"...It's real."
The quiet words hung softly in the air, leaving only the peaceful hum of the forest. The continuous, steady sound of the river waves flowing over smooth rocks filled the silence.
A sudden breeze swept through the clearing, making the lively green leaves rustle together like a secret conversation.
The strong current of air caught Kashima's messy blonde hair, blowing it across his face as the fabric of his shirt snapped lightly against his skin.
Slowly, Kashima knelt down right beside the edge of the bank. Driven by a deep, irresistible curiosity, he leaned forward and slowly dipped his entire hand straight into the glowing blue water.
The fabric of his shirt's half-sleeve instantly grew dark and wet as it brushed against the current. A sudden, sharp shiver ran up his arm, and a genuine, quiet smile broke across his face as the biting cold of the water hit his warm skin.
He stayed completely still, watching the crystal-blue current flow effortlessly between his open fingers, the wind pushing the surface at a greater speed.
Without thinking, he pulled his hand back and playfully splashed a handful of water forward.
SPLASH.
The sound echoed sharply. Instantly, Kashima froze dead in his tracks.
His shoulders stiffened completely. His blue eyes darted in a sudden panic, flickering left and right behind both of his shoulders.
His ears strained against the silence, instinctively expecting a sharp, cold voice to break through the trees
"Young Master Kanzaki!"
"Hands off the ground."
"Do not dirty your clothes."
"Please remember your etiquette. Members of the Kanzaki family do not behave like children."
Kashima stood perfectly still, his breath shallow as his blue eyes darted in a sudden panic, flickering left and right behind both of his shoulders.
But there was no one.
The forest remained vast, green, and completely quiet. It was only the echoes of his past playing tricks on his mind.
A small, sharp grin broke across his face. He let out a dry, quiet scoff, a faint spark of true rebellion in his eyes.
"...Heh..."
" 'Young Master this... Young Master that...'"
He rolled his eyes, a crooked smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he looked out at the empty clearing. "No one's here to stop me."
With a new sense of defiance, he sat flat on the bank, quickly pulling off his socks before rolling the hems of his trousers up past his calves.
Carefully, he lowered his bare legs into the moving current.
He leaned back, placing both of his palms flat against the damp earth behind him. He closed his eyes, tilting his head up toward the open sky as the cool water rushed around his ankles.
"Hmm~ Hmm..."
He let out a soft, relaxed hum, completely losing himself in the peace of the clearing.
If Leo were here...' A small, genuine smile found its way onto his face in the quiet shade.
'That dumb furball would've jumped into the river before I even got close.'
As his fingers shifted against the ground, his right palm brushed against something hard and smooth. Kashima opened his eyes, looking down beside his hand to find a small, flat gray pebble resting in the dirt.
He picked it up, turning the stone over in his fingers to examine its worn surface.
"Don't people do this in movies...?" he muttered to himself. "They'd throw these into rivers... and somehow make them skip across the water."
Kashima glanced at the wide stream in front of him. "...Wonder if I can do it too."
His eyes lit up slightly, a rare, competitive smirk touching his lips. Remaining seated, he snapped his wrist forward, launching the pebble across the water.
PLOP.
The stone flew through the air and immediately sank like a brick, barely making it a quarter of the way across.
Kashima's grin vanished into a sharp, grumpy frown. "Seriously?" he grumbled, his competitive pride instantly wounded.
He pushed himself up to his feet, walking right to the very edge of the bank. He scanned the ground, picked up another flat pebble, and gripped it tightly. He took a short breath, measuring the distance across the stream with his blue eyes.
"Take this!" he muttered under his breath, putting his entire strength into the throw as he pulled his arm forward.
The pebble flew with incredible force, cutting through the air. It skipped twice across the glittering surface, making it halfway across the wide stream before finally losing its momentum and sinking into the blue depths.
