“Brother, wake up. It’s already past your wake-up time!” little Elea shouted as she roughly shook Neth, who was showing no signs of waking up.

  In a half-asleep state, Neth grumbled, “Go away,” and turned his back to her. Unable to hold her patience, Elea picked up the small bucket filled with water beside her and doused her brother.

  Suddenly feeling very cold and suffocated, Neth quickly jumped to his feet. While shuddering, his blue eyes darted around, observing the surroundings. After realizing he was in his room and there was no danger, he finally relaxed. His gaze then fell on his little sister, Elea, who was holding a small pink bucket.

  Looking at the small amount of water in the bucket, his wet bed and clothes, and Elea’s awkward expression from across the room, his mind connected the dots. Clenching his teeth, he grumbled, “Elea,” and tried to reach for her. But perhaps because his day was truly unlucky, he slipped on the water that had pooled around his feet, spilled from his wet clothes.

  Seeing her brother’s scary face, Elea threw the bucket and ran downstairs. “Mommy! Save me! Big Brother is trying to beat me up!”

  Neth carefully got up, took the towel hung behind the door, and dried his hands and feet. Then he went downstairs and searched the house. Not in the living room. Not in the master bedroom. Not in the bathroom. Not in Nick’s room. Finally, he reached the kitchen.

  There, a beautiful woman with olive eyes and waist-length wavy brown hair was preparing breakfast. Tightly clinging to her clothes was the four-foot-tall Elea, who seemed like a miniature version of her. Seeing Neth approach, Elea quickly hid her face behind her mother. “Mommy, he’s here. Save me!”

  Bella stopped what she was doing and glanced at her oldest son. Neth stood at the entrance, his shirt completely soaked. Then, looking down at her daughter, she sternly asked, “What did you do this time?”

  Elea made an aggrieved expression. “Why are you always blaming me?”

  Bella continued in her stern voice, “Who burned Neth’s clothes during the previous harvest festival?”

  “But he said he wanted new ones!” Wouldn’t he get new ones if she burned the old ones?

  “And who gave away Nick’s toys while I was out?”

  “But I got a chocolate in exchange. And Nick said he liked it, too!” Yes, he had truly said it with a smile, just that the smile was a little weird with the gritted teeth.

  “And what about Neth being completely soaked now?”

  “I heard from Kelvin that whenever his brother isn’t waking up, their mother…” Elea, who had been explaining her brilliant ideas with gusto, suddenly quieted down. After a few moments of silence, she swallowed. “Can you forget what I just said?”

  Neth tilted his head. “Would you?”

  Elea shrank back, offering only a weak, “Ah… ah.”

  Bella lightly rubbed her temples. Her eldest son had been very quiet and sensible from a young age, so she hadn’t faced many problems raising him. She couldn’t even relate to the other mothers who were always complaining about their children. It felt like her peaceful life would continue. But that all changed when her second daughter was born. For the past nine years, there hadn’t been a single peaceful day in her life.

  “Neth, go change clothes. And Elea, go sit down at the table,” Bella ordered, her tone leaving no room for argument.

  After giving Elea a final glare, Neth went back upstairs. Soon after, little Nick wandered into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Seeing that Neth had gone, Elea released her grip on Bella’s clothes and quickly sat at the dining table. Then, looking at Nick, she remarked, “You’re up so early today.”

  Slowly sitting on a chair, her seven-year-old younger brother gave her an unimpressed stare and replied, “There was too much noise today, and it woke me up. So, what happened?”

  “Neth wasn’t waking up, so I just poured a bucket of water on him.”

  Nick stared at her, dumbfounded, and silently vowed to wake up the moment he heard her voice.

  Hearing their conversation, Bella sighed again. Even her youngest son, Nick, was several times more mature than boys his age, but her silly daughter was getting sillier as the days passed. There is no harm without comparison, but looking at them sitting together, her mind couldn’t help but wander. One child was plotting aquatic wake-up calls, and the other was sighing like a tired old man.

