian palace offered no answers on how to fix it.
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The heavy scent of old parchment and cedar wood filled the imperial library, but the silence between the tall shelves was deafening. Hakuryuu found Sheng sitting at a grand mahogany table, aggressively flipping through an ancient text on spatial anomalies. As Hakuryuu approached, the Magi didn't even look up, deliberately ignoring his presence.
‘Typical’, Hakuryuu thought, a faint, amused smile tugging at the corner of his lips. It was oddly comforting to see that regardless of a completely different upbringing, some core part of Judar's stubborn, petulant nature was still entirely present in this man.
"I want to apologize for what I said earlier," Hakuryuu began, his voice dropping into its familiar, quiet rasp.
Sheng didn't move, though the sharp rustle of the page turning stalled for a fraction of a second.
"Judar is someone who always refused to talk about his emotions or show them," Hakuryuu continued, stepping closer to the table. "But I noticed that I hurt you. Just because I know a different version of you, and just because I share a long, painful past with him... it doesn't mean you are anything less. You are your own person, Sheng."
For a fleeting moment, Hakuryuu could almost hear his own magician’s voice sneering in the back of his mind: 'Shove that stupid apology up your ass, Ryuu.'
Sheng finally closed the book with a heavy thud. He sighed, leaning back in his chair and looking up at Hakuryuu with a surprisingly raw expression. "I'm just jealous," he admitted softly, his red eyes clouding over. "It must be nice... having someone by your side who talks about you the way you talk about this 'Judar.' person. Someone who sees you that deeply."
Hakuryuu let out a bitter, self-deprecating chuckle, shaking his head. "We were hardly a grand romance. In reality, we were barely more than a dirty secret. I had been a coward. I never once admitted my true feelings to him while I was there. But ever since I was ripped away and thrown into this world, it’s been so easy to finally realize it, and to say it out loud to a stranger: I am completely in love with him."
He paused, a sudden wave of confusion washing over him. He looked at the pristine Sindrian silks Sheng wore. "But why would you even long for that kind of companionship? You have everything Judar ever wanted. You have a king who loves you, and a prosperous country where you truly belong."
Sheng tilted his head, a challenging, slightly defensive glint returning to his eyes. "If you think you know me so well, wouldn't you be able to figure that out 'without words'?"
Hakuryuu didn't hesitate. He looked directly into Sheng’s eyes, the memory of a rare, drunken night in his own timeline flashing vividly in his mind. "Judar once told me that if Al Thamen hadn't taken him—if he had actually gotten exactly what he thought he wanted and became the Magi of Sindria—he would have just ended up in a golden cage anyway. He knew Sinbad. He told me Sinbad is someone who genuinely loves and respects his friends, but ultimately, Sinbad will always view himself as superior to everyone else. You are safe here, Sheng, but you are not entirely free."
Sheng’s breath hitched. He stared at Hakuryuu, a shiver running down his spine. "I'm impressed... but that's also terrifying," he whispered, a faint, breathless laugh escaping his lips. "I suppose that Judar guy must be truly lucky to have someone who looks past all the armor."
Hakuryuu nodded slowly, taking a seat across from him. "Have you... ever been in love? Or liked anyone here?"
"No," Sheng said bluntly, looking away toward the grand library windows. "Never."
"I only met Judar because of the most impossible, horrific circumstances," Hakuryuu told him, his tone softening with an earnest warmth. "This dimension confirms that if Al Thamen hadn't destroyed our lives, we would have never crossed paths. So... you should keep your eyes open, Sheng. Look out for someone, the Hakuryuu that lives in Kou. Maybe, across the fabric of the universe, we are soulmates. Maybe we are meant to find each other in this world, too, in a better way."
Sheng’s head snapped back around. He stared at Hakuryuu, his chest rising and falling rapidly as a sudden, frantic energy seized him.
"What if... what if you are the right person for me?" Sheng blurted out, his voice suddenly thick with a desperate, overwhelming emotion. "What if this is the impossible circumstance?"
Before Hakuryuu could react, Sheng lunged across the table. He grabbed Hakuryuu’s hands, gripping them with a tight, trembling force. Hakuryuu could practically feel the erratic, racing hammer of the Magi's heart through his palms.
"How can you make me feel this nervous?!" Sheng gasped, his face flushing a deep, frantic red as he looked at Hakuryuu's scarred face. "I've never once... I have never looked at another man like this. I've never thought about liking a man until you showed up!"
