[ - Rein Sundial - Rein Sundial - ]
The gentle noise of the village's cheers and the earthy aroma of the breeze were heavenly compared to other things. The small yet large village surrounded by clear grassy plains felt pristine—a haven where life seemed to soften its edges and allow the village to experience this peaceful moment.
Though the village was overflowing with life, a particular young man found tranquillity in the quiet solitude of his home.
He sat with his chin resting on his palms, staring into the dark sunset against the window. He was captivated by the alluring atmosphere radiating from the sky and the soft glow of the village lights.
He looked down and smiled at the lively scene before him—children running down the street carrying tiny sticks and cheering to their heart's content. It was the village's festival today, a time of joy and celebration, a moment where it should feel nearly illegal to miss out. Yet here he was.
The village carries out annual seasonal ceremonies with unique activities representing harmony, love, and charity. These festivals celebrate the community's shared joy and humility for one another, each event happening on a designated day.
A unique theme symbolizes each season in the village: Spring represents shared moments between feasts and memories; Summer celebrates life and energy with plenty of dances and music; Autumn represents the connection and similarities between the villagers; and Winter emphasizes the warmth of actions over words, offering support during challenging moments.
The festival held on this day is the arrival of spring.
He imagined a heartwarming scene from his childhood, remembering how he once carried the same smile. The memory lingered, bittersweet and comforting. But the warmth faded as reality set in. He knew it was practically impossible to return to those precious times, not when there was a more significant option he could pursue—his dream of becoming a knight—a goal inspired by his mother.
With a deep sigh, he rolled up his sleeves, leaning back slightly. His dark brown hair clung loosely to his forehead, messy from hours of relentless training. His black eyes reflected a quiet determination, but beneath them lay the weight of countless questions—some with answers, some without.
Considering he had spent the day training his swordplay, refining his control over the blade rather than exhausting himself, a faint annoyance appeared. A wooden sword could only take him so far. He had pushed himself to complete 300 slashes three times a week—something that was beyond what most could endure.
He turned from the window and straight towards the book on the desk before him, picking back up on where he left off in this book's content from the day before.
Each page felt vivid and real, blurring the line between fiction and reality. The soft glow from the lamp was the only connection to this world, but it wasn't enough to completely snap him out of it.
A distant voice reached him from the other side of the door, soft and barely distinguishable.
"Rein!"
No, in fact. It was very clear, but his attention remained fixed on the book, making their voice seem faint and distant by comparison. It may have been due to his fatigue.
"Rein, come over here!"
The voice was unmistakable, so he set the book aside and got up from the chair. He walked across the room and opened the door. He hurried to the living room and found his mother putting her armor away. A slight grin spread across her face when she noticed him.
"Yes?"
The man—Rein—responded to her calls.
He stepped into the living room, briefly catching her gaze before shifting to the bag that wasn't there previously. Her eyes then lit with curiosity.
"How's the festival?" She asked, her tone full of warmth as if she wanted to experience the shared joy herself. "I'm sorry I couldn't come."
Her footsteps softened as she stepped into the living room. She sat on her favorite sofa, and a flicker of light danced from the fireplace. The soft glow leaped across the room until reaching the edges.
"I didn't participate in it," he murmured. "Not today."
"Why not? I thought you enjoyed festivals." His mother tilted her head, her gaze filled with curiosity and interest.
"I barely slept last night, I've been mostly training."
Rein's mother sighed, then glanced at the fireplace with a hint of disappointment. "You need to take care of yourself with proper sleep, Rein. If you want to become strong, that is."
"…Alright, I will make sure to sleep well next time."
She leaned back against the couch, arching her back with a satisfied sigh as she stretched her arms over her head.
Then, as if just remembering something, she tilted her head towards Rein. "Oh right—also, the librarian wanted you to carry around a few things, he said it's urgent tomorrow."
"Why couldn't he ask somebody else?"
"He said he missed you a lot, you should go!" She readjusted in her seat after realizing, "He wants you there at 8:30 AM."
Rein sighed.
"Alright, I will meet him. But Mom, you bought so much… Did you buy the tomatoes I wanted?"
Her eyes widened. "I… forgot. I'm sorry."
He smiled. "It's okay; I'll buy them tomorrow. Don't worry."
It wasn't common for his mom to forget about it so casually, so he assumed today must've been a special occasion.
"But… it's been ages since we've last cooked together," she announced with a smile, sorting through the ingredients inside the bag. "How about we continue with another one?"
"You just returned and want to push yourself like this?"
His mother paused, letting out a faint chuckle. "You're a growing boy, you need all the energy you can get, and I know just what you need."
"I understand, but I'm worried for you. So let me do it, I'll do it."
