Oscar.
He wasn't just a prodigy or a first-stream carnate with crimson Gana—he had once been a boy who laughed too loudly, pulled too many pranks, and swore eternal loyalty to one person.
Robert Rous.
The two of them had been inseparable. They shared every joke, every punishment, every whispered plan under the academy desks. Their childhood had been chaos wrapped in joy, with secret missions and games of "draw and dash" where they'd vandalize statues with glowing sketches.
Robert had been clever. Loud. Brash. But honest in a way few dared to be.
Oscar remembered sneaking out of the dorms, drawing silly mustaches on academy portraits, and running from the instructors, hearts pounding, laughter echoing through the night. He remembered Robert defending him when a senior tried to humiliate him in front of the whole stream. He remembered sharing tears the day Oscar's brother died.
And now…
Now they were enemies. Silent ones. Tense shadows in opposite halls.
What a cruel world, Oscar thought.
No explanations. Just orders.
Just rumors and silence.
---
Oscar had begged for answers.
"Dad, Robert is my friend," he had said firmly. "And his dad—John—he's your friend. He wouldn't do it."
Dickson's face had been hollow. The kind of tired that came from both grief and guilt. "I know, Oscar. But... he was seen there first. With my son."
"He probably just found him," Oscar had pushed. "Maybe he got there when it was already too late."
"He says that. But then who did it?" Dickson's voice cracked. "Who would go that far... and why make sure John was the one standing over the body when people arrived?"(for the first time in history carnation failed them, they tried the best carnater to carnate him but their Gana was useless, that send fear to everyone in the kingdom)
Oscar had no answer. The logic twisted his gut.
It wasn't just about guilt. It was about convenience. About framing. But the whispers had been louder than reason. Even evidence—fragments, glimpses—seemed to line up against Robert's father.
In the end, grief won.
"You are not to talk to him," Dickson had said. "You hear me, Oscar? I can't lose another son."
Oscar had nodded slowly. "I won't."
He meant it. Because even though Robert was like a brother, his real brother was gone. The weight of that loss drowned every act of rebellion. And for years, Oscar kept up the act.
He acted like he was angry. Cold. His silence fed the rumors. His posture taught others how to treat Robert—with distance, with cruelty. His peers took the cue and pushed it further, cornering Robert at every turn.
Oscar watched it all. Silently.
And he regretted it every time Robert was beaten down, every time someone stole his supplies or pushed him to the ground. He regretted it most when he did the pushing.
Yes, Oscar had carnated Robert himself.
He remembered that hallway fight, how his hand glowed with fury—not just power—and Robert hadn't even fought back. And yet, despite the silence and shame, Oscar had muttered something beneath his breath just before he let the carnation hit.
"Why don't you just be someone else? Someone new. Not my friend."
It wasn't meant as a curse. Just a tired wish. A prayer muttered out of pain.
But something happened.
Something impossible.
---
The second day, Robert was gone.
In his place stood someone else—someone who called himself Charles.
The boy had Robert's eyes, but none of his pride. He stuttered under pressure, drew like he was thinking in another language, and looked at the world with wide, confused eyes.
Oscar watched him from afar for weeks, uncertain.
At first, he thought it was an act. Some survival tactic.
But it wasn't.
Charles didn't recognize him. He didn't carry the weight of their past. He smiled timidly, fumbled over traditions, and treated even bullies with hope.
Robert had fire. Charles had sorrow.
And the most terrifying part?
Oscar had carnated him.
Or had he?
Carnation was never permanent. It lasted 24 hours. The Gana dissolved, and the form reverted. But Charles never did.
And when Oscar checked his stats that evening, he froze.
8,000 Gana points.
Eight full Gana surges. A golden-tier spike.
Unheard of. Impossible. Even elite streamers at the Zenith Ceremony didn't reach such a score from a single carnation.
It wasn't just a drawing.
It wasn't just Robert turning into someone else.
It was something more.
Something outside the bounds of magic as they knew it.
---
Now, every time Oscar saw Charles fumbling through the academy halls, he didn't know whether to grieve or celebrate.
Had he lost a friend… or saved one?
Because deep down, Oscar had meant it. He wanted Robert to become someone else. Not because he hated him—but because the world wouldn't let them be friends anymore. The world had chosen sides, and neither of them had a choice.
And somehow, it seemed like the world listened.
But it had taken more than he had bargained for.
---
One afternoon, Oscar found himself watching Charles from behind a pillar. He was picking up spilled ink pots from the floor, while another student snickered from down the hall.
The same scene. Again.
Oscar's hand twitched.
He wanted to step in.
But what would he say? "I'm sorry I helped erase your past?" Would Charles even understand?
Would he even want to know who he used to be?
Oscar wasn't sure.
But a question had begun to gnaw at him every night.
If Robert had truly become someone else...
Was it possible that the same thing happened to his brother?,
Oscar interest was picked, in this world, there was more magic than they have tapped into