The morning sun crept gently into the training center's dormitory windows, lighting up the room in warm gold. But Sam Robbin lay motionless in his bed, his eyes blankly tracing the ceiling as if hoping it would offer him answers to the storm swirling in his heart.
A gentle knock sounded on the wooden door.
"Sam," came his father's voice from the other side. "Your breakfast is ready... Come outside."
There was a pause before Sam replied, his voice hoarse and low. "I don't want it. Please... just leave me alone."
His father hesitated, his voice now filled with worry. "Sam... my son. Please, tell me what happened."
"Nothing happened," Sam snapped, his tone rising slightly. "Just leave me alone."
There was silence for a moment. Then the hallway footsteps faded away. Sam buried his face into his pillow, the fabric muffling a deep sigh of frustration and sorrow.
And then, she appeared.
A soft, luminous shimmer bloomed in the room, and Siro—his spirit—stood at the edge of the bed, arms crossed, expression calm but firm.
"Go and take breakfast," she said quietly.
Sam's eyes flared open, anger rising. He sat up and glared at her. "Shut up... I am not your slave. Stop ordering me around."
Siro remained silent, her gaze unreadable. Then, after a heavy pause, she said with a chilling softness, "So... you really want to die?"
Sam's voice cracked, but the anger didn't fade. "Just shut up. Leave me alone. I want to die peacefully. So go away."
"You think this death will be peaceful?" she asked, stepping closer.
"More peaceful than your tasks... more peaceful than being forced to fight monsters when I'm not even ready! Just go away, Siro."
And then, silence. A thick, suffocating silence that settled like a storm cloud.
---
Far away, in the Royal Castle of Alberto
Within the grandeur of gleaming marble walls, golden banners, and a sprawling throne hall, King Rowen sat in solitude upon his ornate throne, his expression pensive. His chin rested upon his gloved hand as thoughts swirled in his mind like a tempest.
He broke the silence at last.
"Angelo," he said softly.
From the golden chandelier above, a tiny orb of radiant light descended and took the form of a small, charming spirit with snow-white wings, a glowing halo, and the expression of a mischievous child.
"Yes, my master," Angelo said cheerfully, floating just before the king's face. "What is it? You may ask anything."
The King straightened slightly, his golden eyes narrowing. "Do you know anything about the professional spirit that was awakened by that boy... Sam Robbin?"
Angelo stopped fluttering. His smile faded, replaced with a solemn seriousness rare for his character. For a moment, he said nothing. Then he lowered his head.
"You are speaking of the Queen of Spirits... Siro."
King Rowen sat up sharply, his heart skipping a beat. "Queen...? Queen of Spirits?"
Angelo nodded. "Yes. Among the professional spirits, she is unique. She was once the ruler of the Spirit Realm, long before your time. Only we spirits know of her... not even your ancient texts dare write her name."
"But why her? Why that boy?" the king asked.
Angelo floated around the throne once, his tone turning contemplative. "Queen Siro is noble, kind, and carries a deep sense of justice. But she is unyielding. She obeys only her own laws and cannot be controlled by any Vessel. Not even the Spirit King could command her."
The king's brow furrowed. "Then how did she choose that boy?"
"Because she saw something in him. Something... no spirit has seen in centuries."
The King stood, his voice rising. "But how will he survive if he cannot control her?"
Angelo gave a small, mysterious smile. "She will manage it. Her choice is never wrong. She does not serve. She rules. And through Sam... she may rule both our worlds."
Rowen sank back into his throne, a heavy silence settling over the hall.