The sky outside Elric's office was painted gray. A thin mist clung to the windowsills, and droplets of rain began to tap gently against the glass like hesitant fingers.
The butler stepped into the room, his gloved hands holding a single envelope marked with a familiar golden seal.
"From the capital, my lady," he announced, bowing slightly.
Elric took the letter without a word. Her fingers lingered on the wax insignia—an imperial crest woven with roses and swords.
She already knew who it was from.
She broke the seal.
The letter was brief. The handwriting was unmistakable.
Why didn't you invite me to your tea party?
I even picked flowers from my garden to decorate your office.
—R
Elric sighed, long and heavy.
"So much for another month."
She folded the note and placed it on her desk with care, though her expression betrayed mild exasperation. The last thing she needed right now was him appearing unannounced.
A knock came.
Robert entered, a folder in hand. "Progress report for the young master."
She handed him the opened letter.
He skimmed it in silence.
"You didn't send anything, did you?" she asked.
Robert shook his head. "Never. I did try, once. But the paper never survived your fireplace."
Elric pressed her knuckles to her lips, thinking. "Then how does he know Kael's awake?"
Robert hesitated. "…It's possible someone in the estate—"
"No," Elric snapped gently. "I chose every maid, every guard, every gardener myself."
Robert's eyes narrowed. "This is Reinhardt. He doesn't need a spy when he has shadows."
She didn't answer immediately.
Instead, she turned toward the window, eyes watching the rain trace lines on the glass.
"Kael's not ready."
Robert remained still.
"They were close," Elric murmured. "Long before the prophecy. Before the throne. I'm afraid… seeing him again might undo everything Kael's worked for."
Robert's voice softened. "Or… it might be the one thing that brings him back."
But neither of them could decide. Because—
At that very moment—
Reinhardt was already there.
Outside Kael's room.
The balcony doors had been left slightly ajar to let the morning air in. Mist curled through the crack, clinging to the edges of the stone rail.
Kael sat curled in a chair by the balcony, a book open in his lap. The drizzle had started to fade, leaving only the smell of damp earth and roses in the wind.
He hadn't heard the footsteps.
He hadn't sensed the presence.
Until—
"Long time no see, huh?"
Kael turned sharply.
A man stood there, cloaked in black, his dark coat still glistening from the rain. His hair was damp, his expression unreadable—somewhere between a smile and something far more fragile.
Kael's breath hitched.
He didn't know this man.
New voice. New face. A stranger.
He sat rigid, fingers tightening around the edge of his book.
"What are you reading?" Reinhardt asked casually, stepping closer. His tone was warm, almost teasing, like they were simply continuing a conversation left unfinished years ago.
Kael didn't answer.
He watched every movement, alert like a cornered animal.
"Did Robert just leave?" Reinhardt continued, now only a step away. "Tsk. Typical."
Without asking, he sat beside Kael on the stone bench.
Kael immediately flinched.
He stood abruptly, stumbling backward. His bare feet slid slightly on the wet floor as he tried to distance himself. Panic flickered in his eyes—this man wasn't a servant. His clothes were too fine, his bearing too noble.
Reinhardt paused, eyes watching him with something unreadable.
"…So that's why no one told me."
The words were quiet. Almost a whisper.
His voice held no anger.
Only a shadow of something broken.
Kael's balance faltered. His hand missed the railing. His knees gave way.
Reinhardt moved before Kael could fall.
He caught him—gently, without force.
Kael struggled, pushing back weakly, and Reinhardt released him without hesitation. No resistance. No force.
A flicker of pain crossed the man's face—but it was gone in a blink.
He offered a faint smile instead. "This is new," he murmured, kneeling beside Kael, his eyes searching the red-gold ones that had once burned like fire.
No recognition.
Not even a flicker.
Just silence.
Footsteps echoed down the hallway.
Robert.
Reinhardt exhaled, then stood.
"I need to go," he said, brushing water off his shoulder. "See you."
He turned toward the balcony rail.
"Don't tell anyone."
And with a soft movement, he stepped onto the ledge—and vanished into the mist.
Like he had never been there at all.