Driven by a sudden, volatile cocktail of jealousy, loneliness, and a desperate longing to be loved the way Hakuryuu loved his ghost, Sheng surged forward. He closed the distance between them, his eyes shutting tight as he tried to press his lips against Hakuryuu’s.
It was a desperate, chaotic motion—but it never connected.
Hakuryuu’s instincts, honed by years of war, reacted instantly. He wrenched his hands free from Sheng's grip, his left arm coming up firmly to press against Sheng’s chest, halting the Magi dead in his tracks. He pushed him back, creating a hard, unyielding distance between them.
"No, don’t do this," Hakuryuu said, his voice dropping into a stern, immovable register.
Sheng stumbled back slightly, his eyes snapping open, wide with shock and a crushing wave of humiliation.
"I am sorry," Hakuryuu said, his breathing even but his eyes filled with a heavy, unyielding sorrow. "But you are not him. And I am not the person meant for you."
"You just told me I was!" Sheng yelled, his voice cracking as he slammed his hands down on the mahogany table. Tears of raw humiliation and fury pricked the corners of his red eyes. "And you told me I wasn't less than him! I don't want to go to Kou and find out if I like the Hakuryuu from my world when it's you that I—"
"Stop," Hakuryuu intercepted, his voice a sharp, immovable wall. He held his ground, his scarred face tight. "Listen to yourself, Sheng. You don't even know me. You want what someone else has, but you're not really him."
"I could be!" Sheng shouted, stepping closer, desperate and unraveling. "Just... give me a damn chance!"
Hakuryuu's brow furrowed into a deep, pained frown. He took a step back, the distance between them feeling like an insurmountable chasm. "I'm sorry. I have to go."
"You're such a hypocrite!" Sheng barked, a bitter, hysterical laugh bubbling up from his chest. "You spent all this time agonizing over your own cowardice? You feared getting rejected by him?! But you have absolutely no problem standing there and telling me that I don't even get a chance to keep you, just because I can't be him? I am the same person, don't you see that?!"
"No, you aren't," Hakuryuu said softly, the brutal truth dropping like lead between them.
Sheng recoiled as if he’d been struck. His face contorted in a mix of agonizing heartbreak and pure rage. Whirling on his heel, he began to storm off down the long, shadowed aisle of the imperial library.
"Judar!" Hakuryuu called after him, the name tearing from his throat by sheer reflex.
Sheng stopped dead in his tracks. He spun around, a blur of Sindrian silk, and closed the distance between them in a split second. Before Hakuryuu could even raise his guard, Sheng’s palm swung swung forward, connecting with Hakuryuu's scarred cheek in a loud, echoing crack.
"Don't call me that!" Sheng hissed, his chest heaving, his voice trembling violently. "You just said I wasn't him!"
Turning his face away to hide the tears spilling over his cheeks, Sheng fled the scene, his frantic footsteps echoing through the hollow library until the heavy doors slammed shut behind him.
Hakuryuu stood entirely still in the quiet aisle, the left side of his face burning from the blow. He felt absolutely awful. A heavy, suffocating weight pressed down on his lungs, making it difficult to breathe.
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The next day, the heavy air between them was thick with unresolved tension. Hakuryuu expected Sheng to completely avoid him, but instead, the Magi approached him in the courtyard, his posture stiff and his expression tightly controlled.
"If we can't be... what you want," Sheng said, his eyes fixed firmly on the stone tiles, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "Then let me at least be your friend while you're stuck here. I want to understand. I want to see what he sees."
Hakuryuu hesitated, the sting of the slap still fresh in his memory, but the sheer vulnerability in Sheng's voice made his throat tighten. Desperate to heal the rift he had caused, Hakuryuu gave a slow nod. "Alright. We can be friends, or try it at least."
In the weeks that followed, they spent almost all their time together. They walked the bustling streets of Sindria, shared quiet meals on the palace terraces, and pored over ancient texts in the library. To anyone else, it looked like a beautiful, blossoming companionship, but beneath the surface, Hakuryuu was playing a dangerous, exhausting game.
He was constantly on guard. Every time Sheng laughed at a joke, every time Sheng leaned in a bit too close to look at a map, or every time those bright red eyes softened with affection, Hakuryuu would intentionally pull back. He kept his posture rigid, his voice strictly formal, and his answers short. He deliberately placed a cold, unyielding barrier between them, ensuring that Sheng could never read his warmth, terrified that the Magi would fall in love with him even more than he already had. Hakuryuu forced himself to be a statue, preserving a cruel distance to protect them both.
