Chapter Text
The Henituse estate was quiet that morning.
Well… not exactly.
Because that peace was shattered by a small, red-haired missile tearing through the garden at full speed, laughing like a tiny gremlin who'd just discovered caffeine existed.
Running.
Running.
Running.
Little Cale Henituse— all of eight years old— sprinted across the courtyard with the boundless energy of a child who had definitely consumed an entire jar of sugar when no one was looking. His red hair bounced with every step, and his laughter echoed off the stone walls like a chaotic symphony.
"Faster! Faster!" he shouted to no one in particular, dodging a startled cleaner and nearly colliding with a maid carrying laundry.
"Sorry! I'll be careful next time!" Cale shouted back, waving enthusiastically as he zoomed past a gardener. "The flowers look beautiful today! Did you water them? Of course you did! You're amazing!"
The man blinked, slightly overwhelmed by the sheer brightness of the child. "Th-Thank you, Young Master."
But the boy didn't wait— he was already chasing after a rabbit that had made the unfortunate decision to exist in his vicinity.
The servants around him smiled fondly. The young master was always like this— bright and utterly exhausting to keep up with.
But then, mid-stride, Cale stopped.
His feet planted firmly on the ground. Arms dropped to his sides. And his cheerful face went completely, unnervingly blank.
The servants who noticed paused in confusion.
Then... "Cale" blinked rapidly. After a second, as if remembering something, he started moving again.
But it was... weird.
The boy's arms barely swung. His earlier enthusiasm was gone as he moved like someone who was being forced to exercise against their will. And his face remained unusually expressionless.
A passing servant whispered to another, "Is the young master... tired?"
"Perhaps he ate something bad?"
Unbeknownst to them, inside the mind of Cale Henituse, a conversation was happening.
'What are you doing?' Cale asked, his voice echoing in their shared mental space. He was very clearly not amused. 'You look ridiculous.'
'I'm trying to avoid suspicion,' Rok Soo replied flatly. 'You were just running around like a lunatic. Someone would notice if we suddenly stopped completely.'
'So you decided to jog like an old man?'
'I'm tired, so this is the best you're getting.'
Cale snorted. 'You're so lazy.'
From his position near the garden entrance, Ron's lips curved into a small smile.
'Ah. It seems I'll be serving the other personality today.'
---
'Don't,' Rok Soo warned as Cale approached a LARGE tree trunk in the middle of the garden.
'Don't what?' Cale asked innocently, already reaching for the first branch.
'Don't climb it.'
'I'm going to~.'
'Cale—'
'Already climbing it.'
'You're going to fall.'
'I never fall.'
'You fell last month!'
'That was ONE time!'
'You broke our arm!'
'It healed!'
Rok Soo made a sound of pure frustration inside their mind. 'Why do you never listen to me?'
'Because I'm older,' Cale replied cheerfully, hoisting himself up another branch.
'That's not the point!'
Instead of answering, Cale climbed higher and higher. The ground grew distant, the wind grew stronger, and Rok Soo's internal screaming grew louder.
'We're going to fall,' he repeated.
'We're not going to.'
'You're going to fall and I'm going to feel it too and I don't like pain.'
'Then stop complaining, or we'll really fall.'
'……'
At last, Cale reached the very top— or at least, as high as he could safely go without giving Rok Soo a heart attack.
And—
The view was incredible from there. The entire estate spread out beneath them like a painting. The gardens, the training grounds, the stables— all visible from this height.
'Beautiful,' Cale breathed.
'Get us down,' Rok Soo said.
'What?'
'Get. Us. Down.'
'We just got up here!'
'I don't care! Get us down.'
Cale rolled his eyes— mentally, since his physical eyes were busy admiring the view. 'You're so boring.'
'Get. Us. Down. NOW.'
'Fine,' Cale replied, a mischievous edge creeping into his mental voice. 'I'll get you down.'
'Thank— wait. Why do you sound like that?'
'Like what?'
'Like you're planning something evil.'
'What are you talking about?'
'Cale, I swear—'
But it was too late.
Cale, as the original owner of the body, had complete control over their switches. He could give control whenever he wanted. He could also take it back whenever he wanted. And right now, he wanted Rok Soo to experience the consequences of his own nagging.
One moment, Cale was in control.
The next moment, Rok Soo was in control— and immediately, viscerally aware of how high up they were.
He slowly looked down.
The ground was far. Very far. The garden stretched out below him like a distant dream.
Rok Soo's hands tightened on the bark.
"...Cale."
'Mm?'
'Take over.'
'Nuh uh.'
'THE FUCK YOU MEAN "NUH UH"?! YUH UH! YOU GOT US HERE!'
'You said I should stop climbing. So I stopped. You're welcome.'
'I meant stop climbing and come DOWN. Not stop climbing and LEAVE ME UP HERE!'
'Should've been more specific.'