  Having taken a bath and changed his clothes, Neth arrived at the table. They had a simple breakfast of fried eggs, bread, and butter. After finishing his meal, Neth washed his hands and got ready to go out. Elea silently observed him, praying for Kelvin in her heart.

  As Neth was about to leave, his mother called, “Wait a second, Neth.” She hurriedly wiped her hands, went inside, and brought out a small stack of papers. “Give these to the Trade Association,” she said, then went back to washing the dishes.

  Taking the stack of papers, Neth left the house. Looking at Elea, who was keenly gazing at the closed door, Nick asked, “So, whose idea was it?”

  “Why do you think it wasn’t my own?” Elea grumpily asked.

  Nick gave her a mocking smile. “Yesterday, Kelvin was being beaten up by his brother for doing it.”

  Elea’s eyes widened. A moment passed before her face fell into a look of pure betrayal. “Kelvinnnnnnnn!” And for quite some time after that, Nick had to hold his sister back from starting a ‘war.’

  It was a bright, sunny day like any other. White, fluffy clouds drifted aimlessly across the blue sky, painting ephemeral pictures of various shapes and sizes. The first agenda item of the day was already decided. Being a gentleman, Neth refused to stoop so low as to fight an eight-year-old child directly, but employing a proxy was an entirely acceptable alternative.

  His first stop was the small house opposite his own. Soon, a chubby boy of similar height opened the door.

  “What is it?” asked Kelvin’s brother in a gruff voice. From his disheveled appearance, it seemed he had been asleep.

  Without a word, Neth produced two small, round premium chocolates and pressed them into the other boy’s palm. At the dumbfounded look from Kelvin’s brother, he said in a very calm voice, “Make sure he doesn’t get a peaceful sleep tonight. And tell him to control his mouth from next time.”

  A flicker of understanding passed over Kelvin’s brother’s face, followed by a slight, conspiratorial smirk. “Consider it done.”

  After hiring his hitman—no, his proxy—Neth went on his way to the Town Trade Association to deliver the documents. As he walked the cobblestone path, the town bustled with activity around him. Hawkers were shouting to sell their wares, and shops had also started to open. Both men and women were seen going to work. This was a peaceful yet regular sight he had grown accustomed to by now. Soon, he reached the center of the town where the Trade Association was situated.

  Entering a large four-story building, he was welcomed by a familiar and cheerful voice in the lobby. “Morning, Neth! Pleasant seeing you here. If you want to ask about your father, he will be coming back tomorrow,” greeted Rosy, the receptionist.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  Her hair was rosy red, just like her name. Maybe she was named after that, Neth always thought.

  “I’m already aware,” Neth replied, waving the thick stack of papers. “I’m only here to deliver these.”

  Rosy accepted the documents, her eyes scanning the top page. With a pleasantly surprised face, she said, “Thanks a lot. We’ll be needing them soon.”

  “By the way, I don’t see Ronan here today?” asked Neth, sweeping his gaze around the hall and not finding his friend, who was always present.

  “His father came back early this morning. Must have brought some good things to keep that guy from coming here,” Rosy answered with a slightly depressed voice. “Must be nice having such a rich father.”

  Neth offered only a wry smile in response before taking his leave, setting a course for Ronan’s home.

  Levrin Town thrived as one of the region's wealthiest settlements, its prosperity rooted in the lush farmlands that surrounded it. Most residents were associated with farming or trading in some way or another. Neth’s father was also a small-time trader and had gone to the city to sell the recent season’s harvest. Ronan’s father, however, stood among the local gentry. He could be called quite wealthy and had several businesses running in the city. He always returned from his travels bearing new and fascinating gifts.

  Reaching Ronan’s house, which was situated at the western edge of the village, Neth had slight droplets of sweat on his forehead. It had taken him fifteen minutes just to get there. The distance from the town center was just enough to make him sweat. Looking ahead, the house before him was more grandiose than any other in the town.

