They sat around the dining table, the soft clinking of utensils filling the quiet space. Yet, as the others ate, Kamigan drifted into his own world, lost in thought.
(Three weeks… I've been here for three weeks, and not once have I seen Dr. Aldric at the table during lunch. I asked his wife, but she only dodged the question, saying he 'goes to work.' Yet, I never see him leave the house. Nor do I ever see him return. He simply… disappears. And then, just as suddenly, he's back, as if he had never left at all…)
A sharp pain suddenly tore through his skull. Kamigan winced, his hand trembling as his spoon slipped from his fingers, clattering against the table.
"Ugh…"
"Kamigan!" Emilia's voice was laced with concern as she rushed to his side, gently patting his back. "Are you alright? The headaches seem to be getting worse."
"Big bro Kamigan!" Silvana's worried eyes searched his face. "Are you okay?"
He forced a reassuring smile. "I appreciate you worrying about me, really. But I'm fine." He hesitated, his thoughts betraying his words. (I say that, but I'm not fine at all. The headaches started not long after I arrived at Dr. Aldric's house, and with each passing day, they only get worse…)
Still, he kept his voice steady. "I'm still taking the medication. It should get better soon."
With that, the conversation shifted, and lunch carried on until its quiet, pleasant end.
---
The afternoon sun cast golden hues across the yard as Kamigan and Silvana played outside. Yet, his attention strayed beyond the wooden fence, to the villagers who passed by. Their faces all wore the same expression—cold, watchful, filled with unspoken resentment.
(Why do they always look at me like that? With such anger in their eyes…?)
His gaze scanned the crowd until it landed on a lone figure. Unlike the others, this man's expression was unreadable.
An old man, clad in a flowing black robe, stepped into the yard. Though his face was lined with age—seventies, maybe even eighties—there was something sharp about his presence, something that defied time. Kamigan watched as he approached Emilia, speaking to her in hushed tones too distant to hear.
Then, the man turned toward them, his lips curving into a knowing smile.
"Ah, young lady Silvana," he greeted warmly. "You're looking as lovely as ever."
"Uncle Balthazar!" Silvana beamed, rushing into his arms.
Balthazar chuckled, patting her head before shifting his gaze to Kamigan. "And who's this?"
"I am Kamigan," he replied with a respectful nod. "A wandering traveler."
Balthazar studied him for a moment, his gaze heavy with something unreadable. "Wandering, you say? You don't look like someone who wanders."
Kamigan met his eyes steadily. "I am resting here for now—recuperating before I continue my journey."
Balthazar gave a slow nod, then murmured, almost as if speaking to the wind, "If you choose to live as a wanderer… then do not get attached to places like this."
The air shifted. A warm breeze swept through the yard, rustling the trees, whispering through the leaves like distant voices carried from another time. Kamigan found himself caught in the sound, drawn into its fleeting melody—until a voice cut through the moment, pulling him back to reality.
"Kamigan."
His head snapped toward the house. Dr. Aldric stood at the doorway, his expression unreadable.
"Yes, Dr. Aldric?"
"Come inside. I need your help with something."
Kamigan hesitated only for a moment before nodding, stepping forward.
Yet, while the village of Tombarrow remained quiet and still, far beyond its borders, a storm was gathering.
In the heart of the capital, where the grand halls of the royal castle loomed over the city, unseen forces stirred. Within those ancient walls—where the blood of Thaldrim's royal lineage still ran strong—shadows whispered of coming ruin.
A storm was brewing.
And whether he knew it or not, the tides of fate would soon come crashing down upon Kamigan.
Six Months Later
The village of Thornbarrow had always felt like a place forgotten by the world, but lately, something had shifted. The air carried a weight of unease, and the already neglected streets now felt abandoned entirely. Kamigan had spent the past six months in Dr. Aldric's household, recovering, searching, and observing.
(This village was already falling apart when I arrived, but now… it's like it's rotting from the inside out. And the villagers—)
He clenched his fist.
(They're taking it out on Dr. Aldric's family. Why? Why him?)
His anger flared, but he forced himself to calm down. Getting worked up won't change anything. With a deep breath, he steadied himself.
(Their resentment has no real consequences… right? It's not like their hatred will lead to anything. For now, I need to focus. I need to talk to Dr. Aldric.)
That night, under the moon's quiet gaze, Kamigan stood in the yard, lost in thought. The wooden house behind him creaked softly as the door opened, and Aldric stepped out, his coat lightly swaying in the breeze.
"Good evening, Dr. Aldric."
Kamigan's voice carried a storm of emotions—confusion, resentment, pity, and something else, something almost like… admiration.
