After speaking with his father for a while, Michael left the house, his steps light but focused. Tomorrow was going to be a big day—a dangerous one. Majesty hadn't said it out loud, but he understood why she refused his help. She didn't want him to get hurt. If he went up against the queen, it would end badly, and she knew it. So she gave up trying to escape. But Michael wasn't going to sit back and do nothing.
The night air was cool, and the streets of Runevale were quiet, bathed in silver moonlight. Michael made his way through the shadows, his cloak fluttering softly behind him.
He reached the courtyard and found Javier already waiting under a tall, twisted oak.
"Why did you call me out so late?" Javier asked casually, leaning against the tree trunk. "And just to be clear, if this is some secret confession, I'm not interested in men."
Michael didn't laugh. "I'm not in the mood for jokes. I need a favor, Javier." Michael didn't waste time with pleasantries.
They hadn't spoken like this in a long time. When they were kids, the three of them—Michael, Majesty, and Javier—had been inseparable. But things changed. The older they got, the more distant Javier became. Michael never understood why. Every time he reached out, Javier pulled further away. He didn't talk like he used to. Didn't laugh. Barely even made eye contact unless he had to
Javier, on the other hand, understood all too well. Every time he looked at Michael, it left a bitter taste in his mouth. They were both called prodigies, but only one of them truly deserved the title.
His father had been the strongest of his generation, a legend in his own right. Javier had made it his life's goal to surpass that legacy. He trained harder than anyone, pushed his body past its limits, and obsessed over perfecting every technique.
But no matter how hard he worked, Michael always got there first. And worse—he did it effortlessly.
What took Javier months to master, Michael picked up in a single day. While others praised Javier as a genius, Michael was something else entirely. Something impossible.
And Javier hated it.
He couldn't smile around Michael because the jealousy burned too deep. He wasn't the type to fake his emotions—so instead, he withdrew. Distanced himself. Shut the door and focused on one thing: surpassing the one person who made him feel like he was standing still.
Still, something about Michael's tone tonight—serious, calm, a little desperate—cut through the wall he had built over the years.
Javier pushed off the tree and crossed his arms.
"I need a favor, Javier."
Javier raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching into something between a smirk and a grimace. The moonlight caught the sharp lines of his face, throwing shadows across his cheekbones.
"You need a favor?" Javier scoffed, voice sharp. "Can't believe you're asking—knowing damn well I won't help you."
"Won't you at least hear me out? For old times' sake?" Michael asked, trying to keep his tone steady.
Javier turned without a word and began walking away, his boots crunching against the gravel.
"Don't call me out late at night again," he muttered.
Michael's voice rose, steady but desperate. "Lady Nyxelene plans to kill Majesty tomorrow."
Javier stopped mid-step. His back stiffened, but he didn't turn around.
"…What about it?" he asked in a low, cold voice.
Michael stepped forward. "Please. Help me stop her. I know we've grown apart, but we were once friends. You cared about her too. I'm begging you—just this once."
Javier finally turned, his eyes narrowing as he faced him.
"Hey, Michael… are you seriously asking me to die with you?" he said, voice heavy with disbelief. "Has your love for the princess really blinded you that much? We're talking about the queen. Lady Nyxelene. Not some noble you can take down in a duel."
Michael didn't flinch. "I won't die… not if you help me."
Javier's fist clenched at his side, the veins in his neck twitching.
"The result will be the same—with or without me," he snapped. "You think this is about helping you? This is suicide. That woman… she's on a level we don't even understand. I can't believe someone hailed as the strongest can be this stupid. If you go up against her, you're not just going to lose—you're going to die."
He was furious. Not just at the recklessness—but at Michael himself. At how easily he was willing to throw everything away. All the power. All the respect. Everything Javier had fought to earn and never quite reached. All for a girl… who didn't even love him back.
"You're willing to die for someone who never once looked at you the way you look at her?" Javier hissed. "You're really that stupid?"
Michael looked away for a moment, jaw tightening. "It's not about what I get back. It's about what's right."
"You're so blinded by love, you've forgotten how terrifying the queen truly is," Javier said, his voice sharp, eyes blazing with restrained rage. "Michael, don't mistake courage for stupidity. You're not a hero. You're a fool. Go ahead—play the knight in shining armor. Just don't expect anyone to mourn the idiot who challenged a goddess."
