Kael continued his katas, as Velara called them.

  The movements followed one another with rhythmic precision, almost choreographed. He struck, pivoted, lowered himself, rose again. Always fluid, never mechanical.

  With every step, one could sense the intelligence of his body—constant adaptation. As if his mind and muscles were conversing in a silent language, sharpened by training.

  Under the sunlight still bathing the garden, Kael cut a strange figure—both supple and taut.

  His light chestnut hair, almost blond after long hours spent outdoors, rippled slightly in the breeze. It fell to his shoulders in loose strands, framing his face in a way that was careless yet striking.

  A poorly cut fringe sometimes slipped down over his eyebrows, but he never bothered to brush it aside.

  His gaze was steady. Focused.

  Two black eyes—deep, intense—holding a strange mix of calm and tension.

  On his right cheek, a thin scar—nearly pale from healing—ran at an angle, the remnant of a past fight, of a trial he had never spoken about.

  His body, freed from his uniform shirt, revealed a firm musculature shaped by practice, not vanity. Every muscle seemed to belong exactly where it was—useful. No excess mass. Only strength, ready to be used.

  He wasn’t bulky, but built like an athlete: precise, balanced, forged for endurance as much as speed.

  At that precise moment, Kael was no longer a high school student.

  He was a warrior in the making.

  Kael finished his final movement with a long exhale.

  The blade of his saber traced one last arc through the air, then returned upright—motionless, like a needle frozen at the top of an invisible dial.

  He went still.

  Beads of sweat ran down his temples. His chest rose quickly, his ragged breathing bearing witness to the intensity of the effort. He leaned forward, hands on his knees, gaze fixed on the grass below.

  Then… applause. Slow. Measured.

  He lifted his head.

  His mother stood at the top of the steps, a faint smile on her lips.

  “That was… very impressive.

  What exactly was that?”

  She descended the stairs calmly, a towel rolled in her hand. Halfway down, she tossed it toward him.

  Kael caught it midair and wiped his face, still breathing hard.

  “It’s my daily training,” he replied.

  “Velara makes me do it.”

  He cast a glance at his saber, its blade now catching the warm reflections of dusk.

  The day was slowly fading, tinting the air with shades of orange and red.

  “Velara… that’s your instructor?” his mother asked. “The one who teaches you how to use weapons?”

  “Exactly.”

  He sheathed his saber with a soft metallic click.

  “She’s completely insane. You’d love her, I swear.”

  His mother let out a small laugh, covering her mouth with one hand.

  “I’m not sure I want my son learning how to wield weapons from a woman he considers insane.”

  Kael laughed as well, more relaxed now—then his stomach growled loudly, as if to punctuate the moment.

  He placed a hand on his belly, putting on an overly dramatic expression.

  “I’m starving. What’s for dinner?”

  But instead of answering, his mother stared at him intently.

  Her eyes traced the length of his arms, then lingered on his bare torso, still glistening with sweat.

  “Tell me…” she said slowly. “Since when are you this muscular?”

  Kael looked down at himself and raised an eyebrow.

  “I’m not really sure. I’ve always been in decent shape… but never like this.”

  “I’d never noticed before…”

  She leaned in slightly, surprised.

  “That’s real muscle,” she added.

  “It’s like iron…”

  Kael shrugged, as if he himself hadn’t paid much attention to it.

  His mother looked back up at him, shook her head gently, as if pulling herself together.

  “Uh… we’re having pizza tonight. It’s already in the oven.”

  Kael raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

  Pizza? What’s that supposed to be…? he wondered.

  Apparently, another new dish to discover.

  “You’d better go wash up,” his mother added, wrinkling her nose playfully.

  “I don’t want to be rude, but… you stink.”

  He had been sweating all day—climbing and swimming in the morning… and now sword training.

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  Kael sniffed under his arm without ceremony.

  He immediately grimaced.

  “Okay. Fair enough.”

  They went back inside the house.

  Kael tried to act natural, even though he still didn’t quite know his way around the place. He walked down the hallway, opened two doors at random—a storage room, then an office—before finally finding the bathroom.

  He cracked the door open.

  He couldn’t have been more disappointed.

  It was the most ordinary bathroom imaginable. A simple bathtub. Not even marble. Nothing that could compare to the bathing room he had at the Institute.

  He let out a sigh, undressed, then turned toward the mirror near the tub.

  Kael hadn’t really looked at himself in a mirror for several weeks.

  But he had seen his reflection… more than anyone else.

  He had even fought it—

  for days.

  Again and again.

  “I really can’t get used to this,” he muttered, staring at his reflection.

  He frowned, slightly wary.

  “You’re not going to jump out and hit me, are you?”

  The mirror remained silent. No answer.

  Nothing happened.

  Reassured, Kael turned away and started running a bath. Hot water slowly filled the tub. Once it was full, he slipped into it without hesitation.

  A sigh of pure relief escaped him.

  Every muscle, every fiber of his body finally began to loosen.

  He stayed there for a long while, his gaze lost in the steam gathering along the walls.

  Eventually, he got out, dried himself quickly, and wrapped a towel around his waist.

  Then he decided to look for his bedroom on his own.

  It only took a few seconds.

  A simple room. A bed. A desk.

  And something that vaguely resembled a television sitting on top of it.

  He opened the closet and grabbed the most comfortable clothes he could find.

  Loose fabric pants. An equally loose jacket, without buttons.

  Kael raised an eyebrow and muttered, sounding defeated:

  “This whole outfit is absolutely atrocious.

  How did I ever allow myself to wear this, honestly…”

  He shrugged as he slipped the jacket on.

  “…But I have to admit—it’s comfortable.”

