Luca remained rooted in the vast hall, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. The polished marble glead under the chandelier’s glow, and yet, despite being the son of this house, he felt more like a guest who had overstayed his welco. His eyes darted across the endless corridors, each one stretching into unfamiliar territory.
...Great. Just perfect. She tells to go to my room, but doesn’t bother pointing to where it even is. I can’t exactly wander aimlessly without looking like an idiot.
As he mulled over his predicant, the steady sound of asured footsteps echoed through the hall. An old man appeared from one of the side corridors, his posture slightly bent but his bearing still sharp with dignity. His silver hair was slicked neatly back, and his uniform carried the discreet markings of a long-serving butler.
The man slowed as his gaze fell on Luca, bowing slightly. "Young master." His voice was smooth, calm, practiced from decades of service.
Luca straightened at once, masking his relief with a nonchalant air. "Ah, there you are." He let a faint smile touch his lips, raising a brow as if he had been waiting.
The butler inclined his head politely. "Did you require sothing, young master?"
This is my chance. Can’t exactly admit I’m lost in my own ho. That would be... Suspicious.
Feigning casualness, Luca folded his arms loosely, tilting his head toward the vast corridors. "It’s been so ti since I last returned here. I was just considering whether my room was still kept in order. You’ve been diligent, I trust?"
The old man blinked at the subtle weight in Luca’s tone before nodding. "But of course, young master. Everything has been kept ready for your return."
"Good," Luca said smoothly, suppressing the triumphant smirk tugging at his lips. He clicked his tongue lightly as if in thought. "Then... why don’t you accompany ? I’d like to inspect it myself."
The butler bowed again, unruffled. "As you wish. Please follow ."
He turned with the steady grace of soone who knew the mansion’s layout like the back of his hand. Luca, maintaining his composed façade, followed closely behind. His hands rested behind his back, his steps asured—careful not to betray the sheer wave of relief washing over him.
Inside, though, his thoughts were racing. Ha! Brilliantly done, Luca. You didn’t even have to ask. He thinks this was my order all along. That’s what I call tact. Smooth. Smart. Not a hint of suspicion.
As they moved down the long corridor, Luca allowed himself a small, hidden smile. Mother might have left stranded, but I handled it perfectly. Honestly, I should get an award for this level of quick thinking.
The butler’s footsteps were steady against the marble, his hands folded neatly behind his back as they began to ascend the broad staircase. Sunlight filtered through the tall stained-glass windows along the landing, painting fleeting colors across Luca’s face.
For a while, silence lingered between them, broken only by the quiet tap of shoes. Then, in a voice both warm and tinged with nostalgia, the old man spoke.
"Young master... you’ve grown a lot."
Luca blinked, glancing sideways at him. "Hm?"
The butler smiled faintly, eyes soft despite the lines of age etched into his face. "When you were a child, you carried such a bright energy with you. Charismatic... always excited, always ready to drag people along into your little adventures. The whole house felt livelier with you running about."
A small chuckle escaped him before his tone grew more subdued. "But then... as you grew, you changed. Beca quieter, more timid. It was as if so of that light dimd. I always wondered what weighed so heavily on you."
Luca’s lips parted slightly, but no answer ca. His chest tightened, a strange pang tugging inside him. This isn’t . It’s... the Luca who lived here before I beca him. I don’t even know what he went through... what shaped him into the boy the butler rembers.
The old man slowed his steps, tilting his head toward Luca with a soft smile. "But just now, when I saw the way you carried yourself... the way you spoke... I caught a glimpse of that boy again. It is... reassuring."
Luca hid his confusion behind a polite nod, but inwardly his thoughts swirled. So the original Luca... wasn’t always timid. Sothing must have happened to him. But what? Ohh that’s right , it must be those visions.
Before he could ponder further, the butler raised a gloved hand toward a polished wooden door at the end of the corridor. "We’ve arrived, young master."
The door swung open smoothly, revealing a spacious chamber within.
The room was undeniably noble in its design—tall arched windows draped with silken curtains, their fabric shimring faintly in the light. A grand canopy bed stood at the center, its fra carved with intricate designs of roses and vines. A writing desk sat by the window, ink and parchnt neatly arranged though untouched. Shelves lined the far wall, filled with tos whose spines glead from careful upkeep. A faint scent of lavender lingered, clean and soothing, as though soone had tended to the room daily despite its emptiness.