  Neth lightly knocked on the door. Soon, the door opened, and a handsome boy in his early teens with blonde hair, fair skin, and dark brown eyes stood there.

  “Welcome, Sir Knight! I was just about to summon you,” said Ronan, mimicking the voice of an elderly man.

  “Enough of that,” Neth said, his wry smile returning. “I heard your father returned this morning.”

  Ronan smiled back. “Of course he did, and he also brought the latest edition of The Silver Knight.”

  No further words were necessary. Neth seized Ronan’s wrist and practically dragged him upstairs to his bedroom, even leaving the front door ajar in their haste.

  The Silver Knight was a wildly popular serialized novel among the youth, with Ronan and Neth being no exception. Its sole drawback was its scarcity. New volumes were sold exclusively in major cities and vanished as soon as they hit the shelves.

  After entering the room, Neth fixed him with an expectant stare. Rising to the occasion, Ronan produced a small key from his pocket, unlocked a secure compartment in his study desk, and retrieved a thick book. The cover was embossed with a silver sword that felt real to the touch. Its raised details helped you imagine the story before you even opened it. They both hopped onto the bed and started reading.

  When you are doing something that you like, time passes very quickly. Soon, it was afternoon, and they heard Ronan’s mother’s call: “Lunch is ready. Come down, both of you.” After hearing the shout, Ronan securely locked the book, and they both went downstairs for lunch.

  Unlike Neth’s home, here the kitchen and the dining room were separate. The only people present were Neth, Ronan, Ronan’s mother, and younger brother. Ronan’s father was out sorting his business, so he was not able to join them. The meal consisted of fried vegetables with seasonings, thick meat stew, and freshly baked bread.

  “You boys must stop staying out so late,” Ronan’s mother said, her spoon pausing halfway to her mouth. Her gaze fixed on Ronan, sharp and unblinking. “There have been troubling reports lately… people going missing near the city. Not robberies. Not accidents. They are just gone.”

  Ronan responded with a dry cough, his eyes darting toward Neth in a silent plea. After seeing the signal, Neth said in a confident voice, “Auntie, I will make sure he leaves early from tomorrow.” In his twelve years of existence, Neth had learned one principle most keenly: the lady of the house was always right.

  Ronan shot him a glance of utter betrayal, which Neth answered with an indifferent shrug. Satisfied with the reply, Ronan’s mother relaxed visibly. Though the conversation had begun on a somber note, the mood soon lightened as it progressed.

  After lunch was over, Neth and Ronan washed the dishes as always and decided to take a small walk to the hill behind the house. Situated on top of the hill was the largest tree in the village, its branches and leaves thick enough to shelter dozens of people from the sun. This was also the primary reason why Ronan’s father had built their house there.

  “So, when are you going to start accompanying your father on his business trips?” Neth asked as they walked.

  Ronan grinned. “He said maybe next time he’ll take me along.” Being a wealthy merchant’s son, he was meant to inherit the family business. “What about you? Weren’t you going to apply to the Academy?”

  Neth shrugged, eyes drifting toward the road ahead. “There’s still time. Once I step onto that path, everything will turn into studying and expectations. I just want these few days to feel normal.”

  Soon, they both reached the tree. Even in the hot weather, a cool wind was blowing below its shade, making the atmosphere very pleasant. They talked and idled away the time until Ronan’s younger brother arrived with a summons: their father had returned and wished to speak with Ronan.

  Ronan got up. “What about you?”

  “You go ahead. I’ll just rest here for a while.”

  “Then see you later,” Ronan said, going down with his brother.

  Leaning against the massive trunk, Neth basked in the cool shade. A heaviness settled over his eyelids. Normally, he didn’t have the habit of napping, but last night he had stayed up late, and his sister Elea’s morning shenanigans had left him weary. A quiet thought, one he never voiced, brushed his mind: It would be nice to have something more than trade ledgers and little sister pranks.

