The dream came without warning.
Smoke. Incense. Roses left too long in their vases — their petals sagging and blackened with rot. The throne room was cloaked in shadows, heavy curtains choking out the sun. I remembered how bright it once was.
Then came the sting.
A sharp crack across my cheek — my head snapping to the side. The heat from her hand burned more than fire.
"Why must you be like this?" My mother's voice trembled, not with fragility, but fury. "Always so distant… so cold. It's because of you we're here. Because of you, we've lost everything!"
Her words carved deeper than her slap. I turned back to her — violet eyes meeting the same eyes that once looked at me with warmth. There was no softness left. Only exhaustion sharpened into hatred.
I wanted to speak. To tell her I hadn't asked to be born, that I still loved her, that I was trying. But behind her voice, I could hear laughter echoing down marble halls. My stepmother's gentle mockery. My half-brother's satisfied smirk.
And my mother's silence in the face of it.
The silence that agreed with them.
I stood there, mute, a prince turned scapegoat, the kingdom's curse made flesh.
And as the dream bled into memory, I realized—this wasn't some nightmare. This was a past I had buried alive.
Because the truth was never that she hated me.
The truth was that I lied to myself — that I told myself she still loved me.
Even when her hands shook with rage.
Even when her eyes looked through me instead of at me.
Even when her words tore me apart night after night.
That was the lie that kept me alive.
The lie that became my cage.
And the night she screamed, "You should have never been born!" — that cage finally broke.
And that was when Yoru — the prince — finally died.
___________________________________________________________________________
My eyes opened to silence.
The ceiling above me wasn't gilded stone or the cracked plaster of my old room — it was wood, warm and faintly glowing with mana. The air was different. Softer. Laced with starlight.
I wasn't in that world anymore.
But the ache in my chest was still there.
The ghost of her voice still echoed in the dark corners of my mind.
"Mother… did you ever love me?"
I sat up slowly, the sheets rustling beneath me, breath shallow. My hand rose to my cheek — no mark. No pain. Just memory.
"…I disobeyed them."
The words slipped out before I could stop them.
The Kurogane-kai. My family. The people who saved me when no one else would. Boss Kurogane, who taught me to fight without losing myself. Kaoru, who treated me like her own son. Ren, who looked at me like a brother even when he could barely stand.
They gave me everything.
And I betrayed their trust.
I went back.
To that cursed palace.
To finish what I thought was justice.
My father. My stepmother. Ryusei.
And her. My mother.
I killed them all.
Not for honor. Not for peace.
But because I couldn't forgive.
When it was over, the silence was deafening. I waited for relief that never came. I wanted to hate myself, but all I felt was emptiness.
The Kurogane-kai never abandoned me. Even after I broke their one rule.
Boss only said, "You've already paid your price."
Kaoru cried.
Ren smiled, weakly, and said, "You came home."
But home wasn't home anymore.
I died not long after. Maybe it was fate. Maybe punishment.
And when I opened my eyes again — I was no longer Yoru.
Now, I am Hoshikawa.
A name born under the stars.
And though this new world doesn't remember what I did…
I do.
____________________________________________________________________________
The magic classes proceeded smoothly.
I even got to learn how to do advanced celestial magic!
Which is, of course, voiceless incantation.
Which, of course, again, I scared the shit out of my parents and Lexi by doing voiceless incantation successfully on my first try.
They were like, " If Kawa-Kun can do voiceless incantation, then what if he goes through does super late terrible twos (which is by the way, 3 years late), and create those giant fireballs to burn down the house again? Oh my… we need to please him well,"
Although most of the different advanced rank magic, due the limited space, I can only perform 2 at most at one time.
Sorry, in my world, we just call it magic, but it's actually called Astramancy.
Let me break it down:
We use our astralis (essence) to open our astral core. As Celesians (mages), we wield astramancy (magic). But we don't use this term often. We would normally say, " Oh, I used my astralis and channeled it into my sword," or some sort.
Anyway, Lexi sensei, as the only mage, I mean, capable mage around other than me, she got a lot of requests from the farmers to summon rain for them. And of course, as the "very" kind sensei, she could never say no to these requests from meager farmers begging her for help. Ugh, why does she always need to act like a hero?
I heard this from my dad when I was staying at home reading.
I decided to tease her a bit when she got home.
" Lexi sensei, how kind of you to help those poor folks," I winked
"Help? No, I'm just earning some pocket money,"
" Huh? You're charging?"
" Of course! Everything comes with a price. See, for rain, it would cost about 2 silver coins, and for…"
I was shocked to the core. What a cheapskate! This is daylight robbery!!
Turns out, my sensei is a gold digger who is obsessed with money. Sigh..
However, since no one in the village of Starhaven knew how to summon rain, they all praised Lexi for being such a genius. They were even willing to pay such an outrageous price for rain.
Sigh, it's a give and a take, I guess.
Maybe it's just my mindset.
____________________________________________________________________________
I'm about 6 now.
The house smelled of sweet bread and roasted lamb, the kind my father only prepared on "important" days. And for some reason, turning six was a very important day. At least, that's what everyone kept telling me.
The Avanguard came, their voices filling our little house with laughter. Kara darted between the chairs like she owned the place, tugging at my sleeve whenever she wanted me to show her something "cool" I had learned. Lexi sensei, of course, was sitting in the corner sipping fruit wine, pretending to look elegant—but I caught her sneaking bites of the honey cake when she thought no one was watching.
Six felt… different. Not in a magical-core-awakening kind of way, but in how everyone looked at me. Like I was crossing some invisible threshold. Neighbors came by with gifts—small charms, carved toys, and even dried fruit wrapped in cloth. A few villagers I didn't even recognize slipped through the door, muttering things like "Miracle" and "may the heavens guide him" as if I couldn't hear them.
"Did you invite them?" I whispered to my mother when another unfamiliar face shuffled inside, holding out a jug of cider.
She only smiled tightly. "Sometimes, the village invites itself."
My father laughed it off, clapping me on the shoulder. "That's what happens when you turn six, son. You're not a baby anymore. Everyone wants to see how the stars favor you."
Six, twelve and sixteen were the three huge landmarks in this life. Some people must be amazed to see me still alive at the age of six. Due to the low birth rate and lack of hygiene, babies don't last long. Maybe that's why.
Six. The number rang in my head, echoing louder than the music or chatter. Maybe they were right—maybe this birthday was supposed to mean something. But why did it feel less like a celebration and more like the air before a storm?
The candles on my cake flickered as I leaned forward. Everyone shouted for me to blow them out. I did—and for a brief moment, when the smoke curled upward, it looked like constellations breaking apart in the dim ceiling light.
Later, when the house was quiet and most of the guests had gone, I caught my parents whispering in the kitchen. Their words drifted, soft but sharp.
"…we can't wait any longer."
"He's already six."
"The Church will demand it."
"Yes. Tomorrow, he must be baptized."
Baptized.
The word felt heavy, like a chain coiling around my chest.
Tomorrow, then, I would no longer just be six. Tomorrow, I would belong not just to myself, but to something greater—something I wasn't sure I wanted.
But tonight, I was still just a boy with cake on his lips, surrounded by warmth that didn't quite reach the hollow corners of my heart.