The breaking point arrived on a humid evening, five weeks into Hakuryuu’s stay. They were standing on a secluded palace balcony overlooking the dark, whispering ocean. Sheng had reached out, his fingers hovering just short of Hakuryuu's scarred shoulder, a look of pure longing on his face.
Hakuryuu smoothly stepped to the side, evading the touch with practiced, agonizing coldness.
Sheng froze. His hand dropped back to his side, and the fragile composure he had maintained for weeks completely shattered.
"I can't do this anymore," Sheng whispered, his voice cracking. He stepped back, a bitter, trembling laugh escaping his lips. "I'm ending this. I'm ending this stupid friendship."
Hakuryuu turned to him, his chest tightening with dread. "You knew—"
"No! Shut up!" Sheng yelled, tears finally spilling over his cheeks. "I can't help myself around you! I try to stay away, I try to just be your friend, but I can't do it! Every time you pull away from me, it feels like a knife in my chest. And the worst part... the absolute worst part is that it hurts like I've known you for a whole lifetime. I look at you and it feels like we've spent decades together, like my soul remembers you, and it makes the distance you keep me at completely unbearable!"
Sheng took a desperate step forward, his chest heaving as he stared into Hakuryuu’s eyes, begging for a miracle. "I have to ask you one last time... do you really feel absolutely nothing for me? Is there nothing inside you that wants me?"
Hakuryuu stood rooted to the spot. He looked at Sheng's tear-stained face, seeing the reflection of his own desperate magician, but the phantom warmth of his own Judar held his heart in a vice grip. He couldn't lie, and he couldn't give Sheng a false hope.
"I am sorry," Hakuryuu said softly, his voice thick with a heavy, agonizing guilt. "I am so deeply sorry."
Sheng recoiled as if the apology were a physical blow. A look of profound, devastating humiliation crossed his features, quickly twisting into a raw, feral fury—not at Hakuryuu, but entirely at himself.
"I hate myself," Sheng hissed, his voice choking on a sob. "I hate myself for even asking!"
Whirling on his heel, Sheng fled the balcony, his frantic, stumbling footsteps echoing down the corridor as he ran off, completely consumed by anger and heartbreak at his own inability to move past a man who could never love him back.
Hakuryuu stood entirely still in the quiet of the night, the ocean breeze howling around him. He felt absolutely awful. A heavy, suffocating weight pressed down on his lungs, making it difficult to breathe.
Everything about this situation hurt. It was a vicious, overlapping cycle of misery. Sheng was left entirely heartbroken, violently confronted with an alternate version of himself that he could never reach, forced to realize his golden cage felt emptier than ever. Meanwhile, Hakuryuu had been forced to watch his own pristine counterpart live out a peaceful life with a family that he had brutally lost to the ash.
And back home... back in the reality where he actually belonged... the real Judar was completely alone. Twelve weeks had now passed. Judar probably thought Hakuryuu was either dead, or worse—that Hakuryuu had simply abandoned him, fleeing from the unspoken confession they had shared in the quiet of his study.
Hakuryuu gripped the dead obsidian compass tightly inside his sleeve, the sharp edges digging into his palm until it bled. He couldn't stay here anymore. This world was a paradise built on the misery of his ghosts, and if he didn't find a way out soon, it was going to destroy them all.
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Sinbad stepped into the aisle, his golden eyes fixed on Hakuryuu. "I saw Sheng leave," he said quietly, his voice carrying a weight that Hakuryuu recognized all too well. "I know my Magi is lonely, Hakuryuu. He has always carried a quiet restlessness that none of us could quite soothe, no matter how much we gave him. That’s why he is clinging to you so much."
Hakuryuu turned to face him, his grip tightening on his robes. "Then let him go, Sinbad. I plead with you—let Sheng leave Sindria. Let him find his true purpose."
Sinbad tilted his head, a sharp, defensive flicker in his gaze. "And what is that purpose? You?"
"No," Hakuryuu said without a shred of hesitation. "I am convinced that I am Judar's fate in every lifetime—but I am not Sheng's. He needs to meet the Hakuryuu of this world. They are the ones who belong together under this sky, but they will never cross paths as long as you keep him tethered here."
Sinbad frowned, crossing his arms. "Sheng chose to stay here. I protect my friends."
"You protect your pieces," Hakuryuu countered sharply, stepping closer. "In my world, you never learned how to admit when you made a mistake. You never learned how to back down, and it drove you to the brink of destroying everything. For Sheng's sake, do not repeat that arrogance here. You love him, but you view yourself as superior. You have built him a golden cage. For his sake, you need to let your Magi go."
