Carlos stood beside the bed and was ready to go to the door that had knocked as if the world was going to fall. And Carlos knows that Kave is going to push the door and come into the room if Carlos' response cannot be heard…. again.
Carlos chest tight, but he forced the breath through it, slow and measured. He could have crumbled now.
But he can't.
This time he won't.
Not in front of him.
Not in front of Kave.
Then Carlos straightened his shoulders, and every trace of grief, guilt and memories was sealed behind the steel of his expression. From beyond the door, the voice called again, gentle, but Carlos knew that it was stiff and familiar. And frustrating.
"My Lord, I am coming in."
Oh hell,no. Carlos though rushed to the door and opened it ... .as expected from Carlos, Kave was trying to push the door using his full body and took a step back to push the door. And Carlos was able to stop it at the last second.
Kave was like an fallen angel born into the world yet suffering with sorrow and pain from the world show in his face, the hair of the other man flowed long and silken, pure white with a ghostly sheen, cascading over his shoulders like a winter storm.
When Kave saw Carlos, Kave immediately straightened into his knight self and stood as if nothing had happened, though the edge of concern hadn't left his face.
Carlos offered him a command with an emotionless face that he had always got used to. The kind that didn't reach his eyes—but it was the face that Kave had always trusted but not used to see. For Kave, his lord was something between childish and hard to please. This is the kind of face Kave had never seen before.
"Tell His Majesty I'm Fine." Carlos said smoothly, voice steady. "The palace doesn't need to worry over a little noise."
Kave studied him for a beat too long,and searched if Carlos had any injuries, his brow tightening. But he nodded. But the worried look on his face doesn't disappear. He feels that his lord has changed something but he doesn't know it very well. If he hadn't checked his lord with his power already, Kave was pretty sure he might have ended up thinking of Carlos, a monster disguised as his lord at first glance. But Kave doesn't know why Carlos changed. Carlos was just potting and mad at Kave for eating his strawberries the other day. Now the one Kave saw the other day, feels like disappearing into the air with nothing left. But he must not step further into this. He is the knight of the crown prince Carlos, he should not step into a business that doesn't require his help. No matter what, his job is to serve his lord and protect him.
"Understood."
As he turned to him, Carlos watched him go—each step a remainder of a sin reborn. His best friend, his brother, and his family.
******
"Is there something wrong,Kave "he said while waiting for a response from the very same man named Kave.
"You know what is wrong , you are going to die." Kave said.
"I am not going to die. I am just going to see my king."
"...."
"Are you doubting your king?" Carlo said, not breaking eye contact with Kave.
"The king is going to kill you! ,he had gone mad a long time ago "
" He only keeps you because you are the only one who can bring victory when leading the war.
Now that the war is finished, you are no longer useful to him"
"…"
"He will kill you"
******
And yet, now his shield once again.
******
"DON'T GO"
******
Carlos can feel it in his heart. He can see it clearly. How Kave tried to protect him even though it would cause him his own life.
*****
Am I not your family too?
Carlos please.
******
How Kave looked so displeased that Carlos didn't trust him even with all the evidence.
---Ahhh… My trust for my brother made me kill my family. Now that I think about it, am I not the one who did everything that led to the destruction of my own family? If I had listened to my brother and Kave even for a second, would I end up like this?
Yes, I wouldn't.
Carlos sighed, now he knows, everything that he had done led to something, and it is the death of his family. Carlos turned to his room and closed the door softly. In the past, Carlos was a spoiled child, he got everything he wanted, even if he wanted the throne, his brother would have just given it. That is why Carlos was hated by everyone, even Carlos didn't mean everything he had done, he was sure that the others would think of him as a spoiled brat. Carlos thought about everything that he had done in the past.
---I am truly a spoiled brat.
Carlos laughed at himself. He had never known how much he was a jerk in the past. He now realized why everyone in the empire voted for him to go to war. If he really wanted to save his family, he had to fix himself first. But of course it is not to be a spoiled brat. If Carlos used his brother's power, he would be called a spoiled brat. But if he used his own power, no one can say anything and he can support his brother more, ah he had to use his prince's power and he is not gonna like that.
Then he heard the echo of boots again. It was nothing like a normal person. It was quiet, gentle. It almost sounds like a whisper. Kave is a knight with assassin ability, his god is connected with night, Kave has talked about that to Carlos before. Even if the god can only choose a royal bloodline, centuries have already passed. There is no way that the Moonier empire's nobles didn't have royal blood. All the other royals that didn't get the throne become the duke. And Kave was from the Lyrics duke family illegitimate child after all, it is not a surprise that he got a god.