Kashima watched it go, a sudden spark of pure excitement breaking through his stoic expression. "Yes!" he cheered to himself, his voice full of a rare, genuine victory.
He immediately bent down to grab another stone, his eyes bright. "Let's try that again."
He picked up another pebble, focused completely on the opposite bank, and launched the stone with a perfect, clean snap of his wrist.
SKIP.
SKIP.
SKIP.
CLINK.
The pebble flew effortlessly across the entire width of the glowing river, finally landing safely on the rocky shore of the opposite side.
"Haha...!"
A bright, pure laugh escaped Kashima's throat. He celebrated, pumping his fist in the air before finally sitting back down onto the ground, completely out of breath but happier than he had been in a lifetime.
As the breeze blew through his blonde hair, he let out a long, peaceful sigh. It was so incredibly calm here.
"...Haaah...It's nice here."
The sudden movement had made his throat feel completely dry. Leaning over the edge of the river bank, he cupped both of his hands together, dipping them into the crystal current and scooping up a pool of glowing blue water.
He brought his hands to his lips, gulping the liquid down greedily. His throat moved in steady, clean swallows as he drank, his eyes closed in absolute satisfaction.
"...Gulp... Glk..."
The cool water slid smoothly down his throat in slow, steady swallows. His eyes drifted shut on their own as the refreshing chill spread through his body, washing away the lingering dryness.
"...Ahh..."
A quiet, satisfied breath escaped his lips.
He lowered his hands, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his wrist before staring at the river in mild surprise.
"...It's not salty..."
He blinked once, watching a small swirl in the clear current. "...Huh."
A small frown formed between his brows as his mind tried to figure it out. "...Why did I think it'd be salty...?"
He looked down at the crystal-clear current again, watching it flow endlessly between the smooth stones. The water looked completely clear under the sunlight, moving naturally between the smooth stones.
"...It's... good."
Curious, he leaned back over the surface, putting his hands into the water. As he looked down, his eyes widened slightly. His hands were perfectly, crisply visible beneath the surface—the water was impossibly clear, completely untainted by the world.
"How is it this clear...?" he wondered, amazed. "It's literally cleaner than my own face!"
He brought his hands together, preparing to cup another drink of water.
But he stopped. His hands froze mid-motion, his fingers trembling slightly as his eyes locked onto the surface.
There was a reflection in the water.
A massive, impossible reflection.
Kashima slowly released his grip on the water, his brows furrowing into a deep, intense frown as he stared straight down into the river.
"...Huh?" he whispered, his mind completely froze.
He instantly snapped his head back, looking behind him toward the forest. He expected to see a towering structure rising above the forest—something that could explain the image.
But there was nothing.
There were only the dense, emerald green trees swaying gently in the wind.
Suspicious and deeply confused, he looked back down into the moving current.
The reflection hadn't moved. It completely broke the physical laws of reflection—his own face was entirely gone from the water's surface, replaced by a massive, breathtaking view.
Through the shifting blue water, he saw a sprawling, Majestic Palace. Towering white buildings and historical towers reached high into a pale sky, their stone decorated with rare designs.
Endless windows lined the grand walls, and a beautiful, roof tiled the main halls. High above the towers, countless soft white flower petals drifted through the water's sky, flowing gently around the magnificent architecture like a living frame.
It looked entirely solid.
Real.
As though an entire world existed just beneath the rushing surface.
His heartbeat slowed to a heavy, echoing Thud inside his chest.
"...What..."
He slowly extended his hand, his fingers trembling as he reached toward the impossible image.
He swallowed hard, his throat tightening as his hand descended. The instant the very tip of his index finger touched the surface—
WRIGGLE.
RIPPLE.
A sharp, fluid ripple ran across the water. The Grand Palace shattered into thousands of fragments of brilliant white light.
WHOOOOOOSH.
A sudden, violent gust of wind erupted from the river, roaring through the clearing. High above, the silent sky exploded with the vibrant, overlapping songs of countless birds.
