Yujin finished his meal feeling a bit uneasy.
For reasons he couldn't quite fathom, Buldrokkas'tee and Theresis were looking at him with clear disdain. Kalaisha remained completely oblivious, and Theresa ate her food with a beet-red face. He had expected a pleasant family dinner, but the reality was far from it.
After the meal, Yujin returned to his room to rest briefly. When the appointed time came, he headed back to the library to keep his promise to his Master.
"Master."
"…You didn't flee out of fear, and you seem remarkably intact."
Netsalem closed the book he was reading, seeing Yujin looking much more composed than expected. He stood up from his chair and grasped his staff.
"I'm not the type to just take a beating and give up. Though it's only the second day."
"Ho. Have you already found a way to overcome it?"
"I'm not sure yet. I think I need to experience it a few more times to get the hang of it."
As Yujin smiled, Netsalem noticed that the shadows of doubt that had plagued the boy were gone. He had considered helping if the boy's growth stagnated due to overthinking, but it seemed unnecessary.
"You look rather pleased with yourself. It seems your worries have been resolved."
"They aren't gone, but I think I've found the path."
"Then that is enough."
Yujin opened his mouth to say more but hesitated. Netsalem noticed and tapped his staff on the floor.
"Is there something on your mind?"
"There are always things on my mind. But... I still don't quite understand what it is that you want, Master."
"…What I want."
Netsalem traced the handle of his staff. Like Kalaisha's, his staff was draped with a white cloth.
What did Netsalem want? The answer was simple: the restoration of Kazdel and the Sarkaz people.
"Are you curious as to why I take disciples?"
"I don't know the details, but I have a guess. I've lived here for a while now, after all."
Yujin shrugged playfully, but Netsalem hesitated, wondering how much he should reveal. This was something he had never shared with Buldrokk or Kalaisha.
He made his decision quickly.
"Yujin, I carry a heavy responsibility."
Even if he were to be betrayed eventually, the old King chose the present.
"I traveled much in my youth. We are instinctively drawn to conflict, and so I wandered through countless lands."
This was a story from a time before Netsalem was King.
"Somewhere along those travels, a sense of duty was born."
Those were the impulsive days of his youth. Even now, if he closed his eyes and blocked his ears, Netsalem could still vividly hear the screams of his dying kin. Living such a long life was often a curse, and it remained so even after he took up the mantle of a King.
"I could have looked the other way and lived a simple life, but I was not that kind of man. I could not turn my back on them."
Lamentations. Wishes. As time passed, the weight of those hopes grew until they were impossible to ignore—even as they slowly began to warp into hatred.
"Once my travels ended, I donned the shackles of kingship. I took up this staff to reform our race, but as the years bled into centuries, our situation only grew more dire."
The fate of a race consumed by endless hatred had tilted so far it was unrecognizable. Desperate prayers and wishes reached for the heavens, only to fall back as cries of vengeance, shackling the remaining Sarkaz even further. Within the Royal Court, sane individuals were few and far between.
Thus, in this age where both internal and external circumstances were bleak, the Sarkaz were slowly crumbling. The clans were fractured and scattered; whenever Netsalem tried to pull them together, they slipped through his fingers like dry sand.
Yet, he chose to rely on the future rather than the present. For the sake of the responsibility he felt for every Sarkaz who had died on this soil. He wanted their deaths to have meaning—to grant them the honor they deserved.
"Therefore, I cannot give up. My disciple."
Even if everything else in the world died... the fate of the Sarkaz was more important to him.
Yujin looked at Netsalem and felt the weight of his emotions. He finally understood why the King clung to Buldrokk and Kalaisha, and why he had accepted Theresis and Theresa immediately while rejecting Yujin at first.
"…Do you fear me?"
When he first saw Yujin, Netsalem had felt both fear and hesitation. An uncontrollable variable—a blade that might one day turn against the Sarkaz.
"At first, perhaps."
"To think someone who could kill me with a single finger would be afraid."
"I could kill you without moving a single finger."
"Hah, let's not go that far."
Yujin smiled, hand resting on his sword. Netsalem raised his staff, spinning it once before giving a playful smirk of his own.
"I suspect... I can never become exactly what you want me to be, Master."
Yujin knew himself too well to lie to his teacher. Netsalem nodded, as if he had already made his peace with it.
"I know, you foolish brat. You and Buldrokk are exactly the same."
If the Sarkaz committed a crime or incited an unjust war, Yujin would judge them without hesitation. Netsalem, on the other hand, could never turn his back on his people, even if they were in the wrong.
Yujin sought to be a hero like the knights and warriors of fairy tales—one who never abandons anyone in the world. Netsalem sought a single hero who would restore the glory of the Sarkaz and Kazdel.
Perhaps a day would come when these two paths crossed and they would stand as enemies. But that was a hypothetical for a future yet to come. For now, they were simply Master and disciple.
"Now, let us resume your training."
The conversation was over.
Moving his aching limbs, Yujin limped through the mansion's corridors. He hadn't fainted today, but he'd been beaten so thoroughly it was a miracle he could even walk. He didn't know if the constructs had held back or if he had genuinely improved enough to stay conscious.
He reached his door to find he already had a visitor. Theresa was waiting for him, and her expression crumpled with worry the moment she saw him.
"…Are you okay?"
"Whew. I'm fine. It's just training."
No matter how much healing was applied, the memory of the pain didn't vanish—it only restored his stamina. Thinking of that dancing skeleton made Yujin's blood boil; he vowed to grow strong enough to get his revenge one day.
Theresa poked him in the side as he claimed he was "fine." Yujin nearly jumped out of his skin and almost collapsed.
"See? You're not 'fine' at all."
Helping him into the room, Theresa sat him down on the bed. As Yujin tried to stretch out his muscles, the ache from where the blunt training sword had struck him flared up.
"Gah."
Theresa began applying medicinal creams and pain patches. The cooling sensation brought a momentary relief from the throbbing pain.
As Yujin sat shirtless so she could reach the bruises on his back, Theresa stared in silence. She finally noticed it now—the scars littering his body and his lean, defined muscles. Her slender fingers traced a long scar from a past blade wound. Her heart ached with every mark she found.
"…I'm sorry."
"Hmm?"
Theresa leaned forward and rested her forehead against his back. Yujin looked down at his own torso. Unlike his past life, his body was built for combat. But those muscles weren't the only thing he'd gained; there were the scars. jagged lines from cuts, and ugly, puckered burn marks.
"Hey, look at these. They're scars of honor."
"What 'honor'? They must have hurt so much."
Theresia looked at him sadly. These scars were the price of protecting her and the children in the slums. Her heart was still stained with guilt.
"I'd trade a hundred scars to keep people safe any day."
Scars from being cut, stabbed, and burned. Now that he was older and more experienced, it was rare for anyone to land a hit on him, but he had taken many wounds as a child. He remembered the days when he swung his blade in a frenzy, filled with spite. Back when adults looked down on him because he was small.
He had crushed them all. He had proven with a single sword why no one in the backalleys should touch him. Until he met Tarkan, he had never truly faced a threat to his life.
"If adding one more scar means saving people, it's a good trade."
Theresa hated that he could smile while saying that.
"…I'll protect you."
"What?"
"I'll get stronger so no one can ignore us. Just like you've protected me..."
Burying her face in his back, Theresa made a silent vow. One day, she would repay everything Yujin had done for her. She would stand by his side until he finally reached a place of true peace.
The night passed quietly. Time began to flow, sometimes slow, sometimes in a rush. In the blink of an eye, the world within the mansion began to change.
Three years passed.