Luca stepped inside slowly. His eyes road across the space, his chest rising with an odd mix of emotions. Familiar... yet strange. It feels like ho, but at the sa ti, I’m a guest stepping into soone else’s mory.
His hand brushed lightly over the polished desk, a subtle warmth rising in his chest. Strange... why does it feel like I’ve been here all along?
The butler bowed at the threshold. "If you need anything, young master, ring the bell by the bedside. Soone will attend to you imdiately."
Luca turned, offering a small nod. "Thank you."
With another graceful bow, the old man withdrew, closing the door with a soft click.
The room fell silent.
Luca exhaled deeply, his shoulders loosening at last. He turned a slow circle, letting his eyes sweep over everything once more, before his steps carried him toward the adjoining bath chamber.
The bathroom was no less elegant—white marble walls veined with silver, crystal fixtures glinting faintly, and a deep tub filled with water that shimred coolly. Luca dipped his hand into the basin, then subrged himself beneath the cold stream cascading from the spout.
Haaah... The chill slid down his skin, clearing the heaviness from his chest. Droplets traced down his jaw, his breath steadying as the water washed away fatigue, dust, and stray thoughts.
By the ti he stepped out, his hair damp and clinging to his forehead, he felt lighter.
Returning to the bedroom, Luca drew a small wave of his hand over the silver ring at his finger. In an instant, his belongings spilled gently onto the bed—folded clothes, weapons, small trinkets, a few rolled parchnts.
He stood there, scanning through them with mild satisfaction, until his brow furrowed. A strange emptiness nagged at him.
"...I seem to have forgotten sothing."
His gaze swept over the items once more, his voice dropping into a quiet murmur.
"That’s right. Where’s the brooch... the one Professor Eron gave ?"
His eyes narrowed, unease stirring in his chest. He searched through the belongings again, more carefully this ti, but the item was nowhere in sight.
"I always kept it with ," he muttered, frown deepening. "To remind myself not to stray away. But... I haven’t seen it these past days..."
He stood frozen for a long mont, the weight of that realization pressing down on him, before his hand clenched slowly into a fist.
Luca stared at the scattered belongings for a mont longer, his mind still circling around the missing brooch. Maybe... I left it back at the academy? The thought clung to him, heavy with unease, but there was nothing he could do about it now.
He sighed, rubbing his damp hair with a towel, then tossed it aside. Without even bothering to dress, he let himself collapse backward onto the bed.
"Ahhh... so comfortable..." he muttered, his voice muffled by the pillow. The tension lted from his body almost instantly. His eyelids grew unbearably heavy, the exhaustion of their overnight journey dragging him into unconsciousness before he could resist.
Darkness.
Then—fragnted flashes.
#%@$^&%# &#%*^ —static, voices breaking like shattered glass.
A child’s laughter, bright and unrestrained, echoed faintly. A boy—dark-haired, eyes lit with unending excitent—ran through corridors of light, barefoot, arms flailing in joy. The world around him shimred, unreal, slipping in and out of focus like half-rembered paintings.
The child turned—Luca recognized that face. ...?
The scene fractured.
Smoke.
The stench of blood.
Ash drifted across a field littered with corpses. The clang of weapons was gone; only silence remained.
Luca stood there—no longer a child. His body was clad in jagged black armor, scorched and cracked, blood seeping through the gaps. Each breath was ragged, labored, heavy with despair.
Ahead, against a shattered boulder, Eric sat slumped. His spear was broken, his lips pale, his chest rising in shallow breaths.
Couugh! Blood spattered from his mouth, dark against the stone.
"E-Eric...?" Luca’s voice trembled. His boots squelched against the blood-soaked earth as he staggered forward.
But his gaze caught—frozen.
Not far beyond, a woman lay in a pool of crimson. Her golden hair, once radiant, was matted and stained dark red, fanning lifelessly across the dirt.
Luca’s heart stopped.
His pupils shrank, breath ripping from his throat as his voice cracked with terror.
"Y-Your Majesty?!!!"
The battlefield’s silence roared louder than any scream.
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