She raised an eyebrow, teasing him. "You are always suggesting cooking for me. 'I'll do it' never gets old, does it?" She sighed dramatically. "You never let me have fun, do you?"
"And that is why I will cook dinner for the both of us. Take a rest. I can handle cooking by myself." Before he replied, "You have already done enough by protecting this village."
Rein's mother had been a knight before he was even born. Even now, her name carried weight in the village, carved into the memories of those who had seen her in action. Her reputation as a knight is well-known, but her strength was never questioned.
It could be because she is a high-ranked knight who handles various sorts of dangers—in the end, her strength remains exceptional, ensuring the safety of those around her.
But it's been difficult for her lately, due to the fact that she's mainly at the castle. Because of her rank, she gets numerous tasks from her superior to protect the king with other high-ranked knights. Considering it's only to accompany the king to his safety, Rein doesn't see her often as she only appears in the village during the evening. Though she tries her best to defend it.
Nevertheless, the village trusts her strength when it comes to security. She does so much.
Rein approached his mother, seated comfortably on the couch, and gently took her bags to the kitchen, placing them on the countertop. Rein began sorting each ingredient nearby to use them later. He glanced at the potential suggestions scattering around his thoughts, and he considered one—something his mother loved: pie and pasta.
Even though it was a weird combination,
He still went along with it.
First, Rein began by slicing apples and arranging them in a bowl. Shortly after, he prepared the pie dough by mixing flour, butter, and a splash of ice water until it was the right consistency, pressing it into a flat disk, and then letting it chill. When the dough cooled, he seasoned the apples with sugar, cinnamon, and lemon juice to ensure each slice was evenly shrouded. With the filling and dough chilling ready, he was ready to assemble the pie and finish the baking process.
As he prepared to start his next meal, his mind wandered to the future.
Becoming a knight wouldn't be easy; it requires much hard work and dedication. Moreover, the thought that he would officially become a trainee knight in a week felt unreal.
Rein paused, realizing what he felt wasn't dread but a realization. To his surprise, he felt a growing sense of anticipation—far from nervousness, as he had believed.
Or just maybe…
It was about the fact he couldn't contain the excitement.
Shaking off the thought, he continued preparing the meal. He filled a basin with water and then added a fragment of salt. He placed the pot on the stove as the water began to heat. While waiting for it to boil, Rein prepared a nice, flavorful sauce with tomatoes, garlic, and green herbs. As the water reached a boil—steaming and gushing from the pot while bubbling—he added the pasta, stirring carefully while ensuring the sauce stewed perfectly. Once the pasta was cooked and drained, he combined it with the sauce and served it on the dining table.
A quiet snore came from the living room, ending the stillness of the night. He looked toward the couch and found his mother resting, her chest rising and falling in a calming rhythm.
Instead of waking her up, he took a plate and made a slice of pie for himself. Rein opened the window and located both meals in front of it so they could be equally cooled for later. The silence quickly ended before Rein's footsteps quieted down from the dining table and towards his room.
He strolled back to his chair to quietly reward himself for the simple meal he had prepared, considering it was both a daily objective and an act of love. Rein returned to the book he had been reading earlier while eating his sliced pie.
Oh,
Hmm, it's strange.
Even the book's title carries confusion. It's entirely unlike the book.
'Do Automatons find solace in sleep?'
How does this title have anything to do with the story? It's a mystery book with abstract elements toward the title's name.
Curiosity spread across his face, apparent in every line and feature as his focus returned to the book.
He turned the page and discovered a line that had captured his attention. A meaning meant for simplicity but somehow dragged into a deeper meaning.
A line about a promise.
The idea of a character's promise felt more like a message than a script, almost like the words were meant for him and not just a character in the book. A chill ran through Rein as if they had been spoken to him before—by someone who played an essential role in his life, other than his mother.
I mean, of course. It was right beside him.
His key.
The key resembles any regular key, except it's golden if you consider it different. It has small chains connected around it, reaching right below his chest. They're light grey chains that hang from the key, plain and flawless.
Any regular person would speculate their key to being an ordinary item. Someone carrying that particular key his entire life would know that ordinarily doesn't apply here.
In his perspective, the key was there for display. He never understood why he had to carry it, as the only answer he got from his mother was that 'it's a family heirloom.' He felt a more profound importance lurking behind her words. Doubting her authenticity, he began to assume there was more to the key than she was letting on, but out of respect for his mother, he refrained from questioning her further.
Rein adjusted uncomfortably on the chair; he stared at the ceiling, pondering what this key could be about. How can something insignificant have such an essential role in his life? It doesn't make any sense. It shouldn't.
After observing his key, his thoughts grew so engrossed with curiosity about its existence that he lost track of time. Numerous questions dispersed in his mind, and before he realized it, his vision blurred, and he fell into unconsciousness.