Aldric exhaled, looking up at the night sky. "You seem tense. Is it your headaches? Or… something else?"
Kamigan hesitated before sighing. "You… I…" He clenched his jaw. Just say it. "Honestly, I just can't wrap my head around why you do the things you do."
Aldric chuckled, amused. "I'm not quite sure I understand what you're implying."
Kamigan's fingers tightened around the edge of the wooden railing. "I've been researching. Not just about my home, Athernis, but about people who might have had ties to it. At first, I thought I had found nothing no I had found nothing. But then…" His voice lowered. "I found your name."
Aldric remained silent, watching him carefully.
Kamigan took a step forward. "Aldric Hoffeinstein. The second son of the Hoffeinstein noble family. A doctor who once served in the royal palace of Thaldrin."
The name hung in the air between them, heavy and unspoken for too long.
Aldric's expression didn't change. "And now that you've found this out, what do you plan to do?"
Something inside Kamigan snapped. He kicked a wooden stool nearby, sending it crashing to the ground. His voice dropped to a low, furious whisper.
"Why?" His fists trembled at his sides. "Why did you throw everything away? You had power. Wealth. Influence. A place in the royal court. You could've lived a life of luxury. But instead, you came here. To a village that despises you. A village that blames you for their suffering. You heal them, you help them, and still, they curse your name."
He looked up, his eyes burning like dying embers. "And yet… you're still here."
Aldric sighed, his expression unreadable. "I understand your confusion. No… calling it confusion would be wrong."
"Then explain it to me." Kamigan's voice was almost pleading now. "Tell me why you do what you do."
Aldric tilted his head back, inhaling deeply before exhaling a low, quiet laugh. "Hah… Kamigan, you're still young." He looked at him then, his gaze calm. "In time, you'll understand."
The words sent a sharp pain through Kamigan's chest. His father had said the same thing. In time… in time…
Something inside him snapped. Without another word, he turned and sprinted off into the village, his thoughts a whirlwind of anger and frustration.
(When? When will I finally understand? My father said the same thing before he left me. And now Aldric too? Just how long am I supposed to wait?)
The village blurred past him as he ran, his thoughts spiraling—until suddenly, the ground beneath him disappeared.
A force struck him hard, sending him hurtling through the air.
Kamigan barely had time to react before he crashed onto the ground, dust rising in the cold night air.
A shadow loomed over him.
"Huh? Aldric's errand boy? What are you doing out here?"
Kamigan pushed himself up, his eyes narrowing. "…I'm not his errand boy."
The figure stepped closer, revealing an elderly man draped in a dark robe. Balthazar. His gaze was sharp, calculating.
"Well, whatever you are is none of my concern," Balthazar muttered. "But you shouldn't be wandering around at night.get on back"
Kamigan's jaw tightened. "And if I refuse?"
Balthazar sighed. "Oh, I'm sorry—did it seem like I was giving you a choice?"
Kamigan's instincts screamed at him—He's strong. The way he had been thrown off his feet… this wasn't an ordinary man.
But I'm not weak either.
Gritting his teeth, Kamigan dashed forward at full speed, leaping high into the air. He twisted his body, aiming a powerful kick at Balthazar—
But in an instant, Balthazar vanished.
A heartbeat later, he reappeared behind Kamigan.
A brutal force struck Kamigan's back.
Pain exploded through his body as the world spun, darkness rushing to claim him.
And then—
Everything went black.
Kamigan woke to the dim flicker of candlelight, the scent of old stone filling his nostrils. The room was small, enclosed by brick walls that radiated an eerie warmth from the flames surrounding him. His body ached, but his mind was clear.
He shifted, pushing himself up from the cold floor, and that was when he noticed—Balthazar was there, lying on the bed beside him, sound asleep.
A wave of quiet tension filled the room as Kamigan carefully rose to his feet. (I need to get out of here.) Each step was light, precise, calculated. He crept toward the door, his heartbeat steady, suppressing the pain in his body.
But just as his fingers brushed against the wooden frame, a voice broke through the silence.
"Just because I didn't tie you up or chain you," Balthazar muttered without opening his eyes, "doesn't mean you're not imprisoned . You'll get out of here when I say you get....
Kamigan didn't wait for him to finish. In one swift motion, he snatched a pen from a nearby desk and hurled it toward Balthazar's throat. The air hummed as the pen cut through it, moving with lethal precision.
Yet, just before it could reach its target, Balthazar's fingers closed around it effortlessly, stopping it midair.
Kamigan was already gone from sight.
