The void did not have walls, but it had a chill that felt like needles of ice. In the center of the nothingness stood a single throne, carved from a material that seemed to swallow the light around it.
A silhouette sat upon it, motionless as a statue. Below him, a man knelt, his forehead pressed against the cold floor. His breathing was ragged, a rhythmic sound of pure terror.
"Did you find the Key?"
The voice from the throne wasn't loud, but it carried the weight of a dying star.
"No, my Lord," the man stammered, his voice cracking. "Please... hear me out. Our calculations... we believe it is on Earth. But we are not certain. Please, spare me. I have served you for—"
"Spare you?" The silhouette shifted. A hand, pale and elongated, moved into the faint light. "Sure."
The shadows in the room suddenly surged forward like a tidal wave. The man's plea was cut short by a sound—not a scream of pain, but the sound of something being erased from existence. Then, silence returned to the void.
Twelve Hours Later
The bathroom of Saint-Jude's College smelled of expensive cologne and copper-tasting blood.
"Well, I guess our little toddler has finally learned to stay away from what's mine," Karl Rien sneered, adjusting the collar of his designer jacket.
He looked down at Kevin, who was curled on the damp tiles. Karl's friends, Max and Will, stood on either side like hungry wolves, their laughter echoing off the marble walls.
"I'm warning you, Kevin," Karl leaned in, his blue eyes cold. "Keep your filthy sight off Lucie. She doesn't even know people like you exist."
Karl straightened up, a smirk playing on his lips. "Come on, boys. This place is starting to smell like poverty."
He turned to leave, but a wet, raspy sound stopped him. Kevin spat on the floor, a streak of red landing near Karl's white sneakers.
"That's all you can do, Karl," Kevin wheezed, looking up with one eye swollen shut. "Hide behind your daddy's money. That's why no one has ever actually loved you. You're a hollow shell. Even Lucie sees it. You're... nothing."
Max and Will surged forward, boots raised to finish the job, but Karl's arm shot out like a bolt of lightning, stopping them. His face had gone from arrogant to deathly pale.
CRACK.
Without warning, Karl's fist collided with the massive vanity mirror. Shards of glass rained into the sinks. Blood began to bloom across Karl's knuckles, dripping steadily onto the floor.
"What are you doing, man?" Max shouted, his eyes wide. "Your hand! Show us your hand!"
"Stay out of it!" Karl's voice was a jagged edge.
He didn't look at his friends. He didn't look at Kevin. He grabbed his leather backpack and walked out, the heavy thud of his boots the only sound in the hallway.
The drive to the Rien Estate was a blur of high-speed turns and the smell of expensive leather. When the iron gates swung open, a tall, impeccably dressed man was already waiting on the driveway.
"Young Master," Mr. Bennett said, his voice calm and steady as he stepped toward the car. "I was under the impression you would be late due to the—" He stopped, his eyes falling on the crimson staining Karl's sleeve. "Master Karl? Your hand. Let me see it immediately."
"Do your job, Bennett!" Karl yelled, slamming the car door so hard the frame rattled. He shoved past the only man who cared for him. "You're my butler, not my father!"
He didn't stop until he reached the second floor. But he didn't go to his own room. He pushed open the heavy oak doors of the Master Suite—his parents' room. It had been preserved in a layer of perfect, frozen silence since the day they died.
In the bathroom, Karl let the shower run ice-cold. He sat on the floor, his head in his hands, the water washing the blood and the "spoilt boy" mask away. He wept silently, his shoulders shaking.
Later, wrapped in a robe, he lay across his parents' unmade bed. He picked up a silver-framed photograph from the nightstand. He looked at the man in the photo—the same piercing blue eyes and handsome jawline. He looked at the woman—the same dark, unruly hair.
"You left me with a pile of gold and a world that hates me," he whispered.
A single tear fell onto the glass of the frame. As exhaustion finally took him, Karl drifted into a dreamless sleep, unaware that maybe he was nothing special like others... that's why he has to walk a path unlike others.