The sun was up high, pouring its heat onto the sprawling Roschild estate. While laughter and the soft clinking of teacups came from the peaceful garden, a completely different vibe filled the training ground: the sharp sound of a wooden sword slicing through the air.
There, away from flowers and fountains, Artur was fighting his own battle. His body was already toned from training but soaked in sweat. His hands, raw and blistered, clutched the wooden sword tightly, almost painfully. He welcomed the sting; it was a clean sort of pain, not like the ache that was eating away at his chest.
Swing. Swing. Swing.
Every movement felt like a furious exhalation. His teeth were gritted, and his jaw was clenched, his golden eyes blazing with a fire that had nothing to do with the Roschild name.
"Damn it… Damn it all…" he muttered under his breath, the words coming out ragged with every furious swing.
He kept reliving that moment, a wound that just wouldn't heal. "Sorry, it can never work between us. You're just my friend." That word—friend—felt like a brand. And then the final blow: the flush on her cheeks, the way she avoided his gaze when he said that name that haunted him. Leo.
He tightened his grip. If not for him…
Suddenly, small, hurried footsteps broke his focus. A younger boy from the branch family came running in, a practice sword in hand, excitement lighting up his face.
"Big brother Artur! You won't believe what I just saw!"
Artur paused, his chest heaving. "What?" he snapped, his voice rougher than he'd meant it to be.
Without noticing the storm about to hit, the boy beamed, "Young Master Leo and Big Sis Rina! They were in the garden pavilion, having tea and cookies! They were laughing and teasing, sitting all cozy together. The maids even said they looked like a couple! They were so cute!"
Artur froze. The wooden sword suddenly felt out of place in his hand. A cold shadow passed over him, twisting his face into something grim.
"…Is that so?" he said, his voice flat.
The boy picked up on the change in the air. "Eh? You don't look—"
Artur interrupted him, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes. It felt like a bad copy of his usual kindness. "Never mind that. Want to spar?"
The boy's discomfort vanished, quickly replaced by joy. "Really? With you? Of course!" Sparring with Artur, known as a blade genius, was a big deal.
Artur raised his sword, its weight feeling more like a tool for revenge. Something ugly and dark stirred in his chest.
So, they're together, laughing. While I'm...
His nails dug into the hilt.
It's always him. Always Leo. He should just vanish.
The sparring began. The younger boy charged forward, swinging his sword with eager clumsiness.
Swoosh!
Usually, Artur would take his time, guiding the boy's strikes, correcting him as needed. But not today. His counterattack was fierce.
CLANG!
The harsh impact sent a jolt up the boy's arms.
"Ugh—!" he cried out, stumbling back, his eyes wide with disbelief and pain. "Big bro Artur—?"
Artur didn't let up. Instead, he unleashed a series of sharp, devastating strikes, each fueled by his boiling rage. This wasn't a lesson anymore; it was a complete takeover.
Clash. Crack. Thud.
The boy staggered, his small arms shaking as he tried to block and parry. Fear cut deep. "W-wait! You're going too fast—!"
But Artur didn't hear him. In his mind, it wasn't the boy in front of him. It was Leo—his infuriating smile, those confident blue eyes, how effortlessly he grabbed everyone's attention—Rina's, the clan's admiration, a future that should've been Artur's.
If only I could break you… shatter that confidence… make you kneel!
With one final, heavy swing, the boy's sword snapped in two. He yelped, dropping the broken piece and falling back into the dirt.
"I surrender! Stop! Please!"
Artur's sword was still coming down.
At the last moment, a part of him screamed through the rage. He yanked his arm, stopping the blade just inches from the terrified boy's face. The wooden sword shook in his hand. Silence filled the space except for Artur's labored breathing and the boy's whimpers.
Finally, Artur stepped back, lowering his sword. The fury in his golden eyes faded, replaced by a hollow conflict.
"Get out," he ordered, his voice cold and without an ounce of apology.
The boy scrambled up, tears streaming down his cheeks.
"Big brother Artur, you bully! I hate you!" he shouted, before running off without looking back.
Artur was left standing alone, the weight of what he'd done crashing over him. His hands trembled. What have I done? He's just a kid...
He pressed a shaking hand to his forehead. But then that dark thought came creeping back, comforting yet corrosive. No. This is all Leo's fault. If he didn't exist, I wouldn't be like this. Just wait you'll see.