Kenneth sat in his room, staring at the small flame flickering in his palm. The fire danced and swayed, its light casting shadows across the walls, but his thoughts were elsewhere.

  His encounter with the Crown Prince lingered in his mind, stirring a question he couldn't escape.

  Do I even want to be a Fireon Successor, or do I just feel obliged to me?

  His brow furrowed as the thought tightened like a knot in his chest. He clenched his fist, extinguishing the flame, and stood abruptly, brushing the feeling aside. He wasn't in the mood to wrestle with doubts he couldn't answer.

  As Kenneth headed downstairs, voices drifted up from the main hall. He paused midway down the staircase, peering curiosity through the bannister.

  A group of people stood with Fintan in the hall below. Kenneth recognized them immediately—the vassals of the Fireon family. Loyal supporters of Fireon bloodline, they had clung to the hope that the Ultimate Fire would one day return.

  And now the rumors of its revival spread, their visits had grown more frequent, each one laden with expectations.

  “It's been months now,” one of the vassals said, his tone polite but tinged with impatience. “Are you not planning to hold an inheritance ceremony soon?”

  “Not yet,” Fintan replied. “Kenneth is still young to take on the full responsibilities of the head of Fireon.”

  Kenneth leaned against the wall, watching the exchange. He could see the tension in the room, the way the vassals shifted uncomfortably, their frustration barely concealed. They were loyal, yes, but their patience was wearing thin.

  They're not waiting for me, Kenneth realized, a sinking feeling settling in his stomach. They're waiting for Joash.

  It wasn't a new thought, but hearing the conversation now made it harder to ignore. He had felt it ever since he was announced as the successor—the whispers, the glances, the lingering doubt in their eyes.

  No matter that he had awakened the fire, no matter what Fintan said, Kenneth could feel it.

  To them, he was still an outsider.

  The weight of that truth pressed down on him, unyielding and suffocating. He turned away from the scene below, retreating back up the stairs.

  Once back in the room, he sank onto the edge of his bed, staring at his hands. The fire that had changed everything wasn't there now, but he could still its presence, lingering like an unwelcome reminder. With a sigh, he stood and headed for the door.

  Staying in the estate felt stifling.

  Kenneth slipped out through the back door, his steps quick and determined as he made his way toward the town. He hadn't been there since Joash had brought him last time, and now, he felt the urge to escape—if only for a while.

  The streets were alive with movement and noise. Merchants called out from their stalls, children darted through the crowds, and carts clattered along the cobblestones. The air was thick with the smell of fresh bread and the tang of iron from the smithy.

  For a moment, the bustling life of the town distracted him, the noise and energy pulling him out of thoughts.

  As he made his way through the crowd, a young man hauling a wooden cart stumbled into his path.

  “Ah! I'm so sorry, sir,” the man stammered, quickly stepping back and bowing his head. “I didn't see you there.”

  Kenneth blinked, caught off guard. “It's fine,” he said, stepping aside.

  But the man didn't move, his gaze flickering up briefly before dropping again. “I didn't mean to get in your way,” he added nervously, bowing once more.

  The realization hit Kenneth a jolt. The man thought he was a Wizard. The apology, the bow—it wasn't about the stumble. It was about what Kenneth represents.

  “It's really fine,” Kenneth muttered, gesturing for the man to pass.

  The man nodded hurriedly, pushing his cart away without looking back. His deference lingered in the air, making Kenneth's chest tightened.

  Kenneth looked around, noticing how subtly shifted to make room for him, their gazes avoiding his. The gestures were subtle—respectful, perhaps—but tinged with something else. Fear.

  This is how they see Wizards, he thought, stared down at his hands. The fire that marked him as one of them now separated him from anyone else.

  And yet, the Elemental families—those who controlled his power—were careful about whom they entrusted with their magic. Inheritance wasn't just about bloodlines. It was about trust, control and the assurance of loyalty. Those without connections, without wealth or influence, were left behind.

  The realization hit him harder than he expected. Even though he was now part of this world, elevated by the fire he never asked for, he couldn't escape the feeling that he didn't truly belong to it.

  Lost in thought, Kenneth continued through the bustling streets. Suddenly, a small figure darted out from the crowd and latched onto his leg, startling him.

  “What the—” Kenneth fore, looking down at the little girl clutching his leg tightly, tears streaming down her face.

  “Wait, Lucy!” a familiar voice called out from behind. Kenneth turned to see Lucian hurrying toward him, his usually composed expression replaced with wide-eyed surprise.

  “Kenneth? What are you doing here?” Lucian asked, stopping abruptly.

  Kenneth raised an eyebrow. “Lucian? I could ask you the same thing.”

