Seeing the truth laid bare—that he was still being granted a chance to look back at the past and witness once more the person he loved most—Kael could only stand there in silence, frozen within a stretch of time that felt endlessly long.
His eyes were wide open, yet their gaze trembled, as if unable to believe what he was seeing before him. Every detail spread out in front of him—the longing that crushed his chest and the sorrow he had buried for so long—reflected back at him so clearly that his heart felt as though it were being slowly squeezed.
That figure was not a body of flesh and blood like his own, but a gentle light shaped from the memories of a past soul. It was not an illusion born from his resonance, nor a hallucination forcibly pulled from his mind.
No—Kael could feel it with every part of his soul. This was different. This was the reality of a mother who would always exist, returning solely for her child who had lost his way.
Truly… Kael's eyes began to glisten. The tears did not fall freely; they trembled faintly along his lashes, as if hesitant to spill down his cheeks. He was not crying out of deep sorrow, for what filled him was not grief, but longing.
Longing for the warmth that had once shaped him. Longing for the one who had made him strong, who—without him ever realizing—had carried him through life until this very day.
Kael's breath caught softly in his chest. His lips parted, quivering, and a voice escaped him, as though it shattered within the still air.
"…Mother…"
Lhuna Vieron. She sat calmly atop a table, her movements gentle and careful as she knitted a red scarf in her hands. The knitting needles glimmered faintly between her slender fingers, while the roll of red yarn beside her was drawn and woven with a patient, steady rhythm.
Her face was adorned with a warm, simple smile—yet within that simplicity lay a depth only a mother's love could hold. Hope and warmth were stitched into every loop, as though she meant to pass them on to her child one day.
Kael's small voice reached her clearly. Lhuna turned her head. But what she saw was not the grown Kael, scarred and worn by life, but little Kael—five years old, innocent, untouched by the bitterness of the world.
His eyes were still clear, his cheeks flushed with healthy color, his cheerful smile free and unburdened.
"What's that? What are you carrying that makes you look so happy, hmm?" Lhuna asked softly, gracefully, never pausing her stitching.
Little Kael stepped closer, pulling a chair toward the table so he could sit beside her. His face was glowing, both of his small hands clutching something with overflowing excitement. He could hardly wait to show it to her.
"Mom, look at this! The photo's finished!" he said brightly, holding out the photo frame he had just received. "Uncle Zeth gave it to me earlier while I was playing outside."
"Oh? May I see it?"
"Yes!"
Lhuna stopped knitting, her fingers pausing above the half-finished scarf. Carefully, she took the frame, her eyes softening the moment she looked at it.
Little Kael gazed up at her, full of anticipation. "What do you think, Mom? I think it looks really good!"
But Lhuna did not answer right away. Her lips closed gently, a faint smile slowly forming. Then, all of a sudden, she let out a soft chuckle, covering her mouth with her hand, as if shy about what she was seeing.
"Ahaha… mm…"
Little Kael fell silent, his expression turning slightly confused. The bright smile he had worn moments ago dimmed at once.
"Uh… why are you laughing? So… is the photo not good?" His voice dropped, like a child afraid his long-awaited answer was not the one he had hoped for.
Lhuna shook her head gently, her smile never fading. "No, my dear. I'm not laughing at the result. This photo is already very good—just as you said."
At once, little Kael's face lit up again. His smile bloomed anew, his eyes sparkling with pure, innocent joy.
"Really?!"
"Yes, really." Lhuna returned her gaze to the photo, her eyes tender. "I laughed because of your father. He never changes. Look at his expression…"
Little Kael immediately looked back at the photo, his face a mix of confusion and curiosity.
"Your father is always that cold. And somehow, it makes Mother want to laugh softly every time I see it."
"There's nothing strange about it. I feel like Dad will always be like that," little Kael murmured quietly.
The moment was simple, filled with a soothing warmth—and slowly, it began to drift away. Yet for the adult Kael standing at the edge of that memory, this brief scene with his mother felt eternal. It was a warmth long lost, now slipping back into his chest, filling the hollow space he had carried alone for so long.
And for the first time in a very long while, he no longer felt entirely alone.
Behind their conversation, Kael smiled faintly. His gaze lowered, his head bowed as if to hide the tremor of his emotions, and he spoke within his heart. His voice made no sound, yet it carried a heavy weight—an admission he had buried for far too long.
Mother… you have always been the only one who made me strong. The only one who could make me smile even when the world felt so cold—simply through the quiet warmth you gave.
His lips trembled, his eyes dimmed. A bitter glint passed behind his gaze.
