"Brother, wake up. It's already past your wake-up time!" little Elea shouted as she roughly shook Neth, who was showing no signs of waking up. In a half-asleep state, Neth grumbled, "Go away," and turned his back to her. Unable to hold her patience, Elea picked up the small bucket filled with water beside her and doused her brother.
Suddenly feeling very cold and suffocated, Neth quickly jumped to his feet. While shuddering from the cold, his blue eyes darted around, observing the surroundings. After realizing he was in his room and there was no danger, he finally relaxed. His gaze then fell on his little sister, Elea, who was holding a small pink bucket. Looking at the small amount of water in the bucket, his wet bed and clothes, and Elea's awkward expression standing across the other side of the bed, his mind connected the dots. Clenching his teeth, he grumbled, "Elea," and tried to reach out to her. But perhaps because his day was truly unlucky, he slipped on the water that had spilled from his wet clothes.
Seeing her brother making a scary face, Elea threw the bucket and ran downstairs. "Mommy! Save me! Big Brother is trying to beat me up!"
Neth carefully got up and, taking the towel hung behind the door, dried his hands and feet. Then he went downstairs and started looking through the house. Not in the living room. Not in the master bedroom. Not in the bathroom. Not in Nick's room. Finally, he reached the kitchen.
There, a beautiful woman with olive eyes and waist-length wavy brown hair was preparing breakfast. Tightly clinging to her clothes was the four-foot-tall Elea, who seemed like a miniature version of her. Looking at the approaching Neth, Elea quickly hid her face behind her mother. "Mommy, he's here. Save me!"
Bella stopped what she was doing and glanced at her oldest son, whose upper clothes were soaked. Then, looking down at her daughter, she sternly asked, "What did you do this time?"
Elea made an aggrieved expression. "Why are you always blaming me?"
Bella continued in her stern voice, "Who burned Neth's clothes during the previous harvest festival?"
"But he said he wanted new ones!" Won't he get new ones if she burned the old ones?
"And who gave away Nick's toys while I was out?"
"But I got a chocolate in exchange. And Nick also said he liked it." Yes, he had truly said it with a smile. Just that the smile was a little weird.
"And what about Neth being completely soaked now?"
"I heard from Kelvin that whenever his brother isn't waking up, their mother…" Elea, who had been explaining her brilliant ideas with gusto, suddenly quieted down. After a few moments of silence, she swallowed. "Can you forget what I just said?"
Neth tilted his head. "Would you?"
Elea shrank back, offering only a weak, "Ah… ah."
Bella lightly rubbed her temples. Her eldest son had been very quiet and sensible from a young age, so she hadn't faced many problems raising him. She couldn't even relate to the other mothers who were always complaining about their children. And it felt like her peaceful life would continue. But that all changed when her second daughter was born. Now, for the past nine years, there hadn't been a single peaceful day in her life.
"Neth, go change clothes. And Elea, go sit down at the table," Bella ordered, her tone leaving no room for argument.
After giving Elea a final glare, Neth went back upstairs. Soon after, little Nick wandered into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Seeing that Neth had gone, Elea released her grip on Bella's clothes and sat at the dining table. Then, looking at Nick, she remarked, "You are up so early today."
Slowly sitting on a chair, her seven-year-old younger brother gave her an unimpressed stare and replied, "There was too much noise today, and it woke me up. So, what happened?"
"Neth wasn't waking up, so I just poured a bucket of water on him."
Giving her a dumbfounded look, Nick vowed to wake up as soon as he heard her voice from now on.
Hearing their conversation, Bella sighed again. Even her youngest son, Nick, was several times more mature than boys his age—but her silly daughter was getting sillier as the days passed. There is no harm without comparison, but looking at them sitting together, her mind couldn't help but keep wandering. One child was plotting aquatic wake-up calls and the other was sighing like a tired old man.
Having taken a bath and changed his clothes, Neth arrived at the table. They had a simple breakfast of fried eggs, bread, and butter. After finishing his meal, Neth washed his hands and got ready to go out. Elea silently observed him, praying for Kelvin in her heart.
As Neth was about to leave, his mother called, "Wait a second, Neth." She hurriedly wiped her hands, went inside, and brought out a small stack of papers. "Give these to the trade association," she said, then went back to washing the dishes.
Taking the stack of papers, Neth left the house. Looking at Elea, who was keenly gazing at the closed door, Nick asked, "So, whose idea was it?"
"Why do you think it wasn't my own?" Elea grumpily asked.
Nick gave her a mocking smile. "Yesterday Kelvin was being beaten up by his brother for doing it."