  But Lucian's focus shifted immediately to the girl still clinging to Kenneth's leg. “Lucy, let go of him. That's not me.”

  The girl—Lucy—tightened her grip and wailed louder. “No! No! I hate you, brother! You promised we'd get strawberry cake today!”

  Kenneth blinked, caught between confusion and amusement. The girl clearly thought he was Lucian. He glanced at Lucian, whose expression now carried a mix of embarrassment and exasperation.

  “Lucy, come on,” Lucian said, crouching down beside her. “Look at me. I'm right here. Let go of him, okay?”

  But Lucy refused to budge, her tear-streaked face glaring up at Lucian. “You lied! You said we'd go after your training!”

  Kenneth tried not to laugh at the absurdity of the situation, biting back a smile as Lucian gently pried Lucy off his leg.

  “I know, and I'm sorry,” Lucian said softly, lifting Lucy into his arms. “We’ll get the cake now, I promise.”

  Kenneth couldn’t help but chuckle at the exchange, the sight of the usually composed Lucian dealing with a teary tantrum both amusing and unexpectedly heartwarming. The Lucian he was seeing now—soft, patient, and almost tender—was so different from the serious and reserved person he knew in the academy.

  Lucy, still sniffling, glanced back at Kenneth with wide eyes. After a brief pause, she gave him a shy smile. “Will you come too?”

  Kenneth crouched slightly, meeting her gaze with a warm smile. “You want me to come?”

  Lucy nodded eagerly, her earlier tears forgotten. “Yes! You look like a hero from my storybook! I want to treat you after saving the world!”

  Lucian raised an eyebrow at her enthusiasm, clearly surprised. “She usually doesn't warm up to strangers this fast.”

  Kenneth grinned, reaching out to gently ruffle Lucy's hair. “Well, I must've made a good impression.”

  Lucian adjusted Lucy in his arms, offering Kenneth a rare, apologetic smile. “Sorry, about this. How about you join us? I owe you for handling her little outburst.”

  Kenneth blinked, caught off guard by the offer. “Are you sure? I don't want to intrude.”

  Lucian shook his head. “You won't be. Besides…” He glanced at Lucy, who was now clinging to his shoulder, her bright eyes fixed to Kenneth. “It seems like she's already decided she wants you to come.”

  “Hero brother!” Lucy chimed in, beaming as she pointed at Kenneth. “You have to come!”

  Kenneth laughed, the warmth in her voice making it hard to refuse. “Alright, alright,” he said with a grin. “I'll come along.”

  ＊＊＊

  Together, the three of them made their way to the café. Lucy wasted no time digging into her strawberry cake, humming happily as she ate, while Lucian and Kenneth sat across from her, sipping the tea in relative silence.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

  The quiet wasn't uncomfortable, but it felt strange to Kenneth—this was the first time he and Lucian had been alone without the presence of the successors.

  Lucy beamed up at Kenneth as she devoured the cake, her eyes lighting up whenever he glanced her way. Kenneth couldn't help but smile back, amused by her carefree energy.

  She was like a smaller, more innocent version of Lucian, sharing the same blonde hair and bright eyes, though her lively demeanor was a stark contrast to Lucian's reserved nature.

  Breaking the silence, Kenneth asked, “Is she your sister?”

  Lucy, her mouth full of cake, quickly chimed in before Lucian could answer, “He's my brother!” she declared with a big grin, her face smeared with icing.

  Lucian chuckled softly, reaching over to wipe her mouth with a napkin. “No, she's my cousin,” he clarified. “My aunt's daughter.”

  Kenneth raised an eyebrow, surprised. “The Light Guardian's daughter?”

  Lucian's expression briefly tensed, his hand pausing mid-motion. After a moment's hesitation, he replied carefully. “It's not something widely known.”

  Kenneth nodded, sensing the delicacy of the topic. He decided not to push further, letting the conversation settle into another lull as Lucy focused on her cake, blissfully unaware of the tension between the two.

  Lucian seemed lost in thought, his gaze lingering on Lucy as he hummed softly to herself. Kenneth, unsure whether to break the silence again, hesitated. Just as he was about to speak, Lucian's quiet voice cut through.

  “You know…” Lucian began, his tone uncharacteristically introspective, “my relationship with Lucy… it reminds me of you with Joash.”

  Kenneth's chest tightened at the unexpected mention of Joash. He kept his expression neutral, though unease flickered within him. Does he know about Joash's connection to the Fireon family?

  Lucian didn't look at him right away, as if carefully choosing his words. “I remember seeing Joash with the Fire Guardian when we were younger. Back then, I thought he'd be the successor. It made sense, after all.” He glanced briefly at Kenneth before returning his gaze to Lucy. “But it turned out to be you.”