The heavy, sweet scent of fresh white flowers slammed into his senses, completely filling the air.
The white light from the shattered reflection suddenly rose upward, spilling out of the river and consuming the clearing in a flash of pure radiance.
Kashima blinked, his eyes stinging against the brightness.
"...Wha—"
The sound of the rushing river was gone.
When his vision finally cleared, the wild forest had completely vanished.
The damp river bank was nowhere to be found. He was still standing on green grass, but it wasn't the same wild earth from before—it was a perfectly magnificent, emerald lawn.
He looked up. Standing right in front of him, towering into the bright sky, were the massive white towers and blowing flower petals he had just seen in the water.
He was standing directly in the center of the palace garden.
From somewhere nearby, hidden behind the high hedges, the sound of a young man's soft, amused laugh echoed through the quiet air.
"Heh... Hahaha..."
The world didn't just change. It fractured.
Kashima's breath caught so sharply that his teeth clicked in a harsh, sudden Snap. He stumbled backward, his knees trembling under the sudden loss of balance.
His bare foot slipped against the damp grass, and he threw one hand out instinctively to steady himself against the empty air. His other foot dragged heavily across the ground, digging into the soft earth before he finally found his footing and forced himself to stand still.
He stood there, frozen like a statue. For a few, long agonizing seconds, he didn't move. Didn't blink. Didn't even breathe properly. The only sound in his ears was the loud, frantic rushing of his own blood.
His blue eyes swept across the place in front of him, flickering in sheer, frantic disbelief.
The river was gone.
His eyes snapped violently to the left, searching for the mossy bank, the rocks, anything.
NOTHING.
The towering trees that had shaded him—GONE.
He turned sharply to the right, his messy blonde hair flying across his face. Nothing. The wild, ancient forest had vanished entirely, washed away as if it had never existed in the first place.
"...What?"
His voice came out thin, fragile and barely louder than a whisper against the vast silence. Kashima looked down at his feet.
Grass. Soft, impossibly cool grass pressed against his bare feet. He curled his toes into it, expecting to feel rough soil or scattered gravel.
It wasn't the rough, wild earth of the riverbank. There were no exposed roots beneath his feet, no scattered stones digging into his skin, no patches of mud.
Every blade seemed to be grown of the exact same length.
Trimmed.
Watered.
Perfectly, naturally even.
Kashima slowly lifted his head, his breathing shallow as his gaze traveled outward.
A pale stone path curved through the lawn a short distance away, its edges cut so clean and precise that not a single blade of grass dared cross over it. Beside it ran a narrow, decorative stream, the water moving so gently that it was barely deep enough to cover the smooth stones lined up along its bottom.
Something bright moved beneath the surface catching a glint of sunlight..
Kashima stared, his brows knitting together in confusion.
Orange.
White.
Gold.
Fish.
A few oversized koi drifted lazily through the crystal clear water, their heavy tails swaying gracefully from side to side beneath clusters of vibrant pink lotus blossoms floating motionless on the water..
He blinked once.
Then blinked again, his mind struggling to connect what he was seeing with reality.
"...Koi?"
His eyes moved farther.
A white garden shrine stood beside the stream.
Octagonal.
Its thin woodwork curled into delicate hand carved patterns, supporting high panels of clear glass that caught the afternoon sunlight and scattered brilliant, sparkling rays across the green grass. Beyond it, enormous glass pillars rose above the surrounding gardens, forming a glasshouse so large that Kashima couldn't even see where its far end disappeared into the distance.
Warm golden light spilled continuously through its immense ceiling.
And white petals drifted through the air.
One passed slowly in front of his face. Kashima flinched, his head jerking back. He watched it descend spiraling down toward the ground.
Another followed.
Then another.
There was no wind strong enough to carry them.
He looked up at the sky, but there was no wind—at least, no wind strong enough to carry something so far.
They simply floated.
Silently.