In the split second the pen was thrown, he had leaped, his hands gripping a heavy hammer. His body twisted midair, and with all his strength, he swung down, aiming to knock Balthazar unconscious.
But the bed was empty.
The hammer crashed down onto the sheets, the force of the blow sending dust flying. Kamigan's breath hitched.
(Where did he—?)
Before he could finish his thought, a voice whispered beside him.
"You never learn, do you?"
A swift kick shot toward his face. Kamigan barely registered it before the sheer force of the attack swallowed his vision. The foot looming toward him seemed impossibly large, warping his perception of the world around him.
(If this hits me, I might—no—I will die.)
Panic surged through him, raw and desperate. He had to move. He had to dodge. But before he could react—
Pain.
A sharp, searing headache tore through his skull, drowning everything else out. His vision blurred, his balance wavered. He gritted his teeth, his body freezing as agony coursed through his mind.
And then—
---
For a moment—less than a second—Kamigan's eyes shifted, their color deepening into something unnatural. Black as the void, speckled with glimmers of white, they mirrored the night sky itself. But before anyone could grasp what had changed, Balthazar's kick landed squarely on Kamigan's face.
The impact sent him crashing through the glass window, shards scattering like falling stars. Outside, Kamigan tumbled, his body hitting the cold earth. Meanwhile, Balthazar remained inside, staring at his own leg—the one he had used to strike.
"That presence... That aura... In that split second... that wasn't him. It was almost like—"
A gasp. Shallow, uneven breaths. Kamigan groaned, blinking rapidly as he tried to collect himself.
"What happened?" he muttered, disoriented. "Did I black out? What just happened...? Huh? Where's that guy—?"
Before he could make sense of it all, strong hands gripped his collar. Balthazar had walked over, hauling him back inside with little effort. He dragged Kamigan across the floor, then lifted him just enough to look him in the eye.
"Do you feel like being reasonable now?" Balthazar asked, his voice firm but calm.
Kamigan clenched his fists, frustration burning within him. I tried twice already… and I was defeated so easily. There's no way I can win. With a sigh, he folded his arms and sank into a corner of the room, defeated.
"Very good," Balthazar said simply.
Silence followed. A long, heavy silence that made the night feel even longer.
Kamigan finally spoke, his voice quieter this time. "You're close with him, right? I saw the two of you talking."
Balthazar glanced at him. "Do you mean Dr. Aldric?"
"Yeah. It seemed like you were his friend, so I thought you would know."
"Know what exactly?"
"Why he came to this village. Why he sacrificed his life at the capital. Why—despite the way the villagers treat him—he still helps them like nothing happened." Kamigan's voice trembled slightly. "They accept his help, those shameless bastards. And still, they return his kindness with hatred. And yet... yet he continues to sacrifice himself for others."
Balthazar inhaled deeply, exhaling with a slow, measured breath. "I'm not sure what his reasons are," he admitted, "but... in a nutshell, it's difficult to understand."
"Then explain it in a way I'll understand!" Kamigan snapped, frustration flaring. "You adults act like you're so wise, so all-knowing—but in the grand scheme of things, you still struggle to understand, don't you?"
His voice carried more than just anger. There was sorrow in it, too.
Balthazar studied him for a moment, then finally spoke, his tone thoughtful.
"Such a person is a paradox—a martyr unrecognized, a shadow misunderstood by the very world they sacrifice for. To break one's own heart for others, especially for strangers, is an act of profound selflessness. But when society brands them as evil, it reveals an unsettling truth: the world does not always reward goodness, nor does it recognize the weight of unseen sacrifices.
Society judges by appearances, by whispers, by incomplete stories. It does not see silent suffering, the wounds hidden beneath the surface. It fears what it does not understand. And sometimes, true kindness—especially when it defies expectation—can appear dangerous. A hero who does not fit the mold of righteousness becomes a villain in the eyes of those who seek simple narratives.
But does it matter? To the one who gives without seeking recognition, to the one who chooses pain so others may heal, the judgment of the world is nothing but empty noise. The act itself is its own justification. The world may curse them, may call them a monster, but they know the truth: goodness is not defined by approval, nor is sacrifice measured by gratitude.
In the end, the tragedy is not that they are misunderstood. It is that the world is often unworthy of those who love it most."
Kamigan let out a bitter chuckle, his head tilting back against the wall. "Hah... I guess the problem was me all along. I still don't understand."
Balthazar stood, stretching slightly. "Go back home in the morning," he said. "Come see me in the afternoon. We still have a lot to talk about."
Kamigan hesitated, then nodded. "Okay."
And so, the long night passed.