A pause, then the sound of someone turning back can be heard by Carlos. Ah Kave is coming back, Carlos thought. He fixed his own face with emotions with nothingness. And he opened the door before the knock could be heard.
Kave stood there, half hand raised, his expression shocked and thoughtful. As if he'd just remembered something important and thinking how Carlos can hear his footsteps.
"One more thing, my lord." He said with a smile as both of them watched each other.
"The king wanted me to remind you—the birthday event begins tonight."
"Your Majesty asked that you escort him personally" Kave continued ."He'll be waiting for you in the garden."
A beat passed.
Kave hesitated again, eyes narrowing faintly—not suspicious, but searching.
"He said…it wouldn't be the same without you."
Carlos didn't answer right away. He kept his face unreadable, fingers flexing at his side.
Then, with a calm nod,"Of course. I'll be there."
Kave held his gaze another second. Then with a soldier's bow and a smile on his face, turned and left down the corridor.
Carlos closed the door again, slower this time, and let the silence pass in.
The god is watching him, Carlos doesn't know from where. The past was knocking and the king–his family—his brother was waiting.
And tonight, Carlos would have to stand beside him, into the light like in the past. With the memories flowing, he had an advantage and he had to use it fully.
Carlos re-entered his private chambers, the soft click of the door behind him the only sound. The room felt colder, heavier. Like it remembered everything Carlos had through.
He sat back on the bed. In his past life, he didn't get a chance to sleep in this comfy bed for 10 years straight. Carlos really misses the bed.
After that Carlos' eyes landed on the clothes beside his bed that he saw when he woke up.
The outfit was already prepared.
It hasn't changed.
Not the treads, not the colours.
Not the warmth and cold behind the gesture.
Everything had started again.
And the Duke Carlos had died in the past.
Now Prince Carlos had to start his new life.
*******************************************
The palace shimmered with light—fire glass lanterns lining the walkways, the wall crossing with the golden patterns. Musicians played soft, regal melodies in the grand atrium, and nobles swirled like petals in motion, laughing with masks covering their faces.
Carlos stood alone on the upper verandah, hands resting lightly on the stone railing, the night wind lifting the edge of his cloak. He just finished showering and put on all those clothes.
He was supposed to go to escort his brother now. Before that he needs to look good. He went inside his room again to see if he needed adjustment.
He stood alone before the mirror, where candlelight licked the glass like restless spirits. The chamber was silent, but not still. Shadows danced at the edges—slow, circling, like wolves who had scented something old and dangerous.
He wore a folded ensemble of shadow and fire.
The coat clung to his frame like a lover's final embrace—black velvet, stitched in silver thread that caught the light like a frozen forest on Isrendal's peaks, trembling with ancient frost. Every thread shimmered like it remembered a storm. The buttons, golden and carved with an obsidian lion ringed by silver flames, seemed to pulse faintly—alive with old royal blood.
The high collar curled up stiffly around his throat, as though daring someone to try and cut it. It stood proud, starched with defiance, the kind of arrogance born not from privilege, but survival. The embroidery across the chest swirled into roaring flames, caught mid-dance, etched with an artisan's fury—neither warm nor kind, but regal, and full of warning.
And over all of it flowed the crimson cloak.
It spilled from his shoulders like the trail of a burning comet, deep red as blood, angry as battle, soft as silk on the inside. The outer edge, lined with fur, still carried the faint scent of the mountains, of cold winds and distant howls.
He did not move. Not yet.
And then there was his face.
His hair was a rich, dark blue, nearly black in low light—just like the depth of the sea—falling in tousled strands around his face and brushing the nape of his neck. It softened nothing. It framed a jaw sharpened by resolve, cheekbones high with silence, and eyes that had long since stopped belonging to a boy. In them were shadows, and a spark of something unspoken.
He studied himself like a stranger. The figure in the mirror wore a king's fury and a soldier's grief, cloaked in elegance sharp enough to cut. But beneath all the fire and frost, all the stitched power and inherited silence, he wasn't sure if he still saw a man.
His hand rose slowly, adjusting the collar. It scratched lightly at his throat like claws. The fabric whispered promises of war and memory, of victory carved in flame.
It was perfect and it still is perfect. Now he only needs to go to his brother. After all, his brother was waiting for him.
Beside his palace, the gardens bloomed under lanternight. The air shimmered with the gentle music of harps and strings, laughter floating between rose arches and carved marble paths.
The scent of wine, jasmine and memory mingled on the wind.
His brother not only used the palace but also the garden beside him for the party, this is a surprise for Carlos. His brother has never used the garden. He had always made this place as only he and Carlos could pass. In the past the event was only held in the palace. Not including the garden. But this time, it changed. It starts to change.
