Outside The Palace:

  The sunlight outside the palace was too bright. It felt like an insult.

  Kestrel stopped near the edge of the royal gardens, where the towering spires of the capital cast long, jagged shadows over the gravel path. She turned to Kai, that same hearth-fire smile softening her warrior’s features.

  "Tell me, boy," she said, her voice a gentle low. "What should I call you?"

  Kai hesitated.

  Where did the titan go?

  He looked at her—really looked. He saw the faint crows-feet, the scars on her hands, the weight of a woman who had buried a son and survived a hundred massacres.

  Yet zhe looked at him like he was the only thing that mattered in the world.

  I wonder if my mother-

  "Vane? What’s wrong, child?" Kestrel’s brow furrowed. She stepped closer, reaching out as if to catch falling glass. "Your face... you’ve gone pale as a shroud."

  "Oh, no. I’m-" Kai started, but his throat was filled with dry sand.

  "If the past brings the rot, you don't need to force it," Kestrel interrupted, her tone maternal, a soothing balm. "Vane is enough for me. We can start from there."

  "Right. Vane." He tested the name. It felt like wearing someone else’s dirty coat. "Vane sounds good... Lady Kestrel?"

  She chuckled, a light, airy sound that didn't match the heavy sword at her hip. "Please. Just Kestrel. Though, when you’re comfortable... you may call me Grandmother. Now, shall we discuss the Royal Families? There are things you need to-"

  She stopped. Kai wasn't just pale; he was vibrating. His lips were cracked.

  His eyes darted toward the greenery, hunting for an exit.

  "Vane, you’re not looking right," Kestrel said, her voice sharpening with genuine concern. "Go. Get refreshed. We’ll head back to the estate and talk after you’ve had a proper meal. I won't have you fainting before the real lessons begin."

  "That... that would be helpful," Kai blurted. "I need to... take a piss. I'll catch up."

  He bolted.

  Kai scrambled into a thicket of lush ferns, hidden from the prying eyes of the guards.

  He collapsed against an oak.

  His skin felt like it was being scorched from the inside out.

  "Serene," he wheezed, clutching his chest. "What’s... happening? Is my energy at zero?"

  The blue light flickered.

  > [ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION ]

  > Status: Critical Synchronization

  > Process: Soul-Body Calibration

  > [ WARNING: High caloric and spiritual energy consumption required. ]

  > [ Synchronization... complete ]

  A high-pitched ring exploded in his ears—a jagged needle of sound that forced him to his knees.

  Then came the flood.

  No gentle memory, but a dam breaking.

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  The smell of cheap instant coffee. Kate’s laugh. His mother’s tired smile after a third shift. The life of a man who died in a cubicle.

  He collapsed into the dirt, clawing at the grass.

  He finally understood.

  The crossing had shattered him. He hadn't been gone, he had been scattered. And now, the shards were being hammered back together.

  "Mother... Kate..."

  The tears came. Not silent, not cinematic.

  Just the raw, snot-streaked "ugly" crying of a man who realized he had left his world behind.

  He was in a land of magic, but they were back there-alone.

  "I'm sorry," he sobbed into the dirt, his voice a jagged wreck. "I'm so sorry I left you...."

  Minutes bled into a haze. Kai stayed knelt in the shadows, hair matted with sweat.

  His eyes were hollow.

  A dark, cynical edge began to itch at the back of his mind-a defense mechanism against the pain.

  His lips twitched. He began to mumble.

  "I'm Kai. I'm Kai. I'm Kai." He gripped his head, fingernails digging into his scalp.

  His expression shifted-the grief curdling into a terrifying, jagged smirk.

  ".. I'm... JESTER."

  "Vane!"

  The voice snapped like a whip. Kai froze.

  He didn't turn around.

  Elara stood behind him, arms crossed. "Do you have any idea how long we've been waiting? It's been ten minutes. Because of your bathroom break, I can't even sneak away. My whole plan is ruined."

  Kai took a shuddering breath, forcing the 'Joker' back into the dark.

  He wiped his face with a dirty sleeve, keeping his back to her.

  "Sorry," he croaked. "Upset stomach. Thought I was going to throw up... but nothing came out."

  Elara’s posture softened. She sighed, a begrudging guilt in her eyes. "Jeez. You look like hell. Fine. I'll get you some medicinal leaves at the estate. Kestrel invited me for lunch anyway." She kicked a stone. "Come on. Move it."

  Kai stood up slowly. He followed her, but he felt different. The "Baron" was gone. "Kai" was broken.

  Something new was starting to wake up.

  THE PALACE COURTROOM:

  The heavy oak doors groaned shut.

  In the center of the hollowed hall, the air changed.

  The political tension evaporated, replaced by a cold, suffocating stillness.

  Princess Seraphine stood by the arched window, her silhouette framed by blue.

  Behind her, Prince Arthur remained on his throne.

  He didn't lounge. He sat upright, hands gripping the gold armrests so tightly his knuckles were the color of bone.

  "Arthur," she called out softly. Her voice was a silk ribbon, yet Arthur flinched as if she had cracked a whip.

  "Yes, sister?"

  "I thought I told you to mind your manners," she murmured, still gazing at the sky. "I thought I told you to control that petty anger... especially in front of the others."

  She turned. Her face was calm-terrifyingly so. There was no heat in her eyes, only the flat, glassy look of someone examining a broken tool.

  "I was merely trying to establish authority," Arthur began, his voice wavering. "Kestrel and others was being-"

  "Arthur."

  The word wasn't loud, but it sucked the oxygen out of the room.

  She walked toward him, her footsteps silent on the marble.

  "Just because you have a spark of free will," she whispered, leaning down until her breath tickled his ear, "does not mean you get to use it poorly."

  The mask shattered. "DID YOU FORGET WHO CREATED YOU?" The outburst was sudden, violent, deafening. Arthur recoiled into the throne, eyes wide and trembling.

  "Did you forget who stitched your soul together and placed you on that seat? You are a masterpiece of my design, Arthur. Nothing more."

  "I’m sorry," Arthur choked out. "I... I thought that maybe—"

  "If you don't know what to say, then silence is the best course of action," Seraphine interrupted, her voice snapping back to a chilling, dead calm. "Do not make me remind you again."

  The tension was broken by a guard approaching the dais. He knelt low. "My Prince, my Princess... the King wishes to speak with you. In his chambers."

  Arthur’s throat bobbed. He glanced at Seraphine. "We... we will visit him now. You are dismissed."

  The guard vanished. Arthur began to stand, stiff and mechanical, waiting for his sister to lead.

  "Stay here," she said coldly, looking back toward the window. "I will visit him. Someone is always needed nearby, in case of... emergencies. You are the future king, after all."

  Arthur didn't argue. He sat back down immediately, staring straight ahead at the empty courtroom as his sister walked away. He remained there...alone.

  The board is set. The pieces are moving. But in this game, even a King is just a pawn-and the first move has already been made.