Maybe it's the opposite… His breath caught. Mother would be ashamed. Disappointed, if she saw what I became in the future. With all my failures, with all my selfishness over what I chose to protect. I failed to save anyone… even Father and Mother."
His throat tightened, his voice sinking deeper, as if pressing down on himself.
In the end… I'm nothing more than a nameless shadow. My existence… doesn't even deserve to be called an Assassin like Father. I… am nobody anymore.
And yet, behind those words, there seemed to be a faint light—something holding him back from falling any further. He lifted his head slightly and forced himself to breathe.
But now… Mother has made me understand. That this isn't just about what I must accept. It's about what I must face from here on.
Just as that warmth lingered—a sound shattered it.
"Uhhhuuk… Uhhhuuk!!"
A harsh, dry, painful cough froze Kael in place. His gaze snapped up, drawn back to his mother.
"Uhhhuuk… Uhhhuuk!!"
Lhuna staggered slightly, her right hand flying up to cover her mouth. Her body trembled, as if something were forcing its way out from within. The color drained from her face, fading like a flower deprived of sunlight.
Little Kael panicked the instant he saw it. His expression turned deathly pale, his eyes widening in fear. He leaned closer, one small hand reaching out—then hesitating midair.
"Mom… what's wrong?"
"Uhhhuuk… Uhhhuuk!!"
"Don't tell me… you haven't taken the medicine Dad and I bought yesterday?" His voice was soft but rushed, unmistakably filled with worry. Little Kael knew it well—whenever his mother refused her medicine, this would happen again.
But Lhuna didn't answer right away. Slowly, she lowered her hand, opening her trembling fingers.
And there—fresh blood stained her palm, a dark crimson that instantly weighed down the air.
Little Kael fell silent. His pupils quivered, his face drained of color. He bit his lower lip as if holding back tears, then spoke in a rush.
"Mom… you're coughing blood again…! Wait here, Mom, don't go anywhere! I'll call Aunt Jean—just wait, okay?!"
He didn't wait for a reply. Little Kael ran out in a panic, his small footsteps hurried and unsteady, fear completely overtaking his tiny body.
Aunt Jean was the only one who could treat his mother, and in his mind there was only one thought—
Save Lhuna.
But Lhuna remained still, her gaze wavering, her expression heavy with worry. Not fear for herself, but for something far deeper. She knew this illness could not be cured by ordinary medicine, let alone simple care. It was not a simple sickness. It was something bound to her blood—something inherited from their lineage.
Trembling, Lhuna lifted her hand, reaching out toward the little Kael running away.
Her voice was faint, shaking like a whisper soaked in tears. "Kael…"
The atmosphere that had once been simple, warm, and filled with gentle laughter had completely transformed—into a piercing anxiety that stabbed at the chest of anyone who witnessed it.
Adult Kael could only stand there, frozen. His chest felt tight, his hands clenched, yet there was nothing he could do. No way to help. No way to stop it. To him, this moment was nothing more than a shadow of the past—a memory he could never change.
He lowered his head, his voice breaking as if he were speaking only to himself.
Mother… even back then, there was no one who could cure you. All of it… because of the immense power of our ancestors, a power that never should have been passed down into your body.
And with that, a gentle yet profound sorrow wrapped around him. A bitter truth he had never been able to defy.
He let out a heavy breath, his shoulders sagging slightly, as if the weight of the past had once again pressed down upon him. Then—suddenly—his ears caught something.
Soft footsteps. Calm, unhurried, unmistakably real.
Kael slowly looked up, his gaze trembling.
And there—Lhuna stood.
A thin light wrapped around her form, swaying gently like a candle flame that would never go out. She walked with quiet grace, holding the photo frame in both hands, occasionally pressing it to her chest as if guarding something priceless.
Kael froze. His heart began to pound harder, his eyes widening just slightly, shock written plainly across his face. Only moments ago, he had seen his mother sick, pale, trembling. But now—
That weakness was gone. The pallor had vanished, replaced by a soft, soothing smile. A smile he knew well. The smile of a mother who always tried to appear strong, so her child wouldn't cry.
Lhuna stepped closer—though not toward him. Her steps carried her instead to a stone hearth standing at the center of the room, resembling the simple fireplace where their small family once gathered. Kael could only follow her with his eyes, every second stretching thin, as though the world itself was holding its breath so as not to disturb the moment.
Carefully, Lhuna lowered her hands. Her fingers trembled faintly, yet they moved with utmost care as she placed the photo frame atop the stone. She gave it a single, gentle pat—like a mother patting her child's back before sleep.
***