Sinbad stood entirely still, the harsh words hanging in the quiet library. For a long moment, the pristine king looked as though he might strike Hakuryuu down. But as he looked into the scarred prince's unyielding, battle-worn eyes, something in Sinbad's posture shifted. The god-like certainty fractured, replaced by a heavy, mortal sigh.
He gave a slow, solemn nod. "I will think on your words."
‧⁺ ⊹˚.‧⁺ ⊹˚.‧⁺ ⊹˚.‧⁺ ⊹˚.‧⁺ ⊹˚.‧⁺ ⊹˚.‧⁺ ⊹˚
True to his word, Sinbad immediately commanded Yamuraiha and Sheng to focus all their efforts on the obsidian device. Two days later, Hakuryuu was summoned to the highest magical chamber in the Sindrian palace.
The atmosphere was suffocating. Sheng stood beside Yamuraiha, completely ignoring Hakuryuu's presence. His jaw was set, his red eyes dark and resentful. He was no longer the cheerful, laughing Magi Hakuryuu had first met; the rejection had carved a sharp, bitter edge into his demeanor.
"We figured it out," Yamuraiha announced, her voice tense as she adjusted her staff. "The device is a gateway, but it requires an immense, violent amount of Magoi to tear through the dimensional barrier. Sheng will have to channel his power directly through it while I stabilize the spatial rift."
Sheng stepped forward, his fingers twitching as he reached out and gripped one side of the obsidian stone. Hakuryuu took the other side, their fingers brushing. A visible shudder ran through Sheng’s frame, but he kept his eyes locked on the stone.
"Let's get this over with," Sheng muttered bitterly. "Go back to your messy, broken world."
Closing his eyes, a blinding torrent of pure, brilliant white rukh erupted from his body, pouring violently into the artifact. But the moment his pristine Magoi hit the stone, it violently collided with the residual, dark rukh Hakuryuu had left behind from his own universe.
The artifact sparked, a violent tremor shaking the entire room.
"Hold it steady!" Yamuraiha shouted, her defensive magic flaring as the air began to crack.
The clashing rukh didn't just destabilize the room—it folded their consciousnesses together. Because they shared the same soul across dimensions, the barrier between their minds collapsed.
Sheng let out a sharp, breathless gasp as a torrent of Hakuryuu's deepest, most private memories flooded directly into his brain.
He didn't just see the fire or the war. He felt the cold, quiet nights in the Kou palace. He felt the raw, terrifying vulnerability of Judar sliding his fingers into Hakuryuu's hair behind bolted doors. He felt the phantom warmth of Judar's breath against his neck, the biting, defensive sarcasm masking a desperate fear of being abandoned, and the absolute, unspoken certainty that they were two broken halves of a single soul, clinging to each other in the dark.
Sheng saw the truth: Judar wasn't a dirty secret because Hakuryuu didn't care. Judar was a secret because Hakuryuu had been too terrified to lose the only person who truly understood his darkness.
"Go!"
Sheng’s eyes snapped open, wide and wild with a profound, breathless understanding. The resentment in his face completely melted away, replaced by a stunned, aching awe. He looked at Hakuryuu, really seeing him for the first time—seeing the agonizing depth of the love Hakuryuu carried for a man who had been broken by the world.
A massive, swirling tear in reality ripped open in the center of the room, howling with the wind of a dark, ash-scented universe.
"I see it," Sheng whispered, his voice trembling as he poured the absolute last of his Magoi into the rift, forcing the portal to stay wide enough for a person to pass. He looked at Hakuryuu, a fierce, genuine smile breaking through his tears. "He really is waiting for you. Go!"
Hakuryuu didn't waste a single second. He offered Sheng one last look of profound gratitude, stepped away from the table, and threw himself headfirst into the roaring, chaotic darkness of the rift.
‧⁺ ⊹˚.‧⁺ ⊹˚.‧⁺ ⊹˚.‧⁺ ⊹˚.‧⁺ ⊹˚.‧⁺ ⊹˚.‧⁺ ⊹˚
The violent, roaring wind of the dimensional rift suddenly ceased, spitting Hakuryuu out onto the hard, cold stone floor of his imperial study. The air here was heavy, smelling faintly of old incense, ink, and the unmistakable, sharp scent of ozone. His own world. The dark, messy, beautifully broken reality he belonged to.
