Carlos re-entered his private chambers, the soft click of the door behind him the only sound. The room felt colder, heavier. Like it remembered everything Carlos had through.
He sat back on the bed. In his past life, he didn't get a chance to sleep in this comfy bed for 10 years straight. Carlos really misses the bed.
After that Carlos' eyes landed on the clothes beside his bed that he saw when he woke up.
The outfit was already prepared.
It hasn't changed.
Not the treads, not the colours.
Not the warmth and cold behind the gesture.
Everything had started again.
And the duke Carl had died in the past.
Now Carlos had to start his new life.
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The palace shimmered with light—fire glass lanterns lining the walkways, the wall crossing with the golden patterns. Musicians played soft, regal melodies in the grand atrium, and nobles swirled like petals in motion, laughing with masks covering their faces.
Carlos stood alone on the upper verandah, hands resting lightly on the stone railing, the night wind lifting the edge of his cloak. He just finished showering and put on all those clothes.
Beside his palace, the gardens bloomed under lanternight. The air shimmered with the gentle music of harps and strings, laughter floating between rose arches and carved marble paths.
The scent of wine, jasmine and memory mingled on the wind.
His brother not only used the palace but also the garden beside him for the party, this is not a surprise. In the past the event was only held in the palace. Not including the garden. Carlos sighs, his brother might be worried about what happened in the morning, that is why he might have included the garden.
Carlos's eyes scanned the crowd — not looking for danger nor pleasure, but for the only presence that always pulled his gaze.
But Carlos didn't see his brother. "He might be in the deepest part of the garden." Carlos thought.
Carlos exhaled slowly, Carlos didn't move for a long moment.
Then, quietly, he stepped up onto the stone railing.
The night air tugged at his coat as he looked down at the polished flagstones far below– a fall that would snap a man's leg if he hesitated. If Carlos didn't have the memories of his past life of going through the war, 15 years old Carlos would have hesitated.
But the person Carlos is right now didn't.
He jumped.
The drop was clean, fast and silent .
He landed with a thud muffled by the grass, knees bent, cloak flaring like wings around him. No one saw. The musicians played on. The party breathed without pause. And he passed through the people as if he was a lion, and could feel the cold aura yet no one knew what it was. Carlos walked and walked into the deepest part of the garden—-
There.
Beneath the flowering moonlily trees surrounding the garden of many kinds of night flowers and the moon shining upon the trees as if they were making the greatest entrance, the king stood.
His brother.
Looking at his path as if he had been waiting for no one but Carlos. Or he is waiting, right. "I forgot that he is waiting for me there." Carlos thought.
The king wore dark blue and cyan colours that shimmered like starlight and deep water. His cloak flowed with silver phoenix feathers, stitched so precisely they seem to rise and fall with each motion. His high collar framed his sharp jaw, the sleeves bore the faint burning outline of wings mid fight. He looked stunning as always, as Carlos was thinking—
A golden box appeared in front of him
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Your Brother Is Gorgeous. The Moon Is A Paid Actor For Your Brother.
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Carlos doesn't know what the next sentence means but he is pretty sure that god is eyeing his brother.
"Get lost.." Carlos said as he watched the golden box disappear again and walked towards his brother.
"What a dramatic entrance." the king said as Carlos approached.
Carlos let out a low breath, brushing dirt from his dark gloves. Carlos is really grateful that his clothes are mostly dark and red. Or the dirt really made a big mess.
"And your entrance is always too easy to ruin."
The king laughed— a peaceful sound unlike the sound he gave to others.
"You are late." He said again, voice warm. "But I forgive you. That outfit looked far too good to be rushed.'
Carlos allowed the faintest smirk. "Well, you still design with too many details, a lion really."
"And you still wear it better than anyone else."
"It is because only I can wear these clothes."
They fell into step without needing to be asked — Carlos just slightly behind, as costumes dictated, but close enough to speak lo, as brothers would.
They begin walking through the garden path, towards the open palace hall. Servants bowed as they passed. The music shifted to something colder and brighter at the same time, livelier, as the king approached the end of the garden.
Whispers followed them like a trail— admiration, curiosity, envy and jealous.
But none of them touched nor was for Carlos.
His eyes only flicked to the man beside him. The man he had died once for. And the man who had no choice but to betray him.
And tonight–he walked beside him again like the old time.
"They think I walk alone." the king said, quietly.
"But they always look to see if you're there."
Carlos said nothing.
But he acts to become more sensible as a protector. As shadow.
As brother.
Into the light. Into the palace that had no good memories except with the times with his brother.
Into the palace he had once bled to death—betrayed just the same.