Elea's eyes widened. A moment passed before her face fell into a look of pure betrayal. "Kelvinnnnnnnn!" And for quite some time after that, Nick had to hold his sister back from starting a 'war.'
It was a bright, sunny day like any other. White, fluffy clouds drifted aimlessly across the blue sky, painting ephemeral pictures of various shapes and sizes. The first agenda of the day was already decided. Being a gentleman, Neth refused to stoop so low as to fight an eight-year-old child directly, but employing a proxy was an entirely acceptable alternative.
His first stop was the house opposite his own. Soon, a chubby boy of similar height opened it.
"What is it?" asked Kelvin's brother in a gruff voice. From his disheveled appearance, it seemed like he had been asleep.
Without a word, Neth produced two small, round premium chocolates and pressed them into the other boy's palm. At the dumbfounded look from Kelvin's brother, he said in a very calm voice, "Make sure he doesn't get a peaceful sleep tonight. And tell him to control his mouth from next time."
A flicker of understanding passed over Kelvin's brother's face, followed by a slight, conspiratorial smirk. "Consider it done."
After hiring his hitman—no, his proxy—Neth went on his way to the Town Trade Association to pass on the documents. While walking the cobblestone path and looking around, the town was bustling with activity. Hawkers were shouting to sell their wares, and the shops had also started to open. Both men and women were seen going to work. Soon, he reached the centre of the town where the trade association was situated.
Entering a large four-storey building, he was welcomed by a familiar and cheerful voice in the lobby. "Morning, Neth! Pleasant seeing you here. If you want to ask about your father, he will be coming back tomorrow," greeted Rosy, the receptionist.
Her hair was also rosy red, just like her name. Maybe she was named after that, Neth always thought.
"I'm already aware," Neth replied, waving the thick stack of papers. "I'm only here to deliver these."
Rosy accepted the documents, her eyes scanning the top page. With a pleasantly surprised face, she said, "Thanks a lot; we will be needing them soon."
"By the way, I don't see Ronan here today?" asked Neth while sweeping his gaze around the hall and not finding his friend, who was always present.
"His father came back early this morning. Must have brought some good things to keep that guy from coming here," Rosy answered with a little depressed voice. "Must be nice having such a rich father."
Neth offered only a wry smile in response before taking his leave, setting a course for Ronan's home.
Levrin Town thrived as one of the region's wealthiest settlements, its prosperity rooted in the lush farmlands that surrounded it. Most residents were associated with farming or trading in some way or other. Neth's father was also a small-time trader and had gone to the city to sell the recent season's harvest. Ronan's father, however, stood out among the local gentry. He could be called quite wealthy and had several businesses running in the city. He always returned from his travels bearing new and fascinating things.
Reaching Ronan's house, which was situated at the western edge of the village, Neth had slight droplets of sweat flowing down his forehead. It took Neth fifteen minutes just to get here. The distance from the centre of the town was not large but also not small. The house before him was more grandiose than any other house in the town.
Neth lightly knocked on the door. Soon, the door opened, and a handsome boy in his early teens with blonde hair, fair skin, and dark brown eyes stood there.
"Welcome, Sir Knight! I was just about to summon you," said Ronan, mimicking the voice of an elderly man.
"Enough of that," Neth said, his wry smile returning. "I heard your father returned this morning."
Ronan smiled back. "Of course he did, and he also brought the latest edition of The Silver Knight."
No further words were necessary. Neth seized Ronan's wrist and practically dragged him upstairs to his bedroom, even leaving the front door ajar in their haste.
The Silver Knight was a wildly popular serialized novel among the youth, and Ronan and Neth were no exception. Its sole drawback was its scarcity. New volumes were sold exclusively in major cities and vanished as soon as they hit the shelves.
After entering the room, Neth fixed him with an expectant stare. Rising to the occasion, Ronan produced a small key from his pocket, unlocked a secure compartment in his study desk, and retrieved a thick book. The book cover was embossed with a silver sword that felt real to the touch. Its raised details helped you imagine the story before you even opened it. They both hopped onto the bed and started reading.
When you are doing something you like, time passes by very quickly. Soon, it was afternoon, and they heard Ronan's mother's call. "Lunch is ready. Come down, both of you." After hearing the shout, Ronan securely locked the book, and they both went downstairs for lunch.
Unlike Neth's home, here the kitchen and the dining room were separate. The only people present were Neth, Ronan, Ronan's mother, and younger brother. Ronan's father was out and about sorting out his business, so he didn't join them. The meal consisted of fried vegetables with seasonings, thick meat stew, and freshly baked bread.