  Dressed, he left his room and joined his mother in the living room.

  She was seated on the couch.

  Dinner was already served on the small coffee table in front of her.

  Kael approached slowly, squinting.

  On the table sat a large disc of dough covered in all sorts of things: melted cheese, chunks of vegetables, pieces of meat… a visual chaos.

  He sniffed the whole thing like a wary animal, his face just inches from the dish.

  “What the hell are you doing?!” his mother snapped, exasperated.

  “Come sit down and eat!”

  Kael obeyed, a little sheepishly, and sat beside her.

  She served him a slice of what she called “pizza” on a plate.

  He picked it up with the tips of his fingers, as if the object might attack him, a grimace of disgust on his face.

  Seeing that, his mother smacked him sharply on the back of the head.

  “Stop playing with your food, for God’s sake!”

  Kael rubbed the back of his skull, wincing.

  “Ow…”

  At that moment, she grabbed a long plastic object.

  She pressed a button—and suddenly, the glass panel she called a “television” lit up.

  Voices. Images. People.

  Talking, moving, laughing.

  Kael jumped.

  “There are… people inside it?!”

  he stammered, completely dumbfounded.

  “How… how is that possible?

  Did you trap them in there?”

  His mother burst out laughing—a soft, mocking laugh.

  “Eat, Kael.”

  She didn’t even acknowledge what he’d said.

  Still holding the back of his head, Kael turned his eyes toward the television.

  He watched the people behind the glass, fascinated.

  He thought, quite sincerely:

  I think this is the strangest object I’ve ever seen.

  Then, at last, he decided to taste the slice of pizza.

  Carefully, he took a tiny bite.

  He stopped.

  Chewed.

  His eyes slowly widened.

  He stared at the slice of pizza as if it had just revealed an ancient, sacred secret to him.

  Then, in a low voice, he whispered:

  “I’m sorry… for judging you so harshly, pizza.”

  He took another bite—larger this time.

  “You are… the most delicious thing I have ever eaten.”

  A single tear rolled down his cheek.

  A few minutes passed.

  Kael had already devoured half the pizza—and showed no sign of stopping. He ate with an almost religious fervor, his gaze sometimes drifting toward the television, sometimes toward his mother, but always with that same peaceful smile on his face.

  The television displayed images that seemed absurd to him—people talking rapidly, laughing loudly, changing settings in the blink of an eye. He didn’t understand anything he was watching, but it didn’t matter.

  His mother, for her part, laughed regularly at the screen, her eyes sparkling.

  Kael watched her discreetly from the corner of his eye, a slice of pizza in hand, his heart light.

  He was finding her again.

  Her presence, her expressions, her voice—everything he had believed lost forever.

  These moments—simple, mundane, insignificant to others—he cherished with an intensity he never would have thought possible.

  He carved every second into his being.

  Then suddenly, between two laughs, his mother turned toward him, still smiling, and asked:

  “Did you find what you were looking for at the library?”

  Kael, his mouth still half full, chewed quickly before answering, his eyes shining:

  “And far more than that.”

  He swallowed, wiped his fingers on the napkin, then continued:

  “I met someone… extraordinary. Probably the most knowledgeable and intelligent man I’ve ever had the chance to meet.”

  He paused briefly, inwardly revisiting the library, the chessboard, the man’s gaze.

  “He taught me how to play chess.”

  “A game… really enjoyable. Stimulating.”

  “But it’s not just a game, actually. It’s almost a way of thinking.”

  He smiled again—this time more inwardly. A glimmer of admiration crossed his eyes.

  “It was… unique. Truly.”

  A few hours passed.

  Kael had finished eating long ago, the last crumb of pizza no match for his voracious appetite. Yet he remained there, glued to the couch, eyes fixed on the television.

  Well—fixed was a generous word.

  Because in truth, Kael wasn’t watching a movie.

  He was analyzing it.

  Picking it apart.

  Commenting on it.

  Questioning every choice.

  “But wait… why is he running toward the noise? That’s stupid. He knows there’s danger.”

  “He just jumped off a five-story building… and didn’t even break his legs? That’s absurd.”

  “What’s with this music when they kiss? People really fall in love like that—in ten minutes?”

  His mother, sitting beside him, was doing her best to follow along. But her gaze kept shifting between the screen and her son, growing more and more irritated.

  She adored Kael. He was her son. She had waited for him, mourned him, found him again.

  But right now, she wanted to gag him. Literally.

  With every line, every shot of the movie, Kael had a comment. A question. A sigh.

  “And why is he shouting alone in the dark? Does he think someone’s going to hear him? That’s a ridiculous strategy.”

  His mother clenched her teeth, a strained smile on her lips. She took a deep breath, tried to stay patient…

  Then she snapped.

  “Kael, please! It’s a movie! Just let yourself be carried along—stop analyzing everything that moves!”

  He looked at her, genuinely surprised.

  “But… it’s not realistic at all.”

  “It’s not meant to be! It’s fiction. Relax a little, for God’s sake!”

  Kael crossed his arms, sulking, then declared in a dramatic tone:

  “I think the strangest thing in this world isn’t cars, or plastic… it’s this glass rectangle that makes people stupid for two hours.”

  His mother burst out laughing despite herself, collapsing back against the couch.

  “You’re really going to drive me insane.”

  Kael flashed a small smile, proud of his effect.

  And the movie went on… with a bit fewer comments.

  But not that many fewer.

  Just a few hours earlier, he had been debating the nature of reality with a man who looked like a philosopher.

  Now, he was here, on a couch, wrestling with a slice of pizza and a strange glowing box.

  The world was truly absurd.

  And maybe… that was exactly what he liked about it.