He barely had time to catch his breath before a sharp, familiar voice sliced through the dim room.
"Oh, look who decided to finally grace me with his presence!"
Hakuryuu pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, his heart hammering against his ribs. Standing by the window, arms crossed tightly over his chest, was Judar.
He looked exactly how Hakuryuu remembered, yet entirely worse for wear. His long, heavy dark braid was slightly unraveled, his black silks were rumpled, and his eyes were bloodshot, surrounded by dark circles of pure exhaustion. But instead of throwing himself at Hakuryuu, Judar aggressively turned his back, pouting like a petulant child and kicking a loose scroll across the floor.
"You left for three entire months!" Judar barked, his voice cracking with a volatile mix of childish stubbornness and raw, defensive fury. "You vanished without a single damn word! What, did you think this was some stupid, petty comeback just because I sometimes vanish for a night or two to enjoy my freedom and bother people? If you think making me wait this long is a joke, you're a stupid idiot, Ryuu! You can literally go fuck yourself from now on!"
Hakuryuu sat on the floor, staring at him. He didn't see a brat throwing a tantrum. He saw right through the armor. He remembered Sheng—the alternate Judar—silently longing for a deep, undeniable connection to someone, feeling trapped in a golden cage of superficial worship. And as vastly different as his Judar was from the pristine Sindrian Magi, Hakuryuu realized with absolute certainty: his Judar wanted that exact same connection. He had just been too stubborn to ask for it.
Hakuryuu stood up, his steps steady as he closed the distance between them.
"Judar," Hakuryuu blurted out, the words tearing from his chest before his cowardice could stop them. "I love you."
Judar froze, his shoulders tensing violently. He didn't turn around. "What the hell are you—"
"I love you," Hakuryuu repeated, rough and fiercely resolute, grabbing Judar’s shoulder and forcing the Magi to face him. "While I was gone, I saw a world where everything was perfect. A world where the fire never happened, where my family was alive, and where a version of you grew up happy and adored. But I didn't want any of it. I don't want anything else in this universe than you, exactly as you are—attitude, and all."
Judar stared at him, his red eyes wide, his childish pout completely evaporating. His chest rose and fell rapidly as the weight of the confession sank in. For a second, his lips trembled, but then a familiar, arrogant smirk broke through the vulnerability.
"Tch. It was about damn time you finally said it," Judar muttered.
Before the words could even fully leave his mouth, Judar lunged forward, fist bunching into Hakuryuu’s royal robes as he pulled him down into a fierce, desperate kiss. It wasn't gentle; it was a bruising, possessive collision of lips and teeth, a release of two months of agonizing terror and silent longing. Hakuryuu held him just as tightly, burying his hands in Judar's unraveled hair, anchoring himself to the only reality that mattered.
‧⁺ ⊹˚.‧⁺ ⊹˚.‧⁺ ⊹˚.‧⁺ ⊹˚.‧⁺ ⊹˚.‧⁺ ⊹˚.‧⁺ ⊹˚
Hours later, the storm had finally settled.
They lay tangled together in the heavy silks of Hakuryuu’s imperial bed, spent, naked, and covered in a light sheen of sweat. The room was quiet save for their rhythmic breathing. Judar was sprawled half-across Hakuryuu's chest, his fingers idly tracing the line of the burn scars on Hakuryuu's shoulder.
"You're never allowed to leave me again," Judar murmured into the dark, his voice low and fiercely possessive. "Not for a war, not for a kingdom... and definitely not for me in some fucked-up, perfect dimension. You're mine."
Hakuryuu trailed his hand down Judar's bare back, a soft smile gracing his lips. "I know. I'm not going anywhere."
"Good," Judar grumbled, shifting his weight. "Because you owe me. Big time. Do you have any idea what I had to do? I got so desperate looking for you that I actually went and asked that annoying little brat Aladdin to help me force open a spatial barrier to drag you back."
Hakuryuu paused, a genuine wave of warmth washing over him. "You asked Aladdin for help?"
"Don't make a big deal out of it," Judar hissed, his face flushing slightly as he looked away. "He's the only one who understands the Sacred Palace's dimensional crap."
"I am incredibly flattered," Hakuryuu teased gently, his voice a low rasp as he pressed a kiss to the top of Judar's head. "I know what it means for you to lower your principles for my sake."