Beautifully.
Wrongly.
Kashima's fingers curled tightly into the damp, cold fabric of his shirt.
His chest tightened until it genuinely hurt to inhale.
The forest had been alive.
Messy.
Loud.
The river had rushed wherever it wanted, crashing against boulders without care. The trees had grown wherever they pleased, twisted and wild.
Nothing in that forest had seemed concerned with being perfect or orderly.
This place was different.
Everything had a place. Everything had been shaped by an unseen hand. Everything had been cared for with suffocating precision.
And somehow, that unnatural perfection frightened him far more than the wood forest had.
Kashima swallowed hard.
His throat was still cold from the wild river water he'd just drunk out of his own hands.
He could almost taste it—the crisp, unrefined chill on his tongue.
The river.
The cool dirt beneath his hands. The flat stone he'd thrown across the steam. The sudden, chaotic sound of the birds. All of it had been there only moments ago.
He looked behind him again, spinning on his heel in desperate hope.
Nothing. Only endless, manicured green. His breathing quickened, growing jagged.
"No..."
He took a step backward. Then another, his instincts screaming at him to run, even though there was nowhere to go.
His heel pressed into the soft, springy lawn.
"Where's the river...?" His voice trembled.
He turned in a slow, disoriented circle, his hands raised slightly as if searching for something solid to grab.
"Where are the trees?"
No answer came.
Only the distant trickle of the ornamental stream against the smooth stones.
Kashima's heartbeat began pounding harder, slamming against his ribs.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
He pressed both palms against his temples, digging his fingers into his blonde hair.
"Okay..." His breathing shook violently.
"Okay. Think." He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing out the sight of the impossible garden.
The darkness behind his eyelids brought back the vivid memory of the last thing he remembered—
Bright blue water. A massive, impossible palace beneath its surface. The biting chill of his fingertip touching the reflection.
The sudden, blinding burst of white light. The roaring wind.
Then—nothing.
Kashima opened his eyes again, letting his hands fall to his sides.
The garden was still there. It hadn't disappeared. It wasn't a trick of the light.
He stared at it, his eyes wide and hollow.
"...I really left."
For the first time, the thought settled properly inside him.
He wasn't standing beside the river anymore.
He had no idea where he was, what world this belonged to, or how he had gotten here.
And there was no one here to tell him.
Then—he heard it again.
"Heh..."
A quiet, easy laugh slipped smoothly through the still air of the garden.
"Hahaha..."
Kashima's head turned sharply towards the sound.
The sound had come from somewhere beyond the sprawling, towering rose bush that ran along the side of the glasshouse.
He instinctively dropped low, sinking into a quick crouch.
For a long moment, he simply listened, his chest barely moving as he held his breath.
There was no anger in the voice.
No sharp warning.
No looming threat.
Just pure amusement.
It was the kind of effortless laughter that came easily to someone who had never once in his life needed to wonder whether he was safe—someone who had never had to look over his shoulder or measure his own breaths around adults.
Kashima frowned, a cold, familiar knot tightening inside his chest.
Slowly, his body keeping low to the ground, he moved toward the bush.
His bare feet sank completely silently into the soft grass as he stepped carefully between the thorny rose bushes. He lifted one hand, his fingers trembling slightly with caution, and pushed a cluster of thick green leaves aside to peer through the small gap.
A warm, perfume scented breeze slipped through the opening, brushing against his face.
Then he saw him.
A young man sat completely relaxed beneath the warm, golden light filtering through the glasshouse, only a short distance beyond the wall of roses.
He looked to be around Kashima's own age.
Perhaps a little older, but not by much.
His light-brown hair was short, soft and entirely untidy, several stray strands falling carelessly across his forehead while the rest caught the sunlight in soft, gold streaks. Nothing about it looked carefully arranged or sprayed into place by attentive servants.
And yet, somehow, that effortless messiness suited him perfectly.