Carlos sighs, his brother might be worried about what happened in the morning, that is why he might have included the garden. His brother had always been so busy with work that he never had time. But when he does have time, he sure uses it very well. So he goes to the verandah.
Carlos's eyes scanned the crowd — not looking for danger nor pleasure, but for the only presence that always pulled his gaze.
But Carlos didn't see his brother. "He might be in the deepest part of the garden." Carlos thought.
Carlos exhaled slowly, Carlos didn't move for a long moment.
Then, quietly, he stepped up onto the stone railing.
The night air tugged at his coat as he looked down at the polished flagstones far below– a fall that would snap a man's leg if he hesitated. If Carlos didn't have the memories of his past life of going through the war, 16 years old Carlos would have hesitated.
But the person Carlos is right now didn't.
He jumped.
The drop was clean, fast and silent .
He landed with a thud muffled by the grass, knees bent, cloak flaring like wings around him. No one saw. The musicians played on. The party breathed without pause. And he passed through the people as if he was a lion, and could feel the cold aura yet no one knew what it was. Carlos walked and walked into the deepest part of the garden—-
There.
Beneath the flowering moonlily trees surrounding the garden of many kinds of night flowers and the moon shining upon the trees as if they were making the greatest entrance, the king stood.
His brother.
Looking at his path as if he had been waiting for no one but Carlos. Or he is waiting, right. "I forgot that he is always waiting for me there." Carlos thought.
He wore shades of dark blue and cyan, woven with such care that the fabric shimmered like starlight spilled across deep water. With every subtle shift, the colors flowed—never still, never dull—like the sea remembering the sky. Draped across his shoulders was a cloak of silver phoenix feathers, each one stitched with maddening precision, catching the light as if alive, rising and falling with his breath. It didn't just move—it soared.
His high collar framed the perfect lines of his sharp jaw, regal and unyielding, the mark of a man born to rule but carved by fire. Along the sleeves of his royal attire, the faint outline of wings burned—etched in near-invisible thread, as if frozen in the moment before a phoenix takes flight mid-battle.
And then there was his face.
His hair, a soft cyan, fell across his brow like the cool hush before dawn, untamed yet immaculate. It brushed against lashes long enough to cast shadows, against eyes too clear, too deep, too knowing. His beauty was not gentle. It struck—swift and sharp. The kind of face that could make a battlefield pause, a nation bow, or a stranger fall in love without understanding why.
He looked stunning—as always.
Carlos was thinking—
A golden box appeared in front of him
________________________________________________________________
Your Brother Is Gorgeous. His beauty will make everyone fall into him completely.
—---------------------------------------------------------------------------
And yes,Carlos is pretty sure that god is eyeing his brother. He feels disgusted just from reading it. An old man eyeing his brother, no thank you.
"Get lost.." Carlos said as he watched the golden box disappear and walked towards his brother.
"What a dramatic entrance." the king said as Carlos approached.
Carlos let out a low breath, brushing dirt from his dark gloves. Carlos is really grateful that his clothes are mostly dark and red. Or the dirt really made a big mess.
"And your entrance is always too easy to ruin."
The king laughed— a peaceful sound unlike the sound he gave to others.
"You are late." He said again, voice warm. "But I forgive you. That outfit looked far too good to be rushed."
Carlos allowed the faintest smirk. "Well, you still design with too many details,... a lion really?"
"It was supposed to be a dragon, then I remembered you were an attention seeker."
"You are mocking me."
"I am not. And you still wear it better than anyone else."
"It is because only I can wear these clothes."
They fell into step without needing to be asked — Carlos just slightly behind, as costumes dictated, but close enough to speak lo, as brothers would.
"You changed." Carlos listened to those words clearly. It was not surprising for Carlos, if his brother felt like the other person just over a night, then Carlos was pretty sure he might end up killing himself.
"Hmm…Do I?"
They begin walking through the garden path, towards the open palace hall. Servants bowed as they passed. The music shifted to something colder and brighter at the same time, livelier, as the king approached the end of the garden.
Whispers followed them like a trail— admiration, curiosity, envy and jealousy.
But none of them touched nor was for Carlos.
His eyes only flicked to the man beside him. The man he had died once for. And the man who had no choice but to betray him.
And tonight–he walked beside him again like the old time.
"They think I walk alone." the king said, quietly.
"But they always look to see if you're there."
Carlos said nothing.
But he acts to become more sensible as a protector. As shadow.
As a brother.
Into the light. Into the palace that had no good memories except with the times with his brother.
Into the palace he had once bled to death—betrayed just the same.