Michael clenched his fists, his jaw tightening at Javier's words. "Why are you like this, Javier?"
Javier scoffed and took a slow step forward, the moonlight casting a cold sheen across his face. "That's what I should be asking you… you idiot." His voice cracked slightly, but he forced it steady again. "I've lived every single day resenting you. Training until my hands bled. Breaking my own limits just to catch up. And now here you are, throwing it all away—for what? A girl who doesn't even love you back?"
Michael didn't answer. He couldn't. His silence only made the words cut deeper.
Javier shook his head, laughing bitterly. "You always had it easy. Everyone saw us as geniuses—but no matter how hard I worked, you were always ahead. Every technique I broke my body learning, you mastered just by glancing at it. I hated you for that."
The wind blew gently through the trees, rustling the leaves around them like whispers from the past.
"And yet…" Javier's voice lowered. "Even after everything, I still hoped that one day… maybe I could beat you. Prove I was more than just your shadow. But now? You're choosing to die, just to protect someone who probability will never love you back?
Michael looked up, his voice calm but firm. "Then help me live, Javier. Help me protect her."
Javier turned away again, fists clenched at his sides. His back was stiff, his shoulders heavy with frustration, pain, and the weight of old memories.
"I told you already," he muttered. "Don't ask me to die beside you."
"My lifelong goal is to become the strongest in this kingdom," Javier said, his voice steady, gaze locked on the dark sky as if daring the stars themselves to challenge him. "Stronger than you, Michael. Stronger than my father ever was. Stronger than the queen. I want to challenge the heavens."
His words carried the weight of years spent chasing an impossible dream, the kind that demanded blood, sacrifice, and solitude.
"I know you'll say it's impossible," he continued, turning slightly toward Michael. "But it has to be that impossible… or else it's not worthy of being my dream."
He paused, eyes narrowing, as if searching Michael's expression for something—anything—that resembled the fire he carried.
"So tell me, Michael... what's your goal?"
Michael stood there, quiet, his breath soft in the cold night air. The wind brushed through the trees, leaves rustling like faint whispers around them. Javier's question lingered, heavier than it should have been.
After a long silence, Michael finally replied, "Actually... I've never really thought about that."
Javier scoffed, shaking his head with a faint, bitter smile. "That's so like you, Michael. Everything just falls into your lap, so you never had to chase anything." He took a few steps backward, voice cooling with disappointment. "I can't follow someone who doesn't even know where they're going."
Without waiting for a response, Javier turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows of the night—leaving Michael alone with the silence, and a question he could no longer ignore.
Michael trudged back to his home, the weight of the world pressing down on his shoulders. He couldn't remember when sleep had overtaken him, the exhaustion of the day dragging him into a dreamless slumber. The quiet of his room was suffocating, the stillness more oppressive than any noise.
A cold splash of water suddenly hit his face, snapping him awake.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, sleeping like nothing matters?" Ramius's sharp voice sliced through the air. "I thought you were supposed to care for the princess! At this rate, she's going to die before you get the chance to see her again, you idiot."
Michael blinked, disoriented, water dripping from his chin. His eyes shifted to the window, and his heart skipped a beat when he saw how high the sun had climbed. Panic surged through him as the realization hit. He shot up, ignoring the wetness on his face, and rushed toward the door.
Meanwhile, I was being dragged toward the palace, my steps sluggish as I tried to keep up with the guards' harsh tugging. My mother sat on the throne, her expression cold and unreadable, while Orin loomed behind her, a silent shadow. The air in the grand hall felt heavier than usual, thick with tension.
Whispers floated around me like a swarm of insects, each one sharp and laced with judgment.
"What did the princess do? Why is she handcuffed like that?"
"I heard she was fooling around with some gambler," another voice murmured, as though the words were poison.
"Really? Has she no shame? No wonder the queen doesn't like her," came the biting response.
I lowered my gaze, feeling the sting of their words as they pierced through the space between us. The shame, the weight of their judgment—it all felt suffocating, like a cloak I couldn't shake off.
As Michael neared the palace, his pulse raced. He had to get to her. There was no time to waste.