His eyes were the very first thing Kashima noticed.
A striking pale violet-blue. Impossibly clear. Sharp, yet utterly relaxed.
They moved lazily from side to side as he listened to the small group of people gathered around him, carrying none of the sharp caution Kashima was used to seeing in the eyes of adults in his own world.
The boy was dressed like someone who had never once been expected to worry about the cost— or the consequence—of anything.
Deep royal purple velvet draped heavily over his shoulders and chest, the rich fabric so thick that it caught the afternoon light with a dull, luxurious sheen whenever he shifted his position. Intricate, heavy golden embroidery ran across the front in swirling, majestic patterns, disappearing beneath tailored layers of dark silk beneath.
Delicate silver chains crossed diagonally over his chest and fell neatly along his fin clothes, their small jeweled ornaments catching the bright sunlight and casting tiny sparkles across the stone floor with every slight movement he made.
A heavy dark cloak rested loosely over his left shoulder, held in place by an ornate silver clasp.
Even sitting completely slumped and casual on a marble bench, he looked absurdly, disgustingly expensive.
Kashima stared, through the bush, his blue eyes fixed on the boy's clothes.
Then, he slowly looked down at himself.
Bare, dirty feet. Rolled-up trouser legs showing his ankles. A damp, wrinkled shirt sticking slightly to his skin.
He looked back up at the boy surrounded by gold and silver. The contrast between them was almost insulting.
"...Who on earth dresses like that?"
The words escaped before Kashima could stop them, slipping past his lips in a hushed grumble.
The boy didn't hear him.
He was far too busy laughing at something one of the anxious servants beside him had just stammered out.
A servant stepped forward timidly, bowing low while presenting a heavy silver tray piled with peeled grapes and pastries
The boy barely even glanced at the man's face.
He reached out with two fingers, taking a crystal glass of juice without sitting up properly or fixing his posture. He took a careless, unhurried sip, and continued listening to the nervous courtier beside him.
Kashima's eyes narrowed into a sharp, bitter squint.
There was something strange about that guy.
Not frightening.
Not yet.
Just... infuriatingly irritating.
The boy leaned back comfortably against the cold marble rest, one arm resting lazily against the edge of his chair as though the entire glasshouse—and every living soul within it—belonged only to him by divine right.
No hesitation in his posture.
No nervous glances toward the older servants to check if he was making a mistake. No concern whatsoever about whether he was behaving with proper etiquette.
He didn't need permission to exist.
Kashima recognised that exact king of effortless, untouchable confidence.
He had seen it his entire life back at the mansion. He had seen it in his father, in the wealthy guests, in every powerful person who looked down on the rest of the world.
But he had never once felt it in himself.
He watched the brown haired boy for another few silent seconds through the leaves.
The young man threw his head back and laughed again.
"Heh..."
Kashima's left eyebrow twitched violently. A sharp scoff caught in the back of his throat.
"...What an absolute idiot."
"Let him wait."
The prince said it without even looking up.
His voice was smooth, almost lazy, carrying the effortless weight of someone who had never once needed to raise his tone to be obeyed, as though the matter being discussed wasn't important enough to deserve a single fraction of his attention.
Two fingers reached out casually towards the silver tray resting on the low marble table beside him.
With a flick of his wrist, he pushed away a single peeled grape that had rolled loose from its dish
It struck the polished marble with a sharp, clear—Tick.
The grape bounced once leaving a faint wet streak on the pristine stone, before rolling lazily beneath the carved leg of a nearby chair
The older servant standing before him stiffened instantly, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his hands together in front of his waist.
"B-but, Your Highness..." the servant stammered, his voice trembling under a heavy layer of sweat. "His Majesty specifically asked that you—"
"I said, let him wait."
This time, the prince actually looked up.
Only slightly.
The light, genuine amusement that had filled his pale violet blue eyes jsit moments ago vanished entirely, replaced by a cold, glassy stillness.
