The classroom was empty.
Not abandoned—just momentarily forgotten.
The hum of academy life continued beyond the walls: distant footsteps, murmured conversations, the echo of bells signaling the next lesson. But inside Class A, time seemed to slow, heavy with unspoken tension.
Aster stood near the back window, hands resting lightly on the stone sill, silver eyes unfocused as he stared out at the academy grounds below. Students crossed paths in neat uniforms, laughing, arguing, living their lives as if nothing had happened.
As if something hadn't just cracked open.
Behind him, Astra sat quietly at the desk, the broken fragments of the shattered headphones arranged carefully in front of her. Lea leaned against a pillar, arms folded tightly across her chest, jaw clenched. Rain stood near the door, posture alert—not out of fear, but out of instinct—ensuring no one wandered in.
Only when the corridor outside fell completely silent did Aster speak again.
"…I didn't want anyone else to hear this."
Lea exhaled sharply. "Good. Because whatever that bastard's problem is, it's not something we should gossip about."
Rain nodded once. "Some stories are dangerous when overheard."
Astra turned toward her brother. "You said you remembered something."
Aster closed his eyes for a moment.
Then he turned around.
"Yes," he said quietly. "Something from the royal records. Something most people don't read closely—because it doesn't end neatly."
He walked back toward them, stopping beside Astra.
"It's about Kain's sister."
Lea stiffened instantly. "The one you mentioned earlier."
Aster nodded.
"She was born eleven years before Kain," he began. "The first child of Duke Kaiser. The firstborn of the Kaiser family."
Rain's expression sharpened. "So she was the original heir."
"Yes."
The Kaiser family was one of the oldest ducal houses in Vornis. Their bloodline was famous for one thing above all else:
Earth magic.
Not just basic manipulation—but high-density reinforcement, terrain domination, and defensive constructs strong enough to hold battle lines alone.
"For generations," Aster continued, "the Kaiser family produced earth mages. Powerful ones. Reliable ones."
Lea muttered, "The kind generals love."
"Exactly," Aster said. "Their magic defined their role in the kingdom. Frontline defense. Siege control. Territorial dominance."
He paused.
"And the firstborn of that family… was expected to embody all of it."
From the moment she was born, the girl was treated as the future.
Not trained in magic—because magic hadn't awakened yet—but raised with expectation.
She was brought to formal gatherings as an infant.
Presented to retainers.
Shown to allied houses.
Everyone saw of her as the next Duke.
"They can't really train children magically before awakening as an infant," Aster clarified. "That would be meaningless. But they prepared her in every other way."
Etiquette.
Presence.
Authority. (She was surrounded by everything even as an infant)
"She grew up surrounded by certainty," Aster said quietly. "Certainty that she would inherit the dukedom."
Astra felt her chest tighten. "Until the Naming Ceremony."
"Yes."
Aster's voice lowered.
"When she was one month old, she was taken to the church. Just like everyone else. The Naming Ceremony."
That was when magic revealed destiny.
That was when fate spoke.
"When her attribute manifested… it wasn't earth."
The room felt colder.
"It was sound magic."
Rain inhaled sharply.
Lea's hands clenched. "In an earth mage family…"
"For a moment," Aster said, "no one reacted."
Because sound magic wasn't wrong or evil, it's one of the rarest magic.
But it wasn't right either.
"In noble society," Aster continued, "magic isn't judged by rarity alone. It's judged by usefulness."
Earth magic built walls.
Held territory.
Won wars.
Sound magic?
It didn't fit doctrine.
Some pitied her.
Some whispered.
Some said nothing—but their expectations quietly dissolved.
"And the worst part," Aster said, "was that nothing dramatic happened."
No banishment.
No punishment.
No scandal.
"Her father didn't rage," Aster said. "Didn't shout. Didn't accuse her."
He paused.
"He simply… stopped looking at her."
Astra felt a chill creep down her spine.
"When she became three years old, Heir tutors were reassigned," Aster continued. "Political lessons reduced. Retainers stopped addressing her as 'future Duke.'"
The title vanished without announcement.
"As if," Aster said softly, "the future rewrote itself overnight."
Lea swallowed. "That's cruel."
"Yes," Aster agreed. "Because it taught her something very early."
That her worth depended on compatibility.
"…Her mother?" Astra asked.
"She loved her," Aster said immediately. "That much was clear."
Her mother defended her gently. Encouraged her to pursue knowledge. Told her that magic didn't define her value.
"And Kain?" Rain asked quietly.
Aster nodded. "He was born eleven years later."
By then, the family had already adjusted.
"They hoped," Aster said, "that the next child would awaken earth magic."
When Kain did, the relief was immense.
But that didn't mean his sister didn't love him.
"She was kind to him," Aster said softly. "Protected him. Sang to him."
Astra's breath hitched.
"She loved sound," Aster continued. "Not just as magic—but as expression."
She told Kain stories.
Used sound magic playfully.
Created small vibrations to amuse him.
"She was gentle," Aster said. "Even when the world wasn't."
But kindness didn't change reality.
"As she grew older," Aster said, "she realized something."
Sound magic had no foundation.
No established techniques.
No respected combat role.
No academic framework.