  After a pause, Lucian finally turned to face him, his expression softer than Kenneth had ever seen it. “I know what it's like,” he said quietly. “To hold a position that wasn't meant for you. To carry a responsibility that was supposed to be someone else's.”

  Kenneth looked at him, unsure how to respond. Lucian's words struck a chord, echoing thoughts he hadn't dared to speak aloud.

  “It's not our role,” Lucian added, his vice steady but filled with a quiet resignation. “But here we are.”

  Kenneth’s eyes widened as the weight of Lucian’s words sank in. There was a hesitation in his tone, as if he wasn't used to opening up. Slowly, Kenneth ventured. “Lucy’s meant to inherit the Ultimate Light, isn't she? But…?”

  “She was born with magic from her father's side,” Lucian finished, his gaze flicking to Lucy, who was still happily munching on her cake.

  The reluctance in Lucian's eyes was clear, but so was the truth he was sharing. Understanding began to draw on Kenneth. “That's why you became the successor,” he said softly.

  Lucian nodded. “I'm the only one in the family who can inherit the Ultimate Light.”

  Kenneth leaned back slightly, letting the revelation settle in. Their situations were more similar than he'd realized. Both of them were placeholders, standing in for those who couldn't inherit what was meant for them.

  “Must be tough,” Kenneth murmured, his eyes shifting to Lucy, who had started humming a cheerful tone between bites.

  Lucian's gaze softened as he watched her, and when he spoke, his voice carried a gentleness Kenneth hadn't expected. “It is. But I'll do what I have to—for her and for our family.”

  Kenneth nodded slowly, feeling a newfound respect for Lucian. “I get it. We do what we have to.”

  Lucian glanced at him, his lip shaped into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. For a moment, there was no need for further words. The bond of shared responsibility hung between them, unspoken but understood.

  Lucy, completely unaware of the gravity of their conversation, beamed at Kenneth. “Hero brother, you're not eating your cake!”

  Kenneth chuckled, reaching for his cake with a small shake of his head. The moment might have been heavy, but in Lucy's presence, it felt a little lighter.

  ＊＊＊

  After leaving the café, Lucy skipped happily alongside Lucian, her voice bright and cheerful. “I really enjoyed today's walk,” she said, glancing up at him with a beaming smile.

  “Mee too,” Lucian replied, feeling a rare sense of calm. It had been far too long since he'd had a day like this with Lucy. Between his responsibilities as a successor and his time at the academy, moments like this were scarce.

  Today was special—not just because it was Lucy's fifth birthday, but also because it was the first time their aunt had allowed her to explore the town.

  Lucy's unique background made her existence a closely guarded secret, known only to a select few. Even now, Lucian was acutely aware of the guards discreetly stationed nearby, ensuring her safety.

  As they walked, Lucian's thoughts drifted back to Kenneth. He hadn't planned to invite him along, yet their conversation lingered in his mind.

  Why did I share so much with him? Lucian wondered. Maybe because we're more alike than I realized…

  “The next time we do this, can we invite Hero Brother again?” Lucy asked suddenly, tugging at Lucian's sleeves and breaking his thoughts.

  Lucian chuckled at the nickname. “Hero Brother, huh? You've decided on that, haven't you?”

  Lucy nodded enthusiastically. “He's nice and a good hero.”

  Lucian smiled softly, touched by her sincerity. “Alright, we'll invite him again,” he promised. He wasn't sure what it was about Kenneth, but Lucy's quick bond with him had left an impression.

  As they continued walking, a peaceful moment was shattered.

  A figure stepped out from a shadowed side street, blocking their path. The woman was cloaked in dark fabric, her face obscured by a hood. There was something unnervingly deliberate about her presence, and Lucian's instincts flared.

  He immediately stepped in front of Lucy, his muscles tensing as he scanned the area. Where are the guards? He senses strained, but there was no sign of them nearby.

  “Who are you?”

  The woman tilted her head, her movements unnervingly slow. “How disappointing,” she said, her voice dripping with mockery. “Is this what Luminel has come to? So fragile… so weak.”

  Lucian's heart pounded in his chest. The air around the woman felt off—charged with something sinister. “What did you do to the guards?”, he asked.

  The woman let out a cold laugh, raising her head slowly. “Oh, don't worry,” she said with a smirk. “They're not dead. I merely put them to sleep.”

  Lucian's jaw clenched as he shifted slightly, shielding Lucy further. This wasn't an ordinary threat. If she had incapacitated their guards easily, she was far more dangerous than she appeared.

