Kyota stared at his own hands—clean, white, trembling in the soft breeze. The blue sky stretched endlessly above him, streaked with pure white clouds drifting lazily. The wind whispered through the grass, swift and gentle, while birds whistled a carefree melody. For a moment, it felt like peace.
"Kyota, get up already!" Yuki's sharp voice broke the fragile calm.
Tears welled up in Kyota's eyes. He rose slowly from the grassy field, every movement heavy with a strange bittersweet pain. Turning around, his heart clenched — there stood his parents, Raito and Aqua, smiling warmly. Aqua held a tray with fresh-baked apple pies, the sweet scent drifting on the breeze.
Raito's smile was wide, showing all his teeth in a proud grin. Ayame, his big sister, stood nearby with a playful smirk, tossing an apple toward him. "Eat it, you idiot!" she teased with a laugh, just like old times when they were all home together.
For a fleeting moment, everything was perfect. Happiness wrapped around Kyota like a warm cloak, and tears of joy rolled down his cheeks.
But the moment shattered.
One tear hit the ground, and the earth beneath turned red with concentric ripples forming on it and—spreading like blood pooling on the grass. The air turned thick, suffocating.
Ayame's smile twisted into a sneer as blood splattered across her face. Yuki's eyes widened in horror as the crimson spread, covering them.
"Monster," they spat, voices dripping with venom.
Raito's face hardened. He drew a sword, voice low and filled with rage, "Give me my son. You monster—why did you take his body?"
Aqua's tears fell freely now, but her words cut deeper than any blade. "It's not my fault! It's not my fault! I never gave birth to this... this abomination! He's not my blood! He's not mine! Just die!" Her scream shattered the air.
Kyota stumbled backward, trying to flee, but the ground beneath his feet thickened with blood, each step heavier than the last.
Voices rose all around him, whispering, shouting—ghosts of the Black Root's dead souls, accusing him.
"We were once human. You killed us all. You enjoyed it. You're a monster."
"No! I'm not!" Kyota screamed into the storm of voices, "I was trying to save everyone!"
A cold, mocking voice cut through the chaos. "Then why I was a human? You showed no mercy. Neither did she."
The voices multiplied, bandits and ghosts alike, condemning him, drowning him in accusations.
"Berserk! Monster! You're the reason we died!"
Kyota screamed—a blood-red rain pouring from the sky as he sank into a crimson flood that reached his neck.
He turned, horrified.
Raito raised his sword and with a single, merciless stroke, severed Kyota's head from his shoulders.
Kyota jolted awake, drenched in cold sweat.
He blinked, the harsh dream fading into the sterile light of a palace chamber. His wounds were bandaged and healing, though painfully slow. The silk sheets beneath him were soft, but itchy against the fresh dressings.
The distant clatter of footsteps grew louder. Maids and butlers appeared, bowing respectfully.
"young sir, it is time to freshen yourself and dine. The king requests your presence at dinner."
Kyota nodded weakly. "I will be there."
Once alone again, his mind churned with the nightmare's bitter echoes.
Downstairs in the grand dining hall, the king waited patiently, the table adorned with steaming dishes. Yet Kyota never came.
Servants searched every corner, calling him "young sir". Hot food sat untouched, growing cold. Still, Kyota was nowhere to be found.
At the table, the princess ate casually, ignoring the chaos. She didn't observe court etiquette—no thanks for the meal, no polite bites. Instead, she devoured her food with casual ease, occasionally smirking.
She pushed back her chair and walked outside to a magnificent tree with fiery red leaves—the Scarlet Whisper Tree, a place where she found comfort.
Alone beneath the falling leaves, she whispered softly to the night air.
"Dear mother… so much has happened today…"
Leaves drifted down as the night wind wrapped her in warmth. She closed her eyes and felt a presence—her mother's spirit, speaking through the rustling branches.
Suddenly, a counting voice broke through the calm: "seven hundred ninety eight... Seven hundred ninety nine... Eight hundred... Eight hundred one…"
Her eyes snapped open.
Not on very top, a boy was working out vigorously—legs hooked on a rack, upper body lowering and pulling up again in rapid repetition.
The princess gasped in shock. So did Kyota,he fell down the tree as he saw her.
Kyota, struggling with his injuries, collapsed.
His bandages, soaked and brittle, began to unravel, red seeping through at its edge.
