From the corridor outside, Aira stood still.

  She had meant to pass by.

  Only to glance.

  But the moment the sound of steel began echoing through the halls, she had stopped.

  She had developed a habit lately.

  Whenever she heard swords clashing or cutting through air, she would find herself wandering toward the sound.

  And when she saw him—

  She never left.

  Watching him train felt… different.

  Majestic.

  There was something about the way his body moved — not reckless, not boastful — but purposeful. The sweat on his skin caught the light, making him appear almost sculpted from bronze and flame.

  Even his hair, slightly damp, shifted in the same direction as his motion, as if obeying the rhythm of his strikes.

  Every movement flowed into the next.

  No wasted energy.

  No hesitation.

  He looked untouchable.

  And yet—

  There was something heavy behind it.

  A tension she could not name.

  Her curiosity burned.

  She stepped closer.

  “Sir Kael.”

  The blade stopped mid-arc.

  Not abruptly.

  Not startled.

  Simply… halted.

  He exhaled once and lowered the sword before turning toward her.

  “Yes?”

  She swallowed.

  “I’m… curious about something.”

  He walked toward the wooden bench near the wall, retrieving a cloth from a bucket of water. Without speaking, he sat.

  She followed.

  For a moment, she forgot her question.

  Up close, the intensity around him hadn’t fully faded. His skin was warm, his breathing steady but deep. Tiny droplets of sweat traced down his neck.

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  He began wiping the blade carefully.

  Precise even in rest.

  She picked up another cloth from the basket beside him, dipped it into the water, and squeezed out the excess.

  Before she could overthink it—

  She reached forward.

  The cool fabric touched his shoulder.

  He froze slightly.

  Not in rejection.

  In surprise.

  She gently dabbed at the sweat along his collarbone and neck.

  “You’ll catch a chill if you stay like this,” she muttered.

  Her voice was softer than usual.

  Less teasing.

  More sincere.

  Kael watched her silently.

  She avoided his eyes, focusing instead on the simple task.

  But her thoughts raced.

  She had seen something today.

  In the hall.

  In the council chamber.

  And just now — in his training.

  He wasn’t simply preparing.

  He was bracing.

  “For what?” she finally asked quietly.

  The question lingered between them.

  The golden dust along his blade had already faded.

  But the weight in the air had not.

  Kael looked at her.

  For a brief moment — just a brief one — the composure cracked.

  Something fierce lived in his gaze.

  Something protective.

  “Nothing you need to worry about,” he replied.

  She frowned slightly.

  That answer did not satisfy her.

  But before she could argue—

  He reached up and gently took the cloth from her hand.

  “I appreciate it.”

  Their fingers brushed.

  A small thing.

  But enough to send warmth rushing through her chest.

  She stepped back slightly, flustered without knowing why.

  He stood.

  She noticed it then—

  The tension had not left him.

  If anything, it had sharpened.

  As if every strike he practiced was against something invisible.

  Something coming.

  And though she didn’t understand it fully—

  She knew.

  The sound of his sword was no longer just training.

  It was preparation.

  “I guess this isn’t the first time you’ve been curious,” Kael said quietly.

  Aira didn’t look away this time.

  “How did you get trapped here?” she asked. “In this castle… in this life?”

  The question lingered.

  Kael held her gaze for a long moment before turning slightly, stretching his shoulders as if the motion might ease something heavier than muscle strain.

  “If you’re asking about this place,” he said, “then yes. After those raging monsters… it would make sense to wonder.”

  She frowned faintly. “I wasn’t asking about monsters.”

  He noticed.

  Of course he did.

  She hesitated before continuing, softer now. “You all seem… so unapproachable. Like this is the only life you’ve ever known. I thought maybe… you chose it.”

  Kael exhaled slowly and leaned back against the stone wall.

  “It’s not that I’m trapped,” he said. “It’s more accurate to say… I was brought here.”

  “Brought?”

  “Yes.”

  He looked toward his sword resting beside him.

  “It’s supposed to be a secret,” he added calmly. “But if it's you it's fine.”

  Her breath caught.

  “They say when a child is born with the capacity to hold one of these swords… the temple learns of it.”

  He tapped the hilt lightly.

  “We are taken.”

  Aira’s fingers tightened unconsciously.

  “Taken… how?”

  “Bought,” he corrected.

  The word hit differently.

  “When we’re very young. Five years old, sometimes younger. After that, our training begins. Ten years of relentless discipline.”

  He spoke without bitterness.

  Without anger.

  As if describing weather.

  “At the end of those ten years, we are sent here. Through portals. The first time we hold our designated blade…” His eyes darkened slightly. “Its cursed energy burns through us.”

  Aira’s throat tightened.

  “It feels like your veins are filled with fire. Most lose consciousness. When we wake… the sword’s presence is there. Always.”

  He placed a hand over his chest.

  “Synchronizing with our life force.”

  She stared at him in disbelief.

  “And then?”

  “Then we live as Masters. We slay monsters. Observe their patterns. Report to the Lord.”

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s it.”

  Silence fell heavy between them.

  Aira felt something rising in her chest.

  Something hot.

  “That’s not a life,” she whispered.

  Kael didn’t respond.

  “That’s… injustice.” Her voice trembled now. “Every human deserves a peaceful life. A choice. You were children.”

  She remembered something then.

  Her own world.

  Her own past.

  Tears stung her eyes before she realized they were forming.

  “You didn’t choose this.”

  “There’s no need to sympathize,” Kael replied evenly. “For centuries — no, for over a thousand years — it has been this way. I am not different from the others.”

  His reasoning was steady.

  Measured.