Chapter 75 – Leo Von Seo
The evening sun spilled molten gold over the rooftops of Cleaica Kingdom, gilding its marble walls and emerald-tiled towers in a deceptive beauty. From afar, the city seemed like paradise , carriages of polished ivory rolled along cobblestone streets, music drifted from plazas, and the scent of honeyed wine wafted from lavish taverns.
But to those who walked its alleys, the illusion cracked.
Behind the polished facades, hollow eyes watched in silence. Starved children crouched behind crates, their bellies growling while nobles feasted openly across the plaza. Patrols of Marines in pristine white coats marched the avenues, their rifles gleaming under the sun. Every passerby lowered their gaze, as if afraid that a single wrong glance might summon punishment.
At the center of the capital square, a boy strummed an instrument — a dark mahogany guitar, though a closer look revealed its base was sharpened steel, an axe hidden in plain sight. His fingers danced along the strings, coaxing out a melody that was almost too vibrant for this place.
The people stopped, listening despite themselves.
Children leaned closer, their frowns easing at the sound. Even the Marines slowed their steps, though their scowls quickly returned as they barked at citizens to move along.
"Music again, Leo?" one Marine jeered, his lip curled. "Sing all you want — it won't fill their stomachs."
The boy smiled faintly without looking up. His hair was dark, unkempt, and his clothes simple, patched too many times to count. Yet his back was straight, his hands steady as he strummed.
"The stomach's a harsh master," Leo replied lightly, never breaking rhythm. "But sometimes… it needs a song more than bread."
The officer spat on the ground, muttering, and moved on.
Leo Von Seo let his song carry, but behind the steady rhythm his thoughts burned like fire. If I stop playing… if I stop smiling, these people will crumble completely. I can't let them see my despair.
He shifted the tune into a livelier beat, his foot tapping against the cobblestones. Children clapped, trying to match his rhythm. For a fleeting moment, the square felt alive.
But the illusion shattered as a group of armored knights stomped past, dragging three shackled men through the plaza. Their clothes were torn, their faces bruised. Leo's eyes flickered to them — and his chest tightened.
Among them, shoulders hunched and hair streaked with gray, was his father's closest friend, a man who had once taught him how to tune a string. The knight shouted for silence, declaring them "traitors" for resisting the King's taxes. Citizens bowed their heads, not daring to intervene.
Leo's song faltered for just a second. His hand trembled on the strings. He forced himself to recover, picking the rhythm back up.
But the ache in his chest didn't fade.
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Later that Night
The moon bathed the kingdom in silver light, and the bustling plazas had quieted to whispers. Leo sat atop the roof of an abandoned tavern, guitar resting on his lap. His other hand traced the polished edge of the axe-blade built into its frame.
A weapon hidden inside his music. His secret inheritance.
He plucked a soft note, staring into the sky.
Father… I couldn't save them. They're still in the dungeons. Every night, I play to remind myself they're still alive. But how long can I wait?
His mind flashed to the last time he'd seen them — his mother and younger sister, dragged away in chains when his father dared to speak against the tribute demanded by the Celestial Dragon. The King had smiled as they were beaten, assuring the Marines that "dissent must be crushed at the root."
Leo's jaw tightened. He struck a harsher chord, the sound echoing across the rooftops.
"Beautiful night, isn't it?"
The voice startled him. Leo snapped around, hands gripping his guitar-axe.
From the shadows of the rooftop stairwell, a cloaked figure emerged. A man with a jagged scar across his chin, dressed in leather, his eyes sharp like a hawk. He carried a blade at his waist and the air of a predator.
Leo relaxed only slightly. "Another of the King's dogs?"
The man chuckled. "Not quite. Call me… a messenger."
"From who?"
The stranger's grin widened. "The Government. You've been a thorn in their side longer than you think, boy. Those little songs of yours? Harmless to fools. But to trained ears? They're rebellion chants. Hidden codes. Someone in your bloodline knew what they were doing."
Leo froze. His father had once told him never to stop playing — that the notes themselves carried truth. Could it be that the songs were more than melodies?
The man stepped closer, voice dropping. "The World Government doesn't tolerate sparks. Sooner or later, they'll smother yours. Unless, of course, you smother it yourself."
Leo's hand tightened on his instrument. "You want me to stop playing?"
"No," the messenger hissed. "I want you to disappear."
He lunged, blade flashing.
Leo reacted on instinct, swinging his guitar in a wide arc. The steel axe-edge screeched against the assassin's sword, sparks flying. He spun, striking with the blunt side, forcing his attacker back.
Their blades clashed again, the rooftop trembling beneath them. The man moved with trained precision — his strikes heavy, deliberate, aiming to disarm. Leo, by contrast, flowed like water, his movements irregular, matching the rhythm of a song only he could hear.
One, two, three — strike. Four, five, step — parry.
The man sneered. "You fight with rhythm? Pathetic."
Leo smirked, even as sweat dripped down his neck. "Funny. You're already dancing to my tune."
He slammed his foot down, strumming his guitar violently. The sudden burst of sound echoed across the rooftop — a distraction. Leo spun with the momentum, his axe slicing across the man's shoulder. Blood sprayed.
The messenger staggered back, clutching the wound. His eyes narrowed. "You'll regret that, boy."
He leapt off the rooftop, vanishing into the night.
Leo stood alone, panting, his axe lowered. The notes of his interrupted song still lingered in the air, faint and haunting.
He sat back down, staring at the weapon in his hands. His heart pounded, not from fear, but from something sharper.
I can't keep waiting. If I don't act, they'll kill my family… and me with them.
He plucked a final, solitary note under the moonlight, letting it echo across the sleeping kingdom.
"Next time," he whispered, "I won't fight alone."
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Dawn – Cleaica Kingdom
The city awoke to another day of false luxury and hidden chains. Marines marched, merchants smiled through clenched teeth, and the King's banners fluttered in the morning breeze.
In the plaza, children gathered early, waiting for Leo's music. He appeared as always, guitar strapped across his back, smile forced but steady.
But this morning, his song carried a different edge — sharper, defiant, almost daring the kingdom itself to silence him.
And far beyond the horizon, across the waves, a silver-haired man leaned on the railing of a ship bound for South Blue. His crew laughed, argued, and sang as gulls circled overhead.
Arthur's eyes narrowed at the faint outline of marble spires rising in the distance.
"A kingdom bound in chains," he murmured, silver hair catching the light. "Let's see if fate is ready for us."
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