  Dark, swirling miasma began to curl from her fingertips, thick and unnatural, moving like a living shadow toward them. The air around Lucian grew heavier as the oppressive magic closed in.

  Without hesitation, he summoned a light barrier, encasing himself and Lucy in protective glow.

  But the miasma, pressed against the barrier, tendrils of darkness seeking cracks to exploit. It seeps through, curling like smoke, suffocating the protective light. The oppressive energy clung to them, heavy and stifling, filling their lungs with a crushing weight.

  “Dark magic…” Lucian grasped, his voice strained as his vision blurred. The miasma was relentless, spreading like ink in the water, consuming everything around them. He struggled to maintain the barrier, but the darkness was too strong, too overwhelming.

  Lucy's small voice trembled behind him. “Brother… what's happening?”

  Lucian gritted his teeth, his knees threatening to buckle under the weight of the magic. “Stay close, Lucy. Don't let go,” he managed to say, his words growing faint.

  The darkness surged, dragging him down as if it had a will on its own. His body felt impossibly heavy, and his vision swam before fading completely.

  The last thing Lucian heard was Lucy's muffled cry before the dark magic magic pulled him into unconsciousness.

  ＊＊＊

  Lucian woke up in his bed, his head pounding as he slowly sat up. His hand instinctively pressed against his forehead, trying to steady the dizziness that overwhelmed him.

  The faint hum of voices outside the room was muffled, almost distant. Beside him, Elena sat quietly, tending to his injuries. Her hands moved with care, but her expression was tight with concern.

  “What happened?” Lucian rasped, his throat dry. He swallowed hard, his voice cracking as panic surged within him. “Where’s Lucy?”

  She froze, her lips pressing into a thin line. She avoided his gaze, her silence screaming louder than any words could.

  Lucian’s chest tightened as he scanned the room, hoping to see Lucy nearby, but it was empty except for the two of them.

  “Where is she?” he demanded, his voice rising as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. His body protested the sudden movement, but he ignored it, intent on standing.

  Before he could push himself up, the door burst open with a loud bang.

  Aunt Leora, the head of the Luminel family, strode into the room. Her presence filled the space immediately, commanding and cold. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes bore into Lucian with a distant, calculating edge that made his stomach sink.

  She didn’t speak. Instead, she crossed the room in swift, deliberate steps and struck him across the face.

  The slap echoed through the room, sharp and stinging. Lucian reeled, not just from the pain but from the sheer precision of the blow. It wasn’t an impulsive act of anger—it was calculated, like a reprimand delivered to a subordinate.

  His cheek burned, and his mind raced to process the shock. “Aunt Leora—”

  “This is your fault, Lucian.” Her voice was calm, almost eerily so, carrying none of the heat one might expect. It was cold and clinical, as though she were discussing a matter of business, rather than the disappearance of her child. “You were responsible for Lucy’s safety. And now she’s gone.”

  “Head Leora, please,” the head butler interjected, hurrying into the room after her. “The young master—”

  Leora didn’t even glance his way. “Find her, Lucian,” she said, her words cutting through the butler’s protest. Her gaze locked onto Lucian’s, her expression void of sympathy. “Before the other families do. If you don’t…” Her voice dropped, colder than ice. “Don’t bother coming back.”

  The words hit him like a physical blow, each one stripping away any lingering sense of security.

  Lucian opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came. His aunt’s eyes were unyielding, devoid of even the faintest trace of motherly concern. She wasn’t here to console him or even to help. She was here to make her expectations clear.

  Without another word, Leora turned on her heel and left, her steps composed, as though she hadn’t just threatened to disown him.

  The head butler and Elena followed hesitantly, leaving the door to close softly behind them.

  Lucian sat frozen on the edge of the bed, his cheek still stinging from the slap. The quiet of the room pressed down on him, heavy and suffocating.

  For a long moment, he simply stared at the floor, his mind spinning. The coldness in Aunt Leora’s eyes, the indifference in her tone—it echoed louder in his mind than her actual words.

  She hadn’t asked how he was. She hadn’t shown a single ounce of concern for Lucy or to him.

  A bitter laugh escaped his lips, sharp and humorless. “Is that really how you treat your children, Aunt Leora?” he muttered under his breath.

  The sound of his own voice felt hollow, swallowed by the silence. He buried his face in his hands, the weight of it all pressing down on him.

  He had let Lucy down.

  The one person he had sworn to protect, and now she was out there, alone and vulnerable. The thought of what might be happening to her sent a wave of nausea crashing over him.

  Taking a deep breath, Lucian slowly stood, the sting of his aunt’s words and the weight of his failure propelling him forward. He couldn’t let this end here.

  I’ll find her, he vowed silently, his fists clenched. I don’t care what it takes.