"Shut up and let me sleep," Judar muttered, though he pulled himself closer, burying his face into the crook of Hakuryuu's neck “I swear if I hear that the other Judar kissed or touched you I'm going to find and kill him. But you’re just going to tell me you were righteous and stayed pure cause you only want me, right? Sappy idiot.” Within minutes, the heavy, exhausting toll of the past three months caught up to the former Magi, and his breathing lengthened into a deep, peaceful slumber.
Hakuryuu remained awake for a long time, listening to the steady, comforting rhythm of Judar's heartbeat against his chest.
He tilted his head back, looking out through the open balcony doors at the starlit sky of his own universe. The stars here were sharp, cold, and beautiful. As he watched the silver light dance across the dark horizon, his mind wandered back to the pristine, western kingdom of Sindria.
He thought of Sheng, the Magi who had cried tears of frustration and longing in a quiet library, who had ultimately swallowed his own heartbreak to force the portal open and send Hakuryuu home.
‘I hope you find him,’ Hakuryuu thought silently into the night. ‘I hope you leave that golden cage, go to Kou, and find the Hakuryuu who belongs to you.’
With a final, content sigh, Hakuryuu wrapped his arms tighter around his own sleeping magician, completely at peace in the beautiful ruin of his world.
‧⁺ ⊹˚.‧⁺ ⊹˚.‧⁺ ⊹˚.‧⁺ ⊹˚.‧⁺ ⊹˚.‧⁺ ⊹˚.‧⁺ ⊹˚
Across the boundaries of the universe, under a sky that had never known the ash of a burning palace, the alternate Hakuryuu sat in his grand imperial study. The quiet of the room was interrupted by a hesitant knock from his assistant.
"Prince Hakuryuu," the attendant announced, bowing low. "A guest has arrived from the west. The Magi of Sindria is here, and he requests an audience with you specifically."
Hakuryuu's brow furrowed. He remembered the dark, scarred version of himself who had passed through their world weeks ago, a man who had left behind warnings, a profound grief, and a heavy command to protect their family. He also remembered what that man had said about the western Magi.
With a tight nod, Hakuryuu agreed reluctantly. "Let him in."
The heavy wooden doors slid open, and Sheng stepped into the room. But he was no longer dressed in the vibrant, open silks of Sindria. He wore dark, structured garments that mirrored the dignity of the Kou Empire, his loose braid swinging slightly against his shoulder. As he approached the desk, the cheerful, easygoing facade he usually carried was completely gone.
Sheng dropped to one knee, lowering his head, and offered a flawless, formal imperial bow.
"Prince Hakuryuu," he began, his voice carrying an unyielding, intense weight. "I am asking to become Kou's Magi. I want to stand by your side, and I want to make you a king."
Hakuryuu stared down at the kneeling magician, a wave of cautious hesitation washing over him. He stood up from his desk and stepped closer. "You are chasing after a ghost," Hakuryuu said softly, his voice clear but guarded. "You are looking for someone I am not. I do not share a past with you, and I am not the battle-hardened man my alternate version claimed to be."
Sheng raised his head, his brilliant red eyes locking onto Hakuryuu's with a fierce, unwavering conviction.
"I know that," Sheng said, his chest rising and falling with a heavy breath. "But I believe what he said. I believe that we are soulmates across the fabric of time. The versions of us in that other world had to go through absolute horror, trauma, and grief to find their connection. But we don't have to break the world to build something together. We can match each other just as deeply, right here, right now, in the light."
A soft, genuine smile finally broke across Hakuryuu's unscarred face. The heavy burden of his alternate self's warnings seemed to lift from his shoulders, replaced by a strange, fated warmth. He realized he had always imagined the legendary Magi as intimidating, dark figures—but looking at the determination in the man before him, he knew he wanted this connection just as badly.
"I had always imagined a Magi as someone entirely different," Hakuryuu said softly, extending his hand. "But I would gladly take you by my side."
He grasped Sheng's hand, his grip firm and grounding, and helped the magician up to his feet. Hakuryuu looked around the spacious, luxurious room. "Sheng... you may stay in Kou for as long as you want."
The magician offered a faint, bittersweet smile, slowly shaking his head.
"My name is Judar," he corrected quietly, his eyes shining with a newfound sense of liberation. "In some other timeline, that name had been given to a stolen child, a badge of tragedy forced upon him by abusers. But this time, no one took me. No one broke me. I am choosing this name for myself, because it belongs to the person meant to be by your side."
Hakuryuu looked at him, the final piece of the dimensional puzzle clicking beautifully into place. He gave a decisive, welcoming nod.
"Welcome home then, Judar."