  As his consciousness began to ebb, the air before his face shimmered. Not a trick of the light. A literal, hairline fracture, sharp and impossibly thin, materialized in the fabric of space itself. In his drowsy state, he dismissed it as a trick of his tired mind.

  The fissure did not vanish. Instead, with a soundless, deliberate pace, it slowly widened to the breadth of his two fingers. Through the opening, Neth glimpsed a light of purest cyan. It was a radiance of indescribable beauty, more captivating than any sunset or gemstone he had ever witnessed. It felt ancient, and deep within its glow, he sensed a strange, magnetic pull. Not towards danger, but towards an answer to a question he’d never known how to ask.

  He stared, his gaze held fast by a naked, groggy infatuation. Unbeknownst to him, his mouth had already gone slack.

  Some primal instinct in his mind screamed a silent warning to look away, to shut his eyes. But the command was smothered beneath the weight of his exhaustion and the light's serene, welcoming pull. And his body did not obey it.

  He simply watched as the serene cyan glow filled his vision, becoming his entire world. In that final second, he felt neither fear nor pain, only a profound and gentle curiosity, as if he were recognizing a dream he had once forgotten. Then, a profound and final stillness seeped into his limbs. His eyelids, gritty and dry, grew too heavy to hold open. They slid shut in a slow, smooth motion.

  And Neth was gone.

  There was no pain or struggle. His heart and breath stopped with a quiet finality. The death was so seamless that to anyone, he would have just seemed peacefully asleep, a trace of a wondering smile on his lips.

  The tear in the air convulsed. It tore violently open, widening into a jagged doorway that hummed with silent power. From within stepped a figure that seemed woven from distortion itself. No matter how closely one looked, it remained shrouded in a perpetual blur, its form and intent utterly obscured.

  It paused and contemplated the still boy for a few moments. Then it extended a hazy hand. In its grasp was a small, radiant cyan gem, pulsing with the same serene light that had spilled from the fissure. The figure placed the gem upon Neth’s forehead with an air of solemn duty.

  The gem pulsed once, warmly, against his skin, as if sealing a promise. The figure then retreated into the rift without a glance back. The crack began to close rapidly until there was nothing amiss, and the quiet afternoon had returned to normal.

  The cyan gem shimmered one final time. Then, like ice melting into skin, it slowly seeped into Neth’s forehead until no trace remained. Nothing seemed amiss at all. Yet everything had changed.

  The afternoon sun beat down brightly upon the caravan. Its people had concluded their business late the previous night and had begun the return journey only that morning.

  Inside one of the wagons, Ulrich sat quietly, his thumb tracing the edge of a worn pendant. Within its small frame were portraits of his wife Bella, and their three children—Neth and Nick, both with hair as blue as his own, and little Elea, whose locks mirrored her mother’s.

  He was lost in a fond memory when a sudden, sharp pang lanced through his chest. It came without any warning. He looked down and saw the faint, glowing blue circle etched on his chest, right over his heart.

  Soon his vision dimmed, and he saw Neth asleep under a large tree, too peaceful, too still. But he knew instinctively that something was wrong with his firstborn.

  Without a word, he shoved the pendant into his tunic and lunged for the caravan door. He burst into the sunlight, his eyes scanning for the nearest horse. Ignoring the shouts of his companions, he untethered a mount and swung himself into the saddle.

  “Ulrich! What—?”

  “The road isn’t safe to ride alone!”

  He heard their calls, saw their confused faces, but to him, their words were just noise. Taking in his wild, urgent expression, they finally fell back.

  He dug his heels into the horse’s flanks. The beast surged forward, kicking up dust as it left the caravan behind. Only one thought beat in his head with every hoof-fall, a prayer and a plea wrapped into one:

  Please. Let me be on time.

  It had been just a normal day, filled with a few not-so-normal events. Now, it was the day one life ended, and another began.