The weight of the world didn't crash down on Kael.
It simply settled.
Quietly. Slowly. Like a blanket of fog that no longer asked permission to stay.
He opened his eyes—eyes that had seen too much and yet seemed to see nothing at all. The room around him was dim. Familiar. Still.
Beside him, a warm hand trembled in his grasp.
"Elric…" Robert's whisper cracked. "He's awake…"
Elric choked on a breath and leaned closer. Her hand squeezed Kael's fingers as tightly as her heart would allow. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks, unhidden, unashamed. Her noble composure had vanished, replaced with nothing but raw, desperate humanity.
Kael didn't look at her.
Didn't move his hand.
Didn't flinch.
He stared up at the ceiling—eyes dry, unblinking, unmoved.
A doll in a broken display.
"Kael… please… say something…" Elric's voice trembled.
Robert stepped forward, his voice shaking harder than his limbs. "Young Master, it's me… Robert. Do you hear me?"
But the young man lying in bed didn't blink. Didn't nod. Didn't twitch a muscle.
Just silence.
-----------------------------------------
Later, Robert's tone grew lower, burdened with guilt and fatigue.
"His mana... it's unstable," he said, unable to meet Elric's eyes. "It's fading. Not from damage... but from him. He's letting go."
Elric's hands clenched in her lap. "This is our fault. We pushed him too hard. We told him to recover, to stand, to remember. But…"
She swallowed back tears.
"We never let him rest."
Robert's expression darkened. "He didn't fall from that tower."
Elric blinked at him.
"He walked there. Alone. He stood at the edge. I wasn't fast enough. I didn't reach him in time." His voice cracked. "I think he… I think he meant to—"
"Don't," Elric whispered, cutting him off. "Don't say it."
A heavy pause fell between them before she forced herself to breathe again. "We can't give up. Don't show him our sadness. If he sees us broken… I'm afraid he'll never come back."
-----------------------------------------
Kael didn't respond to any questions the following day.
Didn't react when Robert adjusted his pillows. Didn't blink when Elric brushed his hair away from his eyes. Even the sound of the window opening, the sunlight streaming in—none of it reached him.
He didn't flinch when the servants entered his room to clean or change the curtains.
Not even when one of them knocked a tray to the floor.
His eyes were open.
But his soul was somewhere else.
-----------------------------------------
Robert continued trying to feed him.
Spoon by spoon. Bite by bite.
"Come on, just this one," he whispered, carefully bringing it to Kael's lips.
But Kael didn't part them.
Robert gently coaxed his jaw open, slipping the warm food in.
It dribbled out the side of his mouth.
Again. And again.
Each attempt met with the same result. His lips refused to close. His throat refused to swallow. The food stained his tunic and the bedsheets, like a painting of surrender.
His water remained untouched. His books—once his silent companions—rested on the windowsill, their pages stiff from days without use.
And Kael?
Sometimes he stared blankly ahead.
Other times, he simply closed his eyes—not in sleep, but in retreat. From the world. From sound. From pain.
From life.
-----------------------------------------
Robert's own body was beginning to wear down. The mana he had left was thinning. His eyes grew dark from sleepless nights. His steps were slower, his hands colder.
But he never stopped.
Because Kael was still breathing.
And that was enough.
For now.
-----------------------------------------
Flashback – Three Days Ago
The garden was empty when Robert realized something was wrong.
Panic surged through him as he ran—past the hedges, through the trees, across the dew-soaked grass. His mind screamed Kael's name again and again.
He had searched every path.
Until finally, past the gates of the estate, beyond the broken vines, he saw the abandoned tower.
And there.
In the grass.
Kael's body—white hair soaked with blood, limbs splayed, chest rising too faintly.
"YOUNG MASTER!" Robert cried.
He collapsed beside him, trembling as he pulled Kael into his arms. The boy's skin was cold. His pulse was faint. His lips were pale.
"Don't do this," Robert whispered. "Please… please…"
He cast healing spell after spell, draining every drop of mana he had into Kael's broken body. His hands glowed with light, but the bleeding wouldn't stop fast enough. Kael wouldn't wake.
Elric arrived not long after—her eyes widening as she took in the sight. Robert, bloodied and pale. Kael, unmoving in the grass.
"Robert—your mana! You're going to kill yourself!"
"Let me!" Robert cried. "I was responsible for this! I will do what I can!"
He shoved the other healers away. His body shook from mana depletion, but he refused to fall.
-----------------------------------------
That night was merciless.
Kael's fever surged. His breathing shallowed.
His body trembled uncontrollably.
And Robert never left his side.
Elric and the other servants tried to help, but he refused to sleep.
"It's like after the final battle," Robert whispered hoarsely, wiping sweat from Kael's forehead. "Like back then… when he wouldn't wake up either…"
Tears streamed down his face as he gripped Kael's hand tightly.
"Please… don't leave again…"
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The only sign of life not fading was the vase of freesia beside the bed.
It was never empty. Always fresh.
No one in the manor ever replaced it.
Because someone else did.
Every night—after Robert finally dozed off in exhaustion—someone would enter the room through the balcony.
Silent. Gentle.
Reinhardt.
He never said much.
Sometimes he would sit by the bed, brushing Kael's hair back as he slept.
Sometimes he just stood there, watching him.
He never stayed long.
But he always brought a new freesia.
Always hoped, silently, that tonight would be the night Kael opened his eyes and saw him again.
But Kael didn't.
And Reinhardt never said what he truly felt.
That he should've been there.
That he regretted ever letting go.
And that now…
He might never get him back.