A few days had passed since that incident.
The morning sky above the Voltare estate was bright. Clouds drifted slowly, and birds flew freely, as if they knew this day was not like any other.
Family banners fluttered proudly atop every tower, and the courtyard was filled with the scent of rare flowers—blooms that only opened when King Blazzar came to visit.
The sound of trumpets echoed throughout the Voltare mansion.
The King had come. Suddenly. Without notice.
Servants rushed about, polishing marble floors until they gleamed, straightening candles, ensuring every corner reflected perfect light.
Every Voltare child wore their silver ceremonial robe—the sheen symbolizing the blood of lightning.
Except one.
Rayne sat on the floor of his room, wearing a training outfit torn at the elbows. He could hear hurried footsteps in the corridor—laughter, applause, and the heavy voice of his father, Ardyn Voltare, carrying commands.
"Banish everything unnecessary. The King will tour after lunch."
From inside, Rayne swallowed hard.
'Banish everything unnecessary.' Those words weren't just about cleaning—they meant total removal.
Anything deemed useless would simply be thrown away, even if it belonged to someone.
Worse still, the King would be inspecting the strength of the Voltare family.
Rayne stared into a small mirror in the corner.
His face was dull, his hair messy, and those eyes… eyes without a spark of lightning, staring back at him in long silence.
Through the small window, he could see a glimpse of the courtyard glowing under the morning sun.
That light felt foreign—too bright for the world he lived in.
The footsteps of servants grew nearer, carrying vases, chairs, and thick fabrics. Rayne knew—it would soon be his room's turn.
---
Meanwhile...
The grand hall of the Voltare estate was filled with golden light pouring from high windows.
King Blazzar walked slowly along the red carpet stretching from the gate to the guest throne.
Ardyn Voltare bowed respectfully, followed by his three children—Zinux, Iliya, and Zuban.
Thin streaks of lightning danced faintly around them, marking the bloodline recognized by the kingdom.
"This mansion remains as magnificent as I remember," said King Blazzar in a flat tone, his eyes sweeping across the ornate ceiling.
"We maintain Voltare's purity, Your Majesty," replied Ardyn.
"And your lightning power—still as sharp as ever?" the King asked.
"Of course," Ardyn smiled faintly. "My children are living proof."
The King nodded, satisfied.
He looked at the three children one by one, his gaze testing their resolve. Yet none flinched.
"Good. The lightning in their eyes doesn't lie."
A soft chuckle came from the right side—the gentle yet proud voice of Lady Voltare.
"We made sure there's no flaw left to be seen, Your Majesty."
"Good," the King replied, stepping toward the balcony, his eyes surveying the busy courtyard below.
"Cleanliness and order are marks of greatness."
Ardyn lowered his head.
"As Your Majesty commands, we've made sure everything appears perfect."
The King looked into the distance, his golden eyes reflecting the full light of the sun that now bathed the entire estate.
"Voltare has always been the kingdom's pride. Do not let anyone tarnish it."
"We won't, Your Majesty," said Ardyn.
In the distance, the wind carried the faint creak of wagon wheels rolling toward the back of the mansion.
No one noticed.
Everyone was too busy preserving grandeur.
---
Elsewhere...
Rayne was still in his room.
"The King doesn't know I'm part of the Voltare family... it should be fine if he sees me here, right?" he muttered softly.
But the faces of his family flashed in his mind—those cold, disdainful eyes that seemed to wish him erased from existence.
"No…"
His gaze fell on a large wooden chest in the corner—used to store winter clothes that were rarely worn.
Without thinking, he opened the lid and slowly climbed inside, closing it tightly.
Darkness.
Stale air.
The smell of old fabric and dust.
He drew his knees close, buried his face, and whispered faintly,
"This is safer."
"I won't bother anyone... if I can't be seen."
Laughter echoed again outside, drawing closer.
Then, the door opened.
"Hurry! Clear out anything unnecessary!"
"This one too?"
"Yes. The head of the house said to throw away anything unimportant. This chest too."
Heavy footsteps approached.
Rayne bit his lip, holding his breath.
He wanted to rise. To shout:
"I'm here!"
But fear—fear of being laughed at, of being called a stain—choked his voice.
The chest lifted.
It shook.
"It's full of thick fabric."
"Quick, get rid of it."
The voices faded, accompanied by the soft rumble of wheels rolling over stone.
The outside air slipped through a narrow gap, carrying the warmth of the afternoon sun.
Rayne yawned softly.
His eyes felt heavy. His breathing steady.
In that darkness, he smiled faintly—
as if the world outside no longer belonged to him.
"Maybe if I sleep for a while... everything will be over," he whispered.
The carriage rolled on, leaving the grand estate behind without a single person turning back,
without anyone asking what they had thrown away.
And for the first time,
the Voltare mansion truly looked clean.
Because the only stain they had removed...
was their own child.