Chapter 15 – Voices Behind the Shadows
The classroom was quiet… yet behind that silence lingered a tense hum. The sound of chalk scraping against the board felt like a stone scratching glass—sharp, nerve-wracking.
"Focus... just focus..."
Lunin whispered those words to himself again and again. He shut his eyes, pressing his thumb into his palm. The outside world faded, swallowed by the maze within his mind.
"Is this merely about mental discipline? Or is the body involved too? Why do the shadows of my thoughts become so sharp when all else falls silent?"
Beside him, Donald grumbled under his breath.
"This is torture… how long do we have to sit like this?"
From the back of the class, a chair creaked.
"My head's gonna explode. What kind of class is this?"
The complaints faded like mist. Lunin lifted his head and drew a deep breath. He realized this lesson wasn't about silence alone. It was about confronting one's own voice—the unspoken chaos that ruled behind closed eyes.
As this short but meaningful moment ended, the scene shifted…
To the heart of the city.
Afternoon in the Capital: Beneath the Golden Sun
The sun scorched the stone roads, glinting off the windows of aging buildings. The air was thick with heat. Birds chirped lazily on windowsills, and workers wiped sweat from their brows as they left their jobs for the day.
It was that brief, golden hour when the city seemed suspended—between labor and rest, between order and disorder.
In the midst of it, one of the kingdom's carpenters slowly began closing his shop.
"Apprentice!"
The boy looked up, sweat trailing down his chin.
"Clean up the place. I'm heading out late tonight. Let my family know, will you? You're from the same block—they'll understand."
This man was Tarnen—a seasoned carpenter, over fifty, with the weariness of seventy etched in his posture.
The apprentice nodded quietly and got to work as Tarnen stepped outside.
"What now… head home? Or maybe a drink… gods know I could use one."
He jingled the few silver coins in his pouch. The thought of a warm meal and cool ale lured him toward the nearest tavern.
The Tavern: Murmurs, Ale, and Old Ghosts
The tavern buzzed with life. Heat from outside mixed with the smell of sweat, beer, and damp wood. Tarnen stepped in and let the noise dull his thoughts.
"Just a drink or two. That's all," he muttered to himself.
He found a table near the wall and sat. As his fingers tapped the freshly varnished surface, a voice called out behind him:
"—Heey! Tarnen! How've you been, old man?"
He didn't even bother turning around.
"Damn it… pointy-ears. You again?"
Rundel, an old friend—if that word still meant anything. Once a fellow tradesman, now a drunk who drifted from job to job.
"Didn't ask you to sit with me, did I?" Tarnen grumbled.
"Oh, come on, Tarnen. We're old friends, right?" Rundel slurred, clearly drunk already.
Tarnen sighed.
"I just came to clear my head… but fine. How's work treating you?"
Rundel let out a bitter laugh.
"Work? It's hell. Harder to get materials these days. You know who's to blame? That bastard in charge of trade. Making everything a damn struggle."
Tarnen chuckled darkly.
"To be honest, nothing's gotten in my way. It's always you idiots that get stuck."
"Idiots, huh? You and your cozy little family don't have to scrape like we do. You don't know what it's like."
"Life's never been fair," Tarnen said, sipping his drink. "And now? It's getting tighter. For everyone."
The conversation lingered, wandering between nostalgia, frustration, and silence. When Tarnen finally left, the moon hung low, pale and watchful above the quiet rooftops.
Morning: The Kingdom Holds Its Breath
At dawn, the kingdom stirred to a single, shared message. Newspapers rustled in marketplaces, couriers whispered the same words in back alleys and noble courts alike:
⚖️ "The Income Regulation Act for the Protection of Social Order" is Official!
By midday, a platform had been erected in the capital square. Crowds gathered—nobles, merchants, commoners. Whispers filled the air. A blessing? A warning?
Then—a flash of light.
A sudden magical shimmer enveloped the stage, and from within it emerged the Kingdom's Finance Minister. The people gasped, though deep down they expected nothing less from a man in such a position.
He raised his hand, and the crowd fell silent.
"To the noble and esteemed citizens of this kingdom,
By royal decree and approval of the High Council, we enact the following law…"
Then came the announcement. And silence turned to dismay.
Taxes raised by 17% for noble families.
Taverns, markets, and street vendors placed under direct royal inspection.
Citizens without fixed income? Forced to work for the state under mandatory service law.
New tax interrogators assigned across all regions.
📰 Royal Gazette – Official Bulletin, 8th Month, Season of Twilight
"Balance and Discipline for the Future of Our People"
"Recent trends in underground trade, illegal gatherings, and unregulated magic have endangered social stability.
This law is not a punishment—but a necessary call for order.
Without order, there is no peace.
Without peace, even bread turns bitter."
Final Scene – The Narrator Appears
Suddenly, in a darkened corner of this world… a narrator steps into view, addressing you—the reader.
"So tell me, dear reader...
Is this law truly for the kingdom's safety?
Or is it the beginning of something far more dangerous?
What do you think the king is planning?
Leave your theories in the comments. I'm dying to hear them…"