"He is the heir of Yukihana," Yuki replied. "He must learn restraint. And blade balance."
Felix turned, calmly slid open the mansion doors, and walked inside without reacting.
"Did you not hear me mention sword training?" Yuki called after him.
"Did you not hear me mention flowers in the dirt?!" Aine added, chasing behind.
Inside, the wide entryway opened into a massive sitting hall lined with low tables and painted silk screens. An indoor cherry tree bloomed in the center, glowing softly under foxfire lamps. Felix walked straight through it, past ancestral portraits, past scrolls on shelves, and headed for the stairs.
"I'm going to bed," he said emotionlessly.
"Without telling me if your new teacher was beautiful?!" Aine cried from behind, floating after him. "What if she's your soulmate?! I should have come disguised as a chair!"
"You were a chair once," Yuki muttered, sighing.
"EXACTLY!"
Felix climbed the stairs without a word and closed the door to his room.
He stood there, breathing slowly.
****
"Baby! Get ready soon! I made something special for you to eat~~!!"
His mother's voice echoed through the wide halls of the Yukihana mansion, drifting up from the first floor like a sparkly wave of drama. There was the usual sound of pots clinking, tails swishing, and Aine probably twirling while summoning peach-scented magic into the kitchen just to make toast.
Upstairs, Felix sat on the edge of his bed, already changed his uniform, staring blankly at the window.
He sighed deeply.
He was exactly like his father most of the time…cold, serious, distant, and always watching in silence before speaking.
But sometimes… just sometimes… he didn't know how the mischief leaked into his blood. Maybe it was from her.
The chaos.
The theatrics.
The obsession with pretending to be furniture for no reason.
His mother. Aine. Goddess of Mischief.
She who once shapeshifted into a staffroom chair and made a teacher sit on her for three hours just to win a prank war. She who once disguised herself as a "fox plushie" in the council meeting just to eavesdrop. She who dramatically fainted every time Felix told her he got less than full marks.
And unfortunately, he was her son too.
That's why… when he saw the new teacher standing there nervously yesterday, flipping through the attendance register, her eyes wide and her hands trembling just slightly…
The idea struck.
Just like that.
Before he could stop himself, he let his magic slip..changed into a taller form, deeper voice, darker presence and appeared behind her like the principal himself.
He didn't even plan it.
He just wanted to see what she would do.
He expected her to scream. Run. Or faint.
But instead… she looked terrified, her face crumpling like she was about to cry.
Felix had frozen in his fake principal form.
She was ridiculous.
And kind of… real.
That's when he realized he didn't know what to do next—so he just stood there, panicked, until Boo slapped him in the face.
He sighed again, rubbing his temples.
Why did he do that?
Why did he care?
"You're definitely your mother's child," he muttered to himself.
Downstairs, her voice came again, "Baby, if you don't come down in three seconds, I will cry and turn your bedroom into a flower shop!!"
****
High above the clouds, where most birds couldn't fly and the wind always carried the scent of stone and silence, stood a massive fortress carved directly into the side of a mountain.
This was the Rock Domain.
And at its heart stood the Stonehold Castle, home of Rocky…the shy little boy who turned into a boulder when scared.
The castle wasn't fancy with gold or jewels. It didn't need them. It was beautiful in its own way..carved perfectly from strong granite and dark silver stone, standing tall and unshakable against the harshest weather. The towers weren't made to impress anyone, they were made to last. The walls bore the scars of time, but they held their ground like loyal soldiers.
The castle seemed cold from the outside.
But inside… it was different.
The halls were warm with fire crystals that glowed in orange hues. The floors were smooth from years of walking, and the walls were decorated not with paintings, but with carvings stories etched into stone by hand over generations.
And in the main hall, sitting side by side on twin thrones carved from black marble, sat Rocky's parents—
The Boulder King and Queen Granite.
The King was a giant of a man, tall and broad like the mountains he ruled. His skin was rough and gray, his jawline sharp as a chisel, and his voice deep like a low rumble before an avalanche. Despite his strength, his eyes were kind. He never shouted. He never rushed. But when he spoke… the entire hall listened.
Queen Granite was softer in appearance, but equally strong. Her long slate-colored hair was braided down her back like flowing rock, and her gown shimmered like crushed stone dust under the firelight. She had a calm face, the kind that made you feel safe even when the world was falling. She was firm, gentle, and spoke with few words but every word had weight.
When the guards brought Rocky into the hall, the Queen immediately rose from her throne.
Her footsteps echoed as she walked toward her son, arms open.
"Welcome home, little pebble," she said softly.
Rocky looked up shyly and stepped forward, his tiny hand holding the strap of his bag.
"I-I did good today," he whispered, his cheeks flushing.
The King chuckled gently. "Did you talk in class?"
Rocky fidgeted.
"…I nodded. A lot."
Queen Granite bent down, placing a firm, loving hand on his head. "That's more than Last week."
Rocky nodded quickly.
The Queen took his bag and handed it to a servant, then wrapped one arm around his shoulders and walked him deeper into the castle.
Past the stone training rooms. Past the library of tablets. Past the glowing heat chamber where the family gathered in the evenings.
All the way to his room, a round chamber with a big round bed covered in thick rock-wool blankets. Carvings of his favorite animals were on the walls, and a tiny glowing crystal lantern sat by his pillow.
Everything here was solid. Safe. Heavy.
Just the way Rocky liked it.