One hand injured with scars in battle, the other wrapped tightly in white bandages. His forehead, back, and chest bore the marks of brutal wounds and was also coverd in thick bandages.
His only armor: the skeletal lower jaw mask and black pants. His torso was bare, muscles tense beneath the skin.
"What the hell are you doing out here?" she demanded, crossing her arms.
Kyota groaned, pushing himself up painfully. "Training."
"You call this training?" she snapped, eyes flashing. "You're barely standing! Why don't you use healing magic properly?"
"Because I'm out of mana! Healing takes a ton of it!" he replied, trying to catch his breath. "And it's not perfect anyway."
She narrowed her eyes, stepping closer. "How do you even know so much magic? Who taught you? And that sword—where did you get it? You have way too much mana for a kid your age."
Kyota clenched his jaw, smoke almost puffing out his ears cartoonishly. "Can you stop yelling? One question at a time, slow and low."
She folded her arms smugly. "Fine. Tell me everything. And don't skip details."
Kyota took a deep breath, steadying himself.
"I have a teacher. A powerful wizard who's been training me. The sword is a relic from a dungeon I cleared last year. My old sword broke. The mask… I can't remove it. It's part of my journey."
She cocked her head, peering under the skeletal mask. "Aren't you scared I'll see your face?"
Kyota shrugged. "Not really."
Kyota added "Aren't you scared of this mask?"
"Well… it kind of looks cool," she admitted, her cheeks flushing a light pink.
Kyota felt his own cheeks heat up under the mask.
Man, he thought, she's barely nine and I'm in my twenties in old world. Pull it together, Kyota.
Suddenly, she pulled a fine royal comb and brush from her royal sleeve, the royal symbol embroidered with gold thread shining in the fading sunlight.
"Comb my hair," she ordered.
Kyota blinked. "Are you kidding me?"
She smirked. "You refuse? Then I'll complain to father."
He groaned, arguing, but eventually took the comb with his one good hand. The other was too badly bandaged to help.
"Careful, will you?" she warned, as he awkwardly worked through the tangled mess.
Kyota smirked. "If you took a proper bath instead of rolling around like a raccoon, your hair wouldn't be such a disaster."
She gasped. "Hey! That's rude!"
A playful fight broke out as she tried to snatch the comb away. Kyota dodged and teased her, "You're a walking mess, princess. How do you expect to rule looking like that?"
"Shut up!" she shouted, kicking him lightly. "You idiot!"
Kyota laughed, rubbing his sore ribs. "Typical tsundere."
She hit him again—harder—and he stumbled backward.
She felt bad immediately but covered it with a pout.
"I'm not sorry," she declared, crossing her arms. "You're an idiot. It's your fault I'm hurting!" But she was sorry and Kyota knew that.
Kyota shook his head, chuckling. "Yeah, sure. Tsundere 101."
Suddenly, the king appeared at the corridor's end, eyes blazing.
"What in the world is going on here? Why was Kyota missing from dinner?" he bellowed.
The minister stepped forward, holding back the king.
"Majesty, please look." The minister gestured to the princess.
The king's expression softened.
"She's smiling," he whispered. "It's the first time since the queen passed."
A heavy silence filled the air as the king's gaze settled on Kyota and the princess.
"Hay kiddo," the king finally said, "the match is set for next week."
Kyota's eyes flickered. "I have other stones to collect, Your Majesty."
The king nodded. "I will oversee that matter."
He stepped closer, voice firm but gentle. "Go out, have some fun."
Kyota shook his head. "I prefer to train."
"You are not permitted, given your injuries."
The king turned to the princess. "You will accompany him."
Both the princess and Kyota refused.
The king's eyes darkened.
"It's an order."
Kyota bowed deeply. "Sorry, Your Majesty."
The king sighed and turned to leave.
Kyota and the princess exchanged a glance.
"Why are you staring at me?" Kyota asked.
Without warning, she punched him hard in the face.
Kyota flew backward, crashing to the ground.
She grabbed her fork and ran off without a glance.
Kyota lay there, dazed, muttering to himself, "Typical tsundere… What did I do to deserve this?"
The Scarlet Whisper Tree's crimson leaves danced in the wind, silent witnesses to a night of blood, pain, and the first sparks of something dangerous—and maybe hopeful—between a cursed warrior and a fiery princess.
End of Chapter 42