Rok Soo wanted to scream. He wanted to shake the tree. He wanted to strangle Cale, which was impossible because they shared a body, but he wanted to try anyway.
He looked down again.
His hands tightened on the branch. His heart pounded. His stomach dropped further.
'...Cale,' he called out, his mental voice very calm. 'Take over.'
'No.' Cale's voice was practically dripping with smug satisfaction. 'You wanted us to come down. Well, here you are. Come down.'
'I don't know how.'
'Sure you do. Just... climb down.'
'That's not helpful.'
'How is it not helpful? You just do the opposite of climbing up.'
'Cale Henituse! Get our ass down!'
'Language,' Cale said primly. 'We're only eight. We shouldn't swear.'
'I will swear as much as I want when we're about to DIE!'
'You're being dramatic. Just call Ron if you're so scared.'
Silence.
Complete, utter silence in their shared mind.
Rok Soo's grip on the branch tightened until his knuckles turned white.
'No,' he said after a long time.
'Why not??'
'Because.'
'Because why?'
'Because I said so.'
'Ah hah! I knew it! You're scared of him.'
Rok Soo didn't respond.
'You're scared of Ron,' Cale continued, glee evident in his voice. 'You're scared of our butler~.'
'Cale, I swear—'
'You swear what? You're stuck inside our body. You can't do anything.'
Rok Soo closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The branch swayed slightly. He immediately regretted the deep breath.
'Please,' he practically begged, his voice small. 'Please take over.'
'No.'
'Cale.'
'Nooo.'
'Cale, I'm begging you. Please just—'
"Young Master."
Both souls froze.
Below them, standing at the base of the tree with his hands clasped behind his back, was Ron Molan. The butler's expression was calm. His smile was gemtle.
"Young Master," Ron called again, his voice carrying easily up to them. "What are you doing up there?"
Rok Soo's mouth opened. No sound came out.
'Answer him,' Cale urged.
'I can't.'
'Why not?'
'Because my voice isn't working.'
'Our voice works fine. You're just scared.'
'I'm not—'
"Young Master?" Ron's smile widened. "Shall I come up and get you?"
'NO!' Rok Soo's mental voice was a shriek. 'Tell him no!'
'Tell him yourself. You're in control.'
'CALE!'
'Fine, fine.'
Cale finally took mercy on him and took over.
The switch was seamless— one moment Rok Soo was in control, paralyzed with fear; the next, Cale was in charge, relaxed and smiling brightly.
"Ron!" he called down cheerfully. "I was just admiring the view!"
Ron's eyebrow rose slightly. "I see. And does the view require you to be almost at the very top of the tree?"
"Of course! You can't see anything from the bottom!"
"I see." Ron's voice was amused as if he was enjoying this very much— much to Rok Soo's distaste. "And how do you plan to come down?"
Cale grinned. "I was hoping you could help!"
'Traitor,' Rok Soo muttered.
'You're welcome!'
Ron, ever efficient, climbed the tree with the ease of someone who had done this many times before. Within minutes, he had reached them, and with a firm but gentle grip, he helped Cale descend.
When they reached the ground, Rok Soo took over again— but only because Cale forced him to.
'Your turn,' Cale said sing-songly. 'You wanted to come down. Now enjoy your moment.'
'I hate you.'
'Love you too~.'
Ron watched the subtle shift in the boy's posture, and the way his eyes darted around nervously.
"Young Master," the butler's voice was benign as always. "Would you like some lemonade?"
Rok Soo's face went paler— which was amazing considering how pale Cale Henituse already was.
"I..."
Ron smiled. It was still a kind smile. It was also the smile of a predator who had cornered his prey.
"I'll fetch some for you," Ron bowed, already turning. "You must be thirsty after all that climbing."
Rok Soo stared after him, horrified.
'You're pathetic. Just say no if you don't want anything. It's not like Ron will ignore your orders,' Cale teased him once again.
'Shut up. You know very well what he is.'
'He's just a butler.' Cale wheezed inside their mind. 'A butler who could kill you, sure, but still!'
'I hate you.'
'Love you too~!'
---
The servants had prepared a lovely snack for their young master.
Freshly baked cookies. Sliced fruits. A small glass of milk. It was all arranged beautifully on a silver tray in the garden room.
Cale sat down and immediately wrinkled his nose cutely.
"I don't want the green ones," he announced, pushing the kiwi slices away. "They're weird. And these cookies have nuts in them. I don't like nuts. Where are the chocolate ones?"
The servants looked helplessly at the young boy— who had happily eaten these very things just a day before. As much as they were fond of this little menace, it was almost impossible to keep up with his sudden mood swings.
A maid bowed. "We'll bring them right away, Young Master."
"And I want strawberry milk, not regular milk. Regular milk is boring."
"Of course, Young Master."
Cale continued to pick at his food, eating only the things he deemed acceptable. The servants exchanged glances but said nothing. They were already used to it... well... mostly.