"You boys must cease staying out till late at night," Ronan's mother admonished over the meal, fixing her son with a stern look. "There have been troubling reports lately—some people vanishing near the city."
Ronan responded with a dry cough, his eyes darting toward Neth in a silent plea. After seeing the signal, Neth said in a confident voice, "Auntie, I will make sure he leaves early from tomorrow." In his twelve years of existence, Neth had learned one principle most keenly: the lady of the house was always right.
Ronan shot him a glance of utter betrayal, which Neth answered with an indifferent shrug. Though the conversation had begun on a somber note, the mood soon lightened as it progressed.
After lunch was over, Neth and Ronan washed the dishes as always and decided to take a small walk to the hill behind the house. Situated on top of the hill was the largest tree in the village, its branches and leaves thick enough to shelter dozens of people from the sun. This was the primary reason why Ronan's father had built their house here.
"So, when are you going to start accompanying your father on his business trips?" Neth asked while walking.
"He said around next time he will take me along," Ronan answered with a smile. Being a wealthy merchant's son, he was supposed to take over the family business.
Soon, they both reached the tree. Even in this hot weather, a cool wind was blowing below the shade of the tree, making the atmosphere very pleasant. They talked and idled away the time until Ronan's younger brother arrived with a summons: their father had returned and wished to speak with Ronan.
Ronan got up. "What about you?"
"You go ahead. I will just rest here for a while."
"Then see you later," Ronan said before going down with his brother.
Leaning against the massive trunk, Neth basked in the cool shade it provided. A heaviness settled over his eyelids. Normally, he didn't have the habit of napping, but last night he had stayed up late, and his sister Elea's morning shenanigans had left him weary.
As his consciousness began to ebb, a hairline fracture—sharp and impossibly thin—materialized in the air before his face. In his drowsy state, he dismissed it as a trick of the tired mind.
The fissure did not vanish. Instead, with a soundless, deliberate pace, it slowly widened to the breadth of his two fingers. Through the opening, Neth glimpsed a light of purest cyan. It was a radiance of indescribable beauty, more captivating than any sunset or gemstone he had ever witnessed.
He stared, his gaze held fast by a naked, groggy infatuation. Unbeknownst to him, his mouth had gone slack.
Some primal instinct in his mind screamed a silent warning to look away, to shut his eyes. But the command was smothered beneath the weight of his exhaustion and the light's serene pull. And so, his body did not obey.
He simply watched as the serene cyan glow filled his vision, becoming his entire world. A profound and final stillness seeped into his limbs. His eyelids, gritty and dry, grew too heavy to hold open. They slid shut in a slow, smooth motion.
And Neth died.
There was no pain or struggle. His heart and breath stopped with a quiet finality. The death was so seamless that to anyone, he would have just seemed peacefully asleep, a trace of a smile on his lips.
Soon, the tear in the air convulsed and tore violently open, widening into a jagged doorway. From within stepped a figure that seemed woven from distortion itself. No matter how closely you observed, he or she always seemed covered in a blanket of blurry mist.
After contemplating for a few moments, it extended a hazy hand. In its grasp was a small, radiant cyan gem, pulsing with the same serene light that had spilled from the fissure. The figure placed the gem upon Neth's forehead before retreating into the rift. The crack began to close rapidly until there was nothing amiss, and everything had returned to normal.
The cyan gem shimmered once. Then, like ice melting into skin, it slowly seeped into Neth's forehead until no trace remained. Nothing seemed amiss at all.
The afternoon sun beat down brightly upon the caravan. Its people had concluded their business late the previous night and had begun the return journey only that morning.
Inside one of the wagons, Ulrich sat quietly, his thumb tracing the edge of a worn pendant. Within its small frame were portraits: his wife Bella, and their three children—Neth and Nick, both with hair as blue as his own, and little Elea, whose locks mirrored her mother's.
He was lost in a fond memory when a sudden, sharp pang lanced through his chest. It came suddenly and without any warning. He saw the glowing blue circle on his chest, and it indicated only one thing: something had happened at home. Without a word, he shoved the pendant into his tunic and lunged for the caravan door. He burst into the sunlight, his eyes scanning for the nearest horse. Ignoring the shouts of his companions, he untethered a mount and swung himself into the saddle.
"Ulrich! What—?"
"The road isn't safe to ride alone!"
He heard their calls, saw their confused faces, but to him, their words were just noise. Taking in his wild, urgent expression, they finally fell back.
He dug his heels into the horse's flanks. The beast surged forward, kicking up dust as it left the caravan behind. Only one thought beat in his head with every hoof-fall:
Please. Let me be in time.
It was just a normal day, filled with a few not-so-normal events.