It wasn't anger.
Anger would have required effort—a waste of energy he clearly deemed unnecessary.
He simply looked tired of hearing the same nervous, begging voice.
"If His Majesty wants to see me so badly..." the prince murmured, his tone flattening. "He can wait another hour. He knows where the gardens are."
The servant's lips parted in sheer disbelief, but no actual answer came out. He swallowed hard, his throat moving nervously.
The prince leaned his cheek into his palm, his chin resting against his fist as the heavy purple sleeve bunched up beneath his elbow. With his free hand, he absentmindedly adjusted the high, stuff collar of his tunic, flicking away a speck of dust from the gold embroidery.
Then, as if remembering something terribly unimportant, he added softly.
"And if that servant comes back again with those dusty scrolls, tell him I'm not here."
The servant hesitated, his posture bowing lower out of sheer anxiety.
"Your Highness... the tutor will complain to His Majesty..."
A faint, dramatic sigh escaped the prince's chest.
"Fine."
His violet eyes drifted back toward the sunlit glass of the glasshouse, leaving the servant completely behind.
"Cut his wages for the month."
The words were delivered so casually that, so devoid of malice or second thought, that for a long, heavy moment, the servant simply stood there in stunned silence.
Then, his shoulders gave a nervous jerk, and he bowed again, lower this time.
"D-did you say... his wages, Your Highness?"
"You heard me."
The prince gave a single, dismissive wave of his hand, flicking his wrist toward the exit as if sweeping away an annoying fly.
"He's irritating."
That was all.
No anger. No raised voice. No grand display of power.
He had already stopped paying attention before the sentence had even fully left his mouth, his mind wandering back to the floating white petals above.
Behind the rose bushes, Kashima's fingers slowly tightened around the green leaves, the stems digging into his palm until his knuckles turned completely white.
His blue eyes remained rigidly fixed on the young prince sitting in the sun.
Something deep inside the scene bothered him—something far worse than the luxury itself.
It wasn't the absurdly expensive purple clothes. It wasn't the bowing servants. It wasn't even the bored, arrogant way the boy spoke.
It was how easily he had done it.
One careless sentence.
A man's wages—his livelihood, his family's food for an entire month—erased in less than three seconds.
And the prince hadn't even looked at the man in the eye while doing it. He hadn't considered the consequence for a single heart's beat, because to him, servants weren't real people with lives outside these gardens. They were just noise.
Kashima's lips pressed into a thin, white line, his jaw clenching so hard a small muscle twitched in his cheek.
His gaze followed the older servant as the man bowed one last time, his head practically touching his knees.
"Y-yes, Your Highness. At once."
The three servants backed away in a hurried, frantic rhythm, their footsteps tapping against the pale stone path until the sound faded completely beyond the glasshouse walls.
Silence settled back over the grand garden, heavy and suffocatingly still.
The prince watched them leave through the corner of his eye.
Then—Nothing.
No remorse. No second thought.
He leaned even farther back into his chair, his posture completely collapsing as he threw his head back against the carved rest.
His shoulders relaxed into a lazy slump.
A long, exhausted sigh escaped his lips, blowing a stray lock of light-brown hair off his forehead.
"Ahhh..."
He tilted his head toward the towering glass ceiling, staring blankly into the sky.
White flower petals drifted lazily through the warm sunlight above him, floating down in an endless, quiet shower.
"So boring..." the prince grumbled to the empty room, stretching one long arm over the back of the chair, looking completely at ease in his tiny, private world.
Behind the bushes, Kashima stared at him, his blue eyes cold and unblinking.
His expression had gone flat, all the initial panic replaced by a deep, dark disgust.
"...Unbelievable."
The word slipped quietly from his lips, dry and bitter.
He shook his head once, his grip on the rose shrub loosening as he let the leaves snap quietly back into place.
Then, almost under his breath—
"...How can someone be this careless?"
----