Sometimes, the young master acted like a picky eater— but sometimes, he finished everything on his plate without a single complaint.
So it was hard to know what his actual preferences were.
Then, mid-bite, Cale froze for a second.
And when he reached for the food again, he picked up a kiwi slice and ate it.
The servants stared.
He ate another.
And another.
He ate the nut cookies. He drank the regular milk. He ate everything on the plate calmly.
"Young Master?" one servant ventured. "Are... are you enjoying the food?"
The boy looked up. "It's fine, thank you."
"But you said you didn't like—"
"I apologize. I changed my mind."
The servants exchanged more glances. Just moments ago, the young master had been complaining about everything. Now, he was eating like he hadn't seen food in days.
"Is everything alright, Young Master?"
"Cale" nodded, reaching for another cookie. "Yes. Why?"
"...No reason."
The servants decided not to question it. The young master was strange. Everyone knew better than to question anything anymore.
'They think you're crazy,' Cale laughed uncontrollably inside their mind.
'They think WE'RE crazy.'
'… Fair point.'
---
That night, Cale had a nightmare.
It wasn't unusual. He had them often— dreams of his mother, of her soft voice and gentle hands, of the day she left and never came back. He dreamed of her smile, her laugh, the way she used to sing him to sleep.
He dreamed of her funeral.
The dream was vivid. Too realistic. He could hear the rain, feel the cold, see the black umbrellas and the sea of mourners. He could see his father's face, pale and broken. He could see the elegant coffin.
But he couldn't see his mother.
Because she was gone.
'Cale.'
A soft voice called out. It wasn't his mother's voice, but it was just as familiar and smoothing.
'Cale, wake up.'
He didn't want to wake up. Waking up meant facing the truth. Waking up meant accepting that she was really gone.
'Cale.'
'Go away,' he mumbled.
'Cale.'
'No.'
'Let me read to you.'
Cale paused.
'...What?'
'You always like it when I read. Remember?'
Cale remembered. When they were younger, when the nightmares were worse, Rok Soo would read to him. Silly stories, mostly— adventures and fantasies and tales of brave knights and clever thieves.
He liked those stories. And he liked them more when it was Rok Soo who read them.
'...Fine.' He let the younger take control.
Rok Soo opened their eyes. The room was dark, lit only by the faint glow of moonlight through the curtains. He sat up slowly, careful not to disturb the blankets too much.
Then he reached for a book on the nightstand.
It was one of Cale's stories— a fantasy adventure about a dragon and a boy who could talk to animals— written by none other than the older redhead. Rok Soo had read it dozens of times. It was his favorite book.
He opened to the first page.
"Once upon a time," he began, his voice softer than usual, "there was a boy who could talk to animals..."
He read.
He read about the boy's adventures, his friendships, his triumphs. He read about the dragon who became his companion, the villain who tried to destroy them, the final battle that decided everything.
He read until their voice grew hoarse.
He read until he felt Cale calming down.
He read until the nightmare was nothing more than a distant memory.
'Thank you,' Cale whispered, already half-asleep.
Rok Soo smiled.
'Goodnight, Cale.'
'Mmm, goodnight, Rok Soo.'
---
The next morning, Ron served breakfast with his usual calm smile.
"Did you sleep well, Young Master?"
"Yes," Rok Soo said— because Cale was still asleep, and someone had to answer.
Ron's smile widened. "I'm glad. I was worried, after your... unusual behavior yesterday."
Rok Soo's face remained blank from the outside. "I'm fine. No need to worry."
"Of course you are." Ron placed a glass in front of him. "I brought you something special."
The boy looked at the glass.
It was lemonade.
His eye twitched.
'Don't drink it if you don't want to,' Cale muttered, still half-asleep.
'I can't say no to him.'
'You can. Just open your mouth and say the word "no."'
'What if he gets angry?'
'He won't get angry.'
'What if he does?'
'Doesn't matter.'
'But what if—'
"Young Master?" Ron's gentle voice brought them back to reality. "Is something wrong?"
Rok Soo looked at Ron.
Ron looked back.
The kind smile never wavered.
Rok Soo picked up the glass and drank.
'You're hopeless,' Cale snickered.
Ron watched the boy drink with obvious satisfaction. "Would you like some more?"
'Say no,' Cale urged.
"No, thank you," Rok Soo uttered quickly under pressure.
Ron's smile widened if it was even possible. "Very well. But I'll leave the pitcher here, in case you change your mind."
He set the pitcher down and walked away.
Rok Soo stared at it as he ignored Cale's teasing as if it was merely a background sound.
---
And so life continued in the Henituse estate.
Two souls. One body. Endless confusion.
The servants whispered about the young master's mood swings. Some even said he might have bipolar personality.
And Cale and Rok Soo— two halves of the same soul— continued their journey together.