Morning came too soon. I barely had time to breathe before Grandpa's voice pulled me out of sleep.
"Up. Now."
No warmth. No hesitation. Just an order.
I groaned, barely opening my eyes, but the next thing I knew—thwack. A sharp tap on my forehead.
"Wake up, Kibo."
I bit back a groan and forced myself up. No arguing with that tone. My body felt like a sack of stones, but I knew what was coming.
Training.
The sun hadn't even risen yet. The air was cold, the grass damp under my bare feet as I dropped down to start my push-ups. One. Two. Three. My muscles screamed, my arms shook. Sweat dripped onto the dirt.
Grandpa sat on a wooden stump, silent, just watching. Every now and then, his stick hit the ground—a quiet warning that stopping wasn't an option.
I pushed harder. Faster. But my body had limits, and they hit me like a wall. My arms buckled.
Thwack.
The sting jolted me back. Not hard, just enough to remind me: keep going.
Why does he always do this? Why does he make me suffer like this every single morning? My body ached, but I didn't stop.
Finally, after what felt like forever, he spoke.
"Enough. Breakfast."
I collapsed. The cool earth felt like heaven. My lungs burned. My arms were dead. I barely had the strength to move, but I wasn't stupid enough to ignore him.
I forced myself up and dragged my body inside.
The second I smelled food, my stomach growled.
Grandpa placed our plates down. Simple meal—roasted meat, a chunk of bread, and porridge. Nothing fancy. But after training, it was the best thing in the world.
I devoured it. No shame.
Grandpa just watched, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I guess my cooking isn't so bad after all."
I looked up, my mouth still full. "Best ever!"
He chuckled, shaking his head. "My grandson."
I grinned. For a second, everything felt normal. No training. No pressure. Just a boy and his grandfather, eating breakfast.
But that never lasted long.
"How's the book?" he asked.
I swallowed. "It's… helpful."
Too helpful.
He had given me this thick book on different languages. I'd spent nights staring at it, trying to cram the words into my head. My brain still felt like mush from it.
Grandpa nodded, satisfied. "Good. We're going to the kingdom today."
My heart jumped.
The kingdom. Crowds, streets, people—something other than this forest.
I tried not to look too excited, but Grandpa saw right through me.
His eyes narrowed. "I see that look. Don't forget—"
"I know, Grandpa. Change my appearance," I cut in, nodding.
I had practiced all night. Controlling my mana, letting it flow instead of forcing it. Changing my hair and eye color was exhausting at first, but I figured it out.
Grandpa gave me that knowing look, the one that said he knew exactly what I was thinking.
"Good. And remember everything else I've taught you."
I met his gaze. His emerald eyes held expectation. Trust.
I straightened my back. "I will, Grandpa."
No hesitation. No doubt.
Because this time, I wasn't going to disappoint him.
In Balmount Kingdom
The alley was cold. Damp. It smelled like filth, like something rotting. Raphael didn't care.
He was on his knees, hands shaking, ribs aching where they'd kicked him. But none of that mattered.
Lily was still in their hands.
"Please…" His voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper. "Please, just give me more time…"
The red-haired man clicked his tongue. "Time? You think time's free, you damn brat?"
A boot slammed into his ribs. White-hot pain shot through him. He gasped, curling in on himself, trying to breathe.
"Stop! Please, stop hurting him!" Lily's voice was small, breaking apart.
The chubby man gripping her yanked her hair. "Shut the hell up, brat."
Raphael clenched his teeth at her cry. His hands dug into the ground. He couldn't see her past the blindfold, but he heard her pain.
The chubby man laughed. "Boss, why don't we just sell this one?"
Raphael's whole body went still.
The red-haired man hummed. "Yeah… she's young. Could get a good price."
Lily trembled. "B-Big brother…"
Raphael pressed his forehead to the ground. His voice cracked. "Please. Take me instead. Don't take her."
Silence.
Then the boss laughed. Low. Amused.
"Take you instead?" A hand gripped his hair, forcing his head up. "And what the hell are you gonna do for us, Rapheal?"
Raphael's breath came fast. He had nothing. No strength. No money. No way to fight back. But he couldn't let them take Lily. He wouldn't.
The chubby man tugged her closer. "Tch. Enough begging, brat. We're taking her—"
Raphael's fingers wrapped around something cold.
Metal.
The boss's dagger.
Then he plunged it into the chubby man's leg.
A scream.
Lily gasped. "Big brother!"
Raphael held her, curled around her, shielding her. His heartbeat pounded so hard it hurt.
"You little—"
"Stop." The boss's voice was calm. Too calm.
Silence.
The chubby man groaned, yanking the dagger from his leg. Blood hit the ground.
The boss crouched. Close. So close Raphael could feel his breath. "You've got guts, just the way I remember it," he murmured. "But guts don't pay debts."
A sharp kick slammed into Raphael's back. His body screamed, but he held onto Lily. Didn't let go.
The boss laughed. "I'll give you a chance," he said. "Find a way to pay up. Soon."
Their footsteps faded.
Gone.
Raphael exhaled, his body collapsing onto the stone. The pain was unbearable, but—
Lily was safe.
Her hands, tiny and shaking, touched his bruised skin. "Big brother…" Her voice cracked. "I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"
Raphael forced a smile. It hurt. "It's okay, Lily…" His voice was barely there. "It's okay…"
She sobbed harder, burying her face into his chest.
He held her.
He was nothing. Weak. Useless. But he was her brother.
And he'd do anything to protect her.