"So she began to study," Aster said. "Alone."
Rain murmured, "…Like you did."
"Yes."
"She searched old texts," Aster continued. "Ancient fragments. Failed theories."
But unlike Aster—
"She didn't think of and She didn't have engineers. She didn't have rune logic. She didn't have resonance theory."
Sound magic was treated as novelty.
"When she trained her mana," Aster said, "nothing happened."
Earth mages grew stronger through reinforcement.
Sound magic didn't respond to brute force.
"You can't dominate resonance," Aster said quietly. "You have to understand it."
Lea shook her head. "She was born too early, if she was born in our generation then maybe"
"Yes."
At some point, she made a decision.
"When Kain was four," Aster said, "she announced she was going on a research journey."
No one stopped her.
Not because they were cruel—
But because they had already let go.
"She traveled across Vornis," Aster said. "Visited academies. Scholars. Artificers."
Some laughed.
Some ignored her.
A few listened—but couldn't help.
"She returned several times," Aster said. "Each time more tired."
But she didn't give up.
"When she heard about the royal twins," Aster continued, "she felt only pity."
Astra's eyes widened. "For us?"
"Yes."
"She believed you would face the same fate."
Isolation.
Dismissal.
Obsolescence.
"And when she turned sixteen," Aster said softly, "she reached adulthood."
He paused.
"She wrote a letter."
No accusations.
No hatred.
Just gratitude to her mother.
An apology to her brother.
And a single line—
I will keep searching.
Then she vanished.
Rain whispered, "Where did she go?"
"Nobody knows" Aster said. "No trail."
Silence settled.
"…And Kain?" Lea asked.
Aster looked down.
"He was named heir."
The expectations that crushed his sister—
Were placed on him.
"But he remembered," Aster said. "He remembered everything."
Her kindness.
Her suffering.
Her disappearance.
"And now," Aster continued, "he watches sound magic succeed."
Albums loved by millions.
Devices respected by scholars.
Sound magic gaining legitimacy.
"For him," Aster said quietly, "that isn't progress."
"It's proof."
Proof that sound magic was never worthless.
Proof that his sister didn't fail.
The world failed her.
Astra wiped her eyes silently.
Lea's voice trembled. "…So when he broke the headphones…"
"He wasn't insulting me," Aster said. "He was denying reality."
Rain spoke softly. "Because if sound magic can thrive now…"
"Then his sister could have thrived too," Aster finished.
Aster picked up one shard of the broken device.
"She wasn't weak," he said firmly. "She simply chose her own path, in search of greatness"
He looked at the three of them.
"And I won't let her story be forgotten."
Astra reached out and took his hand.
Lea nodded grimly.
Rain's eyes shone with quiet resolve.
Outside, academy bells rang.
Life moved on.
But something fundamental had changed.
Because now—
Sound magic wasn't just Aster's dream.
It was an inheritance.
And he intended to finish what the world never allowed her to begin.
************************
Far away from Vornis, beneath a sky far older than memory itself, Klee Kaiser stood within the ancient country of Solaria.
The air here felt different.
Not heavier—older.
Stone towers rose like the bones of forgotten gods, their surfaces etched with runes that no modern scholar fully understood. Mana flowed openly in Solaria, unrestrained by contemporary systems, humming through the ground, the air, even through silence itself.
(It was an abandoned country, with only a few native tribes living there)
Klee adjusted the worn cloak around her shoulders and stepped into the archive hall.
She had walked this path for years.
Kingdom to kingdom.
Library to library.
Ruin to ruin.
Searching.
Always searching.
Sound magic.
Not as it existed now—but as it once was.
She ran her fingers along a cracked tablet, feeling the faint vibration embedded in the stone. Primitive. Imperfect. But intentional.
"So it was known," she murmured softly.
Sound had once been a pillar of magic.
Not a tool for war—but for resonance, harmony, and connection.
A faint smile touched her lips.
A robed scholar approached, bowing respectfully. "Lady Kaiser. merchants from Vornis arrived this morning."
Klee paused.
"…From Vornis?"
"Yes," the scholar said. "They brought news. About music."
Music.
The word alone made her heart stir.
Later that evening, she stood on a balcony overlooking Solaria's golden streets, listening as a foreign merchant excitedly spoke.
"—they call them the Snowflakes. Twins. Royal blood. Sound magic like nothing the world has seen."
Klee's breath caught.
"Albums that sell across borders."
"Inventions that let sound be carried anywhere."
"Children who turned sound into something… undeniable."
She closed her eyes.
Sound magic.
Alive.
Thriving.
"…So it finally happened," she whispered.
For the first time in years, there was no bitterness in her chest.
Only awe.
Someone had succeeded.
Someone had found the path she never could—because the world had not been ready then.
She looked up at the ancient sky of Solaria, stars shifting slowly as if listening.
"Snowflakes," she repeated quietly.
Her fingers tightened around the old tablet.
Her research was not finished.
There were still truths buried too deep for children—no matter how brilliant—to uncover alone.
But soon…
Very soon…
She would return.
Not as a discarded heir.
Not as a failure.
But as someone who had walked the long road first.
And this time—
Sound magic would not walk alone.